Happy Mother's Day (a post finale ficlet)
When Lena wakes up in Kara’s childhood bedroom in Midvale with a rock sitting at the bottom of her stomach, Kara is characteristically quick to notice.
“Hey, what’s up?” she asks, even as the clouds of sleep slowly blink from her eyes. “Everything okay?”
Lena nods, though she knows it doesn’t fool Kara. “I’m fine,” she promises. “Go back to sleep.”
Kara does—or at least pretends to, giving Lena room to slip quietly from the room. The dawn still lurks behind the horizon, the sky visible from the wraparound porch the deep blackish blue of a world yet to wake.
The cool air of the early morning brings a measure of comfort, bracing and peaceful after the weight in her chest that had woken her. She knows the root of it, but refuses to acknowledge it, or look too closely, lest her understanding of reality shift beyond repair. She remains there until she hears the shuffle of other bodies moving within the house. The sun is well risen by then, and Kara’s hair glints especially golden as she gives her foster mother’s cheek a kiss with a soft murmur.
It’s not the first time they’ve spent the holiday in Midvale. It’s not even the first time that Kelly and Alex have joined the population of celebrants. No, since Lex’s defeat and subsequent exile to the Phantom Zone, they’ve spent several Mother’s Days in Eliza’s home. It’s warm and bright and full of life. The perfect place to appreciate the mothers in their lives. And yet.
Kara sidles up to Lena, wrapping an arm around her waist. She presses a kiss to Lena’s temple. She doesn’t ask, but Lena knows she knows the heavy thoughts haven’t abated. Kara issues a simple promise in the sidelong hug—whenever you’re ready.
Ready doesn’t come until after dinner that evening, when Lena retreats once more to the porch. This time Kara joins her on the bench swing, her palm resting warmly on Lena’s thigh.
“I’m worried about you.” A statement of fact, not a single press or push in sight.
Lena sighs. “I know,” she says. “I’m sorry.”
The hand on Lena’s thigh firms into a reassuring squeeze. “Can I help?”
“Against an impending existential crisis?” Lena snorts. “No, I don’t think so.”
Kara doesn’t surrender so easily. “Try me.”
Closing her eyes, Lena releases a long breath. “My entire life, I’ve lived with a simple, unequivocal truth: my mother didn’t love me.”
No response comes, inviting her to continue.
“It hurt, at first. But eventually, it became as innocuous as the sky being blue, or the grass green. It just was.” Lena pauses, taking another breath. “And then.”
Kara’s hand shifts to interlace her fingers with Lena’s. “Then she chose you.”
Watching Lex raise his gauntlet to fire at her hadn’t shocked Lena. Seeing her mother throw herself between them did. Even now, years later, the memory still locks her throat tight. Lillian had saved her life. When faced with the choice of her precious boy and the girl she’d always only tolerated, she’d chosen Lena.
And then, Lena had saved Lillian in return, her newfound magic pouring from her to heal her mother’s mortal wounds. Beyond all odds, they both survived Lex—together.
The experience seemed to have caused a foundational shift within Lillian. She’d kept her distance for the first few months, before confessing a desire to mend, to rebuild. She’d respected Lena’s distrust, but she’d remained gently persistent. Invitations for lunches, appearances at Lena’s fundraising events, even the occasional gift accompanied by a short but thoughtful note.
Slowly but surely, she’d worn away at Lena’s reservations, plying her with every kind of interest and affection Lena had ever wanted. The journey hadn’t been without its hiccups—more than once Lena had snapped, trashing the thoughtful gifts, ignoring the texts and calls, even screaming her resurfaced hurt and rage in Lillian’s face. Until, eventually, things between them had smoothed into something resembling… Lena doesn’t know.
“This is the first time it feels like Mother’s Day should mean something.”
Lena sighs. Sometimes, Kara knows her too well. “Does,” Lena confesses. “It does mean something. Or at least, I want it to. Maybe. I don’t know.”
Kara smiles. Fishing into her pocket, she pulls out Lena’s phone and hands it over. “Why not start small?”
With a guilty huff of breath, Lena accepts the phone and thanks her fiancé with a kiss. “Thank you.”
Kara grins against her lips. “Always,” she breathes, then kisses her again. “I’ll be inside.”
Lena scrolls through her contacts and taps her mother’s number as Kara climbs to her feet. Heading into the house, Kara hasn’t quite opened the screen door when Lillian answers.
Lena can feel Kara’s smile as the screen door finally opens and quietly swings shut.
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