647. Chapter 647

They’d called her brave, then.

To hear that she’d stood at gunpoint and hadn’t flinched.

Kenny was dead, and it was her fault: because if she’d been better to him, somehow, he would have been alive. She knew it.

Vicki was out of her life, and it was her fault: she didn’t know why they’d kept fighting, but it was Alex’s doing. She knew it.

Her father was dead, and it was her fault: well, maybe not the plane crashing specifically, but if she’d been better behaved, taken better care of Kara, maybe he wouldn’t have gone away on his work trip so suddenly, maybe he would have stayed. But he didn’t, and it was her fault. She knew it.

Her mother was different, and it was her fault: she was a cold-hearted person, she knew it. She wasn’t brave. Not brave enough to be kind to Kara. Not brave enough to defend Kenny at school. Not brave enough to be sympathetic, to be understanding, to not roll her eyes when Eliza talked about how Kara had lost everything and they had to be good to her, they had to take care of her. She was cold-hearted and she was cruel and she was broken, and her mother knew, Kara’s presence had revealed it, so it was her fault her mother was different. She knew it.

And Kara… Kara. The last thing she would remember of Alex would be her storming out of their room, declaring Kara unfit, declaring her unworthy, not good enough. Kara would be broken, and it would be her fault. She knew it.

So when they called her brave, for standing there in front of a loaded gun, in front of a man who’d murdered her friend – so she knew he would pull the trigger, that his treats weren’t empty – she knew what they didn’t.

She knew they were wrong.

She wasn’t brave.

She was just… tired.

She just wanted to rest.

She just wanted it to end.

Just like she knows, now, that she isn’t brave.

She isn’t being stoic, or calm, or stony in the face of heartbreak.

She’s just… tired.

She just wants to rest.

She just wants it to end.

Because she was supposed to be building a lifetime of firsts with Maggie.

Instead, she was building a new series of firsts with herself.

First time sleeping without her in their bed, not because one of them was on shift, but because… because.

First time trying to eat without her.

First time looking down at her left hand and wanting to burn everything to the ground because it was missing a ring, it was missing a promise, it was missing a full, happy life of firsts.

So when she sees the possum darting out onto the road before Kara does, she doesn’t react.

She doesn’t try to backseat drive.

Because she knows Kara will swerve. Hard.

Too hard.

And maybe, just maybe, if she’s lucky, hard enough.

Kara will be fine. The whole invincibility thing. And M’gann will be able to send J’onn another ship.

It’ll probably be salvageable, anyway. If it can survive the vacuum of space, it can certainly survive a possum-induced car crash, right?

But the car doesn’t crash.

She sighs.

Kara raises her eyebrows over her sunglasses at the lack of reprimand, at the utter lack of response from her sister.

She says nothing.

She says nothing, that is, until Alex makes that passing comment that really isn’t so passing. The one about not being too against getting into an accident.

But now Alex is driving, and that’s good. Now, it seems, she cares.

So Kara cranks up J’onn’s utterly shocking playlist, and they sing – badly – and they giggle – hysterically – until they can barely breathe, until they pull over, still laughing, to a rest stop to snack on sandwiches and Eliza’s chocolate pecan pie.

“Alex,” Kara asks with a mouthful of pie, having left all the sandwiches to her sister and gone right for the real prize. “What did you mean, back home? About an accident, and not… not being against one?”

Alex takes an overly large bite of her sandwich, then, and Kara recognizes the tactic as the one that buys her a few precious seconds to think, to calculate.

She takes an enormous gulp and squints before she speaks, carefully. “Doesn’t matter about accidents now, I’m driving, not you,” she tries to turn it into a joke, but Kara won’t have it.

“Alex – “

“You remember when we were kids?” Alex starts suddenly, and Kara quiets and listens. Just listens, and loves, and arranges her face into one of empathy but not sympathy, caring but not panic, because that’s what Alex needs. “After we though Dad died, and then Kenny, and I didn’t… I didn’t see the point, you know? And sometimes, now, I don’t… after Maggie… it’s not… it’s not something I’d do anything about, you know, I don’t think. It’s just… a thought, sometimes. Almost… almost, maybe, a wish. That I didn’t have to do it anymore, feel anymore. Be responsible anymore. So sometimes it… sometimes it’s like a wish. Like… like if there was a passive way to be here one moment and gone the next, simple, I could just…”

She screws up her eyes and she shakes her head and Kara scoots closer to her. Alex leans into her offer of an embrace.

“But then I’d be leaving you. And then I’d be… I’ve gotten through it, you know? Every time. Every single one of them. Every terrible thought, every… every moment of giving up. So if I surrender to it, I just… I just know I can get through it, you know? Because I have before. Obviously I have, I’m here, so… I’m sorry, I’m not making any sense.”

Kara shakes her head and brushes stray strands of hair from Alex’s forehead. “You’re making perfect sense, actually. Is there… is there anything that I can do? In those moments? Anything you want, or need?”

“I don’t need a fuss. I don’t want pity and I don’t want… I just want… I just want you. To be there. To not force me to talk about it if I don’t… just… just be there. And for Rao’s sake, learn how to drive.”

Kara snorts, and Alex’s own dry laughter follows. “I’m sorry,” she says again, and Kara shakes her head again.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Alex. Nothing, okay? I’m here. Always. No matter what, alright? And I’m… I’m proud of you. For telling me, and for… for getting through. All those times you’ve gotten through.”

Alex’s eyes are shining with tears when she raises her head to meet her sister’s gaze.

“Yeah?” she asks, her voice broken but her heart somewhat hopeful.

“Always, Alex. I promise.”