#part of my fic 'lena dies on a wednesday' which will maybe exist one day

[karalovesallthegirls]

“I believe in this city,” she begins just as the world explodes.

The force of it throws her forward and through her podium. Everything is burning, she might be burning, although she can’t think much beyond the smoke around her and ringing in her ears. Her face is pressed down into muck and from her position she can just make out the flaming remains of the stage, the L Corp logo melting down its slabs. 

She blinks repeatedly, trying to clear the dust from her watering eyes, tries to wipe it away with hands that won’t seem to listen. Nothing hurts, not yet at least, but she can’t make herself move. Then the world is spinning and she’s greeted with the most welcome sight: Kara, crouching over her, dirty but alive. “I’m so glad you're okay,” she wants to say, tries to say, but she’s barely getting air into her lungs as is and her body doesn’t want her using any of it elsewhere. Kara is saying words she cannot hear above the ringing and she keeps looking at Lena’s chest in horror. Lena tries to lean forward a bit to see what she’s so worried about, but Kara pushes her back down. The ringing really is quite loud; Lena would much rather listen to the panicked sounds of Kara’s voice than the continual hum of what is likely some level of hearing loss. Kara presses her hand to Lena’s chest though she can’t feel it, and when she pulls her hand back Lena can see it’s covered in blood. Ah. That explains the panic. Another explosion hits, and Kara falls forward and over Lena protectively. A deep stinging sensation has begun to creep into the buzzing silence. Her eyes roll a bit, uncooperative, and that is when she catches sight of the heavily armed man skulking their way.

Lena feels, appropriately enough, all the blood drain from her face at once, and she tries in vain to push Kara away, to scream, to make any sort of sound or movement aside from a frantic glance back and forth. Somehow, Kara understands to look, and her entire body seems to tighten up at the sight. Instead of running like Lena so dearly wanted her to do, the foolish girl stands as if to shield Lena from her assassin.

Lena is fading so fast - she can feel it every small wheeze that hits her lungs - and oh god, she can’t watch Kara die. Kara dying in front of her would be the ultimate hell. Maybe she’s already dead, maybe this is her afterlife where she will spend eternity reliving this nightmare. Her fingertips are numb.

Lena can see the man lifting the rifle and she can feel the animalistic scream that tears from her throat. She sees her dear Kara blocking her with her own body like she’s not already dead, like she’s worth sacrificing it all for, and Lena thinks she may still be screaming when the shooter fires his rapid burst but she knows she’s silent when Kara is still there unmoved, unfazed.

Maybe this really is her death dream, because Kara is still very much alive as she stalks over to him. Flings him away like he’s weightless, twists his gun into a bow. She turns back to look at Lena, and it becomes abundantly clear that the shooter did hit her - with many rounds, in fact, as her shirt hangs in tattered shreds and the floor sits littered with crumbled bullets. And there clear as day where blood should be there is blue, the red on her chest only from that iconic symbol.

Lena closes her eyes and laughs a blood-thick laugh, coughs, barely feels the tears that drip down into the mud she is dying in.

Kara Danvers is Supergirl.

thank god thank god thank god

Lena can die now. It hits her all at once, this acceptance. There is this moment of realization when you’re at the end of what the most important thing is, and Lena knows now that that which matters most will be safe. Even at the hardest moments, it’ll make it through. It’s bulletproof.

Someone is touching her, she realizes, though the touch feels miles away. Kara is there, beautiful Kara, and she’s crying and her tears are dropping on to Lena’s face and Lena wants to tell her it’s okay, everything is okay now because Kara is Supergirl.

She’s a superhero.

Kara is yelling, pleading, pawing at the body that’s no longer hers. The dark is engulfing her now, and it’s warm and quiet and she’s so, so happy. What a balm it is to know that her love will be safe without her. How lucky is she to love a thing death cannot touch.