606. Chapter 606
She tells Winn that the silence was the worst part.
Trapped and alone.
The soul-crushing raging of her dead planet banging into her pod, and then the silence that meant it was real.
That meant that her planet was gone, her people were gone, and the explosion didn’t even have the courtesy of taking her into the abyss with it.
The silence after the all that banging was the worst part.
There was nothing to drown out the screaming in her head.
There was nothing to hope for, because the silence meant that they were just… gone.
Everyone.
She hasn’t talked about it – not really – in years.
Winn says he’s sorry this is happening, and she brushes him off, but really, he couldn’t have said it better.
Because her planet is dead, but it won’t stay dead in her mind.
Her aunt.
The Black Mercy.
Myriad.
Daxamites.
Her planet is dead, but it won’t let her mourn and move on.
And it probably never will.
There’s nothing else to say.
And somehow, even when they were children, her new big sister understood this.
Her new big sister – Kara had always wanted a sister – was annoyed with her at school every day.
Embarrassed by her.
Got yelled at by Eliza because of her.
But at night?
Nights were their time.
Nights were the times they never spoke about.
Nights when Kara would fly – and take Alex with her – because she couldn’t bear staying confined in one room, in that little bed they gave her.
They’d tried to fluff it with lots of blankets, lots of pillows.
The more they touched her – the more walls there were – the more she was back on that pod.
So she would leave.
And she would take Alex with her.
She would relish the open space, the frozen air, the screaming wind.
Because when she was in a little space?
She could barely breathe.
“I’m sorry this is happening,” Alex would whisper as she put her hand on her chest, encouraging her to breathe out into her hand.
It didn’t occur to Kara until years later that Alex knew what to do with a panic attack because she was so used to coaching herself through her own.
“I got you,” Alex would whisper as she held Kara close, and it was the only kind of confinement that would make Kara feel safe instead of trapped, together instead of alone.
And she’s feeling alone again, now.
She’s made herself alone again, now.
Her own skin is too confining again, now.
She only texts one word.
Alex’s name.
It’s all her sister needs.
She’s at her apartment in minutes.
“I got you,” she tells her immediately, no questions asked, and Kara isn’t sure she’ll ever be okay again, but she’s sure that she definitely has no chance without Alex.
“How did you do it?” Kara asks after a long moment in Alex’s arms, a long moment focusing on her freckles, the fine, thin hairs on her muscled arms, the way Alex’s belt digs into Kara’s side, just this side of uncomfortable.
“Do what?” Alex asks softly with a kiss to her sister’s temple.
“When we were kids.”
Alex takes such a slow, deep sigh in that Kara feels her own body moving with the force of Alex’s breath.
Alex doesn’t ask what Kara means. She knows.
“I had them, too,” Alex explains after a long silence, confirming Kara’s long held, long-dreaded suspicions. “I still do. You know that.”
Kara nods. She’d gone to the DEO medics with Alex when she got her first dose of anti-anxiety meds, when she’d first gone on anti-depressants.
Just like Alex had created Kryptonian medication for her all those years ago.
All those years ago when Kara wasn’t trying so hard to wrench everything she deemed human out of herself.
Trying so hard to wrench all feelings out of herself.
“Wasn’t it annoying, then? A… burden?”
“Kara,” Alex nearly sobs, turning Kara around so they’re looking each other full in the face. “No. Never. You are a lot of things, Kara Zor-el Danvers, but you are never, ever, ever a burden. Not to me. Understand?”
Kara shudders and Alex kisses her forehead. “Are these the same? As before?” she asks, and Kara knows what she means.
Are these panic attacks the same as they were when they were kids. When Kara had first gotten to Earth.
“I can’t tell,” Kara admits. “Those… claustrophobia episodes when we were little… I didn’t know why they were happening. Which was kind of scarier, but also kind of better, because I didn’t…”
“Realize you were reliving it,” Alex supplies softly, apologetically, and Kara lets a tear slip down her face. Alex wipes it away softly.
Kara nods, and trembles, and tries to speak.
She fails.
Alex waits.
What’s left of Alex’s heart breaks.
“But I was a child, then. It was… fresh, then. But now… now, it’s just… it’s just stupid fear. It’s… it’s weakness, it’s – “
“Hey, hey, no. Don’t do that. You don’t get to do that, Kara.”
“I get to say what I feel, Alex – “
“Yeah, yes. Okay, you do. But Kara, you don’t get to… is it weakness when I have panic attacks? When Winn does? Lena? Kara, unless you’ve been lying to me when you comfort me and you secretly think I’m weak, then I – “
“But you’re human, Alex.” Kara has squirmed out of Alex’s arms, now, and her eyes are far away again. “You try so hard not to be, but Alex, you’re human. At your strongest, you can’t beat me at my weakest.”
“I seem to remember some sparring matches saying otherwise – “
“That was about technique – “
“Kara, so is this. This… this is about coping. It’s not about weakness, Kara. You’re not weak. I promise you, you’re not. This… this is about coping techniques. About not surrendering to it, not shutting everyone out. Don’t shut me out, Kara. Don’t shut me out. Please.”
Kara stares, and Alex stares.
Kara breaks first.
She sighs and she lets her body fall forward, limp, into Alex’s arms. She cuddles her head onto Alex’s chest, to feel her heartbeat, to feel her closeness. To feel her protection.
“Kara, I love you. I love you, and I can’t imagine the pain you must be feeling right now, but I… I’m here, Kara, okay? I’m always here.”
Kara doesn’t say that she’d thought her parents would always be there, too. Her planet.
Instead, she lets herself sink further into Alex’s arms.
“I’m here, too,” she murmurs, and – for the first time in far too long – she accepts something that feels a lot like comfort.