Broken Hearts

Perspective

God, it's been 2 years.

That's the first words Alex writes in her journal that Kara gave her when she got her new job. Well, a planner, but she writes in it as if it's a journal.

2 years! I can hardly stand it. I'm constantly on a stage, expected to dance because that is what they want to see. That's what they expect. They expect me to hold myself together and continue on my day with a smile. A fucking smile. As if nothing happened. As if I'm not being torn apart inside or as if I'm not slowly falling, so close to the ground, yet the ground can run. It runs. It runs from me because it wants me to fall deeper and deeper. I always feel as if I have hit rock bottom, but it proves me wrong. I. Keep. Falling. Sometimes I want to hit the ground. Just so I can lie there. And rot. But I just can't because I am expected to dance on that stage. I am expected to smile. I am expected to laugh. I am expected to function. I am expected to do my job. I am expected to continue on my life without my damn anchor because suddenly I am on a boat. But my anchor...my precious anchor... is gone. Now I am stranded in a sea. Kara, my anchor, please come back.

Alex shoves the journal back under the bed where she shelters it. She writes in it every month or two. But every entry is dedicated to...you know who. How could it not be?

Now, I know what your thinking. Don't go on to another repetitive rant about this again! Well, lucky for you, I'm not. It's time to go on to the story.  

Alex sits in the living room, a couple hours after work. It's late. The moon is the only light in the sky, besides the twinkling stars that shimmer and shine beautifully. It casts its light onto the living room, where Alex is on her knees, hands pressed firmly together, as she whispers a prayer. A few, actually.

Her words are in the kryptonian language that she was taught when Kara and her were kids. Kara thought that she forgot, but little did she know, that Alex never ever forgot.

She prays almost every night, of course if she's not passed out at home or at the bar. But if she is not wasted, then you will find Alex Danvers here. Next to her window in the living room praying, whispering her words out to the stars. If you look out, you will see a very bright star. That my friends, is Kara Danvers.

Once Alex is finished she will take a single long look out to the graceful sky, put her hand over her heart with her eyes stuck on that one star, and say one last thing: "I love you, Kara Zor-El."

~

Alex lies back in bed and falls to sleep, but she has a nightmare.

It's dark, but a single bulb brightens blue and red blur. It slowly clears. It's Supergirl on her knees, her cape draped over her. Something...or someone... forced her to her feet. She groans and wobbly stands.

Her face is pained, and her eyes are so... sad. So scared. So clouded. Then they widen and her mouth forms a perfect 'O'. She gasps and there is a green glowing dagger through her chest.

She falls, and doesn't get up.

The woman who stands with the now bloody red dagger is no other than Alex Danvers herself.

Alex sits straight up in her bed, a scream clawing out her throat and shattering the air. Maggie is instantly around her, her arms squeezing her so hard it's as if she lets go the whole world will fall apart.

She breaks down in tears, choking on her own sobs. Maggie rubs her back and soothes her dear Alex by rocking the fragile girl back and forth. Back and forth.

This is nothing new to the couple. These nightmares, often the same one, happen frequently. Poor Alex can never get a break.

Sometimes, Alex wonders if she will ever heal. She can't escape from this pain anywhere. Not even in her sleep.

If I were to be honest, sometimes Alex doesn't care if she lives or dies.