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lgbtimelords · 3 months

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a fanfic i'll never write, part 1:

is a mirror just a reflection (or is it the door to a parallel universe)

Dreams are a weird thing.

The lapse between unconsciousness and consciousness. The moment fleeting images show up in your mind and sometimes, they quickly leave. You’re not supossed to remember them, books say. It’s repressed memories, repressed ideas, some that are kept that way for a reason. Most people don’t want to know what they mean. They don’t want to dive into the depths of their minds.

Not her, thought.

The dreams, the weird and inconsistent dreams she has every night, are the only thing she has any autonomy over. Her mind is hers. Even if sometimes it feels like her body isn’t.

They train her. Guide her. Mold her into turning into what they want, into what Alex wants. But not her mind. They can’t take away her mind, her thoughts, her dreams.

And even though part of her knows these aren’t her dreams. She still holds them close, thinks about them. Tries to analyze them, for a lack of something better to do.

She dreams of darkness. And solitude.

She sees punch after punch land against her face, seconds from each other, even though the person above her always has a different face.

She dreams of bodies falling on top of each other, unmoving and pale as they fall to the floor. Althought she never recognizes any of the faces.

She feels pain, always, in one way or another, across her entire body. Nails cursing through her blood and she’s unable to make it stop. Except it does stop, when she wakes up. Even if her beating heart and the residual pain she can almost-feel are still there.

She doesn’t know what they mean and the classic literature books that are mailed to her bring little answers. Just more questions. Just more ideas and thoughts they want to carve into her mind. She doesn’t let it. She tries to argue back with the books that offer no feedback and when Alex arrives, she tells them she agrees with the books- lets him smirk satified as she puts on her clueless face.

She wasn’t always like this. She did fall for his games. She did let him mold her mind. At first. It wasn’t until her tenth reread of The Great Gatsby that she realized it was the only act of defiance she had done against Alex- reading a book. She realized how much he hated her thoughts on it, even though her outlook was a nice one.

Why wouldn’t Alex want me to see beauty?

But she wanted to see beauty. Beauty outside of the compound she’s been confined in. But beauty seems like such a foreing concept to her. What is beauty? The dresses women describe in her books? The money and lavish jewels she’d never seen? The music she’d never heard? The beautiful people her guards describe during their breaks?

She’s not sure she has ever seen beauty. But she wants to. She desperatly wants to.

But she can’t get out.

Her life is just the couple hundred of miles that belong to this section of the Kaznian army. Her sleeping cuarters are not more than four old and empty walls. The training grounds are not more than snowy ground and thick cold air.

And she spends, day and nights, training and reading and studying. For what? She’s never told.

She learns to control her powers to the fullest. Reach their limit and know when to stop right before they leave her body completely.

She learns every language on this planet, Alex quizzing her on all of them until she’s better than him. She learns to mimic every accent and dialect under the sun- for what? She’s never told.

And months pass. Months after months after months. Alex comes and goes, like always.

He comes and goes, but the dreams are always there.

---

The ground is shaking. A lot. She faintly hears objects falling to the floor. Glass breaking. People screaming. She hears pain- like when she heard Mikhail call it out. But she cannot move now. She cannot fly away into the sun and offer her help.

She hears pain. Her feet are stuck on the ground unable to move. And she hears pain, a lot of it.

Someone tugs her arm, forces her legs to move and follow after them. She looks up- and it’s the first time she realizes how close to the ground she is- and finds the back of someone’s head. A man, looks like.

He screams words over his shoulder in a languaje she can’t understand because all she hears is pain. And she notices, when the tall man kneels in front of her, that she’s the one screaming in pain. Fear. Sadness. Confusion.

The man, eyes that she’d seen in her own reflection before, soothes her with his words. And even though she cannot know what he’s saying, she understands the meaning. “Stay calm, inah. It’ll be over soon.”

He picks her in his arms, and she hides her face in the crook of his neck. Hides away the screaming and breaking of estructures she knows they shouldn’t be falling, and takes comfort in the man’s colony and his soft clothes.

But the small comfort is ripped away when suddenly she’s not in his arms anymore. She’s alone. And it’s cold. Everything is so cold. The chair she’s sitting in is cold. Her clothes, which are supposed to bring her warmth, are cold. Her hands are cold. And when her fingers slowly trace the glass in front of her, it’s cold too.

Although the cold isn’t the worst part. It’s the darkness. There’s nothing to see. Nothing to feel. Just her. Alone. Looking forward and never backward to empty darkness.

And then there’s a light. It’s big and blinding. And fear spikes throughout her body even though she’s not sure why. She does not know what the flames are for.

The flames get closer and closer and closer. The surrond the small crystal box she’s in. And so, she screams.

----

Red daughter, they call her.

Or snowbird, for a lack of a better name.

But after a year of her solitude- or, at least, solitude surrounded by people that only spoke to her for a couple of second- Alex tells her her name is Kara.

That her life was taken by an impostor, and that he’ll help her get it back.

And if there’s a shadow behind Alex’s eyes that makes her schomach turn, she doesn’t mention it.

---

She’s flying, faster than she’s ever flown. She’s flying with a clear direction, closer and closer to her target.

She doesn’t really know what her target is until she sees the plane in front of her eyes. She quickly realizes something is wrong. The couple of planes she’d seen in the sky always flew flawlessly and at a constant speed but this one, this one moves through the air carelessly and speedily. There’s no direction, the plane only falls and falls, closer and closer to the city buildings.

She knows she has to save it. There’s people there. She knows it. But most importantly, her heart is telling someone even more important than all of them is there too.

She keeps on flying. Her limbs feel heavy. She feels disorientated. But she keeps on flying.

When her hands touch the base of the plane, there’s a small jump of exciment on her heart but then-

It’s like her hands run out of strength and the grip she had on the plane gives out and she watches as it goes down and down and down.

The plane hits a skycrapper in an explosion and she cannot move. She watches as the fires burn, the building falls, the few people still alive scream. And she doesn’t move.

Her heart is screaming for something, someone. She doesn’t know who.

The tears cover her face in and out of the dream.

---

Alex starts to show her the world.

“Again,” he says, “because Kara Danvers stole your life and memories from you.”

He shows her one city a day. She sees the children dying of hunger while rich men drown in their riches. She sees little towns burn because of big factories.

“So,” she starts, uncertain, “I am Kara Danvers?”

“Not yet. Once you kill her, you will be.”

She sees so many awful things in this world, she begins to understand why Alex is so full of hate. But the only thing keeping her from following him blindly is not his hatred, but his refusal to see the beauty, the love, the hope.

His face at the mention of the last word leaves a heavy weight on her heart.

---

She hears Christmas music.

She hates this one.

She’s standing in the middle of an empty street. She looks around, wondering which one will show up first this time.

The man in the black suit shows up first. He’s always wearing the same thing- a black piece of clothing that covers his entire body, with a symbol on his chest. She always gets a sense of deja-vu when she looks at it, but she never remembers what it means.

“I win,” he says. And even though she cannot see his face, all she sees is a blurry silluete where his face should be, she can tell there’s a smirk in his face anyway.

He punches her, making her lip burst out with blood. She falls to her knees.

When she opens her eyes again, a woman that looks like her is above her. Dirty blonde hair but blueish skin. Her voice always sounds distorted but she also says “I win.” before punching her too.

A red robot is next. He sends a wush of wind her way, making her fall to her knees. She sees someone’s shadow on the broken floor below her before she feels them kick her in her back- it makes her fly again, it’s another woman this time, one with a dark clothes and a mask covering her face.

Her punches hurt the most, they leave her gasping for air and wishing she’d finally wake up. And she does wake up, once they reach the top of a bulding and the other woman lets her drop.

She falls and falls and falls until she’s consious again and screaming in fear, waking up her guards.

---

Alex leaves her alone in a cute little apartment- her apartment. The one that was stolen from her by the impostor that looks just like her.

The apartment is nice. Homey. Just one big space divided into kitchen, dining room, living room and bedroom by the setup of the furniture and one big curtain. And it feels weird and painful that, when she walks around and touches what it’s supposed to be hers, she finds no familiarity in them.

She finds that sense of deja vu only twice; when she sees that picture in the fridge, the one of two women together- herself or the impostor, she’s not sure, and someone else. Brunette, short hair, kind smile. Alex.

Why does the impostor have an Alex? Was there always two Alexs? Which one is the real Alex? Which one is the real Kara? The real her? Is she the impostor?

There’s a thightness in her chest- it takes her a while to realize it’s just emptiness. Empty like her memories. Empty like the walls in her room. Empty like her heart. And there’s nothing to fill the hollowness in her except maybe wish, hope, pray that she is actually real and this impostor has stolen everything from her.

Except it doesn’t look like it. Except she’s only got Alex’s words to believe and she��s not sure how much of them believes anymore.

She feels nothing, absolutely nothing, as she walks around her own things. She guesses she should feel recognition, maybe a sense of deja vu or of belogning. But all she feels is nothing, only curiosity and anger at best. She could be anywhere, an apartment that isn’t hers, and feel the same. She doesn’t know if that’s good or bad.

But then. She sees it.

The portrait sits on the right bedside table. It’s modern, white background and small red hearts all over it. But it’s not that that catches her attention, it’s the picture in it.

The smile on her face- her impostor’s face- is so big, so happy, so excited. She didn’t even know she could smile that big. The blonde’s got her arms wrapped around someone else, a woman, who’s sutting comfortably atop her lap. She’s all dark hair and pale skin, she’s got one arm around her shoulders, pulling each other as close as possible.

Her smile is as big as her double’s and she’s the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen.

And that’s when she feels it. The pang. The ache.

Right in the middle of her heart. As if seeing this woman had suddenly pulled a thread, making her walk closer and closer and closer to the picture until she’s picking it up. Her fingers slowly tracing her face. The sharp line of her jawline, moving to her cheekbones and stopping as soon as her own eyes land on green ones.

It’s like they’re magnetic. Hypnotic, perhaps. And she wants more. More of those eyes and that face. She needs to see in more than a picture, she needs to find the woman because, if only a mere picture could cause such a reaction on her, then what will the real thing do?

She needs to find the woman. She needs to see her. She needs to find her name.

She does so in the pages of Kara Danver’s dairy. She finds it rather quickly. Pages and pages written about Lena. Over and over again. Only interrupted from time to time but other names like Cat, Brainy, Nia, Kelly, Alex. But Lena is the one that catches her attention the most, because every time she reads it, her heart jumps in a way it doesn’t do with anyone else.

And she knows, deep down part of her knows, this woman help her. Will fix her. Give her back her memories.

In the last pages of the diary, she finds a quote written by her (but which her? The impostor? Or herself, before she lost her memories?) on a ripped out magazine page that supports her own hunch.

Lena doesn't realize how much potential she has. I hope now at least the world will.

“Lena Luthor,” she whispers, wonder runs through her veins at the name.

And it’s enough. It’s all she needs. The name and a location.

It’s not long before she’s walking down the streets of National City, stolen glasses on her face and borrowed clothes on her body, moving through the sea of people as she heads to L-corp.

The people at the front door and desk do nothing to stop her nor ask her any questions. They just wave at her, all smiles and excited hellos. She knows they think she’s the other Kara, the one that knows what her place is here. But she is Kara, right? Or at least she was.

A part of her is thankful they do nothing to stop her, her journey to Lena easier than she thought it’d be as anyone that crossed her pointed her in the direction of the woman. While part of her is annoyed that her security is so lacking. What if she was an enemy? What if she was here to hurt Lena?

The rush of protectiveness is sudden, it creeped on her like Alex’s name had. It hadn’t been there and, suddenly, it was. And she couldn’t make it disappear. It only defeates once she sees Lena, safe and sound as she finishes talking to someone and walking into the elevator.

#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #kara zor el #russian kara #rara #my fic #possible series? of my unfinished fics lol #if you catched the name being like the book “a book I'll never write” know that i love you #im open to any questions you have on it except “will you finish it?” because the answer is 99.9% no #this is basically the rara and lena and kara and supercorp fic i started ages ago and never finished #cleaning up my docs too basically #a fanfic i'll never write

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