Archive of Our Own ^beta

Now

There's somebody moving in.

Tumbling down the gentle slope of her garden and swirling through discarded screwdrivers, just hopping over the broken fence and there's the house. And the man who's moving in, bent under the weight of three cardboard boxes, lids open and overflowing.

He's young, unkept stubble staining his chin, and he breathes too heavily, huffing and panting, shoulders rising stubbornly with each intake of breath. Red faced, struggling against clumsy steps, he lowers his load on the ground, dropping everything in the middle of the yard. A paint brush rolls out from the top box, clattering to the ground.

The man doesn't pick it up and he turns away, preferring to stomp to the house, one hand massaging his lower back. His mouth is twisting and molding into words, but each is muted behind the window pane.

Lena stares after him for a while, relieved when his bulky presence finally leaves her sight.

She picks up another wire from the mess she's leaning over, twisting it around her fingers to examine it. The edges are split open, freed from the rubber protection, the copper burnt on both sides: with a flick of her wrist, Lena chops both ends off to expose the shiny metal before realizing that the cable is now too short to close the circuit on the back of the radio she's repairing. She bends with an annoyed grunt, rifling blindly in a drawer through mismatched screws and gears, looking for more cable. But her hand only surfaces with an empty spool and an annoyed huff. She groans, realizing she'll have to pick up more next time she goes in town.

With a tired sigh, Lena shuffles a couple of tools around to clear space, while closing the casing of the damned broken radio with a thud, resigned for the day. Her flailing elbow hits a forgotten light bulb innocently laying around, which immediately starts a sluggish roll towards the edge of the table. Lena can only watch as it falls in an agonizing slow motion and lands on a small pile of crates, clinking. She can't reach it from where she's sitting so she rises with an undefined grunt, grabbing her cane to wobble around the workspace.

She rubs at her eyes, chasing away the soreness built from hours spent fixing and cursing inmate objects.

The bulb isn't broken, its fall cushioned by a cardboard box softened by years under the rain. As she picks it up gently, Lena's eyes are drawn to the closed crate underneath, puzzled. Her workshop floor is always littered by random tools or components she completely forgot about, each one always covered by a small layer of dust and wood shavings. She never cleans her space, deeming useless to tidy up something that's doomed to become messy again in no time.

When she opens it, she finds the shaft of a broken rake inside.

"Lena!"

Shouting comes from the belly of her house and Lena is shaken out of her reverie with a jolt. She circles back around the table, emptiness dangling from her palm, and makes herself look busy.

"Lena!"

Winn barges inside the shed a moment later, missing cap and suspenders framing his chequered trousers.

"Guess what!"

Lena reaches for the pliers on the top shelf, only to hide her amused grin.

"You know I hate guessing games, Winn," Lena echoes, aligning the tool with a bent nail stuck in a piece of wood. "Plus, we both know you'll say it without listening to me."

"New faces are coming to town!" he explodes, drumming with thrilled energy.

Lena doesn't miss a beat, while growling at the stubborn piece of metal that refuses to bend under her will.

"I know. And you left your cap here the other day," she comments as she tosses him a torn cap, grabbed from the rack behind her stool.

"What?!" Winn counters, voice rising in shock, "How can you know if you never leave your humble abode? You're practically a hermit," he says with dastardly sigh, while Lena rolls her eyes at him, "How I deluded myself into thinking I was your only source of local entertainment, Old Lady."

Lena pauses in her efforts to glare at him, as he tortures the recovered cap between twisting hands. She brandishes the pliers like a sword, poking at his chest.

"First of all. Rude."

"But true."

"...but true. And second: maybe I just went out with somebody. I don't have to tell you all the juicy details about my incredibly busy social life."

"Mh. Possible. But unlikely. My grandma went out more than you. And she couldn't even walk!"

Lena snorts at Winn's solemn nod, facade cracking and weapon lowering. "You're not wrong. They're moving in next house."

"Ooooh," Winn cheers, excited by the new piece of info, skipping to the other side of the table to peek outside the window. "You could have told me! You know I survive exclusively on gossip and eggs!"

Task at hand forgotten, Lena follows his gaze, retracing her previous trail to the yard. The boxes are nowhere in sight, but the paint brush still rests on the cobblestone.

"I just found out this morning," she shrugs, shifting her attention back to the cursed nail.

"Look! There's a girl, look!"

Lena doesn't look. Nor she mentions the man from earlier.

"She's pretty," Winn comments, mouth rounding in a delighted expression, "Let's hope she isn't spoken for. Maybe I can score a date."

The nail croaks but doesn't give.

"Maybe she has another friend you could meet."

The nail mocks her, the little shit.

Lena lifts one eyebrow, unimpressed. "Please Winn, we both know I’m dying alone,”  she quips, lips pursed and hands clenched around the pliers metal handle as she watches his fingers trace figures on the window pane from the corner of her eye.

The nail slips and Lena curses as the pliers nick at her finger. A speck of blood starts collecting on her skin in a reddening circle. She curses again and Winn tosses her a clean rag out of amusement.

"I see things are getting out of hands here," he teases, wiggling his three fingered hand in her direction. Lena's glare deepens. 

"Don't pull my leg, Schott."

Unconcerned for his safety, Winn twirls around her, cackling gleefully. He bends over her worktable, interest piqued.

"So, what'ca working on, Old Lady?" he mocks, teeth on full display. His jaw is chiseled and well shaved.

"Radio. For Sam. Broken again." She mumbles, sucking on her injured digit, "You insist with that idiotic name?"

Winn shrugs, spinning the shortened cable in his fingers, "Why not? You have the aesthetic - grumpy sassy attitude and sturdy cane. Either that or you're a witch."

The paint brush has disappeared from under the gleaming sun.

+++++++

Before

"It already tastes like bad decision and burnt onions."

"You never have faith in me and my culinary skills. And the onions are perfectly crisp, thank you very much."

"When you're sticking to the usual trail with the usual recipes, then sure. But when you're experimenting with your roots and herbs and spices..."

"You have to experience new things in life."

"... then nope. Not everyone is granted with the power of being a human food disposer, Kara, and I know you're an amazing cook otherwise, but some- Wait... is that... is that mint?"

"...no?"

"It is! It's mint!" Lena starts laughing, unbridled and shimming in the armchair. The movement knocks her cane on the floor.

The kitchen is well lit against the darkening throes of winter, the warm glow of the fireplace surrounding them. Long shadows waltz around the room, cast by the flickering fire. They bend and twist, reaching every nook and corner, making the pastel colours of the sofa look dim and the quilt tossed on the cushions even more ancient. They stretch, framing Kara's long silhouette, who's standing behind the pans, cooking. They tease the knot of her blue apron, the hem of her trousers and her dotted mismatched socks, a hole on the cloth of each foot. Lena follows the trail left by the dancing shadows, carving each smile and each crinkle on Kara's face. The light laps at them kindly, but doesn't intrude on the painting of the shadows.

Kara stops in front of her to pick up her walking stick.

"Okay, you're right. It's mint. It's already haunting the other plants. And I swore it would never find a spot in my garden." Kara sighs dramatically, dropping her head against Lena, "But I know you love it, soooo I guess it might have one tiny vase ..." she grouses, nuzzling her nose against Lena's shoulder. Lena's hand rises naturally to grip Kara's arm at the elbow.

"I'm bitter and hard to please. It’s one of my many charms.”

"You don't fool anyone with that attitude, we both know you're a big ball of mush inside." Kara challenges, emerging from her hiding spot.

"I'm not. I'm fierce and scary."

They stare at each other for a long moment before Lena frowns and snatches Kara's black frames from her face, quiet reverence in her heart. Lifting the sleeve of her dress over her thumb, she cleans a crumb of dirt smudging one corner of the glasses. 

"See? A softie." 

Over the opaque rim of the glasses, Kara's smiling at her tenderly. Feeling a sheepish blush warming her cheeks, Lena thrusts the offending object forward, pushing the glasses up the blonde's nose with force. 

"Wait- wait!" Kara grumbles, hands lifted in defense, "You'll poke me in the eye! Wait!"

"That was the plan all along, darling." Lena whispers fondly, bending forward to kiss the pout off of Kara's lips.

The fragrance of mint surrounds their cocoon of love.

They kiss until the kissing drifts into smiling against each other's lips, until they're kissing again, until they can't kiss because their teeth are clacking, peeking from their dazzling smiles. Until their shadows fuse into one. Until Kara pokes at her sides, earning an indignant shriek.

"How's the leg?" she asks, as Lena sinks back in the armchair, breath shortened from the giggling.

"How's the mint?" Lena croaks back, deflecting.

"Lena..."

She grips Kara's hand, halting the slow caressing of her bad leg. It's a light touch, caring and tender of the memory buried inside.

"It's..."

"Don't lie." Kara chastises, thumb circling over Lena's cracked knuckles.

"It's not a good day," she sighs, surrendering the lie already formed on the tip of her tongue, "Standing around with Mr. Michel didn't help."

"Thank you for not lying. We'll put some cream on it later," Kara offers quietly, rising to her feet. She kisses the top of Lena's head before making her way back to the pans, where the onions aren't burning.

"Okay, so, I wanted to show you something I learned the other day," Kara proclaims, as she balances a brown bottle, a weak grip around its neck.

"That's my wine," Lena tries, cautiously, clearing her parched throat.

"Yes," Kara nods, "Mrs. Michel taught me about this French cooking technique. She showed me in her kitchen. You have to pour alcohol on your food," she declares offhandedly, skillfully tossing the wine in the pan, her determination welcomed by a sizzling sound. "I forgot what it's called, but everything is supposed to catch fire for a little bit. It should, uh, add flavour."

Unsurprisingly, a couple of minutes later Lena finds herself sighing, resigned but still calmly buried between the pillows, as she watches their kitchen gets demolished by an uncontrolled fire.

++++++

Now

Lena groans as she lowers herself in her armchair, cushions molding around her.

The evening is dark and shy. The wandering souls of the night fill the empty streets, screaming and pushing, all with a broken compass and a muted clock.

The armchair groans and protests under her, rickety and grumpy, croaking its displeasure. The minutes tick by as Lena picks at the loose threads and the armchair soon ceases its complaints, tamed by the familiar caress.

They're both coming undone at the seams.

She puts down her cane, slotting it between the cushions in the back of the chair. If she turns her head, the knobbly wood disappears from her sight. Her leg tingles without screaming.

In a familiar gesture, Lena turns in her seat, stretching for a mahogany old radio, elegant and shiny in its creamy colours. It's the only classy thing in her home. With a light flick, the radio rumbles to life, sputtering static and shattered sentences as Lena struggles with the knobs for a bit. She lures the music, encouraging the notes to come out from their nests, hidden between the silences.

She lowers her hand on her lap a moment later and ignores the ache in her leg. 

Rough notes croon from the speakers, solitary.

++++++

Winn's cap is no longer missing, but his shirt is untucked, loose despite the suspenders. He brought the rain inside her shed, leaving footprints and mud behind.

"I saw the same girl the other day, in town," he drawls, lazily spinning around on one of the stools. "She was shopping, I think. With a boy. Man? Boy-man? Jury's still out on that front."

Lena hums, but doesn't lift her head from the radio. A new spool of cable is resting beside her twisting hands.

"She seems nice." Winn persists, hoping to lure her into his carefully set trap of a conversation.

With an abrupt spin, the volume knob slips into its place, and Lena pushes it briefly, pleased when it offers a reassuring click. When she withdraws her finger, the piece remains set into place. When she lifts her gaze, Winn's still watching her expectantly.

"If you like them so much," she rasps, voice croaking with disuse, "Why don't you go over there and introduce yourself?"

Winn grins triumphantly, stopping in his circling, "I'm still working on it. Not sure if I should hire only two lion trainers, though. Maybe a trumpet player?"

Lena huffs and lets one tiny smile slip past her defenses.

"Have you met her? You're her neighbour."

Lifting one digit, Lena traces the smoothness of the radio, checking if the paint is still fresh. It comes up clean and dry.

"Did you repaint it?" Winn asks, momentarily distracted from his original question. He reaches forward, lacing his finger around the loose end of the new batch of wire.

"Yeah, it was peeling off," she shrugs, listening to static again.

"Why?"

There's no answer she can give and Winn blinks once, before nodding and accepting her silence. He tosses the spool in the air and catches it with ease a second later. 

"So, have you met her?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Lena scoffs, running out of components to keep herself busy. Tucking the radio in a box under her arm, she rises from the crooked chair, limping and biting back a groan. Her leg tingles, as the feeling rushes back to it. The grip on the cane leaves her knuckles white.

"I'm going out. Make yourself at home."

Winn springs back on his feet, squaring his shoulders and rising his injured hand, in a stiff overzealous military salute.

She stops on the threshold for a moment, lingering.

"I got that new brand of ice cream you like. It's in the ice box. Just make sure you wash everything you use."

Walking down the muddy road, Lena shivers and tugs the coat closer, shutting the door behind. Winter stubbornly clings to spring this year, with freezing cold storms that leave her leg aching and numb. She trudges onward, lifting the unsewn collar of her coat against the blowing winds, when something catches her attention, making her halt in the middle of a growing puddle. 

There's a shadow watching her, a silhouette peeking from behind closed curtains. Instead of acknowledging it, Lena simply braces her shoulders, steps stiffened under the stranger's scrutiny. She tries to mask her painfully obvious limp.

The rain soaks her uneven gait.

++++++++

Lena blows gently on the steam rising from the cup. Mint tea, no sugar. The kind that leaves a bitter stinging taste on her tongue after she drinks it. She blows again, watching the circular waves rippling the surface. She takes a sip and burns her tongue.

"Shit."

"Language, please."

Lena grins and wrinkles her nose, toying with the small droplets stuck on the cup's walls.

"She can't understand us, Sam." She drawls languidly, dropping her tea spoon with a clink.

"I didn't invite you here to be a bad influence on my daughter." Sam chastises, drawing on a random piece of paper and simultaneously pushing a dotted handkerchief under the spoon, to prevent any tea drops from staining the wood. 

Ruby is perched on her lap, all grabby hands and gurgling noises as Lena watches the two of them make a mess on the kitchen table. Only most of the colours stick to the crumpled paper, many lines trespassing the sheet's borders, driven by the toddler's fervid imagination. With a renewed critical sense, Lena inspects her spoon again, now cushioned by the napkin.

Sam lays a delicate kiss on Ruby's head, gifting Lena with a mother's love. 

"Thank you again for the radio. Ruby had been miserable these past few days without her daily dose of jazz," Sam says, eyes never straying from her daughter, who sneezes her agreement. Lena waves a hand in the air, dismissing the gratitude. Her tea is still too hot, so she can't hide anywhere, "How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing."

Sam frowns at her, a fight rising on the tip of her tongue. But Lena shifts on the chair, uncomfortable, trying to evade the praise.

"Just, just," Lena stammers, trips on her words, "Just bake me a cake and we'll be even."

That doesn't seem to be the right answer because Sam deflates imperceptibly, "I must owe you a thousand cakes by now..." she sighs, letting Ruby wrap her tiny fingers around her pinkie. The baby warbles happily, basking in her mother's presence, ignorant of all the injustices in the world. Of the long hours her mother is forced to keep between sparse jobs to scrap enough money for the two of them. Of the whispers and the cruelty thrown her way. Of her father, a rich and powerful man who locked his door and his heart on them.

She only needs her mother.

If Lena were to get up now, she would have to limp around the table, maybe hop in place to disperse the cold still clawing at her leg. To dissipate the feeling of needles pricking and maybe making a fool of herself in the process.

She sits still, stuck in her intent of laying a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder. 

But Ruby lifts one hand on Sam's cheek and soon they're both smiling again.

"I'll," Sam exhales a weary breath, "I'll look into that lemon pie recipe you like so much. I'm sure you'll need it, given your sporadic eating habits."

Lena knows better not to pick up a fight with a worrying mother, so she keeps quiet as she finally makes her way through her cup of tea. Over the edge of the cup, Ruby halts her artistic virtuosity to examine the yellow pencil she's clutching with both hands with a new sudden interest.

Sam's expression flickers to a mischievous glint, a burning spark in the quiet atmosphere as she takes the pencil from her daughter's hands, knowing she's seconds away from biting into it, "So, tell me about those new neighbours of yours."

"Oh, God. Did Winn corrupt you with his charms?" Lena drawls, eyebrow twitching.

Sam chuckles at her evident discomfort, full of tease, "He did drop by the other day. But I can vouch for him and promise you that your name was mentioned for a grand total of zero times."

Ruby beams at her amused tone, always attuned to her mother's mood. Lena fixes both of them an unimpressed stare.

"But we did talk about your neighbours," Sam confesses, smirking.

"You two are terrible gossip monsters. Aren't you ashamed of yourself? And the example you're giving to your daughter?"

"My daughter is always on my side, or at least she will until she's in her teens," Sam's index finger tickles Ruby's sides, drawing loud giggles from her, "Plus, she can't understand us."

"Oh, so now she can't understand us. How convenient."

Ruby is finally able to fend herself off against her mother's unrelenting attacks, trapping her fingers between her own smaller ones. Sam pushes delicately with her index, tapping her daughter's digit, palms up. They share a brief brush, fingertips touching.

"Everybody in town is talking about them. It's not that often we have new faces around here. Even Ms. Laughlin, at the grocery store was swapping precious info with every customer who entered her shop."

"How unprofessional of her." Lena snorts, lifting the cup to her lips. It takes her a moment to realize there's no tea left.

Sam's grin never leaves her face, "You should go meet them. Maybe bring something nice. A welcoming gift?"

"Oh, please. That boy-man wounds my eyes with his pitiful attempts at carpentry," Lena winces inwardly at Winn's nickname, stuck in her brain.

"You know nothing about carpentry."

"You're... not wrong, but I do have enough experience to know that a rocking chair should stay together after you finish carving its sides."

"Still, no judging people from their carpentry abilities. That's plain rude," Sam tuts and rises from her chair, Ruby cradled in the crook of one elbow, "And you should also introduce yourself. Maybe go with Winn so he doesn't end up making a fool of himself in the process."

"And why should I?" Lena groans.

"Winn says he saw a cute girl. And you have to meet new people, Lena."

With a sloshing sound, Sam places the bronze teapot on the table in front of Lena, who hides her face in her hands.

"I don't need new people, Sam. I have you and Winn. And Ruby. That's enough for me."

"I'll choose not to comment on the fact that you included my daughter, a toddler, in the list of your friends. Who also are, may I point out, the social pariah of this community," she lifts one hand in the air, ticking off her fingers as she counts, "The shunned lover of a big tycoon and his bastard daughter, a clockmaker with only eight fingers and the limping recluse who's probably a witch. We could put on a band if only you could carry a tune."

Lena grumbles under her breath.

Sam's smirk loses its edge, softening, "But I see your point. And I won't push. Just please, consider it."

Despite everything, the following silence is comfortable, punctured only by baby happy noises. Lena pours herself another cup of tea, water still steaming.

"Actually, I've got good news," Sam hints tentatively, palm open to satisfy her daughter's curiosity in hand lines, "I got a new job."

Lena's eyebrows rise, something of a smile gracing her features.

"Winn came to tell me the news. He said he spoke to a couple of people and... I'm in, Lena. I'll start at the bank next week. Secretary," the woman smiles, dimples peeking, "I'll admit it's not my dream job, but it's a start. A solid start. And Ms. Laughlin said she is willing to look after Ruby for me while I'm working."

If Lena were to get up now, her leg would buckle and collapse under her own weight.

She sits still, stuck in her intent of laying an excited hand on Sam's arm. 

But Ruby's gummy smile bubbles around the room, flailing hands and loud cries for attention, asking to be dropped on the floor. As soon as she is set down on the white tiles, she embarks on a short crawl to reach Lena's side of the table.

"It's amazing, Sam, I'm happy for you," Lena says, basking in her friend's happiness, as she bends to pick up the cheering toddler at her feet, "Of course, you're always welcome to drop by, I'll be more than happy to look after Ruby for a few hours."

Now seated in her lap, the baby tugs at Lena's damp hair. And when Lena bops the tip of her nose, Ruby gurgles, laughing.

++++++

The road leading to her house isn't empty.

Living on the outskirts of town, it's extremely unusual to find people sniffing around. Sometimes she crosses paths with a bunch of local kids, trifling around town, looking for the perfect spot to play soccer or to kill time. They never bother her. Even cars are rarely seen in the neighbourhood, because the road isn't completely asphalted, not yet, and dust and rocks coat the road mantle, sticking to the pedestrians' soles and souls. But Lena never minded getting her hands dirty. The uneven terrain is a small nightmare for her cane, especially when it gets muddy on the side of the road after a particularly nasty storm. It's a small price she is willing to pay in exchange for solitude and silence.

But she has neighbours now. Neighbours living in a house that's been empty for more than a decade. A house that rests right next to hers. With shared picket white fence.

So now the road isn't empty.

A female figure is treading on the path, gliding over the pebbles in her neighbours' yard, pulling the gate stopper out of its socket with a bump of her hip, arms loaded with two brown shopping bags. There's a camera hanging around her neck, the black strap stark against the flowery theme of her dress.

Her golden hair is ablaze in the low light of the diving sun, and for a moment Lena thinks about someone else.

She stops a couple of feet inside the yard. Her head lowers, focusing on something on the pavement, invisible to Lena's point of view. And despite herself, Lena discovers she's slowing down in her walk, curious against all reasons.

The blonde kneels on the ground, balancing her bags and, in a terribly predictable move, something falls out from one of them, tumbling down, rolling in front of her for a handful of inches. A butterfly takes off from under her nose, shimmering and swaying in the orange air.

As she stares at the woman struggling to lower one hand without upturning any of her precious cargo, Lena wavers.

Her inner struggle is put to a halt when the blonde explodes in a small triumphant shout, arm bent awkwardly to hug the bags. But as she rises from her victory, the lace of her camera slips from its knot and comes crashing down with an ominous sound.

The woman lets out another distressed sound, startling Lena into walking, resuming her graceless stroll. As she gets closer, the blonde turns slightly her head to the side, fretting with an agitated huff. 

A wayward blonde lock slips loose, freed from the low ponytail, falling until it hangs crookedly in front of her annoyed expression.

Lena sees her and shatters.

++++++

Before

A wayward blonde lock slips loose, freed from the low ponytail, falling until it hangs crookedly in front of her annoyed expression.

Lena sees her and wonders.

Then promptly turns around, resuming her nervous scan of the room, back stiff against the wall. Her hands are trembling, barely resisting the temptation of twisting and worrying. A Luthor doesn't fidget. She snatches her cap off her head to bury whitening knuckles in its folds.

Despite wearing the same uniform as every other person, Lena feels terribly out of place. Maybe it's because of the whispers tailing after her, the same reason no-one speaks to her, even here. Or maybe it's the thundering of her heart, pulsing on the same rhythm of her fear.

Until now she has mostly been left alone, unbothered, except for a couple of straying curious gazes, not lingering for long enough to be considered a threat. 

In hindsight, her peace couldn't have lasted.

Somebody shoulders past her roughly from behind, and it feels like hitting a brick wall. She can feel the bruise already darkening on her arm, but she lets it go, brushing her uniform and straightening her jacket again, allowing only a haughty cackle to slip past her defenses, as she watches an insolent set of shoulders stomp away. She barely flinches and resumes her stiff posture, ignoring all her screaming instincts, and instead remains rooted to the spot, shame and embarrassment crashing in waves inside her. 

"Oi, you!"

Lena freezes, shoulders hunching further on herself, backing imperceptibly against the wall.

"I'm talking to you!" The voice demands again, making Lena lower her gaze and stare stubbornly at the polished floor. 

She can hear the footsteps edging closer. 

Closer. 

Closer.

Until they reach her.

And fly past her.

It takes a while for Lena to blink back into reality. One slow incredulous moment after the other.

"You should be ashamed of your actions," the voice is questioning again, scolding tone. When her hazy eyes finally focus, Lena sees her blonde saviour chewing out at the woman who just shouldered her. It's the same girl she was staring at earlier. A moment later and the reprimanded woman scoffs but walks away, now harmless and subdued, striving for an uncaring look.

The blonde turns back at her with a grimace that morphs into a huff as they lock gazes. Her face is clear and open with a light smile brushing her features, eyes like clouds.

K. Danvers,

reads her polished tag, hanging from the left chest pocket, matching her own L. Luthor.

Lena lifts one corner of her lips, and the blonde opens her mouth, wanting to add something. But the moment is shattered by the loud bark of their instructor, a bald man with wide shoulders and glinting small eyes. All trainees scramble in line, with Lena falling in the back, too many bodies packed in front of her to reach for the blonde.

With a harsh encouragement, the line wobbles forward slowly, crossing for the first time the threshold of the hangar, enormous jet planes looming over their heads. Lena never felt less like looking back.

She prays she'll read K. Danvers next to her name on the wall.

+++++++

(She doesn't get partnered with K. Danvers in the end. Instead, she's stuck with L. Willis, a prim arrogant woman who insists on being called 'Livewire' for reasons beyond Lena's understanding. They clash and argue often. Piloting a rumbling aircraft is not easy when somebody you don't trust is sitting behind you.)

+++++++

Now

It's Kara. Kara. Kara Danvers. Kara. The Woman of Steel, faster than the speeding light. Supergirl. Kara. Kara Danvers. 

Her Kara.

Her...

But she's dead. She died. She never came back. How could she be Kara? How? How? She can't be. She-she can't. She's dead.

But it is her. Kara. 

Kara with the crooked smile and the small scar over her left eyebrow. With her determination and compassion. Kara, who is fierce and passionate. And so so loving. And dead.

Her Kara.

Kara who is staring at her weirdly, confused by her presence alone.

Once again, Lena is rooted to the spot. Back stiff, cane at her side. Her hands tremble but she has no cap to hide in.

Kara's eyes remain stormy, unresponsive, unfamiliar.

But she's smiling.

She's the kind of person who always offers a bright moment to those she meets in life, whose paths cross with her own. Whose existences brush with hers, even for a fleeting moment.  

Kara always gifts one of her bright smiles to everyone she meets. Everyone. 

Even a stranger.

++++++

"She's a war veteran. Ms. Laughlin told me this morning while I was repairing her brother's watch," Winn comments offhandedly.

They're walking down the street winding down from Sam's house, after a round of rowdy and loud babysitting. Each of them is clutching one shopping bag and Lena's is filled with groceries and material for repairs. Winn has a couple of coloured sketches rolled up under his arm, courtesy of Ruby. They walk aimlessly, as not to bother Lena's old injury.

"She flies airplanes," Winn gestures weirdly to fill her silence, waving his empty hand in the space between them.

"Or, I think she did? During the war? Ms. Laughlin wasn't sure. She said she came to her shop to mend one of her skirts the other day."

She had always been terrible with a needle, too impatient, but Lena was dexterous enough for small repairs for the both of them.

"And the most tragic thing is," Winn pauses to take an exaggerated gulp of breath, always prone to dramatics, "She's married! That man with her? He's the husband! Husband!"

The cane clicks on the ground on a drumming tempo. Lena numbly counts twelve steps before Winn resumes his rambling.

"Well, guess I should save my charm for someone else," he swallows hard, nodding to himself, quickly resuming his usual unflappable attitude, "It's always the most beautiful that..."

Beside him, Lena quickens her pace, struggling against the lead in her leg and chest. Her bag's content sloshes, unable of following her forceful clipped swings. Her ears are ringing.

"Oi, Old Lady! What's the rush? Forgotten something?" 

+++++

She hasn't cried. Not yet. She doesn't know what she's supposed to feel. The armchair feels cold around her.

She's afraid of what she'll feel next.

The radio croaks, spluttering to life, coughing from time to time. 

When finally a smooth voice soars in the room, Lena leans back, tugging at her collar. A moment later a necklace dangles from her neck, freed from the many layers of clothing it hid behind. The lace is kept taut by a ring, a simple golden band glinting in the firelight. 

Her hands shakily glide down the material, feeling the necklace with the lightest brush. Until she loops her hand around the thin band resting over her chest. She cradles it in her palm, jewel still entwined in the black string.

She toys with the ring, running her nail on the rounded edge, spinning and turning between her fingertips. It's too big, smoothly slipping in each of her fingers without any resistance. And without fitting properly, emptiness always lingering between the ring and her skin.

She knows what she feels. What she will always feel.

Love.

Lena welcomes the tears, the circle of metal warming under her caress.

Trembling notes shiver in the room, too feeble to grasp.

+++++

She finds menial tasks to keep her mind empty of dangerous thoughts.

Lena's fighting with a stubborn (fuck, open up you little shit, fuck) water pump (I am the mechanic here and you must do my bidding, you useless piece of metal) for Mr. Hewett's mill, down by the river (rusted cheeky bastard), when somebody knocks at her door.

Nobody comes to her house, her only visitors are Winn - who barges in without knocking - and Sam and Ruby - an excitable young girl is always rambunctious and loud and doesn't knock.

Only bearers of ill-news come knocking in the middle of the afternoon.

As soon as she opens the door, she's hit by a cascade of golden.

"Hi!"

Upon closer inspection, Lena realizes she's watching hair and not water, framing a tentative and hopeful smile.

"Hi!" the bright waterfall chirps again, while holding a brown casserole between stretched hands.

"Kara?"

The blonde woman blinks, startled, eyes widening and swimming with confusion. She pauses to stare at Lena with a burning intensity, eyebrows creased in a frown. Lena feels like fainting in front of the clouded scrutiny, empty of any recognition. Silence envelops them for a long moment before Lena croaks something around the lump in her throat.

"What-," Lena's green eyes are wide, "What are you doing here?"

"Oh," the blonde's cheerful smile dims a little and she lowers her arms, an unsure expression crossing her face. 

She has always been bad at introductions.

Lena's stomach coils, twisting, hating herself for causing distress, "I'm sorry, I mean... I wasn't expecting... how, how can I help you?"

I wasn't expecting you.

"I... I just wanted to introduce myself?"

Something snaps inside Lena.

"My name is... Kara. I'm your new neighbour. And I just wanted to say hi! I also..." she lifts her arms again, shoulders shrugging, "Made you this?"

The casserole is thrust inches under her nose, making Lena's vision doubles in the effort of focusing.

"Thank you," Lena mutters intelligently, hushed and trembling, "I'm sure it tastes amazing."

"It's actually the first time I try this recipe," Kara rises one hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, easily balancing the heavy tray on one palm, "Mike doesn't really like when I try new things while cooking, so... let's hope it's any good?"

There's a brief flicker behind Kara's eyes, so fleeting Lena may have only imagined it. There's an old, dormant feeling warming her chest, missed but never forgotten: the desire to brush her thumb against Kara's frown and make her crinkle disappear. Her desire clashes against pain and loss.

When Lena hesitates for too long, mulling over thoughts, Kara's face morphs into panic, "Oh golly, maybe I shouldn't have said that? I'm sorry, I should have just cooked something else, I-"

"No!" Lena almost shouts and promptly blushes, "No, please. I'm sure you're an amazing cook."

"How can you be sure?"

Lena shrugs, "I'm sure."

Kara's delicious blush dips under the hem of her flowery dress.

"And I, uh, I always enjoys trying new things, so..."

Lena watches the wind twirling Kara's hair.

Her attention is quickly diverted down to her hands, as she realizes there's no way she can repeat Kara's feat in holding the casserole with only one hand. As she juggles with her cane, hesitating, Kara senses her inner struggle.

"May I come inside, Ms...?"

"Uh, Lena. And no Ms. please," she hears herself saying, as her body betrays her and moves aside to let Kara come forward. She limps after the blonde, directing her to the kitchen where she drops everything on the counter.

Seeing Kara's standing behind the table strikes a chord in her chest.

"Should I split it in smaller bowls? So you can, uh, so it's easier to-"

"No," Lena interrupts kindly, heart throbbing, "It's okay. I've been kneeling all afternoon, it's not usually this bad."

Lena opens a cabinet, rummaging through utensils, "Please sit. Do you want some tea?" 

Her head is spinning as she chooses a couple of tea bags to dip into the boiling water.

When she returns to Kara, the blonde is staring intently at Lena's armchair, nestled in a corner. 

Her profile hasn't changed, the same shade of hair, the same delicate dip of shoulders, the same swirling eyes, always in motion.

Is it still you?

She's so familiar and yet so different. Longer and messier hair, firm shoulders, squared and stiff. Her eyes are stormy, closed off from her.

Is it still me?

Seeing Kara in her kitchen sits weirdly in her chest, so Lena clears her throat gingerly to gain her attention, offering one steaming cup. Kara's nose wrinkles pleasantly as she takes in the tea's warmth.

Stillness stretches between them once again, and Lena curses in her cup. She's never been one for small talk, that was usually Kara's expertise. And now she's sitting in front of her, quiet and alien. Lena's vision blurs with tears as she chokes down her screams. 

"So Kara," she coughs, memories clawing at her, "What do you... do? I mean, uh, you- you just moved here and I don't..."

"Oh, yeah," Kara chuckles, not unkindly, "I mean, no. I'm not working right now. Maybe after settling in? We still have a few boxes to move around, but I don't know. I've got quite a lot of time on my hands. So I thought it would be nice to meet somebody else. Mike's often off to work so I spend many days indoors alone."

"And what brings you to a forgotten place like this?"

Fate.

"I needed a fresh start. We needed a fresh start, Mike and I. We've been stuck for a while. And this town is quiet, lovely. It seemed like the perfect place."

Lena sighs and falls backwards on the chair as the shaking of her leg worsens.

She's never been so close to her, yet so far away. Kara hums, sipping at her tea and Lena diverts her eyes.

The sun rays hit her window directly, bathing the room in a golden aura. As Lena follows the light's path inside her home, a cloud crosses over, darkening Kara's face and dimming all the colours. Outside, the vines in the garden shimmer, their green vibrating under the flickering sun. They twist and stretch, climbing up the shed walls, most of them wilted and overgrown. Sometimes she remembers to pick up their grapes, all sour and tart taste. Most of the time she lets them fall on the ground, where the soil is bruised and untamed.

Not much else grows in the garden because of the weeds that steal space and smother the other crops. Only the memory of old labour remains, the symmetrical lines of plants now choked by dark shrubs. Their roots aren't deep and could be easily uprooted by a firm hand, but Lena lets them thrive. Few bright wild flowers paint the garden with blue, like a handful of star fragments.

"You have a beautiful garden."

Lena jolts and fixes Kara with a dubious stare, making the blonde pipe up to elaborate with a blush.

"It is! I know it may not seem so, but it could be. Blooming and thriving, with proper care. Full of possibilities."

Lena smiles languidly, sinking lower on her chair, relaxing in Kara's warmth. 

"I guess it depends on who's watching." Lena points out, humming, "I would tend to it myself, but it seems I can't stand farming labour, so..." she indicates at her cane, one quirked eyebrow.

Kara snorts in her tea, hiding a giggle. Lena's heart misses a beat at the sound, a bag full of marbles.

"That was terrible. Truly." Kara proclaims, still chuckling, "But then, why do you have it?"

She had never shied from asking the tough questions.

"It was my... my roommate's garden. She... It was her joy."

"What happened to her?"

Lena's gaze dances in the wallowing light.

"She's gone," she offers simply. She shrugs and buries her emotions, losing herself in Kara's smile, full of empathy. Suddenly, a dangerous thought invades her mind.

"If you want... I mean, if you," she grimaces, "If you want you can come here and do some gardening? It's a waste to leave it unattended and if you want to care for some of the plants then..."

She inspects warily Kara's frown.

"I don't want to impose! You- you could keep all the fruits and the vegetables and choose all the flowers and the plants. I have tools and fertilizer and- and... I don't want you to work for me, I'm just offering you a garden. To keep you busy when your hus- when Mike's at work."

Kara's eyes grow wide with genuine surprise.

"Won't your roommate be upset?"

"I'm sure she'll be happy about it."

++++++

Before

The soil is warm under them, heated by many hours under the sun. Lena hums, head pillowed in Kara's lap, hair tumbling out of her ponytail and into her face.

"What was that?" Kara asks, as her hands find their way to the crown of Lena’s head, playing lightly with the loose strands of hair, smiling as Lena sighs, eyes still closed.

"I was thinking that it would be better if there was real grass under here."

She sluggishly opens one eyelid to peer at the brown soil, stretching under the chequered old blanket. The remains of their picnic are piled up on one single dish, neatly abandoned one one corner of the cloth. Lena's tea cup is still full, the drink cold.

"Oh, you got your garden already," Kara whines childishly, drawling lazily, "I told you I'm gonna grow something here. The vegetables are gonna go there, with the tomatoes lining up along the wall, and in that corner all my herbs and..."

Kara points each spot with her hand, supporting her torso on the other elbow, but from her position on her lap, Lena can only see the blonde indicating at somewhere vaguely undefined, golden hair framed by bright clouds, sprinkled in the halcyon sky.

"...and under your window shed I'll plant all the flowers. Maybe not the sunflowers, though..." Kara pauses, lifting one pensive finger to her lips.

It's an obvious trap, carefully set for something cheesy or equally dumb.

"Why not?" She'll always fall for Kara's dork jokes.

The blonde lowers her gaze on her, a knowing grin already lighting up her features, a glint on her lips.

"Because, what if they get confused and turn towards you instead of the sun? I don't want them to be confused..."

Lena flickers at Kara's face with her fingers, her nose scrunching in the way that always makes her chest feel soft in all the right places.

"Oi!"

As if to prove her point, Lena's hands creep higher along her arm, tickling that particular patch of skin.

"That was terrible."

"I take it all back. I must have mistaken you for somebody else," Kara gripes, swatting away at Lena's wandering cold palms, "Your humor is so dry all the flowers will die before-"

She smacks her hand lightly against Kara's bicep, with the lone result of making the blonde burst into giggles.

Flushing, Lena crosses her arms tightly against her chest, "That was so... so... so mean!"

“Mean? Is this the best insult you've got? I think I’ll take that as a compliment,” Kara says, giggling to herself and squeezing Lena tightly against her. She strokes Lena’s face with a raw gentleness, trailing her fingertips across her cheekbones and down her sharp jawline, made softer by the reluctant smile. She traces her eyebrows, her lips, and her hairline, before leaning down to kiss her softly.

"Guess you're finally rubbing on me, darling." Lena grumbles, before snaking her hands upwards and tenderly cupping Kara's cheeks and loving how it feels to have her in her arms like this, to be able to touch her.

"Are we really doing this?" Kara whispers, covering one of Lena's hand with her own, "New house, new town..."

She's only dragged down into another kiss, longer and deeper, Lena clutching at her like a lifeline.

"Guess you'll have to put up with me," Kara smiles at her, full of love. "At least for a really long time."

+++++++

Now

Lena's white bishop topples over on the chess board, captured by Winn's black queen.

"Ah! Seems like I gain the upper hand!"

"Mh, I've gotta hand it to you. That was a nice move."

"And now that you're standing on your last leg, I will conquer your army in no time. I'll vanquish the enemy swiftly and surely and reign with an iron fist. Unless! Unless... unless..." Winn arches his nose, leaning back from the board, eyes narrowed. "Unless you get a leg up on the competition!"

Lena fixes him with a long judgemental stare, single eyebrow raised.

"That was a bit stretched."

Winn grumbles and leans forward, resting his forehead on his linked hands, elbows propped on his knees.

"Is he okay?" Kara pipes up from her perch at the kitchen counter. She's nursing one glass of cold lemonade, taking a break from gardening. She's been coming to Lena's house more frequently, almost daily, to tackle all the preliminary work before seeding, like uprooting all the weeds and cleaning the soil from debris and rocks. Each time she sees Kara bent in the garden, shovel gripped in her hands, Lena struggles to ignore the tugging in her chest.

"Yeah, he's just thinking about his next pun. Or maybe his next move, if we're lucky."

Kara blinks at the two friends, perplexed.

"Is that your thing? Making puns?"

"I didn't lose two fingers to a land mine just for half priced manicure for the rest of my life, Kara," Winn proudly declares, "I did it for the puns."

Lena rolls her eyes as she moves one pawn forward behind the enemy line.

"And also, I had to match Old Lady here," Winn moves his queen again, gaining another white soldier. Kara inches closer until she's standing behind Lena's chair, watching intently the white army getting slowly torn apart by Winn's fast paced and reckless game. Kara's hand rests next to her shoulder, so close she can feel the warmth seeping. There's dirt caked under her cracked nails.

"Land mine? Were you in the army?"

"Yes. I was a bomb disposer. Until one mine went boom! Right in my beautiful face! Lucky us, my beauty was spared from a tremendous fate," he boasts, pointing at his own face, finger circling around a couple of times, "Now I repair clocks and put up with this Old Lady in the spare time."

"Oh, that's..."

Winn pauses his move, rook held mid air as he studies Kara's sudden silence. The blonde blinks owlishly, as if her thoughts are aligning. Lena's shaky hope flickers.

The moment is broken when Kara hums, letting the doubts slip away, melting in the cozy room.

In the weirdly charged atmosphere, Winn captures the last of Lena's bishop, leaving only a knight and the pair of rooks to defend her white king. He smirks, smug.

"Seems like you're only left with a handful of pieces. Ready to hand over the victory and step down from your throne of undefeated champion?" 

Lena falters during the capture of a lonely pawn, releasing a shaky breath that meets Winn's concern for a beat. His eyes are chocolate.

"Did you run out of puns?" Kara asks after a long moment in which both the players trade moves without a single word.

"Don't let him fool you with his innocent attitude, he's got so many more up in his sleeve," Lena warns Kara, as the blonde hides her grin with a callous palm, "It's practically impossible for him to run out of pawns." 

An off beat flutter echoes inside Lena, untamed and wild, as Kara bends forward, laughing with glee. Lena stretches with a small grunt to reach for her last knight on the far corner of the chess board.

"You don't need to woo me, Old Lady, you know you'll never get rid of me. Even if you're a bit too standoffish for my tastes."

"Please, spare me."

Kara only laughs harder. She always did have the worst sense of humor.

But wiping the smirk off of Winn's face as she steals the victory right under his feet with few precise moves doesn't make the ache fade away. Kara's delighted chuckle resonates into Lena's chest, slipping right between her ribs.

Her smile cracks at the corners.

++++++++

The first time Lena sees Kara working again in her garden, she feels like crying.

The blonde navigates between plants and rows, tenderly coaxing red poppies out of their buds, or caressing the green tint of unripe strawberries, the short plants swaying at her ankles, mixing with raspberries and blackberries.

Kara kneels for a moment, heaving a huge sack of coffee grounds on her shoulders with natural ease

Coffee grounds? she had asked, the first time What good would those do to plants?

It can be used as compost, Kara had explained, crossing her legs on the picnic blanket, Compost feeds the soil, and so it can help the plants to grow better.

Won't... I don't know... excrement be better? Animal sh-

Language!

And Kara had laughed and laughed at her predictable answer, mirth and happiness around them.

Then Kara had taught her about waiting for the right moon to plant onions, the delicate balance of shadow and light beans required and the slow growth of flax flowers.

She should have listened more, asked more questions, begged more for her to come back.

When Kara crosses directly her line of vision, Lena notices the stark definition of muscles flexing in her bent arms. And when Kara cheerfully waves at her with one hand, sack slung over her shoulders, Lena chokes on her water, spluttering and failing to hide her blush.

+++++

Kara pauses to survey all her work.

"I want to tell you something."

The blonde fidgets with her hands around a small sickle, the crescent moon dark against her yellow battered shirt. Lena watches her, standing in the middle of her life. And of her yard, bare hands tucked inside her pockets. Since Lena can remember, Kara always insisted of working without gloves or any sort of protection. She remembers how she always acted like a complete baby when later on Lena had to remove the many splinters broken under the skin of her fingers. She would roll her eyes as the blonde clutched the spot like it was a goddamn bullet wound or something, complaining the entire time. As if she had never seen her take much worse hits during training without flinching. 

Kara's words fly completely over her head as Lena studies her bare hands.

"Lena? Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry," she mutters, "What was that again?"

There's a crinkle in Kara's crooked smile.

"About your friend, the other day, when you were playing chess. Winn."

"Ah yes, the hobbit. What is he up to this time?"

"Nothing. And don't call him like that. He's not that bad," Kara says, defending him.

"He's the worst."

The air echoes with laughter.

"What is it you wanted to ask me, darling?"

The nail she's hammering bends from an interrupted bump as Lena freezes, aghast at the slipped endearment.

"Oh, yes... I..." Kara fixes her with a halting look, frowning at her, as Lena stubbornly argues with the broken nail, not lifting her gaze.

"Yes, Winn!" Kara exclaims, before returning quiet, self conscious, "He said he was in the army. And I was... I was in the army, too." She makes a long pause, gauging Lena's empty expression for any reactions. "I was enlisted during the war, I was-"

"A pilot."

Kara's eyes snaps to her.

"How did you know that?"

The memory burns behind her eyelids, proud smiles and bent sunglasses, helmet tucked under arm. She suppresses her trembling with a watery smirk.

"Lucky guess?" she tries, failing miserably at her nonchalant shrug. 

A bird chirps above them, perched on the roof of the shed. When Lena looks up from her pile of scraps, Kara is much closer, red-faced and biting her bottom lip.

"Well, I was. A pilot, I mean. And during the war, on one of my flights, I crashed. I crashed my plane. I don't know what happened. I just... crashed. And next thing I know I'm waking up on an uncomfortable cot. Not a single memory. Nothing. Only fire and smoke engraved in my brain." Kara exhales heavily, looking exhausted and hesitant, the shadows on her face longer. She shrugs weakly, arms flailing.

There's no sickle in her hand, laying forgotten among the salad buds.

Lena's breath itches in her throat, the desire to learn what happened thundering wildly in her chest.

"And they found me, wandering in the woods. I was injured and... and..."

The blonde twists her hands in front of her, gaze lowered and weight switching between her feet, teeth nervously pulling at her bottom lip. If she had glasses, her hand would reach to fidget with them.

The desire to know bends under love.

"Kara, Kara. You don't have to tell me. You don't have to say anything you don't want." she reassures, smiling weakly.

"But-"

"I can wait."

I can wait for you forever.

++++++

"So, I have a question."

"Already heard that line."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. It's just... the other day. I saw you shopping? At the market?"

"Mh?"

"I saw you and your... friend?"

"What friend?"

"At the market stalls. Tall, lean, brown hair? Toddler perched on her hip?"

"Oh. Yes, Sam and Ruby. Ruby is the child."

"Mh, you seemed close. You and Sam, I mean. Is she your friend?"

"Yes. I've met her for the first time a couple of years ago, but it honestly feels a lot more time has passed. She... she helped me through a rough patch."

"She's your friend."

"Yeah...? I already said that? Are you feeling okay? You're acting weird. Weirder than usual."

"Yeah! Yes, I... was thinking."

"About Sam?"

"Yeah! About Sam. Sam, who is your friend. Who looks... nice."

"Are you trying to tell me something?"

"No, no. Just making an observation."

"...are you sure you're feeling okay?"

+++++

When Lena sees Kara kissing her husband for the first time, she's cradling a broken stem against her chest.

She's been lazily working on an herb grinder for the most part of the afternoon, a little machine that refuses to bend under her will. She ventures in her garden to pick up a few samples to test the machine. Thyme and lemon balm, small leaves speckled with dirt.

Over the fence, on the porch, Mike tugs at Kara's hand, drawing her into his chest and capturing her lips in a long silent kiss. Kara's eyes flutter close.

Lena pushes her hands in the soil and, now hidden, she clenches them into fists around the herbs.

++++++

"How did you and Mike meet?"

"... what?"

"I... uh, I asked how you met Mike?"

"Oh."

A traveling lone cloud crosses her vision as Kara lifts the empty watering can up to her elbow.

"We met in the infirmary ward. He was injured, like me. It was the back for him. Still bothers him sometimes. We were injury neighbours?" Kara chuckles, showering a droopy daffodil under a gentle stream of water, "His bed was next to mine and he asked me on a date after he came out of surgery. Immediately right after he came out of surgery. Still high from the painkillers. Then one date turned into two and then three... and one thing led to another. We got married in a whirlwind, a few months after."

"Are you... happy with him?"

"Yeah, he's nice. And kind. He often brings me gifts, even though some of them may be... of questionable taste," she winces, laughing without mockery, "I know he's not perfect. He can be a bit lazy sometimes, and likes to complain even over the smallest of tasks. But he treats me right, doesn't ask a lot of me."

Are you happy without me?

"And I love him, obviously," Kara quickly adds, after Lena doesn't reply for too long.

The daffodil drowns under tears.

++++++

Lena clutches at her knee, propped up on the armchair. The other leg, her bad leg, is stretched out in front of her on a small stool. The air smells like tea and mint.

With all my love,

She falters, vision blurring around the edges. The letter is old looking, its engraved scars smoothed over by trembling palms over and over. But care and love can't stop the wrinkles from surfacing again around the words. The stroke is thin and clumsy, cracked in the corners by the pencil's sharp graphite. The lines aren't well spaced, but race diagonally across the paper, dropping near the end. 

The spires in her chest cling tighter to her heart. Outside, the garden is dark and empty, blooming with life, never silent.

My Dearest L.

Lena chokes back a sob and reads.

My Dearest L.

If I write down my thoughts, then Time will be kind with us, my dear. Even if the candle stump is short and the paper is small, I'll make the most of it.

Writing is so powerful. I never thought about it. But if I stop and write down on paper, then these words will be forever frozen in time. This moment right here. Trapped. It will remain suspended. And only when my letter reaches you, only in that moment Time will flow again for my words. And then, we'll share this moment. Even if we're apart. 

Every time you'll read this letter, it will be as if we're together, out of the Reign of Time. And this moment will remain ours, forever.

I've been having a lot of these thoughts lately, about time and how we spend it. If we are worthy of it. If I am worthy of it. I also made a metaphor while flying the other day. You better appreciate it, you bookworm. 

Okay, here I go. 

Time is like making a fist around a handful of sand: if you clench it tight, then the sand will slip away from the cracks of your hands. But if you keep it loose and you keep your palm open up, then some grains will remain. 

The idea only makes me want to squeeze tighter, though.

I'm counting the days we are apart and I

My dearest. 

It feels so good to write these words and step back from the madness from the chaos.

Things aren't easy. It's difficult to put what I'm feeling in graphite, but I'll try anyway.

We haven't been on the front line yet. My squadron was assigned to recognition, so I've been sent only on a couple of patrol flights. I'm fine, don't worry (I know you'll worry anyway). I still love flying, but the thought of what's going on weighs my stomach with lead.  I don't feel much like Supergirl right now.

The air feels different up there.

The other day my plane was making a weird noise and I got into a fight with a jerk a mechanic about it. He didn't want to check the engine! Turns out there was something clogging one pipe or another, I'm not sure (you know how I get). It took him all afternoon to find the problem. Ugh, I'm sure you would have it solved in less than one hour. With your mechanical knowledge my plane wouldn't have any problem in the first place. 

I miss you so much.

I feel so alone without you.

I keep waiting for one of your snarky comments to croak in my headset at any moment. 

It's a bit foolish. But then I remember and I'm glad you're at home, safe. Moving in together, after the academy, feels like a long time ago, like years have passed before this stupid senseless war.

I pray things are good with you. Please, please, take care of yourself and do not worry, because I am fine. I wish you would make at least one friend to spend time with. I know loneliness has never been your enemy, but I also know how you get wrapped up in that head of yours, so you'll be in dire need of a couple of distractions.

Don't lose yourself in work, rest and eat.

And take care of my garden too, if you can - if you only let that Green Sprout of Hell swallow all the other crops, I swear, I swear you'll never get another kiss from me, never again. Why did I have to listen to you?

(Don't answer. We both know why I listen to you, dear.)

And also, I have one selfish request to make.

Please, think of me if you can. I'm keeping you near, your ring always on my heart.

With all my love,

Kara

She holds the letter against her chest as she wills herself to be strong, even though she has not felt this weak since losing Kara. And now, having her back in her life, with no memories. She is drowning. She certainly feels as though she is drowning. She folds the letter on her knee, retracing an old folding line and opens her other hand, face up and trembling.

Only tears collect in her empty palm.

+++++

Ruby gurgles happily, drawing a cheer from Kara. They're sitting in the dirt, under the shadow of a plum tree, toys and tokens scattered around them. They're absorbed in their own little world, Kara following Ruby in wordless adventures. Few paces away, Sam is smirking over the brim of her tea cup at Lena.

"Shut up."

"I haven't said anything." Sam singsongs, the picture of perfect innocence.

A flicker of annoyance cross Lena's expression, "I can hear you thinking."

"Last time I checked, thinking was permitted in this country. Maybe frowned upon if it comes from a woman, but still not illicit." 

Kara shows her open palms to Ruby, who shrieks in delight, reaching for the seeds presented to her.

"Did you two finally become friends?"

"Don't say it like that, you make it sound like a dirty word."

"Yeah, yeah. But... shall we add another friend to the ever growing list?"

"Actually, she..." Lena pauses, fingers searching at her collar, "Sam, she's..."

A sudden scream from Ruby distracts them, making them both turn to check on the baby. But Sam relaxes immediately, seeing Kara placing a flower crown on her daughter's head, an entwine between a grape vine and vibrant branches, small flowers dotting the crown with colours and fragrances.

Lena drops the necklace, letting the ring fall back on her heart.

"Well, your neighbour sure is great with kids. I've never seen Ruby such at ease with a stranger before." Sam comments, dropping her head on her open palm, elbow bent on the cramped table and what Lena referred to 'mother mood' on, a mix of pride and fondness splashed on her expression.

In the stillness of the moment, there's something else nicking at Lena. A desire, a need to fill an emptiness in her own heart. Seeing Kara with Ruby makes her ache for that emptiness to be filled with... something she can never have. Something she had and lost.

A the same moment, Kara looks up at her, hands full with leaves and petals, and the world stops: her clear eyes are a window to something else, a feeling, an emotion that makes Lena aches.

Lena sits and stares because she doesn't know what else to do.

The soft splash of a sugar cube dropping in Sam's cup breaks her out of her reverie.

"God, I don't know how you can stand it. You always make it too bitter," Sam downs a long sip, the sweetened flavour washing away the sour taste, "So! Kara?"

Lena rises from her stool, reaching for the pliers and the hammer, ready to place another curse on a bent scrap of metal.

"She offered to do some gardening around here, since she has a lot of time on her hands," Lena shrugs around a nail, firmly kept between her lips.

"Mh," Lena hears the creacks of Sam's chair as the woman shifts her weight to lean back, "Looks like she's making a nice work of the place."

Bent on her work, Lena only imagines Sam's pointed look in her direction.
 

++++++

(When Kara and Ruby come bouncing into the shed, hands brimming with flower crowns, she can't ignore Sam's sly look. She feels her cheeks darkening as she ducks her head to let Kara place one crown on her, mimicking Ruby's actions with Sam. This close, Kara's face looks slightly pink, but she doesn’t know if it’s because she’s blushing or because of the sunlight.)

++++++

Before

"Thank you again, Lena. Your tip was a lifesaver out there." Kara says as she slips into the booth, carrying a couple of drinks in her hands.

The bar is dark and humming, vibrating with the pleasant buzzing of a slow night. Few other patrons crowd the room, each nursing their own drink, except for a rowdy group of young men, uniforms stark and disheveled. Lena thinks she vaguely recognizes them, but her attention is focused somewhere else. It's a quiet atmosphere, the kind that sticks to the clothes and fill the space, hiding people in its mantle.

Lena lifts her glass in Kara's direction, "You should tell that to Leslie- I mean, to Livewire."

"Still giving you the 'too good for you' treatment?"

"What do you think?"

Kara clinks the glasses together, tipping forward, "Maybe you should try and talk with her?"

"Kara, only you are equipped with enough patience to even approach her, let alone speak with her." The blonde shrugs, but doesn't deny, while Lena downs her whiskey in one frantic sip.

"I mean, I get why she doesn't like me. But when we are flying she could at least try at being a half decent human," Lena's smile is cynical and stretched, "Instead she keeps prattling how a Luthor shouldn't be allowed to fly planes, especially when my family..."

She pauses, looking intently at her empty glass, a droplet of gold swirling on the bottom.

"But that's okay," she rushes, "Until she keeps the plane in the air I shouldn't complain. She's not wrong, she's..."

"Hey."

Kara's hand darts forward to cover her fist, clenched on the table. 

"I guess that, no matter how much I wish it to be different, my family still shapes my actions. After all, even this, all I'm doing is to spite them."

The slow caress eases her fingers and her smile. 

The alcohol sings in her veins. "You wanna know another thing?"

"I wanna know everything about you, Lena." Kara's smile is soothing and lopsided.

"You better stop with your," Lena points at her, waving the glass in the blonde's general direction, "With your being so... so charming."

"Oh, I'm charming, am I?"

"And this cheeky attitude. I liked you better when you were a stammering awkward dork."

The flutter in her stomach rustles, a pleasant feeling warming her chest, not related to alcohol. They're not... anything yet. But she knows they're both different. They have to be careful, they have to keep quiet. But these secretive smiles are enough to make her heart flutter with hope. The slow brushing of Kara's thumb on her knuckles is hypnotizing.

"Did I ever tell you I'm afraid of heights?"

The blonde's mouth shapes a surprised 'o', making Kara resemble the image of a fish.

"It's true!" Lena laughs.

The most Kara does is become confused, brow furrowing slightly like she doesn't know how to react to this piece of info. “I don't believe you,” she says, emphasizing each word as Lena hums, amused. “You're just messing with me.”

"I swear it's the truth."

Kara's skeptical eyebrows rise slowly when she finds something in Lena's green eyes, "How?" she mutters.

"Oh, I'm always shakin' in my boots when I'm flying. The thing is..."  Lena looks down at their hands, "Growing up in my family house, I discovered that fear was the one thing that always kept me on my toes. Around Lionel, around Lillian. Even around Lex, especially during those last months. If you are scared, you're completely aware of your surroundings. And so I'd look out for whoever came into my room at any time. If only I had felt differently, relaxed, calm, safe, well then I wouldn't have looked up from whatever I was doing. And..."

A drunken cry thunders from one corner of the bar, behind them.

"Fear will keep me alive when I'm on a flying trap, because it keeps my senses sharp and tense, always on edge," Lena's bitter grin turns when she locks gazes with the blonde pilot. 

They let the background noise cloaks them, a cocoon of warmth and tenderness. The ice in Kara's glass melts, leaving the frosty glass damp with condensation, the drink mostly water at this point. Lena pushes her own aside, forgoing her usual refill.

"Do I-" Kara hesitates, flicking a wayward blonde strand behind her ear, "Do I scare you?"

"Yes." Lena whispers, "Because you make me feel safe."

++++++

Now

Her steps are unsteady, white knuckled grip on the knobbly cane struggling to find a proper foothold in the treacherous mud. The air is crisp and wet, the empty road stretching in front of her. Lena limps on, unbalanced under a couple of heavy swinging bags, her last commission, much heavier than usual.

She struggles with her gait, lips thin and determined. 

Leg screaming, Lena trudges on, steps punctured by broken pants.

She's stubborn with her gait.

A quick hand darts along her arm, trailing down the hem of her jacket and slipping past the handles of the bags. Nimble fingers gently pry her own apart, firm but not unkind. Stunned, Lena lets them steal one of her bags, adjusting it until it comes to a rest in the nook of an elbow, the sleeve of a floral shirt riding up in the motion.

Startled, Lena half turns, green locking with blue. There's a crinkle deeply set between them.

Kara smiles widely, golden locks invading her vision, as the woman grabs only one handle of the last bag, adjusting her arm to maintain Lena's shoulder height. Lena's own fist clenches instinctively around the bent straw, weighing carefully her lighter load with an awed grin.

Kara's expression melts around the corner, head tilting of the slightest amount.

Burden swinging between them, they limp forward together.

++++++

Before 

The slow even brush of Kara's hand against the soapy dishes blends with the radio static in the low light of the living room. Propped up on the softest cushion, Lena turns in her seat on the armchair, grasping for the mahogany radio on the table. 

"I heard it again the other day," she insists, switching expertly between stations, "It sounded like this," she declares, before whistling a short melody, the few notes off-key and clashing.

Drying her hands on a clean towel, Kara chuckles under her breath, not even bothering to argue with a tone deaf Lena. When she crosses the room, she only pauses to lay a fleeting kiss on Lena's forehead, before reaching for her journal, forgotten on the cramped sofa.

After a few minutes of fruitless fiddling, Lena gasps loudly, excitement vibrating in her bones.

"Kara! It's that song! The one I was telling you about!" 

Fast paced notes rush out of the speakers, racing with each other, swirling on a catchy tempo.

Lena turns the volume knob up a few notches, "It's really fun to dance to! I used to, when I was a child and now-"

She freezes, one hand on the radio and the other hovering over her leg. 

Her bad leg.

"And now..."

With trembling fingers, Lena twists the volume down, the music almost muted, reduced to a buzzing in the background. 

But Kara's hand shoots forward, fingertips turning the knob up and letting the tune soar in the room. Then, the blonde bends in front of Lena and circles her waist with strong arms, lifting her bodily out of her seat.

"Aaah!" Lena screams, blushing furiously, while encircling her own arms around Kara's neck, to avoid upturning the two of them, "Kara!"

The blonde only laughs, easily managing Lena's smaller height, both her feet dangling from her lifted position. It's weird, having to watch Kara from above, weird and exhilarating.

"Put me down, Kara!" Lena protests, a gasp quickly morphing into a breathy laugh.

Wordlessly, Kara begins to swing on her feet, swaying lightly. Lena blinks as Kara twirls the two of them in the room, long legs climbing over fallen cushions and sidestepping around the sofa, her arms secure on her back. Kara's movements grow steadily bolder, picking up the flow of the music in few steps.

A burst of giggle explodes from Lena's chest, breathless and light, as Kara spins and whirls, feet tangling.

When the song dives into a rumbling glide, Kara lowers her into an awkward dip, sliding one hand upwards to cradle her neck, Lena's socks sliding on the wooden floor between them.

Kara's eyes are crinkling.

The air is filled with bright notes curling around the melody, dancing to the same rhythm of their happiness.

++++++

Now

"Lena!" Kara huffs, red faced from the long hours in the sun, smile lopsided. She's wearing a patterned shirt, hanging loose from ocher pants. She's not wearing shoes, only dotted socks, holes in them. There must be something about people having mismatched clothes in her house.

"Did you run all the way here without shoes?"

"Lena!"

Only then Lena notices the camera hanging around her neck.

"Thank you for repairing my camera! It works perfectly now." the blonde cheers, pointing the mentioned camera upwards and taking a shot blindly. After the click of the shutters, the camera whirs briefly, storing the memory of the cloudless sky on the roll of film.

"It was nothing," Lena replies, matching the blonde's serene grin.

"Are you busy right now?" Kara asks, after a long moment of silence. That's another thing that keeps happening around her house. They'll share these brief charged moments of silence, Kara observing her intently. She quells down the hope and refuses to analyse them.

"No, just sorting through a few things," she surveys the array of tools stuffing the worktable with a skeptical eye, "...or at least I'm trying. I've never been good at cleaning." Kara chuckles in agreement, "And you? Aren't you supposed to be making a mess of my garden?"

"Your garden is spectacular," the blonde exclaims, sarcasm flowing over her head, "The soil is soft and rich. The pumpkins are small and green, and the roses are slowly blooming. I still have to plant a couple of rows of nasturtiums and carnations and maybe sage, in that corner. Maybe another trip in town could be fun?"

Lena busies herself with the blooming colours of nature to distract the blush creeping up her cheeks. She hums her agreement, feeling Kara's vibrant eyes burning on her temple.

"So, how can I help you?"

"Oh," Kara jolts, focusing on her task at hand. She fiddles with the strap, the camera lens aiming dangerously in Lena's direction. "Can I take a picture of you?"

Embarrassment washes over her, like a sudden sparkle.

"I don't know... I mean, I'm not exactly photogenic or... I-I..."

Kara pouts, begging with one murmured "please?" and Lena feels her resolution immediately crumbling under her hesitation, an aching pull in her chest. She agrees to the picture with a jerky motion of her arm, but as Kara lifts the camera to her eyes, Lena feels her shoulders stiffen, stance hardening.

She sits on her stool awkwardly, struggling to let her body relax.

With a tug to the chest, she realizes Kara can immediately notice the differences in her stance, as the blonde's finger hovers over the camera button, hesitating. Frowning, Kara lowers the lens, bottom lip tortured between a row of white teeth.

She takes one wobble step closer, "Relax, Lena. It's just me."

Lena chuffs impatiently.

"I know you're not good with pictures, but..." Kara grows silent as the words slowly gets processed inside her brain, "I mean, I think? You aren't? I think that... you are nervous behind a camera, but..." Lena watches as the blonde gnaws on a thought, ruminating, "Maybe, you would feel more comfortable if we talked about something...?"

"About what?"

Kara shrugs, "Whatever you want."

Lena fidgets under the attention. She lets her gaze wander around her workspace, a white can of paint capturing her attention.

"Why photography?" she remembers the smudge of paint on her fingers, but never a strap around her neck.

"Asking the hard questions already?"

Lena stutters, "Oh, I- if you aren't comfortable, then..."

"No," Kara shakes her head, "It's okay."

A metallic clink resonates between them, as Lena lets the screwdriver drop on the table surface and leans back, perched on the stool, back against the table's edge.

"It's because of my memories." Kara sighs, plopping down heavily on a near chair, cleared from all the scraps. If Lena lifted her fingertips, she could brush against her arm.

"It's to remember," Kara lifts the hem of her shirt to swipe at the camera lens, fogged. Lena politely diverts her eyes at the strip of silver skin showing, blushing slightly. "Because I was left with nothing, after the crash."

Lena's posture hardens even without the camera's attention.

"There was a man, an injured soldier, at the hospital camp. He suffered from a nasty concussion. But he recovered quickly. However, one day, when his wife came to visit - she was such a sweet lady, wrecked with worry. The relief on her face was so... so..." Kara pauses, sifting the words, "I can't find the right word. She was so relieved. But then, then they discovered that the man couldn't see her."

Another pause.

"He wasn't blind, and he recognized his wife on the spot. But he couldn't see her face, he couldn't focus on her eyes, on her mouth."

A tired sigh.

"The doctors said it was some kind of illness in the brain. He couldn't retain facial memory of those around him. And he could only recognize them through their voices, the way they walked, how they sounded."

Lena intertwines her fingers in front of her, deep frown set in expression.

Kara makes one motion with both hands, camera strap waving in the air between them, "That made me think. About collecting material things as memories. Pictures can give me a feeling of tactile, of concrete. I also paint, but photography is so fascinating."

Lena's touch burns on Kara's shoulder.

"And... and you said you had nothing? When they found you? No material tokens from your past?" Lena's keen eyes focus on every twitch in Kara's expression. She hates herself a little for asking this, not wanting to stir some bad memories, even selfish. But she has to.

"Actually," the blonde confesses, "There was something. I had my name stitched on my jacket inner pocket: Kara D. Though, I never learned what the D. stands for. And..."

Lena trembles minutely as she watches Kara tug at her neck, untucking from her shirt a thin black necklace. A simple golden band hangs between her cracked fingers.

"I also have this. It's not mine, because I tried to put it on and..." Lena follows her movements as Kara's ring gets stuck around each of her fingers, too small to fit on her hardened callous hands, "It's too small. But I'm sure I have this ring for a reason. A reason I may not remember, but I like to think this is important for somebody out there."

Kara coughs lightly to clear her throat, "Uh, Mike doesn't really like that, but it's part of me now. Of the old me. And I can't even entertain the idea of separating from it."

A ball of warmth blooms in Lena's stomach.

Despite her hoarse words, Kara pushes fearlessly on, redirecting her eyes. "It must sound a bit silly to you."

Lena blinks out of her stupors, stammering.

"No! Not at all!" she scrambles, trying to suffocate the growing feeling inside, "Actually, I think it's... romantic."

The moment is shattered by a clear chuckle and replaced by a lighter tone.

"You? Romantic?" Kara huffs, amused disbelief lacing her words, "What happened to bitter and snarky?"

Lena rolls her eyes, scoffing good-naturedly, "Oh, no. I think I felt something. Please, make it stop," she drones, tone even and dry.

The sound of the shutters clicking off makes her freeze in her slouch.

"That was a nice shot." Kara's excitement rumbles through the words.

"It can't be a nice photo if I'm in it."

"Oh, shut up. You are the perfect model. You are quite beautiful, after all."

Lena coughs to hide a blush, reddening cheeks matching the strawberries growing a couple of feet from her.

"Why do you want my picture?"

"Full of questions, are we?"

If she insists on being like this, then her blush will never fade away.

"It's because you matter to me. I care about you."

"Okay," Lena quips, grimacing for another shot, "This way you'll remember your sarcastic neighbour forever. The joy."

Kara smiles a secretive grin over the camera's black shape.

"I have a feeling you're the kind of person that's hard to forget."

++++++

Funnily enough, they're not drinking tea this time.

Lena ventures in town sometimes to share lunch breaks with Sam, the two of them ducking in the nearest bar to avoid town gossip and stares. Winn sometimes join them, with funny stories about gears and people.

Today they're alone, nursing soft fuzzy drinks over a split salad, a loaf of stale bread forgotten on the side.

Lena's been toying with her necklace string for the whole meal, Sam's inquisitive gaze never straying far, even though the woman doesn't corner her into talking. She never does. She'll tease her, pushing all her buttons with the ease of an old friend, despite the two of them only meeting a couple of years back.

She never demands anything from her (except for a couple of tea bags, here and there).

Shoved by a flailing elbow, a folded napkin falls from Sam's side of the table, whose messy eating habits have been inherited by her daughter. The idea that she's an amazing cook baffles Lena every time. Maybe it's a mother thing. Lena nudges her own napkin forward, catching her friend's grateful wink.

Fondness surges inside her chest.

She thinks of the first time she met her and the first encounter with Ruby, rosy cheeked and wailing. The first shared tea cup. And then the second and the third. And the first time Sam cried, broken and alone. When the weight of the whispers and the hate became too much. She thinks of the touches and the smiles. The moments she couldn't hold and the times she couldn't rise from the chair to lay a hand on her shoulder. About laughing and teasing and closeness. She thinks about Sam buying mint tea despite hating it, Sam wrinkling her nose each time she lifted the teapot to pour her a second cup.

And as Sam stabs the last piece of chicken with a triumphant grin, Lena tugs the ring from her chest, hidden between the folds of her shirt.

"Sam," she begins, quiet faith shining, "There's something I have to tell you."

++++++

"Here, slow down," Kara tightens her grip around Lena's shoulders, gently steering her towards the nearest chair,  "Sit, sit," she hurries, hooking one foot around the leg of a brown uneven wheelbarrow. With a tug, Kara brings it closer to her, almost upturning it in the process. She cradles Lena's elbow in her other hand, a beacon of warmth.

Lena limps stubbornly, the memory of being cradled in Kara's arms aching like a distant feeling, its images trapped in the past. The ache is almost enough to make her forget about the pain in her leg.

She's been kneeling all afternoon, stuck on a broken pipe hanging from Querl's car, persistent in its refusal to turn on. The boy had showed up that same morning on her porch, desperate with a broken car. He had finally succeed in asking the town sweetheart, Nia Nal, on a date at the movies, on the same night, and his broken engine didn't sit well with his plans.

She discovered there was more than one minor problem with his jalopy, but the boy, on the verge of tears, had seemed so hopeful that she couldn't simply turn him down without even trying. And after a gruesome long time spent cursing and swearing, as soon as she tried to rise from the uneven ground, her leg had buckled under her.

A brief flash of agony had cut through her, and she choked on a broken lament. But Kara had turned in her direction, alerted.

"Why did you kept working if you- why... ugh."

Kara's anger sends a shiver down her spine.

"It's okay," Lena gasps, stumbling and collapsing heavily on the seat, "I just need-"

After making sure she won't fall again, Kara puts some space between them, frowning deeply. Without another words, she sprints back toward the house, leaving Lena to blink against the pain, slumped in the hollow of an old wheelbarrow. A moment later, the blonde is at her side again, rolling a small ointment jar between dirty fingers.

"My medication."

There are clouds in Kara's eyes.

"How did you-" disorientation blurs her thoughts, as Lena listens to her own heart missing a beat. Matching confusion shines in Kara's blue eyes, the blonde watching the jar with something akin to wonder.

Lena doesn't recall ever telling Kara about it.

Shaking her head, Kara pushes forward the jar in Lena's hands, crinkle deep set in her frown. If she wanted, Lena could brush her hand over it. Instead, she simply accepts the bottle. After setting it down beside her, she props up against her elbows, groaning.

"Wait!" Kara's hands dart forward on her shoulders, stopping her, "What are you doing? Sit down!" she half screams, scrambling.

"Kara," Lena huffs, amused at her reaction, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Then why are you standing up?"

"I have to take off my trousers to put on some ointment on my leg."

Kara drops her stare on Lena's lap, a blush dipping under the hem of her sweaty shirt.

"Oh."

They simply look at each other for a while, Lena's heart racing in her chest, daring to hope. But Kara's growing silence slowly quells down the feeling. Lena bends her arms again, preparing to rise, to push against the edges of the wheelbarrow.

Kara shakes out of her thoughts with a jolt, "Let me help you."

It's slow progress. Bracing against Kara's firm shape, Lena awkwardly unties the lace of her pants, lowering the heavy clothing in a messy heap at her feet, fumbling in an ungraceful motion before collapsing again on the dirty metal coldness of the wheelbarrow. But she doesn't miss the way Kara diverts her gaze at the sight of pale skin, redness blooming on both cheeks.

Something flutters inside her.

Seated again, Lena's fingers uncork the jar, revealing a thick shiny cream. Kara leans towards her again, furrows in her forehead.

"Let me," her words are quiet as the blonde reaches for the jar.

Silent, Lena lets the bottle slips from her grip, passed on to callous palms. She watches as Kara cleans meticulously her hands under the water can's even stream, leaving a slim trace of droplets dripping behind her on the ground.

The first tremble of Kara's coated fingers on her bare tight makes her gasp and the blonde's attention snaps immediately back to her.

"Sorry," Lena croaks, " 's cold."

With a nod, Kara rolls carefully the cream between her fingertips, warming it, before touching her leg again. This time, the tremor rolls down, deep into Lena's belly. The blonde traces the outline of old injuries with careful brushes, the scar tissue white and foreign against her skin. Her strokes are even and broad, leaving a pleasant tingling in their wake. Lena barely suppresses a shudder as Kara brushes the full length of one of the biggest scar.

It's not awkward. There's a familiar... something, hanging between them, that makes Lena relax. She never forgot the feeling of Kara's touch, of Kara's warmth.

"What happened?"

How can you not remember?

She only wants to scream, "It was an accident," but the words pushing past her lips are barely a whisper.

She clears her throat of the sudden dryness, "An accident with an engine. It ended my career."

Kara hums, hands never straying far from her leg. Lena wills her to look up at her, but her shoulders remain hunched forward. 

"So you became a mechanic?"

"Yeah," she sighs, the pain of the incident far and hushed, "I always loved tinkering and inventing, growing up. So it was the next logical step. And if I can help along the way..." she trails off, motioning to Querl's car with one wave.

Ointment applied, the motion becomes the one of a caress.

"Can I ask you something else?" Kara barely pauses, rushing in her confidence, "Is there anyone who could... help you? With this?" 

A prickles of irritation travels up Lena's spine, as Kara's hands still, "I can take care of myself."

"No," the blonde finally lifts her gaze, "No, that came out wrong..." she retreats her hands, bringing them to the chest. Lena can't hide the immediate loss she feels at the action.

"I know you're capable of taking care of yourself, I know that," Kara's tone softens imperceptibly, "And I know you have Winn and... and Sam, but. But. Do you... do you have someone... someone who is-"

A jolt of pain shines in Lena's features, sharp with agony.

Lena’s breath comes out in a rush, cutting in, "No," she says dismissively, shaking off the stabbing pain that comes with every mention of their lost past, "There's no one."

Kara remains silent for a long moment and Lena doesn't dare move.

"I was alone, too." Her voice is a trembling rasp.

Judging by the look on Kara's face, she hadn't expected those words to come out from Kara's mouth anymore than Lena does.

Before Lena can reply, Kara barrels forward, avoiding her gaze again, "When I woke up, injured, at the hospital camp. I was alone, too."

"I don't remember anything from before... from before the crash," Kara's following wince is poorly hidden, "I woke up one morning and... and I was left with nothing. Nothing and no-one. And- and when I was there... nobody came for me. No one. No family, no friends. And," Kara's sigh becomes shaky, eyes firmly lowered on the ground "And I can't help but think that maybe nobody is looking for me because..."

Silence pauses between them and Lena's heart twinges again.

"Because I'm not worth it. I thought about it and this is the only reason that makes sense. The past me must have been... Why nobody showed up?" Kara's lips stretch in a humorless smile as she winds her arms tighter on her chest, hugging herself. "But that doesn't matter anymore. I'm sorry, that came out more depressing than I intended-"

Lena's heart breaks in two, the sound of the shards falling masked by the wheelbarrow upturning, pushed by Lena's abrupt and forceful rise. In one limp, she's cradling Kara's hands.

"No! Kara, no!" she closes her eyes to hide her own collecting tears, "You are worth everything, Kara. You are. You are a brilliant, kind-hearted, beautiful soul. You are brave and caring and loving. And good, so, so good. You do not deserve a single ounce of the hurt you've received."

They collapse against each other, in a tumbling of arms and knocking elbows, swaying and barely standing. Lena's chest resonates with anguish, faced with Kara's pain. Pain she had caused, because she hadn't fought for her. Because she just accepted her death, the curt short missive stating her death. Paralyzed by pain, the thought of Kara being alive seemed only a wishful dream.

"Your leg..."

"Not important, darling."

They cling to each other, wrapped in shared grief. Lena shakes her head, and almost gives in to the urge to cup Kara’s face.

Lena has to think through her response, and when she resumes talking, her voice is warped by pain, "Kara. I know there's someone out there who's grieving for you, someone who lost you. Mourning, because they think you... died. The thought of abandoning and leaving you must be tearing them apart. And now, now that they are alone, all they have is dreams and memories. Of you. And it isn't enough, it can never be enough. Even, even when they deluded themselves into thinking it could be enough. The only thing they can cling to is you. A frozen fragment in time. So you can be together, even if you are separated, far from each other. They must be- they must feel..." she breathes deeply to ground herself, inhaling Kara's familiar scent, thoughts and memories blurring. 

But Time had been kind with them. The only thing that will bring comfort to Kara is the truth.

"You are a good person, Kara. I knew right from the first time we met. You are a good person, kind and caring. Genuine with everyone, be they deserving or not. When you helped me, the first time, you didn't stop to question who I was. You simply offered your hand. Because you care. You care so much. You care even for the smallest and weakest plants, for some feeble flowers that won't grow. For an evil vile plant like mint, that only wants to destroy your garden. You care for Ruby, for Sam. And you care for a sarcastic cynical pariah like me. At least I hope. Hell, you even manage to tolerate Winn."

Lena pulls back to let their eyes meet as she finally draws one watery chuckle from the sniffling blonde.

"And you have to know that I- no, that you, that you..."

Lena leans forward again, placing one tentative hand on Kara's chest. She can feel a racing heartbeat under her palm.

"That even if your memories had been erased, nothing- nothing can erase your heart."

When the blonde's breathing becomes less unsteady, Lena gently begins to ease away from her. Kara's arms reflexively tighten around her shoulders.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Lena reassures, even while she's drowning in her own soul, "Just..."

Kara softens her grip and Lena stumbles back, limping even though the pain in her leg lessened. She makes her way through her shed, its roof's shadow itching against them. When she comes back, Lena hands Kara a gray rag snatched from the worktable, a pitiful handkerchief. And while Kara's sobs slowly quiet down, Lena smiles as she notices a trace of grease left behind by the dirty cloth on Kara's cheek. She wipes at the stain with her thumb, drawing another quivering broken smile by the hiccuping blonde. 

Her skin is darkened by black grease.

++++++

(When Querl comes knocking to her door, later that evening, Kara leads him in the yard with a beaming smile, asking questions about his plans for the date, leaving the boy embarrassed and flushing. As they circle the car, Lena follows them with her gaze, still slumped on the same spot on the wheelbarrow. Later, Kara cheers when the engine starts under Querl's hopeful flick of key.)

++++++

Before

Kara gives her one last squeeze before skipping away to greet her partner, L. Lane. She even has the same initials. Lena falls in line with the other recruits, functioning exclusively on the black coffee she had swallowed earlier. She never liked the taste, but the canteen's refusal to brew any kind of tea left her with bitter sour coffee choice.

As she surveys the room, Lena fixes her uniform, squaring her shoulders under the helmet, one size too big. That persistent piece of metal keep insisting of falling over her brow.

Willis hasn't arrived yet, the two of them having an unspoken arrangement of spending together as little time as possible.

But even when she steps into the cockpit of their jet, she finds herself alone.

"Sergeant? My partner hasn't showed up yet."

His bushy eyebrows furrow even further. Kara joked that his was probably a permanent scowl.

"She may be dead for what I care, Luthor. Strap in and take this plane up there along with the others."

If there's something she hates even more than the coffee, it's her instructor, a brass man who has to shout to impose his authority. At least he treats her as badly as the others, and that's refreshing, for once, given her surname.

Planes rumble to life around her, purring sounds lifting from the bellies of those metal beasts. Lena jumps easily in position, checking the weather conditions and the many lights beeping from the corner of her eye without faltering once. It isn't the first time she's flying solo so she knows the procedure by heart. 

Fear hums under her skin.

She straps the helmet buckle tighter around gaunt cheeks. Her trembling hand clings to the control stick, while setting in position a couple of levers with the other. The radar beeps reassuringly as she switches on the engine.

Under her planted feet, the engine roars.

The lenses of her goggles shatter in the explosion.

++++++

Now

Lena wakes up from her memory in silence.

She doesn't scream, doesn't cry, just shifts under the covers, hand searching. She clutches at the emptiness, fist curling around crumpled sheets.

After a beat, the shuffling comes to a painful halt, and Lena breathes deeply, eyes swimming. She runs her hand over her face with a harrowing sigh. Rising noiselessly, the floor cold under her feet, Lena limps out of the room, cane left behind.

She navigates through the rooms without the aid of light, fingers brushing against walls, like a hushed ghost tiptoeing in her own house. She unlatches the door leading to the garden, stepping in the crisp air of the early spring nights that are still shaking the cold off.

As she reaches the edge of the garden, Lena kneels on the damp soil, where dark dirt smudges her pants and sticks to bare feet. She braces against the ground with both palms. Closed bulbs of flowers sleep around her, all the fragrances from the various herbs dancing, pushing against her.

Her hands roll in the fresh ground, fingers painting underground designs, carding through the soil, staining pale hands.

The earth tickles her fingers.

+++++

"And he said, I'm quoting him, I swear on my father's pendulum," Winn leans forward, closer, preparing to deliver a carefully planned punchline. Lena can read his features, tense and excited, in the usual way when he wants to blurts something and can barely restrains himself.

"This single-handedly changed my life!"

She grins carefully at him, even though she's suspects it comes out as more of a not grimace than a proper smile. She has no idea of what he's talking about, either.
 
"So, Old Lady. What's wrong with you?"

Lena chokes on her morsel of food. The clockmaker pats her on the back, calmly sipping his ginger.

"Nothing," Lena coughs, painfully lying, "Everything's okay."

Winn holds up his three fingered hand in front of her in reply.

"Proof number one. You didn't laugh at my joke and, since I'm oh so funny, I can only blame your troubled soul for your lack of an appropriate reaction."

This draws a chuckle from Lena, alongside with a raised eyebrow, skepticism heavy on her expression.

"Rude." Winn sniffs, wrinkling his nose in mock disgust, "That was funny. I'm funny, damn it."

Lena rolls her eyes, feeling herself already less tense than before. 

"Numero due!" he continues in a terrible accent, as he lowers the second finger, leaving only his thumb sticking out, "Your leg is bothering you. And since I saw you've been resting and there's no storm rolling up soon, then I must assume you're under stress. You're beating yourself up over something."

A sudden spike of discomfort makes her shiver.

Winn leans forward on the table stage whispering, as if he is revealing an ominous secret, "I heard that talking about your problems with friends is really really helpful."

You're truly one of a kind, Winn.

Lena's facade crumbles and she cracks a smile, only to discover she already was, "And the third?"

Winn's hand curls lazily around his fork, one finger at a time. He points at her with it, cheese melting on his bite of potato, "You didn't notice I confused salt with sugar," he declares, nonplussed, before promptly devouring his forkful in one single bite.

Lena lowers her gaze on her own plate and tries one sample, swallowing heavily.

At the weird taste tingling on her tongue, she bursts into giggles, laughing freely at her own foolishness. It's not her usual polite chuckle, but the deep belly snort that always leaves her panting with delight, and an effusing warmth, rooted deeply within her.

She doesn't remember the last time it happened, this feeling of light bubbling inside.

Winn's smirk remains plastered on his smug face as he takes another long sip, his lone pinkie lifted like a snob aristocrat.

"Thank you, Winn, I really needed that."

He half bows in his seat, serious.

"You're right: something is bothering me. I meant to tell you about it for a while," Lena begins, folding her hands in her lap and pushing away her plate, "But I guess I was worrying for nothing."

Noting her sombre tone, Winn drops his attitude and grows quiet, posture straightening in what Lena learned to fondly dub as his 'serious listening' stance. She has his complete attention now.

"It's about... Kara," she spells out each word, wincing slightly. Winn only nods, silent.

"I, uh... before. Before she lost her memories, I knew her... we knew each other," she trembles, focusing on the condensation lingering on the water bottle's walls to avoid Winn's gaze, "We were... we- she was... she was..." she fumbles over words in her head, wishing she were better at this, wishing she knew the right thing to say. In the end, she settles for the truth.

"She was mine. And I was hers."

When she finally lifts her gaze, Winn is looking at her in utter silence, brows furrowed. She feels herself flush red, but keeps staring straight ahead, not straying from her purpose.

She's practically coming out to his friend for the first time and she has no idea what she's barreling herself into. She can only keep loving Winn, whatever happens next.

Slowly, the clockmaker rises from the chair, turning on his feet. He leaves the kitchen, abandoning Lena at her own kitchen table. In few strides, he ducks inside the door leading outside. As he walks away, Lena feels her heart plummeting in her chest.

She isn't aware of how much time passes, but she remains still, slumped on her chair and watching their food grow cold. The food they had prepared together in her kitchen, just a couple of hours before, with Winn singing and joking as usual. She could have never imagined he would...

His rejection stings, with tears prickling at her eyes and pooling around the corners.

She's broken out of her stupor by the sudden slam of her back door, the one leading in her garden. Winn stands in the entryway, cradling something in his chest.

He's got the gentlest smile on his face, lighting up his chocolate eyes.

"Lena, I already knew that."

He's holding tightly on a photo frame, a picture of her and Kara, both in uniforms from the academy, where Lena is looking directly at the photographer while Kara beams at her, half turned in her direction and the clouds in her eyes are filled of love.

++++++

Today

As she cradles the umpteenth glass of cold lemonade, tapping her fingers on the counters, Kara thinks about Lena. Her weird cynic sarcastic witty genius neighbour. About her smile, so difficult to lure from hiding, but oh so brilliant in the light. Making Lena laugh, even for few seconds, somehow becomes one of the proudest moments of Kara’s life. Her deep belly giggling is already forever seared in Kara's memories. 

Her... new memories.

She was so embarrassed the day she met her, painfully awkward with her casserole (I'm sure it tastes amazing, she had said, even without trying it). She was sure she had made a complete fool of herself and instead Lena, gracious Lena, had offered to let her tend to the garden. And she loves it. Working the soil makes her feel so in tune with herself, comfortable in her surroundings. After the injury, she had often been on edge, like an itch she couldn't scratch, something she couldn't place nor pinpoint.

She never feels more at ease than when she has dirt caked under nails and sunburn showing her freckles. She feels that past Kara had some kind of knowledge about gardening, because it feels so natural and easy. No, not easy, that's not the right term to describe what she feels while she hums, watering a row of salad or trimming grape vines.

Lena's house is another thing. She feels so comfortable, be in the living room or in the garden. She imagined being alone in the kitchen would be awkward, while Lena is in the back yard with somebody else - she's not sure who is it, only that they dropped one heavy scrap of metal in the middle of the yard and mumbled something about irrigation - but only the feeling of home is left tingling in her soul. She doesn't want to think about what it must mean, being comfortable in a stranger's house, even more than her own.

She doesn't understand. Why she's so attracted to Lena, drawn to her. She spends many nights laying awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling thinking about her. She's scared to admit it to herself, but somewhere in the middle, the rhythm of her husband's snoring had turned uneasy.

As she debates the pros and the cons of eating another pastry before resuming the slow process of uprooting weeds, a knock on the front door thunders in the room. Kara jolts, dropping the sweet on the table, leaving a wake of crumbles on her digits. Fixing the door an annoyed glare, she considers answering while munching on the ruined pastry.

She knows Lena has been swamped with projects and repairs lately, the bags under her eyes visible enough for Kara to catch on. It's not unusual for her to catch a glimpse of light in the shed, when she rises from her own bed in the middle of the night to grab something from the kitchen (sleep is... troublesome at times), or her familiar shadow wandering between shy bulbs and swaying leaves. She kneels beside the mint the most.

Another work on her growing list of repairs isn't what she needs right now. But whoever is knocking sounds desperate enough to at least deserve a polite refusal. Armed with a half eaten pastry, Kara opens the door.

There's a woman standing behind it, a face she doesn't recognize from her trips around town. She's all frown and sharp edges, the dip of her cheek rough against the delicate light filtering form above. She’s slightly taller than her, especially so because Kara's only in her socks. She's dressed in a tight fitting attire, dark and practical, with a brown belt snug around her waist. An old beige jacket completes the attire, thrown over as if in a second thought. 

She looks tense.

"Hi!" Kara beams at her, causing the stranger to jolt into a surprised smile that's just a shy lift of the corners of her lips.
 
"Oh... hi?" The woman looks at her with a quirked brow, with a confused flicker on her expression.

They stand on the front steps for a moment, and Kara can feel the awkwardness rising. The other woman is clearly struggling with something, something she's hesitant to ask.

"You want to come in? For a cup of tea?" Kara's sure Lena won't mind the intrusion. As the woman still hesitates on the porch with a grimace, Kara tries again, still smiling, "Maybe coffee?"

The woman grimaces, hiding a half smile, but she comes forward, past Kara's stretched hand. Kara reasons she might be friendly with Lena, given the familiar way she navigates the house, so she feels a little bit better about letting her come in. She's still a tense presence in the living room, standing stiffly behind the chair Kara offered her.

Only when Kara puts down a mug in front of her spirals the woman into movement, who shrugs the jacket from her shoulders to lay it on the back of the chair. In the jerky motion, something falls from a pocket and lands on the floor with a heavy thud. Like a natural reflex, Kara immediately kneels to pick it up for her. 

It's a badge, the shining golden mark of a police officer. The small letters engraved on the leather spell the name Alexandra Danvers. 

Kara brushes some invisible dust off the badge before handing it to the woman, Alexandra, "So, a police officer?"

"Yeah," Alexandra gulps, accepting it with a grateful nod, "I finally made it on the team. It's tough work, especially because I'm still the rookie, but," she finally sinks in the chair, somewhat slightly more relaxed, "It's okay. It's good."

Kara looks as she doesn't add any sugar in her cup before taking a long sip, to quell any remaining jitters.

Black coffee. No sugar. This knowledge sits naturally within Kara, as she takes a sip of her own drink, and grimaces at the bitter taste immediately after. Alexandra smiles, amused at her scowl.

"Forgot your sugar?" she asks, before pushing forward three white grainy cubes, the exact amount Kara likes to pour in her coffee.

They sit there for a bit longer, silent except for Kara's spoon hitting the cup edges. Alexandra carefully unfolds her palms in front of her, on the table surface.

"Lena's not home today?"

So she is one of Lena's friends. The confirmation tickles her wrongly, somehow.

"She's in the back, not sure what she's doing, but I can call her if you-"

"No," she quickly brushes away the offer, "You don't need to disturb her." Alexandra pauses, circling her cup with both hands, "How is she?"

At the prompted thought about Lena, Kara doesn't fight a growing smile, "She's good. A bit busy, but good."

The other woman hums, "Leg still bothering her?"

They must share a closeness if she knows about her old injury and Kara bristles internally, but replies with a pleasant smile, "Not more than usual, I think."

After that, they fall into another quiet lapse, that leaves Kara itching to go back outside in the garden. She edges the table, getting ready to rise and call Lena for her... friend. Before she can, though, Alexandra speaks again.

"Actually, there's something- something I need help with."

Kara aborts her motion, wanting to help in any way she can. "Sure." she confirms, sliding down comfortably on the chair.

It's a while before the woman speaks again, as Kara watches her torturing fingers, twisting hair strands, before finally rising. She starts pacing the room in a nervous spiral.

"Alexandra..." the name feels wrong, slipping from Kara's lips, and Alexandra notices, too, because she stops in her tracks to pin the blonde with a certain look.

Kara coughs to clear her throat and tries again.

"Alex."

The minute slump of Alex's shoulders confirms her feeling. A feeling she doesn't question, until Alex stares at her for a long time. Kara stares back, musing if past Kara knew her somewhere along the way, because she can't will away this feeling of familiarity that's nagging at her.

Alex just paces more, shaking her head and chewing at her thumb.

"Kara, I want to ask you something."

She declares, posture stiff in what feels like a forced confidence. When she resumes speaking, she refuses to cross eyes with Kara, preferring to fiddle with her belt buckle.

"There's, there's this woman, who's... she's, she's- she's a detective. From... Not- she doesn't work for me- with me! She's a colleague, even if we don't work together. And she's like, I mean, she is," Kara watches intently as redness crawls up on the strange woman's cheeks, matching the tone of her hair.

With a huff, Alex finally snaps her head up, looking Kara straight in the eyes, "What I want to ask you is... how does it feel?"

"...what?"

Alex lifts a hand to her hair, running it between her short strands, disrupting the put together style of hairspray, looking torn between impatient and frustrated.

"I mean, what do you feel if you're... this? How can I tell if I'm like you?"

“What do you mean?” Kara says carefully, and Alex stops pacing at least, but she still refuses to sit down.

"She irked me, at first. This woman. But then I slowly got to know her, working together and having a few drinks. And I... I want to get closer, I want to know more of her. Everything."

"You wanted to..." Kara trails off, but Alex hardly seems to be listening to her. As soon as she started talking, the dam broke, pouring every word.

"And it feels... scary, but also... exciting and pleasant. I don't know!" she half shouts, remaining thankfully rooted on her spot. Any more pacing would only make Kara dizzier.

"How do you know if you're a lesbian?" Alex blurts the words in one rushed sentence, panting.

"Lesbian?" 

"Yes! What do you feel if you like someone who is a woman?"

Kara has no answer, she can't even repeat the last word, like a stunned fish. She's thinking. Thinking about this woman, Alex, and what she's saying and what she means and what she feels and-

What would she feel if she kissed Lena?

"Kara?"

She's startled from her mind by Alex's nervous tone, small and uncertain, and confused on the edge.

"Why?" Kara croaks, thoughts muddling.

"Because," Alex interrupts her, and the pacing starts again, "Even if we haven't... talked for a while. Even if mom thinks..." she trails off and shakes her head, focusing again, "I know it's because of this you left home and... everything else that happened. But you're you and I thought that maybe you- that maybe you would-"

"No," Kara cuts in, missing Alex's puzzled look, because she doesn't understand and everything is slipping between her fingertips and she's confused and spinning and, "What I meant is, why are you asking me this?"

Frozen again, Alex blinks at her and suddenly she's standing closer. Her concern echoes in Kara's being, like a forgotten feeling.

"What?"

"I'm not... I'm not a, a..."

"What?" Alex repeats, frowning deeply, wrinkles showing, "Kara what are you... saying?"

The coffee that Kara made them is abandoned on the table, now lukewarm.

"But you and- and Lena?"

"Lena?" Kara's heart somersaults in her chest at the mention of her name.

"Yes! Lena!"

"Maybe she could help? I-I don't know..."

"Kara," Alex's eyes are furrowed, inches from her face. Kara doesn't remember when Alex put her hand on her shoulder, but she's a warm weight, comforting. And that's because she's... she's...

"Kara, you told me and mom that you... You left home! And now you're saying you're...?"

Kara shakes her head to hide the trembling in her hands.

"Stop saying that! I'm married to Mike!"

"Mike?" Alex gasps, flinching one step back.

Kara's gaze is stormy, unfocused. She feels like crying or shouting, a bit of both, Alex's face is soft and concerned in a way that’s both terrifying and exhilarating at once. Something clicks into focus.

"Alex?"

A loud crash resonates from the back yard, followed by a call, a quick shout. Both sounds are muted, opaqued by the walls of the house, but to Kara's ringing ears they could come from miles away.

"Here," Alex murmurs as she pries Kara's fingers open and curls them around her cup. Kara watches the brown liquid sloshing, tipping to the side.

"What about Lena, Alex?" is what she finally manages, head swimming, hope careening.

"Kara, what happened to you?"

"What about Lena?"

The other woman sighs heavily as she turns her chair, before sitting gingerly on her seat, chin resting on her crossed arm over the back of the chair. Her eyes seems wet in the low glinting light of the late sun.

"I don't know what happened to you, Kara," she begins, "I know I've been missing from your life for a long time. But, now I know I was wrong about you. And I'm sorry." Alex wipes at her eyes with a weary breath, "I'm sorry it took me so long to realize. I lost so much time without you."

Kara edges quietly, wishing she would talk about Lena.

"Kara," Alex says, slowly and honestly, "Last time I saw you, you and Lena... You two are in love."

To Kara's horror, nothing flickers in her mind, no sparks, no fireworks. Only dizziness and confusion.

"I love... Lena?"

Something crashes behind them again, closer and clearer.

Lena is standing on the doorway, frozen, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. Her eyes are wider than ever, her mouth hanging slightly open, hair ruffled and wild and Kara has the feeling that she’s just said something true. Her grip on the cane is strong enough to leave her knuckles pale. She looks like she doesn’t quite understand what just happened. Or doesn't want to.

"Is it true?" Kara whispers, voice cracking slightly.

Lena's silence is loud enough for an answer.

Kara slams her cup on the table and rises, hurrying to the door and storming away from the familiar house. In the garden, her hair tie is still wound around the spade handle, jabbing out from the cracked soil.

+++++

Before

As Lena plugs the cable in its socket, the amplifier croaks menacingly on the table. When she touches the volume knob, the device zaps her, outraged.

"Careful there with your inventions." Kara chimes in, heaving under a sack of coffee grounds. As she drops it, the soil under her caves, leaving an indentation in the ground.

Lena pushes herself off the stool, navigating easily around the table without the cane. She calmly sways on her feet at the edge of the shed, shielding her eyes from the sun's last red shards. Kara swabs at her face with the hem of the shirt, before waving at her innocently. Lena's eyes narrow playfully.

She watches as Kara scatters the bag's contents on the empty row and grabs a spade, pushing and huffing until the ground is thin, the particles of soil soft and small, ready for welcoming seeds. With a rusty rake held in firm hands, Kara combs the plot of land smoothly with even long strokes, circling around its perimeter few times. Until the tool gets stuck in something, hidden from sight. Puzzled, Kara tugs at the rake with a vigorous pull, trying to dislodge the metal tip from the offending obstacle. A moment later, the rake snaps near the head with a clean break, sending Kara reeling back, tipping backwards. The blonde falls with a stunned huff, losing her straw hat in the drop, cushioned by the pliable ground.

Lena explodes in a flurry of giggles as she saunters forward and when she reaches Kara, the blonde is still pouting on the ground, messy hair and dirty hands crossed over the broken rake. Its metal head slipped off, still buried in the ground.

"Careful there, darling." Lena mocks her, bending to pick the fallen hat.

She dusts it with her hand, before throwing it on Kara's head, hanging so low it covers her clear eyes.

"Oi!"

Lena's chuckle ripples her smile again, eyes crinkling. Blindly, she leans forward to kiss Kara, swallowing all the mumbling of protests. As she pulls back, Lena pushes the hat up her sweaty forehead along with a couple of strands of golden hair.

"Careful, Supergirl, or you'll end up destroying everything with your super strength." She quips, poking at a speck of dirt on Kara's cheek. She earns a groan and an eye roll at the mention of Kara's old nickname at the flight academy, before nimble hands sneak around her shoulders and she gets pulled in for another kiss with a weak yelp.

They kiss while the sun paints the air with dying embers.

After a few beats, Lena ambles back to her shed, light and happy.

“So, I have a plan for dinner,” Kara declares after a while, as she turns the soil over with one last vigorous push of the shovel before plunging it vertically in the ground, half moons of dirt beneath her fingernails, covered in mud. She straightens up, resting one arm on the shovel, while the amplifier in Lena's hands buzzes with static.

“No fires in the kitchen.”

“So, I don’t have a plan for dinner.”

+++++

Today

Kara doesn't go back the next day.

And the days after.

Lena doesn't knock, either.

She stays holed up in her home. Stubbornly cooking and cleaning and smiling only when Mike talks directly to her. A couple of days into her self isolation, she ignores Winn's knocks on her front door.

She goes into town as little as possible, avoiding the clockmaker's shop and ducking into market stalls every time she catches a glimpse of dark hair. None of them has a knobbly cane at their side. She waves back at Ruby's happy shriek, the child perched on her mother's lap. Sam doesn't smile and Kara doesn't come closer.

She scrubs at dishes with only half of her attention, struggling not to look at the flourishing garden in her line of view, blooming a couple of steps over the white picket fence. Weeds are slowly appearing among the crops, favoured by the heavy rain of the past few days, and after their growth spurt, the tomato plants have to be tethered to their poles for the second time. Ripe peaches are dangling from low branches and the foxglove needs water and she has to keep trimming the grape vines otherwise in autumn they will-

The roommate's garden.

While she lays awake at night, she thinks about Lena. And past Kara. And nothing makes sense anymore.

She's definitely not thinking when she shows up at Lena's home, a couple of weeks after their last... confrontation. The mechanic is kneeling on the ground, observing closely the mint plant. Kara tiptoes around the garden, feeling prickles under her fingertips. She hasn't said anything, but from the tense set of Lena's stiff shoulders, she's she was heard.

"You like mint," Kara offers first, hesitant and sad, "It's a terrible threat to the other plants. It's infesting." she shrugs, unsure, "I don't know if you knew this, but-"

"You always complained about it." Lena's voice cuts in, rough and wet, while the woman stays low on the ground, not rising and not meeting her eyes, "You did. You said it was the devil's spawn, evil incarnated made plant. Along with more original accusations. But you always chose the best vase and the best spot for it, directly under the sunlight. And you struggled to use it in your cooking, kept trying and kept surprising me, even if you complained so loudly and strongly."

Lena holds one scented leaf between her fingertips, only the memory of a soothing caress.

"I was so... hopeful when you decided to grow it again, this time. Without me asking. I though you would remember me, that you would..." she trails off, shaking her head.

Lena finally turns and Kara sees the tiredness in her expression, the circles in her eyes, the wringing of her hands. She's sad and beautiful. She stays quiet, waiting for Kara to speak.

"You're in love with me."

"Yes," Lena agrees, doesn't deny, mouth twitching with the ghost of a smile. 

"And," Kara breathes, "I was in love with you before... before."

"Yes."

Lena looks relieved and pained at the same time, as if she has finally dislodged something heavy from her chest. A weight lifted. Kara watches as she braces both hands on the ground and rises with a wince and Kara doesn't resist the urge to help her, grabbing Lena's elbow with one hand and her calloused hand with the other. She has dirt stains on her trousers, the shape of her knees.

"Why didn't you say something?" Kara whispers, insists.

Lena blinks owlishly at their linked hands, before carefully removing hers from the warmth of the grip.

"I," she begins, picking her words carefully in that low, soft drawl that strung her words together like thick molasses, "I was scared."

"Of what?"

Lena shrugs again, and Kara immediately hates that helpless look, "Of hurting you? Of you never remembering me? Of you never loving me back? Of you remembering and not loving me anymore because you found someone better than me?" she lets a brittle chuckle loose, "I already lost you once and having you here again felt like a blessing. I didn't want do risk it. And I figured that having you like this was better than having none of you."

She heaves a shuddering breath, drawing her empty palm to her chest and shutting her eyes tight, in preparation to her demise. When she opens them again, Kara's still there.

"I didn't know you were alive. They told me you disappeared during a flight and I... I... I felt there was nothing I could do. You were thousands of miles away and I couldn't move. I was paralyzed. I couldn't breathe. I was never official family in their eyes, just a mere friend, and you were so far from home that nobody recognized you. Nobody knew you. And I left you alone! How can I deserve you after that? You were alone and injured and lost and I was here, doing nothing to gain you back."

"I was so scared." Lena says and shakes her head, while Kara edges closer.

"I was scared, too," Kara says, "Because you made me feel safe."

Lena doesn't answer, looking lost and startled and tired.

"Even when I didn't know you, after I moved here, being with you made me feel safe. Happy." Kara's hand reaches forward to stroke one strand of dark hair, "My memories were blurred, fuzzy around the edges. Like they would come back any time, but refused to. Nothing worked, no one sparked anything inside me. I felt stuck. But being here, with you. It felt... right. Not with Mike, but with you. And I know that makes me a terrible wife, but I can't help it. I can't help what I feel."

Fingers still at Lena's temple, the skin burning after her wake.

"I felt so happy with you. Even though I couldn't explain it. It was just a feeling. An emotion. How could I trust my gut when everything else told me otherwise? When you didn't say anything? Didn't show anything?"

Kara pauses for a moment, withdrawing her hand. She feels or maybe imagines Lena leaning forward, chasing after her touch.

"And then there was Mike," she continues, sighing heavily, "I thought that at first it was him. He was easy and he was there when I was alone. He felt like the only possible choice for me, the only familiar face around me. It felt like the smartest decision." Kara hesitates for a long moment, choosing her words carefully, "But it wasn't the right decision."

"You know that sometimes Mike takes advantage of his old back injury to skip out of small tasks. Carrying bags, cleaning dishes, replacing the broken fence post... And then there was you. You. Who has an injured leg, much worse than Mike's flesh shrapnel wound, much worse. And you never complained. Not once. Instead you went and picked up jobs and repairs that leave you hurting and aching from kneeling all afternoon. And the thing is, the thing is..."

She halts her words to let out a short incredulous laugh.

"I knew you were hurting. I could tell when you were lying and in pain but refused to tell anything. And here's the thing! How could I tell you were lying? How? How could I be sure when you were in pain if I never met you before? You were practically a stranger, I barely knew you. I couldn't explain in." Kara shakes her head, voice quavering and staring ahead at nothing over Lena's shoulder, "And I kept asking myself if I knew you, if I..."

Lena frowns at her, eyes lucid and teeth gnawing at her bottom lip. Shaky fingers itch to reach forward, to caress and comfort the dark-haired woman.

"Kara..."

"But even- even," Kara soldiers on, feeling like she's standing on the edge of something, something scary and crazy and real. "Even if my memories were gone, nothing could erase my heart."

"Kara."

"And my heart led me here, Lena. You were my heart, Lena. You are. My heart had always been yours and I- I couldn't understand it, but I knew. I could feel it. And then,"

Kara's eyes are full of tears, matching Lena's streaked cheeks. The blonde lifts a thumb to brush away the tear tracks, as she intertwines their hands, caressing Lena's smaller palm with the briefest of touches.

"And then Alex. My sister," she's smiling so hard her face is hurting, grin threatening to split her face in two, "Came here. My sister, whom I haven't spoken to in years. I didn't even recognize her. And then she tells me she's a police officer and maybe she's lesbian, like me, without even knowing..."

They're so close she can't tell who's trembling, and the sensation runs between them, traveling down their spines.

"She told me I loved you and- it was true, Lena. I remembered. I could remember, you, your love, Alex, everything."

Interrupting her, Lena comes crashing forward, lips aligning and searching, heat shared between them. The kiss is messy and desperate, but oh so light, smiles pushing against each other, wet with tears, shining with happiness. Kara swallows each sob that flutters from Lena's chest, hiccuping and shuddering.

Lena's body feels right, pressed flush against her front, hips slotting naturally under her grip, arms wrapped around each other and chests swelling with happiness. She curls her body closer.

"Lena," she whispers, and it feels like a prayer, cascading from her lips, tumbling down in an exhilarated laugh. Kara pulls back to breathe, heart beating so hard in her chest, and stares in Lena's bright green eyes, crinkling with love. She grins, pulling Lena again by the hands until she's close enough again to steal another kiss, "I never forgot what it feels like, loving you."

Swaying in the breeze, Kara kisses the crown of her hair until they're both smiling, sobbing and laughing at the same time, Lena's head tucked under her chin, a pool of warmth over her pulse point.

++++++

Now and Today

Standing barefooted under the trees shades, Lena and Kara join hands, their long shadows lazily stretching over flowers and plants in the orange light of the setting sun, its long rays lapping at the couple. Shadows dance on their faces, blending in with their smiles.

The mahogany radio lays a couple of feet over, nestled between the low branches, and a soft symphony climbs forward, hugging them in its soft melody.

The earth is warm under their feet.

They're both wearing white dresses, simple tunics sewn by Lena's hand years ago, now ablaze in the low sunlight.

A flower crown - a woven collection of petals and leaves and plants - rests delicately on top of Lena's head, framing her dark locks. Kara's matching flower crown is a bracelet, similar hues braided together around her bronze wrist.

There are flowers in their hair and smiles in their eyes, blue and green and gold.

Kara leans forward to whisper something in Lena's ear, who in turns laughs softly and gives a little shake of her head, glowing. Kara's watery laugh doesn't last much, as she darts forward to press a kiss to her cheek before stepping back and blinking away the happy tears.

After a long blissful moment, Kara's hands rise to her own neck, unfastening the black necklace, that's always been there. Lena's matching string comes undone and their open hands face upwards between them, a golden band shining in each palm.

Careful, Kara picks the ring on her palm between fingertips, slowly sliding it onto Lena's finger without hesitating. When she's done, Lena traces its shape, looking at it in wonder for a moment, before picking up the other golden band and sliding it on Kara's own finger, reverent.

Promises fit perfectly around their fingers.

The garden blooms with life and colours, as Kara presses her forehead to Lena's.