Lena stands outside Astra's house, the snowfall thick and heavy around her as if she's standing in the middle of a blizzard. The wind whips around her, sticking to her white fur coat and whipping her hair into a frenzied dance. Her hand is steady, gripping the silenced pistol tightly. Her eyes are cold, her mind focused solely on the mission ahead. She wants this nightmare to end, and if it means killing everyone in this house and drugging Kara, then so be it. She'll drag Kara's unconscious body back to Rama Khan if that's what it takes to fulfill her duty.
The house seems quiet, almost eerily so. The snow muffles any sound, and the only thing she can hear is the thudding of her own heart in her ears. She takes a deep breath, the cold air burning her lungs, and moves towards the door, her steps silent on the freshly fallen snow. She's been trained for moments like this—calculated, precise, and utterly ruthless.
To her surprise, the door is open, the warmth of the house spilling out into the freezing night like a beacon of false hope. She pauses for a moment, the wind howling around her like a chorus of lost souls. The darkness inside is thick, almost tangible, but she doesn't let it deter her. She steps over the threshold, her eyes quickly adjusting to the dim lighting.
The place is a mess —shattered glass and overturned furniture litter the floor, . The smell of freshly cooked meat and wine fills her nostrils, and she can see the remnants of a once-glorious dinner spread out on the floor, now trampled underfoot. The candles on the table have burnt down to stubs, their wax pooled like melted wax, creating a macabre pattern of shadows on the floor. The silence is deafening, the only sound the ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner, counting down the moments like a grim sentinel.
Lena moves carefully through the destruction, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of life. Her boots squelch in a thick puddle, and she looks down to see stains on the floorboards.something dark and sticky,that could be either wine or blood has seeped into the cracks and crevices, creating a crimson mirror of the chaos above.
The phone hangs off the dial, the receiver swinging lazily on its curly cord like a pendulum in a grand clock. It's an eerie sight, The dial tone is faint but persistent, a metronome of dread in the quiet house. She walks towards it, her steps measured and silent, and gently places the receiver back in its cradle. The dial clicks back into place, and the room seems to hold its breath.
Her eyes sweep the room, searching for any trace of life.
Lena moves through the house, her gun held high, her eyes darting from room to room. She's a hunter in the night, searching for the prey that's slipped through her grasp. The walls seem to close in on her, whispering secrets of Kara's past.
Then she sees it, the door to the bedroom ajar, the light spilling out like a beacon in the dark. She approaches cautiously, her heart hammering in her chest. The door creaks open, revealing the grim scene within. There on the bed, lies Astra, her throat slit from ear to ear, the white sheets stained crimson with her lifeblood. Lena's eyes widen, and she lets out a cold, mirthless laugh. It was only a matter of time before Kara reverted to her murderous ways, she thinks to herself. It's what she does best after all.
The room smells of iron and fear, a scent that's all too familiar to Lena. She steps closer to the bed, her eyes tracing the path of the knife that had done the deed. The blood has started to coagulate, telling her that the deed was done not too long ago. But where is Kara? She scans the room, searching for any clue as to her whereabouts.
Her gaze falls on the open closet door, the shadows within beckoning like the jaws of a dark, hungry beast. Lena's pulse quickens, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead. She knows what she'll find, but she has to be sure. Slowly, she approaches, her gun trained on the gaping maw of the closet.
The floorboards creak under her weight, the sound echoing in the stillness like a gunshot. She reaches out with her free hand and pulls the door open, the hinges protesting with a mournful squeal. The closet's contents are a tableau of horror—clothes hang haphazardly on the rod, hiding the body that lies crumpled on the floor, a pool of crimson seeping from the lifeless form.
Lena's eyes narrow as she takes in the scene, her grip on the gun tightening. It's clear that Kara is in the throes of a blood lust', The air in the room feels charged, as if the very shadows are alive with the scent of death.
Moving through the house, she notices the back door, standing open like a gaping mouth. A gust of cold wind rushes in, bringing with it a flurry of snowflakes that dance around the room before settling on the floor. Her eyes narrow, and she heads towards the opening, her instincts telling her that Kara must have gone through here.
Outside, the snow is a blinding curtain, the large, wet flakes sticking to her lashes and obscuring her vision. She squints, trying to make out the landscape through the storm. There, in the distance, she sees a trail in the snow, the freshly disturbed powder leaving a stark path against the untouched whiteness. It looks as if someone has been dragged through it, the indentation in the snow a grim testament to a struggle.
There are tiny specks of crimson mixed in with the snow trail painting a gruesome picture of what took places out here.
Lena follows the trail her gun pointed in determination, her eyes never leaving the path ahead. The shed looms out of the whiteout, a dark spot in the sea of snow that seems to pulse with a malevolent energy. She can see Kara's silhouette through the storm, huddled against the wood, unmoving.
Her boots crunch through the fresh snow as she draws closer, each step feeling heavier than the last. The wind howls around them, carrying the scent of blood and rage. Kara doesn't look up, doesn't acknowledge her approach.her head is bleeding ,Her eyes are glazed over, staring at something only she can see.
Lena's chest tightens as she takes in the sight of her, the Ghost who's been her shadow for so long. The woman she's come to...what? Hate? Fear? Understand? Whatever it is, she knows she can't ignore the ache in her heart. Pity. It's an alien emotion, one she's been taught to bury deep down. But here it is, bubbling to the surface like a geyser of unwelcome emotion. She's seen Kara in the throes of battle, unstoppable and unyielding, but she's never seen her like this—broken and lost.
The cocking of her gun echoes through the quiet like a thunderclap, shattering the stillness. Kara's head snaps up, her eyes, once filled with a haze of anger and grief, now sharp and focused on Lena.
"Hey," Kara says, her voice a strange mix of calmness and manic energy. She looks at Lena as if they're old friends who've just run into each other at a high school reunion, not enemies who've just played out a deadly game of cat and mouse.
Lena's eyes dart down to Kara's shirt, sticking to her skin like a second layer, the crimson stains stark against the white fabric. She's not sure if it's the rut or the rage that's making Kara's skin glisten with sweat, but the effect is the same.
Kara's eyes are wild, the pupils dilated and the irises a fiery blue that pierces through the storm's white chaos. The snowflakes that land on her face melt instantly, as if her anger alone is enough to turn them to steam. She looks up at Lena, her breath coming out in ragged puffs of condensation that hang in the frigid air.
"I seen your handy work," Lena says, her voice calm and even, nodding towards the house. The words hang in the air, heavy with accusation and a hint of something else—fear, perhaps? But she doesn't let it show on her face. She's learned long ago to keep her emotions in check.
Kara's eyes flicker with confusion.
Lena scoffs, her eyes never leaving Kara's. "This has to be an act, right?" she says, her voice laced with skepticism. "Is this the part where you pretend to be the damsel in distress, the victim of circumstance?"
Kara's gaze doesn't waver, the vacancy in her eyes unsettling. She seems genuinely lost, her pupils dilating even more as she looks around, as if searching for something familiar in the swirling chaos of the blizzard.
Lena's mind races, trying to piece together the puzzle that's Kara Zor-El. The woman before her is a contradiction—a killer with a heart so tender it could break at any moment. "The house," she says, her voice firm but tinged with something she can't quite identify. "What happened in there?"
Kara doesn't answer. Instead, she says, "You look like a snow angel." The words are spoken with a strange detachment, as if she's reciting a line from a play she no longer remembers the context of.
Lena still finds herself blushing like an idiot, the cold seeping through her boots and into her bones. "Are you on drugs or something?" she asks.
Kara laughs, a sound that's equal parts sad and eerie. "No, I'm just... high off life," she says, standing up with a grace that belies the madness in her eyes. The snow crunches under her feet as she takes a step closer to Lena. Her breath is a plume of steam in the cold, and for a moment, Lena can almost believe that she's looking at an angel herself—a fallen one, perhaps, but an angel nonetheless.
But Lena knows better than to let her guard down. She's seen the devil in Kara's eyes, the monster lurking just beneath the surface. She raises her gun, the cold metal pressing against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the hand that holds it. "You know why I'm here, Kara," she says, her voice firm and unyielding. "And it's not to play games."
Kara, however, just laughs maniacally. She moves closer to Lena, the snowflakes sticking to her flushed cheeks like a macabre beauty mask. Before Lena knows it, Kara has her by the waist, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around wildly. It's a dizzying, disorienting motion, a whirlwind of snow and fury. Lena's gun is torn from her hand, flying off into the storm like a lost bird.
But instead of the cold fear she expects, Lena feels a strange warmth bubbling up from her stomach. It's the absurdity of it all, she thinks, the sheer madness of being twirled around in a blizzard by the woman who's supposed to be her enemy. And somehow, amidst the chaos, she feels a strange kinship with Kara, a connection that goes beyond their shared past, beyond the blood on the snow.
The giggle bubbles up from Kara's throat, a sound that's more animal than human, a release of the pent-up rage and pain that's been festering inside her for so long. Lena's own laugh joins in, a wild, unbridled thing that seems to echo across the frozen land. For a moment, they're just two lost souls, dancing in the eye of the storm.
But the laughter is cut short as they both stumble and fall into the deep snowbank. Kara's laughter turns into a cackle, a sound that sends shivers down Lena's spine. She looks into Kara's eyes and sees something she's never seen before—a frenzied glee that's bordering on madness, realization that something has snapped inside kara.
"Are you insane?" Lena chuckles, her voice strained with a mix of concern and fear.
Kara's laughter stops instantly, her expression turning dark. "Don't say that, I really hate when people call me that." She whispers, the words cutting through the air like a knife.
Lena feels the sudden shift in the air around them, the playfulness evaporating like mist in the sun. She tries to push herself up, but Kara's grip on her is like a vice, unyielding and unrelenting. "Kara, let me go," she says, her voice steady despite the fear that's starting to coil in her stomach like a serpent.
But Kara doesn't listen. Her hand lands gently on Lena's stomach, and Lena tenses, her eyes widening in shock. The warmth of Kara's hand seeps through the layers of fabric, a stark contrast to the frigid cold of the snow beneath them. Lena's breath hitches in her throat, and for a moment, she's not sure if she should fight or surrender to the strange comfort that Kara's touch brings.
"Will you keep it?" Kara whispers, her eyes searching Lena's for an answer. Lena's mind races, trying to understand the question. Keep what? The baby that never was?
Lena shakes her head to clear the fog, "Look, I don't know what delusions you've cooked up in your head, but I'm not..."
Kara's hand squeezes tighter, cutting her off. "I want you to keep it," she says, her eyes boring into Lena's with a fierce intensity that makes Lena's heart stutter.
Lena pulls away, the cold air slapping her in the face like a slap of reality. "There's nothing to keep" she says, her voice shaking. Kara's grip loosens, but she doesn't let go.
"Don't lie to me," Kara whispers, her voice a mix of desperation and accusation. "I know what I smell, Lena." The words hang in the air like a heavy fog, thick with the scent of deceit and unspoken truths.
Lena sighs, the cold air misting in front of her. "Then your smell is as fucked up as you are " she says annoyed, "I took the test. It was negative." She says it as if reciting a well-rehearsed script, the words cold and finals.
Kara laughs again, a sound that sends a chill down Lena's spine. "You really think a piece of plastic can tell you more than I can? You know alphas can sense these things." she says, her grip on Lena's waist tightening. "
"Shut up," Lena snaps, pushing Kara away with a strength she didn't know she had. "You're not making any sense. The test was negative. That's it. There's no baby." Her voice is firm, but the tremor in her words betrays her fear.
Kara's eyes narrow, the crazed look in them deepening. "You're in denial," she says, her voice a low growl. "Your body's changing, Lena. Have you even noticed? The swelling, the hunger, the puking ?"
Lena's hand flies to her stomach, feeling the slight bulge that had been there for weeks but she had ignored, hoping it was just a figment of her imagination. The reality hits her like a truck, her heart racing as the truth sinks in., the sudden aversions to certain foods, the nausea that seemed to come out of nowhere—shes always noticed the symptoms.
Her fury boils over, a volcanic eruption of emotions that she can't contain. Before she knows it, she's on top of Kara, her hands wrapped around her throat, squeezing with a strength born of desperation. She wants to make Kara take it back, to make her admit she's wrong. But Kara's eyes are wide, not with fear but with a strange mix of triumph and surrender." Even if that was true, I'd never let someone like you near them, i have a job to do and i plan on finishing it."
As Lena's thumbs press into the soft flesh, she expects to see fear, to feel the struggle of a person fighting for their life. But all she feels is the steady, unyielding pressure of Kara's hand on her stomach. And that smirk. It's infuriating, a mockery of their situation, a declaration of victory in defeat. Kara's eyes are locked onto hers.
The snow is cold around them, the wind howling in a way that matches Lena's fury. She squeezes harder, her teeth chattering from the cold and the rage, but Kara doesn't flinch. It's almost as if she wants to die, welcoming the embrace of the frozen abyss that's been chasing her all night. Yet, Lena can't bring herself to finish it.
Kara's eyes, once a tempest of rage and confusion, now hold a silent plea. She's not asking for mercy—she's begging for Lena to end it. To understand that she's lost, that the pain inside her has consumed everything . The pain in Kara's eyes is palpable. She's just a person who's as broken as Lena feels now.
Lena's hands hover over Kara's throat, the warmth of her palms a stark contrast to the icy coldness of the snow beneath them. She can see the tears pooling in Kara's eyes, the desperation that's painted in stark relief on her frostbitten cheeks. And for a moment, she feels something she hasn't felt in a long time—sympathy. It's a dangerous emotion, one she can't afford to entertain. But here it is, a sneaky little gremlin worming its way into her heart, making her second guess her every move.
With a snarl, she pushes it aside and squeezes harder, her nails digging into Kara's skin. "Fight back," she hisses through clenched teeth. But Kara's body remains limp, her eyes never leaving Lena's, as if she's willing her to understand something she can't put into words.
Kara's hand slowly raises, the coldness of her palm a stark contrast to the heat of Lena's fury. She presses it against Lena's cheek, the gesture a silent plea , a silent confession of her own agony. The touch is a jolt, sending a rush of warmth through Lena's body, and with it, a wave of doubt and want.
Lena's eyes widen, her grip loosening slightly, allowing Kara to gasp for air. The world around them seems to slow, the storm's fury a backdrop to the quiet moment of connection between two souls lost in the tempest of their own making. The snowflakes seem to hover in the air, caught in the gravity of the moment.
And then Kara's pulling her down into a kiss, a desperate, feverish press of cold lips to Lena's own. It's a kiss that speaks of a yearning so profound, so raw, it feels like it could burn the world down to cinders. Lena's mind reels, a cacophony of emotions crashing into one another—fear, anger, and a strange, inexplicable longing.
Kara's words are a whispered confession against her mouth, "I'm tired Lena, I'm tired of running, of fighting, I'm tired of breathing." It's a declaration of defeat, a cry for help that resonates deep within Lena's own weary soul.
The kiss deepens, their breaths mingling in the frigid air, warming each other's frostbitten lips. Lena's anger fades, replaced by a desperate need to save Kara from the darkness that's consumed her. The warmth from their kiss spreads, thawing the ice around their hearts.
With trembling hands, Lena undoes Kara's zipper, the metal teeth releasing with a sound that seems too loud in the quiet of the storm. She's not sure what possesses her, but she feels a strange compulsion, a need to offer Kara some kind of solace. Her hand slips inside, finding the softness of Kara's cock, nestled against her thigh. It's cold to the touch, lifeless from the biting chill of the blizzard.
The act is almost reverent as Lena strokes Kara to life, her thumb brushing over the tip, feeling it harden beneath her touch. The cold air kisses their skin as Kara gasps into the kiss, her hips jerking upwards involuntarily. The storm seems to hold its breath around them, the snowfall momentarily halting as if even the weather is transfixed by this intimate moment of surrender.
Kara's hand snakes up Lena's thigh, under her coat, and then under the fabric of her dress. The sound of tearing stockings fills the quiet, the rip of the material a stark contrast to the gentle moan that escapes Lena's lips. The cold air is a bite against Lena's exposed skin, but it's the warmth of Kara's hand that sends a shiver of pleasure down her spine.
Kara's fingers move with a surprising gentleness, navigating the soft landscape of Lena's body with a knowing that speaks of a shared history, a remembered intimacy that transcends the time of anger and betrayal. Lena feels the heat building between her legs, a warmth that battles the cold and wins, spreading through her like wildfire. Kara's touch is a whispered promise, a silent apology, a declaration of intent that speaks louder than any words could.
With a tremble, Lena aligns herself with Kara, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces that were never meant to be apart. Kara's cock, now fully hard, presses against her wetness, a silent question that Lena answers with a nod, a silent confirmation , despite the chaos that swirls around them. The wind howls in protest, but it's lost in the symphony of their gasps and moans as they begin to move together, a rhythmic dance that's as old as time itself.
The snow is cold, but Kara's body is a furnace, radiating heat that wraps around Lena like a protective cocoon. Lena straddles Kara, her thighs shaking with the effort of taking her inch by inch. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that lights up her nerve endings like a Christmas tree.
As Lena takes control, her hips moving with a fierce, unbridled passion, she feels Kara's grip on her waist tighten, the other woman's nails digging into her skin. she doesn't care if she's omega. She fucks like she's the alpha here, the one calling the shots, the one setting the pace. And it's a heady feeling, one that sends a thrill down her spine, making her moan and arch her back as she takes Kara's cock deeper.
But then, Kara stills her hips, her voice a whisper in the storm, "Slow down, Lena." There's a firmness in her tone that Lena can't ignore. "I'm not going to let you hate fuck me." The words hit Lena like a slap in the face, breaking the haze of anger and confusion. Kara's eyes are clear, the madness momentarily gone, replaced by something softer, something that looks suspiciously like love.
Lena's eyes meet Kara's, the fire in her soul dimming to a smolder. She takes a deep, shuddering breath, feeling the cold air fill her lungs, the warmth of Kara's body against her own a stark reminder of the humanity beneath the rage. "Okay," she murmurs, her voice hoarse from the wind and the emotion that's choking her.
They shift positions, their movements a study in silent communication. Kara rolls them over, her body a shield against the biting cold of the wind. She holds Lena's gaze, her eyes no longer the stormy abyss they were before but a calmer sea, a promise of something more than just the end.
"Look into my eyes," Kara murmurs, her voice a soft command. Lena does as she's told, her eyes searching the depths of Kara's. She sees the pain there, the sorrow and the regret. But she also sees something else—hope.
They move together, their bodies in perfect harmony despite the chaos of their past. Each stroke is a promise, each touch a silent declaration of intent. Kara's movements are deliberate, her gaze never leaving Lena's as she guides her through the storm of emotions. They're both lost in the moment, the outside world fading away until there's only the two of them, entwined in a dance that's both tender and fierce.
Kara's hips rock up to meet Lena's, her strokes slow and gentle as she kisses Lena's neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her bite. It's a gentle reminder of the power dynamics at play, a silent negotiation of control. Lena's breath hitches, her body responding to the bite of pleasure that Kara's teeth deliver. It's a reminder that even in the most intimate of moments, the beast inside Kara is never fully tamed.
Lena's walls clench around Kara, the warmth and wetness of her embrace a stark contrast to the freezing wasteland around them. Kara feels like she's coming home, like she's filling a void that's been empty for too long. She whispers sweet nothings into Lena's ear, words of love and regret that are lost in the howling wind. But Lena hears them, feels them, as if they're echoing in her very soul.
"You're so beautiful," Kara whispers, her voice a hoarse rasp that's music to Lena's ears. It's a declaration that sends a warmth through her body, thawing the ice that's encased her heart. Lena's eyes flutter close.
The wind is a constant companion, a harsh reminder of the world that's trying to freeze them to the core, but Lena's arms are a bastion of warmth around Kara, holding her tight as they move together. Her fingers are numb, the cold seeping into her bones, but she doesn't dare release her grip. The fear of frostbite is a distant whisper, easily drowned out by the symphony of their passion.
"Harder," Lena gasps, her voice barely carrying over the howling wind. It's a demand, a plea, a declaration of war against the cold. Kara complies, her hips bucking up with renewed vigor, driving into Lena with a force that makes the snow beneath them crack and crunch. Lena's eyes widen, the sensation bordering on pain, but it's a pain she craves, a pain that drowns out the fear and anger.
"You're so beautiful," Kara whispers again, her breath a warm ghost against Lena's cheek. "We were made for each other."
Lena's eyes are closed, her face a mask of pleasure and pain, as Kara's words echo in her mind. The tears in Kara's eyes are real, a silent apology that speaks louder than any words. Each tear is a declaration of love, a droplet of regret that falls onto the cold snow beneath them. She feels them slide down Kara's cheeks, kissed by the frigid air before disappearing into nothingness.
"I don't want anything in this world if I can't have you," Kara says, her voice a raw, naked whisper that cuts through the wind like a knife. The words hang in the air, a declaration that seems to resonate with every snowflake that falls around them.
Lena's only reply is a symphony of low moans, each one a testament to the depth of her need for Kara. Her eyes squeeze shut as Kara's words resonate through her body, striking chords of desire that resonate deep within her core. It's an ache that's been festering since their tragic parting, now raw and exposed in the harshness of the winter's embrace. She wants Kara so much it hurts—a pain that's both exquisite and agonizing.
But beneath that need, all that want, is a hatred that simmers like molten lava, a burning anger that fuels her every breath. She hates Kara for making her feel this way—for making her vulnerable, for making her crave something she can never truly have. Hates her for the love that still lingers, a love that feels like a noose tightening around her neck with every beat of her heart.
And so, in a sudden, violent surge of emotion, Lena flips them so she's on top, she finds a rock laying next to her—a cold, hard reminder of the reality that's been shattered by Kara's touch. Before she can even think her actions through, she smashes it against Kara's head with all the strength she can muster. The sound of the impact is like a gunshot, echoing through the frozen wasteland.
Kara's eyes go wide, then glaze over as she collapses back into the snow. For a moment, the world stops spinning—everything is silent except for the muffled thump as Kara's head hits the snow. Lena's breathing is ragged, the only sound in the vast, empty space that seems to have swallowed them whole. She stares down at Kara.
The coldness of the stone in her hand is a stark contrast to the warmth of the blood that's seeping out from the gash on Kara's forehead. The sight sends a jolt of horror through Lena's body, her stomach lurching. But there's also something else—satisfaction. A twisted, dark satisfaction that coils around her like a serpent, whispering sweet nothings in her ear.
"You just keep falling for the same tricks, don't you?" she murmurs her voice a mix of anger and sadness. It's a question that hangs in the air.
"Did you really think I didn't see this coming?" Kara smirks as her eyes flutters shut.
Lena's heart stops, her hand trembling as she holds the blood-soaked stone above her, frozen in place. She doesn't know why she did it. In the heat of the moment, something primal had taken over, screaming danger, yet she's never felt more safe than when she's in Kara's arms, never felt more safe than with Kara's cock inside her, spreading her in the most delicious of ways. The irony isn't lost on her.
The silence is deafening, the snowflakes that dance around them seeming to pause in their descent as they both grapple with what's just happened. Kara's eyes remain closed, and for a horrifying moment, Lena thinks she's killed her. But then, she feels it—a soft, warm breath against her neck, the steady beat of a heart that refuses to quit. .
The coldness of the stone is a stark contrast to the warmth of Kara's body beneath her, the fur of her coat doing little to shield them from the unforgiving chill of the snow. Lena's own body feels frozen in place, a statue of anger and regret, the rock still clutched in her hand like a grim trophy.
Slowly, the reality of their situation seeps back into Lena's consciousness. The wind picks up again, biting at her skin, whispering the consequences of her rage. She's still on top of Kara, Kara's still inside her ,still connected with her in the most intimate of way .
The snow is relentless, seeping through the fabric of Lena's clothes, turning her skin to ice. But she doesn't move. Can't move. She's anchored to this spot by the weight of her emotions, the heavy burden of what she's just done. Kara's breathing is shallow, but it's there, a testament to the strength of the woman beneath her—a woman who's been her enemy and her lover, her savior and her tormentor.
The moment stretches out, a silent battleground where the only war being waged is the one within Lena's soul. The storm rages on, their bodies the only warmth in a world that's gone cold and cruel. And yet, in the midst of the chaos, there's a strange sense of peace.
With trembling fingers, Lena reaches down to touch Kara's face, the warmth of her skin a stark contrast to the frigid air. The wound on Kara's forehead is covered in snow flakes , a crimson stain on the pristine whiteness of the snow. She can feel the anger draining from her, replaced by something much more terrifying—a love that burns so fiercely it threatens to consume them both.
Her thumb traces the curve of Kara's cheekbone, and she whispers words that are lost to the wind. Words of apology, of love, of hope that somehow, they can find their way back from this precipice of despair.
But then, like a bolt of lightning through the storm, Kara's eyes snap open. Lena's heart skips a beat, her eyes widening in shock. The smirk that follows on Kara's bloodied face sends a cold shiver down her spine. It's a look that's haunted her for years, a look that's always spelled trouble.
As Lena's gaze darts around, her eyes lock onto something that sends a jolt of terror through her—Kal, standing a few feet away, his wrists bound with rope, a blank look on his face. And in his hand, gleaming against the stark white of the snow, is the gun she lost in their earlier struggle. The cold metal weapon seems almost obscene in the serene beauty of the winter landscape.
"Who do you plan on shooting with that thing, kid?" Kara's voice is laced with a sadness that's almost palpable, but there's something else in her eyes—pride. It's a look that sends a chill down Lena's spine, one that she's never seen directed at her. It's a look reserved for the strong, the powerful, the victorious. But it's not directed at Lena. It's directed at Kal.
Kal's hand trembles, the gun wobbling in the air like a pendulum of fate. His teeth chatter, not just from the cold but from fear. The snot that runs down his nose is the only evidence of his humanity in the face of the monsters that stand before him. "Maybe I should just shoot both of you," he says, his voice a shaky echo of the confidence he's trying to muster.
Kara's chuckle is like the crack of a whip in the stillness of the blizzard. "And here I thought you came rushing to my rescue," she says, her voice a mix of amusement and pain. The blood from the wound on her forehead has begun to freeze, creating a macabre mask of crimson ice.
"I did,i heard you from the shed,i seen what she did to you." Kal says, his voice quivering with a mix of anger, confusion and hatred.
But there's something in his eyes that gives Kara hope—a flicker of doubt, of uncertainty. Maybe, just maybe, there's a part of him that still cares, Kara almost smiles at the thought—a small, sad smile that feels alien on her lips.
"You shot at me" He says suddenly, the gun in his hand dropping a notch. "How could you do that?" he spits out, the accusation hanging in the air like a frozen cloud.
Kara sighs, the sound a mix of frustration and resignation. "It's what I had to do," she murmurs, her eyes never leaving kals. "You wouldn't listen to me, i couldn't just let you call the cops."
Lena's eyes widen, her mind racing. "You shot at me," Kal repeats, his voice cracking with emotion. "You could have killed me."
"And you could have had me locked up," Kara counters, her voice low and steady, despite the tremble in her body. "We're all just trying to survive here, Kal. Sometimes that means making hard choices."
But Lena's had enough. She shoves herself off Kara, the cold air hitting her like a slap. "Could this little reunion wait until after you're not fucking inside me?" she snaps, her voice sharp with anger and embarrassment. The snow crunches beneath her as she stands, the rock in her hand now forgotten.
Kara winces at the harshness of Lena's words, the cold reality of their situation slapping her in the face. She sluggishly adjust her pants, the warmth of their connection leaving a cold emptiness in its wake. She reaches for the rock, her hand shaking as she tosses it aside.
"Kal," she says, her voice softer now, more tender. "I never wanted it to come to this. I just wanted us to be together, to be a family." There's a hint of desperation in her eyes, a pleading look that's as much for Lena as it is for Kal. "Can't we just...start over?"
Kal's eyes dart from Kara to Lena and back again, the gun still clutched in his hand like a lifeline. "Start over?" he scoffs, his voice laced with disbelief. "You killed her, Kara. You killed astra— how could you do that."
Kara's eyes are filled with a sadness that's as deep as the ocean, a sadness that seems to swallow up all the light around her. "Astra was a monster," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "You didn't know her like I did. You didn't see what she did."
Lena watches the exchange with a mix of horror and fascination, her heart racing in her chest. She can feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable as a living thing. It's a tension she knows all too well, the kind that comes before a storm, before everything changes forever.
"Not that i care but ,What exactly happened?" Lena asks, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife.
"I...I didn't mean to scare him," Kara stammers, her breath fogging in the frigid air. "Kal saw something he shouldn't have—he just...freaked out. He threw a vase at me, and he was going to call the cops."
The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of their implications. She can see the fear in Kara's eyes, the desperation. It's a look she's seen before—a look that says she's fighting for something she believes in, even if it means losing everything.
"I shot near him, not at him," Kara continues, her voice gaining a little more strength. "I just wanted to stop him. But he kept running, so I had to...I had to tie him up. Then i dragged him to the shed. I explained everything"
"But he won't listen," Kara says, her voice cracking. "I told him why I had to do it—why Astra had to die. But he just kept shouting that he hates me."
"Kal, you're not a killer kid" Lena says, her voice firm yet gentle. "You need to put the gun down. We can talk about this."
Kal's eyes dart to Lena, his grip on the gun tightening. "Stay out of this," he snaps.
But Lena isn't one to be dismissed so easily. She takes a step closer, her eyes never leaving his. "Give me the damn gun, before you hurt yourself." she says firmly, her voice a mix of steel and velvet.
Kal's hand wavers, the doubt in his eyes growing. For a moment, it seems like he might just do it—hand over the gun and let them all walk away from this mess. But then something shifts, a flicker of resolve that turns into a full-blown fire. "No," he says, his voice stronger now. "If i give you the gun you'll hurt kara, I'll never forgive her for what she did, but i don't want her to die."
Kara's smirk never wavers, even as the blood continues to trickle down her face, turning the snow around her into a crimson halo. She watches Kal with a strange sense of detachment, her mind wandering to a different place entirely. She thinks of Lena, of the child they could have —a child that would have the strength of a zor-el and the cunning of a Luthor. A child that could be the ultimate weapon, or the ultimate salvation.
But that's a dream that's slipping away with every second that ticks by, every beat of Kal's panicked heart. The reality is stark—they're in the middle of a blizzard, in the aftermath of a passionate confrontation that's left her bruised and bleeding, and the boy she once considered her own is pointing a gun at her.
Lena chuckles, the sound a strange echo in the quiet of the storm. It's a laugh that's devoid of humor, a laugh that speaks to the absurdity of their situation. Then, with a swiftness that belies the cold seeping into her bones, she snatches the gun out of Kal's hand. The
boy's eyes widen in shock, his fingers going slack.
"I didn't sign up for this bullshit," she says, her voice a cold, hard edge that cuts through the air. "And I'm sure as hell not sticking around for this," she adds, her eyes flashing with annoyance.
But as she turns to leave, Kara's hand shoots out, gripping Lena's arm with a strength that belies her injuries. "Not so fast." Kara says, her voice low and dangerous.
Lena's eyes flash with anger, but she doesn't resist. Instead, she lets Kara pull her closer, until they're standing toe-to-toe in the snow. The heat of their bodies clashes with the cold, creating a steamy aura that's as intense as their gazes. "What are you doing?" Lena hisses, her teeth chattering from a mix of cold and irritation.
"Asking a question," Kara says, her eyes searching Lena's "Are you tired of fighting me, Lena? Because I'm tired of fighting you. We're not enemies—not really."
Lena laughs coldly, a sound that sends a shiver down Kara's spine. "I'm not fighting you, Kara. I'm trying to do my job. But you're right i am tired. tired of the games of,tired of these stupid feelings, that's why im choosing to walk away."
Kara's grip tightens, desperation seeping into her voice. "You can't leave," she whispers, her hand reaching out to touch Lena's stomach. But Lena pulls away sharply, her eyes flashing with anger. "Not while you're carrying my child," Kara says, her voice a mix of wonder and determination.
"What are you proposing, Kara?" Lena spits out, her teeth chattering from the cold and the tension. "That we run away and play house together?"
Kara's eyes never leave Lena's, the storm around them seemingly forgotten. "No," she says, her voice steady despite the tremble in her hand. "I'm proposing that we stop playing all together and just be happy together."
Lena scoffs, the sound sharp and bitter. "You can't be serious," she says, her breath frosting in the frigid air. "We come from two worlds that are destined to collide. It would never work."
Kara's eyes narrow, the snowflakes sticking to her lashes like tiny jewels. "You think I don't know that?" she says, her voice filled with an intensity that could melt ice. "But I've seen the way you look at me, Lena. I've felt the way your heart beats when we're close. You can't tell me you don't feel it too."
Lena's breath hitches in her chest, the truth of Kara's words resonating deep within her. She opens her mouth to speak, to argue, but the words die on her tongue. Because Kara's right—she does care. More than she ever thought possible. And the thought of leaving it all behind, of starting fresh, it's tempting. So tempting it's almost painful.
"What are you saying?" Lena asks, her voice softer now, the anger slipping away to be replaced by something else—hope?
Kara's grip on her arm loosens, her hand sliding down to take Lena's in her own. "I'm saying that maybe we've been looking at this all wrong. Maybe we're not destined to be enemies—maybe we're destined to be...more."
Lena stares at their joined hands, the warmth of Kara's touch seeping into her frozen skin. "More?" she echoes, her voice hollow. " I Just tried to kill you with a rock."
Kara laughs, the sound echoing in the quiet of the blizzard, a strange and eerie counterpoint to the wind's mournful howl. "All's forgiven in love and war," she says, her eyes shining with something that looks suspiciously like hope.
But Lena isn't so easily swayed. "What about your DEO friends? My Luthor family? They're not just going to let us walk away from this."
Kara nods, her smile slipping. "I know it's not going to be easy. But if we work together, we can find a way. Maybe we can even use our... unique skills to make a difference."
Lena looks at her, the hope in Kara's eyes so blatant it's like a punch to the gut. "How can you be so naive?" she asks, her voice cracking. "We're not normal, Kara. We never will be. We're killers—both of us."
But Kara's gaze doesn't waver. "We don't have to be," she says firmly. "We can be more than that. We can be a family."
With a strength that seems to come from somewhere deep within her, Kara pulls Lena closer, crushing her into a fierce embrace. Lena feels the warmth of Kara's body, the steady beat of her heart, and for a moment, she lets herself believe. She lets herself imagine a world where they can be more than just pawns in a larger game—a world where they can be happy, together.
"I want you," Kara whispers into Lena's ear, her breath warm against the cold. "And I'll do anything to protect you—both of you."
Lena's eyes searched Kara's, looking for a lie, a deception. But all she sees is raw, unbridled hope. For a moment, she feels the weight of the gun in her hand, the power it holds—the power to end this, to end them. But then she thinks of the child growing within her, the child that is a part of Kara, too. The child that deserves a chance at life, a chance at something better than this twisted world they've been born into.
Her reply is simple but it's all the confirmation Kara needs. "I want you too," Lena says, her voice a whisper that seems to resonate in the frozen air around them. The words hang there, suspended in the moment like the snowflakes that have stalled in their descent.
Kara's eyes light up like a kid in a candy shop. "I'll burn this place to the ground," she declares, her voice filled with a fierce determination that sends a shiver down Lena's spine. "And then we can leave—start a new life. Me, you, our child, and Kal."
But Kal isn't swayed by Kara's passionate speech. He takes a step back. "I'm not going anywhere with you," he says, his voice shaking. "You're both crazy."
Kara's grip on Lena loosens, and she turns to face Kal, her eyes flashing with desperation. "What choice do you have?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. "You've already taken a gun to school, you're in deep trouble. You don't have anywhere else to go."
But Kal's resolve is unshaken. "I'll figure it out," he says, his voice firm despite his trembling hands.
Kara's eyes narrow, the desperation in her voice giving way to something more dangerous. "The cops will eventually show up," she says, her words cutting through the swirling snow like shards of ice. "And when they get here, they're going to find two dead bodies and a troubled kid who took a gun to school. Who do you think they're going to blame?"
"Me," Kal says, his voice steady. "But I'll tell them the truth."
Kara laughs, the sound cold and mocking. She's feels bad but she has to convince him."Good luck with that," she says, her eyes gleaming with a strange light. "Because, as far as anyone's concerned, I don't exist. I'm a ghost that died years ago. If you mention me, they'll think you're insane."
Kal's face pales at her words, the realization of his predicament sinking in. "Why are you doing this?" he asks, his voice cracking.
"Because it's the only way," Kara says, her voice softer now, almost pleading. "You can't stay here, and you can't go back to your old life. But with us, we can help you. We can keep you safe, give you a new identity. Start a new life."
Kal stares at her, his mind racing. He can feel the fear and doubt fighting each other, his heart torn between the safety she's offering and the horror of leaving everything he knows behind. "What if I can't forget?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.
"You won't have to," Kara promises, her eyes holding his with a fierce intensity. "We'll make new memories together—better ones."
But Kal's expression remains unconvinced. He swallows hard, the snow crunching beneath his boots as he takes a step back. "I can't," he whispers, his eyes flickering between Kara and Lena. "I just...can't."
"Kal," Kara says, her voice a soft plea. "This can only end in one of three ways. With you in jail, with you in a psyche Ward, or you can leave with me and start a new life,You know I'm telling the truth. You can't go back to the way things were."
Kal's eyes dart between the two women, his mind racing. He's only a kid, thrown into a world of secrets and lies, of love and betrayal. But he's not a fool. He knows that in a world where people kill each other and corporations control governments, the truth is a slippery thing. "You're never going leave without me are you?" he asks, his voice shaking.
"Kal," Kara says, her voice soft but firm. "You're coming with me. Whether it's because you want to or because I tie you up and throw you in the trunk. I'm not leaving without you, you're my... cousin."
The lie feels strange on her tongue, but it's a necessary one. The truth—that Kal is actually her son, born from a tragic and twisted relationship with her aunt—is too much for him to handle right now. And she can't bear the thought of Lena finding out the truth, of seeing the disgust in her eyes. The disgust she's sure to feel once she learns of the dark origin of kal existence .
Kal's gaze flickers between them, his eyes filled with confusion and fear. "Why do you care so much?"he whispers.
Kara's throat tightens, the words she's longed to say to him for so long finally spilling out. "Because you're my family, Kal," she says, her voice filled with an emotion so raw it's almost painful. "And I love you."
Kal's eyes widen, the shock on his face a stark contrast to the cold, harsh reality of their situation. For a moment, he's silent, the only sound the howling wind and the crunch of snow beneath their boots. Then, slowly, a smile starts to spread across his face—a smile that lights up the darkness like a beacon of hope. "Really?" he asks, his voice a mix of wonder and disbelief.
Kara nods, her eyes never leaving his. "Really," she confirms, her voice steady. "And I'll do anything to keep my family safe."
The wind howls around them, a mournful sound that seems to echo Kal's inner turmoil. He looks from Kara to Lena, his heart racing with a mix of fear and hope. "What about Astra?" he asks, his voice trembling. " She was family too !"
Kara's expression darkens at the mention of Astra's name. "Astra was a manipulator," she says, her voice cold as ice. "She used us—used me. She never cared about what was right, only about what she wanted." The bitterness in her words is palpable, the pain of betrayal etched into every syllable. "But you, Kal, you're different. You're the one who matters now."
Kal's smile fades, his eyes searching Kara's face for a sign of the lie he fears he'll find. But all he sees is the fierce love in her eyes, the same love that's been there since the moment they met. "I'll go with you," he says finally, his voice trembling with fear and hope. "But I can never forgive you for what you did."
Kara's heart breaks at his words, but she nods. "I know," she says, her voice thick with emotion. "But maybe one day, you'll understand why I had to do it."
With a final, lingering look at kal."Get your bag," she instructs Kal, her voice firm. "We need to move fast."
Kal nods and heads inside, his legs feeling like they're made of lead. The warmth of the house is a stark contrast to the frigid air outside, and he takes a moment to let it envelop him. The house is eerily quiet, the only sound is the creaking of floor boards .
In her aunt's bedroom, Kara's eyes fall on the lifeless form on the blood soaked bed. Despite the anger and betrayal she feels, a part of her heart aches. She crosses the room, her boots squeaking on the polished floor, and gently closes Astra's fear frozen eyes. The candle on the nightstand flickers, casting eerie shadows on the wall, and she whispers, " I loved you, Astra."
But the room is silent, the only response the sound of the candle's flame sputtering and dying out. The darkness feels heavier now, the weight of what she's done settling on her shoulders like a cloak.
Kara takes a deep breath and turns away, reaching for the keys on the dresser. She needs to get them out of here before it's too late. As her hand closes around the cold metal, she feels a strange mix of relief and dread. This is it—they're really doing this.
Her boots crunch through the snow as she makes her way to the garage, the cold air stinging her cheeks. Inside, she grabs a gas canister and starts to pour its contents around the house, the smell of gasoline filling her nose. It's a risky move, but it's the only way to cover their tracks—to ensure that no one can come after them.
When she reaches the front yard, she sees Kal sitting on the trunk of Astra's old school Mercedes, his eyes wide and scared. Lena is leaning against the car, looking like a dark angel in her white fur coat and ripped stockings. The contrast between the purity of the snow and the grime of their situation is stark. She can't help but smile as she pulls a lighter out of her pocket, the flame flickering to life in the freezing air.
Lena's eyes follow her every move, her expression unreadable. Kara knows that Lena is still torn, that she's fighting against the tide of emotions that threaten to overwhelm her. But she also knows that Lena wants this, just as much as she does . And as she watches her lover—the woman who's been her enemy, her ally, her everything—she knows that she's willing to burn down the world if it means they can be free.
With a deep breath, she tosses the lighter into the gas-soaked snow, the flame catching and spreading like wildfire. The house goes up in a fiery blaze, the heat a stark contrast to the frigid night. The three of them stand there, watching the flames dance and flicker, consuming the last remnants of their old lives.
Kal's eyes are glued to the inferno, his mind racing with questions and fears. But when he looks at Kara, standing tall and unyielding beside him, he feels a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they can make it out of this together.
Lena's eyes never leave Kara's face, her heart racing with a mix of distrust and exhilaration. She's made her choice, and there's no turning back. As the fire rages, she takes Kara's hand, their fingers intertwining like the flaming vines climbing the walls of the house. Together, they stand, ready to face whatever the future holds—whether it's a new beginning or the end of everything they've ever known.
---
The streets are eerily quiet, the heavy snowfall swallowing up the sounds of the world around them. Kara steers the car through the deserted streets, her eyes peeled for any sign of danger. The blood on her face is dry, a stark crimson against her pale skin—a grim reminder of the night's events. Lena sits beside her, her fur coat speckled in blood from their encounter, her eyes reflecting the flickering flames in the rearview mirror. Despite the cold, she can still feel the heat of their recent encounter, the scent of their desire lingering on her skin like a brand.
In the back seat, Kal stares out the window, his eyes unfocused. The tears have frozen on his cheeks, leaving a salty residue that stings with every blink. He feels numb, the weight of his decision pressing down on him like an invisible hand. The world outside the car seems unreal, a muffled dreamscape of white and shadows. His mind is a whirlwind of doubt and fear, but he clings to the hope that Kara has offered him—the hope of a new life, a new family.
The car's engine purrs through the night, a steady heartbeat that matches the rhythm of their racing thoughts. They're a ragtag group, bound by fate and a shared past that's as tangled as the web of lies they've spun. As they drive away from the burning wreckage of their old lives, they can't help but wonder what awaits them in the cold, unforgiving world beyond. Will they find the redemption they seek, or will the shadows of their past swallow them whole? Only time will tell. For now, all they have is the warmth of the car and the promise of a future they're willing to fight for.
Kara can't help the way her gaze keeps sliding over to Lena, as if she's afraid that if she looks away for too long, she'll vanish into the night like a mirage. Lena's eyes are fixed ahead, her profile sharp and stark against the flickering glow of the dashboard. The curve of her cheek, the line of her jaw—they're etched into Kara's mind like the lines of a treasure map leading to her heart. Despite the chaos and the carnage they've left behind, there's a strange sense of peace that settles in her chest when she looks at Lena. A peace she never knew she could feel, not after the fire that consumed her family, not after the years of training to become a weapon for the DEO.
"Eyes on the road," Lena says , her voice a low murmur that's as warm as the leather seats they sit in. The words are a gentle scold, one that Kara knows is more for their own safety than anything else. But it's also a reminder of the new dynamic between them—Lena's her omega ,but the truth is that, lena's the leader now, the one calling the shots. It's a role she seems to have slipped into effortlessly, as if she's been waiting for this moment all her life.
Kara nods, tearing her gaze from Lena's profile to refocus on the snowy streets ahead. The car's wipers slap at the falling snow, a metronome to their silent contemplation. "Sorry," she murmurs, her voice thick with emotions. "You're just so...beautiful."
Lena doesn't respond, but Kara can feel the warmth of a blush spreading across her cheeks. It's a subtle change, but it's there—a softening of her features, a quick inhale of breath that tells Kara more than any words could.
Kara's hand strays to Lena's thigh, her thumb making small, soothing circles through the fabric of her long dress. It's a declaration of ownership, a promise of protection that feels as natural as breathing. Despite the horror of their past, despite the blood on their hands, in this moment, they're just two people clinging to each other in a world that's intent on tearing them apart.
Lena tenses at first, the muscles in her neck tight with the tension that's become a permanent fixture in her body. But as the miles stretch out behind them and the fire grows smaller in the mirror, she lets out a shaky breath and leans her body over, laying her head on Kara's shoulder. The warmth of Kara's skin seeps into her, offering a comfort she hasn't felt in years. Her eyes drift shut, and for a brief, blissful moment, she lets herself believe that they can actually escape the shadow of their past.