Chapter Text
The blood is still warm.
It fills her lungs like air should—suffocates her—and she grasps helplessly at her throat. Even though she knows there is no way it will disappear, she coughs and chokes at the same time in a vain attempt to breathe. It is, as always, a useless endeavor.
Her chest feels as though it’s going to physically burst open because of how harshly it’s heaving; her heart hammers; her hands are drowned in a sea of crimson that will never wash out.
And then she wakes up.
.
.
.
It’s as the bubblegum pop finally fizzles into low crackles of static that Lena speaks, for the first time since they’ve begun their drive:
“My mother was murdered here.”
The static is lowered. Kara casts a quick, uneasy glance in her direction, but otherwise stays silent.
“I know you already knew that,” Lena is compelled to add. “I just…can’t stop thinking about it.”
Kara shuts off the radio altogether. For a moment the silence is thick and stifling, interrupted only by the harsh rev of the car’s accelerator as they start uphill.
Then Kara breaks it. “If you want us to turn back, we can,” she offers slowly, as if they aren’t three hours into this drive.
“No.” Lena watches trees blur by, leans her head against the cool glass of the window and resists the urge to sigh. “I have to deal with it sooner or later, right?”
“You don’t have to deal with anything.”
“No, I do.” Lena glances right at Kara for a second, and tries to figure out whether the tightness of her expression is from the tricky roads or the situation at hand. “It’s my duty.”
“Your sense of self-sacrifice kills me, you know,” Kara says, though the fondness of her almost-smile betrays any feigned annoyance. “But you know I’ve always got your back. Even if I do think this is dumb.”
Despite herself, Lena feels the corners of her lips quirk up. “Oh, so you think this is dumb.”
“Yes, I do,” Kara huffs. “You don’t owe anyone anything. You don’t need to drive out to a rinky town to prove something.”
“It’s your town too, if you’d remember,” Lena reminds her, but all Kara does is get quiet.
She’s been especially odd about coming back. Lena knows Kara has far more roots than she personally does, but it’s strange that every time she brings it up suddenly Kara closes off. The most she discloses is the sole reason she’s even going home is because of Lena, which only serves to confuse her further.
Lena tries the radio again. It produces nothing but more static, so she shuts it off almost immediately.
“You know,” she says, “you didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to.”
“And leave you alone?” Kara teases. She sounds like herself then, with a smile too wide to contain. “Who would drive you? You wouldn’t have made it two miles.”
“Your driving isn’t any better,” Lena retorts; as if on cue, Kara hits a pothole. Clearly, the universe is on her side today.
“Touché,” Kara laughs and suddenly it feels so much easier.
There’s still an underlying—and undeniable—weird tension about where they’re heading. But there’s also a resigned understanding that they’re really doing this. They’ve committed.
Lena rests her head against her arm and continues to gaze pensively out the window for the next two hours. Kara is equally content with not making conversation; maybe she’s working through an internal struggle of her own.
And as trees melt into rural houses and clusters of factories, Lena wonders what her mother made of such a place.
(She was…restless, her father’d described her once. She was prepared to take you and run away the first chance she got. There had been sadness in his eyes then, right? Lena hadn’t imagined it?
At the time fifteen-year-old Lena had only stared up at the house her mother was murdered in and shivered. I wish she would have, she’d muttered, and had wondered where the sentiment came from.)
Sometimes she can’t help but wonder what would have happened. She’s no stranger to discontentment; if her mother had a plan to leave, surely she couldn’t have liked this town all that much. Surely there was a reason.
There must be something Kara doesn’t like either. She’s far too tense, far more tense than Lena has ever seen her. If Lena were a bit more bold she would ask why, but she’s also afraid—afraid that if she pushes too hard Kara will walk away from this.
It’s like the saying. She can’t look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when she can’t afford to. She’ll just have to hope there will be no consequences in the long run.
The next sign of life is a chipped wooden billboard that reads Now Entering Midvale, and Lena watches it whizz by and imagines she’s just coming up for a visit. That this is just a roadtrip, just a summer endeavor.
I’m coming to say goodbye, Mom, Lena privately thinks. I’m sorry I took so long to come. Forgive me.
Beside her, Kara begins to sing. “There is a house,” she whispers at first. “In New Orleans…”
Lena blindly reaches over to grasp Kara’s hand. Kara doesn’t acknowledge it, but she thumbs comfortingly over the back of Lena’s hand as her voice grows louder.
“They call the rising sun…”
.
.
.
It’s two stories high and much too large to warner anything beyond, “It’s big.”
“Yeah.” Kara takes the sunglasses off the top of her head and slides them onto the collar of her shirt, not-so-subtly glancing sideways at Lena to gauge her reaction. “Are you ready?”
Lena licks her dry lips and tries to nod. “Yes,” she says. “But can I…can I go in there first?”
“By yourself?” A crease between Kara’s brows forms. “I mean, if you’re sure.”
“I am.” She isn’t, actually, but Lena feels like she owes it to her mother.
Kara understands. She gives Lena a reassuring smile and stays in the truck; Lena is overcome with gratitude for a best friend like Kara.
“Just give me ten minutes,” she says, and steps out into the dust.
The property looks to be in poor shape. The grass is dead and yellow; the steps creak as Lena walks up to the door; the lock gives little resistance as she wrestles the rusty key into place.
When she cracks open the front door she’s rushed with a scent of stale air so overwhelming that she coughs into the crook of her arm. A cursory glance around the room shows her it’s a spacious, airy layout, with sun streaming in from windows overhead.
She takes a chance on the stairs next. They have more structural integrity than the porch steps at least, so she resolves to look at this through a more positive lens. Upstairs seems decent; she counts four large bedrooms and two bathrooms, which is good. The realtor won’t have a problem making a case for the amount of space this house has.
“What did you see in this house, Mom?” she murmurs as she runs her fingertips over the crackling wallpaper. “Did you even see it before dad bought it for us?”
She comes to a stop before the master bedroom eventually. Even then, she circles past it at least twice more before she gives in and pushes the door open.
From looks alone she would never guess its gruesome truth. There’s nothing that indicates her mother’s throat was slit while she slept, not even a scrap of evidence anyone lived here at all. Lena had expected as much, but her heart jackhammers in her chest anyway; it’s not really fear. But maybe it’s pretty close.
“Lena?” comes a familiar shout. “Where are you?”
At the sound of Kara’s voice she jerks back to reality. “I’m upstairs,” Lena shouts back; she swiftly exits the master just in time to meet Kara halfway.
“Hey.” Kara leans against the pillars beside the stairs, gazes at Lena carefully, so carefully, as she brushes errant strands of sun-kissed blonde hair behind her ears. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Lena says, as flippant as she can manage. “It’s just a house.”
“Right,” Kara says, doesn’t press, as she tucks her hands into her pockets. “Should we…get dinner?”
“Yeah. Um. Let’s do that.” Lena is torn between being relieved and disappointed that Kara cut her exploration short. “And unpack after?”
“Sure.”
And they’re back to being weird again.
.
.
.
They find a booth by the window, tucked away in the corner of the little diner that Kara swears is the best. It gives Lena a sense of de ja vu; that was the same promise Kara had uttered the first night they met.
(This place is the best, I swear, she’d said. You won’t find a better hot dog stand in all of National City.
Lena had been annoyed—annoyed that Sam left her alone with her college friend—but she had feigned a smile anyway. Well, if you say so, she’d played along, and had been startled at how brightly Kara had smiled.)
Since then it’s never been a question of how Kara fits into her life, but rather a question of where. Lena never gets tired of how easily they fit together, even now as they squeeze into the booth and knock their knees against each others’. Kara laughs, truly laughs for the first time all day, and Lena feels her resolve melt away.
“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Lena says gently.
Kara pauses mid-turn on a page of the menu. “Do…what?”
“You don’t—have to walk on eggshells around me,” Lena says. “I’m not made of glass, Kara. I’m a Luthor. I’ve survived far worse.”
“I don’t walk on eggshells around you. I worry about you,” Kara scoffs. “Sue me for loving you, I guess.” She always throws the word love around too often; Lena doesn’t know what to make of it sometimes. It’s either said too dryly to be sentimental or so heartachingly soft, but no in-between. This undoubtedly falls under the former.
“Well, you’re being weird about it,” Lena says. “And I don’t appreciate it.”
“I’m not being weird about it. Who’s being weird? That’s,” a stint of awkward laughter, “that’s silly.”
Lena resists the urge to sigh. “Thank you, for proving my point,” she mutters. She picks up her menu to avoid Kara’s disappointed gaze, and asks, “So what’s good here?”
“Lena…”
“Unless you’re about to say you want us to pack and leave this instant, don’t say anything,” Lena says. “You’re going to ruin my first time at this… whatever this place is.”
Slowly, Kara seems to brighten. “Best burger place in the world,” she says. “You’ll see.”
“You’re going to have to prove it to me before I agree.”
“Challenge accepted.” Kara orders for the both of them; Lena doesn’t bother to fight for a side salad. When it comes to food, Kara insists on an authentic greasy dining experience and won’t be swayed. Lena has come to accept it without question.
It’s over gigantic burgers and an inhuman amount of fries that she finally decides to broach the topic of Kara’s uneasiness.
“So did you call your mom and tell her you’re back in town?” she asks.
“I did, yeah. I’m meeting her tomorrow for breakfast, if you want to come.” Kara has no qualms with talking about her mother, so clearly it can’t be that.
She tries another tactic. “Did you tell Alex?”
The effect is immediate; Kara stiffens. “Kind of,” she says, vaguely. “You know how she is.”
“Kara…you know you’re allowed to hate this place, right? I won’t feel guilty for dragging you along with me. Well, at least not very guilty.”
“It’s not that,” Kara insists. “I just…want to help you. It doesn’t matter how I feel.”
“It does.” Lena grabs Kara’s hand tightly in hers. “Should I walk on eggshells around you now? We can both agree this situation isn’t ideal.”
“Yeah, sure, we can both agree on that.” Kara smiles sheepishly. “I just don’t want to burden you with my problems.”
Lena raises an eyebrow at her. “I’ve already burdened you with all of mine, haven’t I?” she says. “Talk to me. You’re my best friend, you can tell me anything.”
The corners of her smile drop. “Alex is worried about me,” Kara admits. “She thinks I’m torturing myself on purpose or something. Or that I’m doing this out of some twisted sense of need.”
“Well are you?”
“No,” says Kara firmly. “No, I’m here for you. That’s it.”
“Okay. As long as you talk to me about it, if you want to,” Lena says.
“I will. Promise.” But Kara’s already distractedly poring over the menu and Lena knows that’s the last they’ll speak of it tonight.
.
.
.
“Did you know the stairs out back are rotting?”
They’ve been here three days and all Kara will do is survey every square inch of the house with such an unwavering dedication that Lena is starting to be concerned; when this question floats in through the screen door she almost wishes she could say no.
“I noticed it yesterday,” she says, setting aside the paperwork she’s been sorting through in favor of making her way to the doorway leading to the backyard. “I’ll hire a contractor to reconstruct them, don’t worry.”
Kara frowns. “Hiring someone will take ages,” she mutters, more to herself than Lena. “No one will be willing to drive all the way out to Midvale for a job like this. I’ll do it.”
“You’re going to do it?”
“Yeah, I’ll start making a list of what we need. I’ll go to the hardware store tomorrow,” Kara says, crouching beside the steps in question. Even in the cooling early autumn air her cheeks are a rosy pink from the heat; there’s enough sweat beaded on her brow that she has to pause to wipe it off. “There’s no way we’ll sell this place if it looks like this.”
“I will worry about selling this place,” Lena says. “You’re only supposed to be here for support. Think of it like a…a mini vacation.”
“I don’t need a vacation,” Kara scoffs. “Besides, I need something to keep me busy.” She does seem borderline restless; Lena would imagine coming back home would inspire restlessness in anyone, but with Kara it seems as though the atmosphere is particularly stifling.
“Okay. If you really want to do it, be my guest,” Lena surrenders. She can’t deny Kara anything and she knows it. “I guess I can hold off on calling a realtor until you’re done.”
“That might be a while,” Kara says, resting her hands on her hips as she stares out into the yard. “I have to fix the front porch too. And maybe give every room a fresh coat of paint. Should we replace the floors? Would that be too much?”
“That would definitely be too much.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Kara assures her. “What are your plans tonight?”
Lena eyes Kara suspiciously. “Um. Nothing?”
“Would it be okay to have some old friends over? I know we have no furniture or anything, but we can always sit on the floor and have pizza.”
“Sure. Yeah. Whatever you want.” Lena crosses her arms, suddenly uncomfortable. “I think I’ll go try to find the key to the basement again.”
Kara nudges her glasses up her nose and nods faintly in agreement; she’s already enraptured by planning again, chewing on the edge of her bottom lip like she does when she’s in deep thought.
Lena resists the urge to touch her. It’s become a habit lately, worrying about Kara. Often she finds herself memorizing the lines of Kara’s face, aching to cup her face in her hands and—well she’s not really sure what she would do. But she would do something to get rid of that heavy expression clouding an usually bright face.
So instead she swallows back any worry still caught in her throat. Makes herself leave. Heads back to the drawers stuffed to the brim with mail and other loose ends. Sorts through junk for hours. It’s all methodical and pointless and, really, just about what she needs right now.
By the time Kara rejoins her inside the sky is beginning to darken. “Hey,” she says, distractedly rolling down the legs of her cuffed jeans. “Any luck?”
“No. I think we’re better off breaking in,” Lena sighs, stretching her arms over her head and groaning when the muscles in her back protest. “When are your friends coming by?”
“Any minute.” Again, Kara’s attention is kept elsewhere. “Has the window always been broken?”
“Yes, it was like that when we got here,” Lena says. She clears her throat and tries again: “I’ll pack up my stuff then? And get out of your way?”
Somehow that snaps Kara back to reality. “What? No, no, you have to stay,” she says. “Please? I’d love for you to meet everyone.”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude…”
“This is your house, it’s literally impossible to intrude,” Kara insists, and she’s not exactly pouting, but there’s a begging tilt of her head and a jutting of her lower lip and Lena’s a goner. “Come on, please? I’ll do anything.”
“Don’t go making promises you can’t keep,” Lena huffs. “Okay. Consider me persuaded.”
“Yes!” Kara hugs her quickly, so quickly, that Lena blinks once and it’s over. “I’ll call for the pizza.”
“And I’ll…” Lena gestures uselessly to the floor. “Lay out some blankets, I guess.”
Before she can get too far, Kara stops her with a soft, “Hey. You’re the best person I know, do you know that?”
“Just because I’m eating your pizza?” Lena tries to tease, but the seriousness in Kara’s expression gives her pause.
“Just in general,” Kara says, and when she smiles it’s sweet. “That’s all.”
Lena softens. “Okay,” she says, and her reply seems to satisfy Kara.
She almost says you’re the best person I know, too, but she chickens out.
.
.
.
“I’m picking up some groceries,” Lena says, shifting the bag on her shoulder to alleviate the ache from standing in one place too long. “You need to eat something green every once in a while, you know. And before you say anything, green gummy bears don’t count!”
“I wasn’t going to,” Kara obviously lies. “Anyway, that’s not why I called.”
“Oh. Has something happened? Is everything okay?”
“Yes, don’t worry! I was just calling to say I broke open the lock to the basement so we can start sorting through the stuff whenever you’re ready.”
Lena’s heartbeat quickens. “So there are…things of my mother’s down there?”
“Looks like it, yeah.”
“Wow, that’s—great. I-I know it could all be nothing but junk, but…”
“It’s something of hers,” Kara finishes the thought for her. “I know.”
A sound coming from behind suddenly alerts Lena of her surroundings. She’s not sure what it is, a crinkle of a bag or a shift of posture, but it gives her the sense she’s being watched.
“Well thank you, Kara. I’ll call you when I’m on my way back?” The line starts to ease up, and Lena gratefully moves forward to start unpacking her items onto the conveyor belt.
Beside her, a woman lays out her own meager purchase. She catches Lena’s eye and gives her a polite nod. Lena almost squints at her suspiciously because it makes no sense, but…this woman is familiar.
“Lena Luthor, right?” the woman catches on to the confusion Lena’s sure must be written all over her face. “Hi, it’s nice to finally meet you.”
“And by finally, you mean…” Lena says slowly.
“I’m Eliza. Kara’s told me so much about you.” A pause, and Eliza gives a sheepish laugh. “You are Lena Luthor, aren’t you?”
“Yes, ah, I am,” Lena says. “Sorry. Eliza?” The name sounds as vaguely familiar as Eliza’s face looks, but nothing clicks right away.
“Eliza Danvers,” Eliza clarifies. “I’m Kara’s mother.”
“Oh,” says Lena, dumbly, as reality finally sinks in. “Of course, it’s—so nice to meet you too.”
“You know, like I told her, if you two ever want to stay with me instead of…” Eliza trails off and smiles apologetically. “Well. I’d love to have the both of you.”
“That’s very kind of you. Thank you,” Lena says. “But we don’t intend on staying long.”
Eliza laughs. “Kara said the same thing,” she marvels.
The line starts moving again, and Lena’s thankful for the excuse to look away. Eliza seems nice enough, but there’s something about the way she gazes at Lena so openly that it’s unsettling.
Before she can break away with her purchases, a hand on her elbow stops her. “It was great to meet you, Lena,” Eliza says kindly. “One of these days you have to come with Kara when she visits.”
“Sure,” Lena agrees without meaning it. “One day.”
She leaves as quickly as humanly possible afterwards. Eliza Danvers isn’t threatening, but the unnerving way she seems to stare into Lena’s soul is too much to handle.
Lena doesn’t tell Kara she met her mother. She doesn’t even know why she decides not to other than it feels right.
.
.
.
The basement is as bleak as she’d imagined it: cobwebs cover every square inch of the wall, a thick layer of dust blankets every odd box and stack of papers, and the singular grimy lightbulb does very little to illuminate the clutter.
From above she can hear the steady sounds of hammering as Kara works, and knowing she’s there is enough to give Lena the strength to push forward. She rolls up her sweater sleeves—a sweater she suspects is Kara’s, now that she thinks about it—and sets to work.
She doesn’t bother lugging the boxes upstairs for better lighting. She can make do without. She sorts through junk mail, old CDs, empty cigarette packages, and still…nothing meaningful. She had very low expectations going into this, but it’s harder than she could have ever anticipated after all.
A box tucked away on a makeshift shelf catches her attention. It’s in the darkest corner of the room; she has to shine a flashlight to really see it. When she brings it down, she is accosted by a cloud of dust that makes her drop the damn thing as she sneezes into her arm.
The faint hammering ceases. “Lena, are you okay?”
“I’m fine!” Lena coughs. She has to repeat herself at least twice before the hammering, much slower than before, starts up again.
Lena scrambles for one of the letters. All of them are in envelopes with broken seals, and the random one she picks is no exception.
Darling,
I’ve broken the news to Lillian. She is resistant to the idea of a divorce, but I hope I will convince her to see reason in due time…
She has to stop right there. Her father never divorced Lillian. But if he’d wanted to, what could have stopped him?
…Lex has not handled the news well. He isn’t speaking to me at the present. I have told him it’s no fault of Lillian’s, but he accuses me of trying to break up the family. I don’t regret it, of course…
“He was going to move here with us, wasn’t he,” Lena whispers. “He was going to leave them. For us.” She can practically feel her mother’s presence, as if she too is reading this letter with her. “But if that was true…why did you want to leave?”
The rest of the letters seem to also be from her father; the majority are lovingly worn, wrinkled as though they’ve been reread numerous times.
But there are a few mixed in scribbled on thick, coarse paper that give her pause. These are without envelopes, carefully bound together with a paper clip to keep from being separated. They start the same way—darling—but the similarities end there. They aren’t love letters. They’re…threats. And very detailed threats at that.
One line hits her the hardest. We know about the girl, it reads. If you don’t want us to hurt her you’ll do as we ask.
These letters must have gone unanswered, because each one Lena reads gets increasingly angry. As graphic as the ruin the mysterious sender threatened was, her mother clearly hadn’t dealt with these threats. Maybe she was too afraid. Maybe she wasn’t sure what to do.
Whichever the reason, it’s the bloodcurdling final line that makes Lena wonder if there’s more to these letters than meets the eye.
It’s your life or your daughter’s now.
Lena tucks the letters away into the pile of things she’s keeping. Then, resisting the urge to shiver, she powers on.
.
.
.
“Didn’t I tell you it was great?” The wind whips hair all over her face, but Kara remains unbothered, grinning widely in Lena’s direction. “My dad used to bring me and Alex every weekend. Alex hated it.”
“And I’m sure she had her reasons,” Lena says, casting a dubious look at the boat bobbing in the water. “Are you sure this is safe?”
“Trust me on this, Lena,” Kara says, which is not the resounding yes Lena had been waiting for. “It’s the perfect weather.”
Lena rolls her eyes. “This boat has a motor. Perfect weather is a moot point.”
“You’re ruining the sense of adventure.” Kara plunks a dorky fishing hat on her head, still beaming from ear to ear, and Lena has to hide a laugh behind her hand. “Don’t you trust me?”
“I trust you. This boat, on the other hand…”
“I’ll keep you safe, promise,” Kara says, and her voice is a little bit soft, a little bit earnest, and it’s what drives Lena to take her outstretched hand without another word.
She doesn’t even realize how it happens. One moment she’s all but throwing herself over Kara at the first sign of motion, and the next she’s clutching at Kara’s jacket collar staring up into her blue eyes. She’s never realized just how blue they are.
“That was,” Lena sucks in a breath, “terrible. I want to leave.”
“But we haven’t even started!” Kara laughs, breaking the odd tension that only Lena seems to notice. “Come on, sit. I want to show you the cabin we used to stay in.”
“Is that supposed to entice me?” Lena quips, though of course she does sit (with much difficulty).
“You’ll love it,” Kara says; she yanks the handle to start up the engine as she speaks, so distracted she nearly falls over at the lack of resistance.
The boat roars to life, and Kara throws a quick, proud grin in Lena’s direction as if to say see? I got this.
She plops down beside the motor to angle it whichever way they’re going, and Lena watches Kara in her element and wonders what changed.
In Metropolis, the Kara she knows operates like any other woman in her shoes; she is direct, she is goal-orientated, but she knows how to get her hands dirty if necessary. Here she seems to fit in effortlessly, like she belongs among the trees and the lake and nature. What could have sparked her decision to leave? What could have led to her giving this up?
Kara suddenly speaks, though if it’s because she caught Lena staring or some other reason is uncertain. “Jeremiah always used to tell me that his cabin was the jewel of Midvale,” she says. “I don’t know, he…he always said that if I brought someone home, he’d love to show them the cabin.”
The wistfulness in Kara’s voice makes Lena’s heart sink. “Not to, um, burst your bubble or anything, but I think he meant your boyfriend,” Lena says. “I’m probably not who he was envisioning.”
Kara waves her hand as if she’s physically batting the idea away. “You’re more important than a boyfriend. You’re my best friend,” she says. Then, fainter, “I know Jeremiah would’ve loved you.”
Risk of falling be damned, Lena shakily gets to her feet and squeezes Kara’s shoulder comfortingly. “I would have loved to meet him.”
From then on there’s nothing but silence between them, silence that of course does not refer to their surroundings; somewhere birds squawk and fly, and the motor hums, and wind whistles through the trees like a warning.
The trip to the cabin doesn’t take much longer. Kara ties the boat to a makeshift dock that’s definitely seen better years, and Lena all but has to be carried out because she’s too afraid one misstep will mean falling two feet into icy water. Kara is a very good sport about it, though. She makes a point to keep her hands on Lena’s waist until Lena shakily assures her she’s fine now.
Kara leads her up the path towards the cabin, keeping one hand tightly clasped in Lena’s—whether for her sake or Lena’s is unclear—but when they arrive she stops. Lena glances at her out of the corner of her eye and recognizes the tell-tale signs of grief written over her face; the crinkle between her eyebrows, the thinned lips, the trembling of the corner of her mouth.
“Do you remember when we first met?”
Caught off-guard, Kara turns to meet her gaze. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, of course.”
“I saw you first,” Lena says. “I remember…Sam told me to look for a yellow scarf. I thought it was so vague, and then when I walked into the bar and saw you I knew she was setting me up.” Carefully, she reaches her hand up to trace the crinkle of Kara’s brow, and laughs, quietly, as she continues: “You looked worried like this then.”
It takes a second, but Kara’s expression melts into a smile. “I thought something happened with Ruby,” she says. “Sam wasn’t answering my texts, and I was just about to leave to find her…” She trails off. “I remember the first time I saw you. You looked so annoyed.”
“I was annoyed!” Lena revels in the way Kara’s smile grows, in the way she relaxes enough that her arm brushes against Lena’s. “I marched right up to you and told you I wasn’t interested in a date, remember? And when you looked at me all confused…”
“Sam really got the best of us that night,” Kara chuckles. “Joke’s on her. I got a best friend out of it.” She lets go of Lena’s hand in favor of squeezing her in an one-armed hug. “Sorry if I look…like that right now. I just haven’t been here for ages, and now—”
“It’s a lot,” Lena says. “I know.”
“It is really cool though. You’ll love it.”
“Keep making promises like that and one day you’ll let me down.”
“I’d never let you down,” Kara says, and without warning, takes Lena’s hand again. “It would just mean you have terrible taste, that’s all.” She seems more much cheery, so Lena bites back any other teasing reply and lets herself be led up to the cabin after only a halfhearted roll of her eyes.
The funny thing is Lena does love the cabin. Not the gross smell of rotting wood, no. And definitely not the creepy horror movie feel of the broken shutters on the windows either.
But the way Kara reacts to it makes it one of the best places in the world. Kara shows her the room she and Alex used to stay in, and they sit together on Kara’s bed and laugh at the rock collection still stashed underneath. Then Kara tells her about the last time she was here, how she’d felt too old for it but had played hide-and-seek with Alex in the woods anyway.
“Alex used to scare me by pretending she was hurt,” Kara recalls, casually tossing a piece of quartzite from hand to hand. “I would be running deeper and deeper into the woods trying to find her and then she’d scream—nearly gave me a heart attack every time.”
“That sounds,” Lena tries to find a word to describe it, but can’t, “kind of mean.”
“It was mean then. But now it’s kind of funny.” Kara leans against the headboard and flips the rock higher in the air. “She could never find me. She used to say she thought I could fly because I would climb the trees so high she couldn’t see me if she tried.”
“You sound like you were a wild child, Kara Danvers,” Lena teases, and Kara laughs, soft and wistful at once.
“Some people would call that adventurous, actually,” she says. “Gosh, it was such a long time ago. I can’t believe I’m here again.”
Lena watches Kara roll the rock between her fingers and doesn’t know what to make of it. Kara doesn’t seem to be happy about being here, but she isn’t sad either. Just...somewhere in between, like there are memories surfacing that she can’t work out for herself just yet.
It’s what makes Lena keep quiet about the letters she found, even though she’s been itching to bring it up. Kara definitely has enough on her plate.