Kryptonian Conquest

The soldering iron hissed against the circuit board, a thin ribbon of smoke curling up toward the ceiling fan. Skye didn't look up. She didn't need to. The rhythm of her work was a meditation, a way to quiet the noise that had lived in her bones since she was seventeen years old. The bench in front of her was cluttered with the detritus of a dozen dead machines: cracked screens, corroded motherboards, a tangle of ribbon cables that looked like shed snakeskin.

Her shop sat on the corner of a strip mall in Glendale, wedged between a vape store and a taqueria that played norteño music so loud she could feel the bass through the shared wall. The sign above the door said *Skye's Tech Repair* in peeling vinyl letters. She'd bought the place with cash three years ago, after she'd walked away from everything else.

The bell above the door jingled.

"Be with you in a sec," she said, not looking up. The soldering iron touched down again. Another bead of silver, another connection made.

"Still hiding in the small places, I see."

Skye's hand didn't shake. That was the first thing she noticed about herself, the steadiness of her fingers as she set the iron down in its cradle. The second thing was the voice. She knew that voice the way she knew the scar on her neck, the one Fitz had left when he'd cut the power suppressor out of her spine. Some things lived in you permanently, no matter how far you ran.

She looked up.

Kara stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the afternoon glare. She wasn't wearing the cape. No crest on her chest, no red boots. Just a black leather jacket and jeans that fit like they'd been tailored to her body, which they probably had. Her hair was longer than Skye remembered, falling past her shoulders in waves that caught the light like spun gold. She looked like she'd stepped out of a dream Skye had spent years trying to forget.

"No," Skye said.

Kara smiled. It wasn't the warm, earnest smile that Skye remembered from another lifetime. This smile had edges. It curved at the corner of her mouth like a blade.

"No?"

"No way. I'm not getting involved with you again, Zor-El." Skye turned back to her workbench, picked up the soldering iron. Her hand was still steady. She was proud of that. "Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying. Door's behind you."

She heard Kara's footsteps on the concrete floor. Slow. Deliberate. The sound of someone who had never been told no in her life and had decided, somewhere along the way, that she didn't like the taste of it.

"You're not even going to ask how I found you?"

"I figured you'd find me eventually." Skye touched the iron to a fresh joint. The solder flowed like mercury. "You always did. Like a bloodhound with a grudge."

"A grudge." Kara laughed, and the sound was low and rich, nothing like the bright giggle Skye remembered from movie nights in the old apartment. "Is that what you think this is?"

"I think you're standing in my shop uninvited, and I think you've got about thirty seconds before I use you for target practice." Skye set the iron down again and finally turned to face her fully. "I've gotten better since the last time. You might remember."

Kara's eyes traveled over her. Slow. Appraising. Skye felt it like a physical touch, a hand tracing the line of her jaw, the curve of her shoulder, the dip of her waist. She was wearing a grease-stained tank top and ripped jeans. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. She looked like exactly what she was: a woman who had spent the last three years trying to be ordinary.

"You have," Kara said. "Gotten better. You've filled out. Grown into your power." She took another step closer. "I always knew you would."

"Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm something you're thinking about buying."

Kara's smile widened. "I already bought you, Skye. A long time ago. You just forgot."

Skye felt the vibration start in her fingertips, the familiar hum of her power waking up. She'd spent years learning to control it, to keep it banked like a fire in a hearth. But Kara had always known how to stoke it. How to make it burn.

"I didn't forget anything," Skye said. "I remember everything. That's the problem."

Kara stopped three feet away. Close enough that Skye could smell her: leather and something floral, jasmine maybe, and underneath it the ozone scent of Kryptonian physiology, the smell of a sun that wasn't this one. She'd forgotten that smell. Or she'd tried to.

"Lena's gone," Kara said.

The words landed like a punch to the sternum. Skye kept her face still.

"What?"

"Lena. She left. Three months ago. Took a ship, a crew, about forty million dollars from the accounts I let her think I didn't know about." Kara's voice was calm, conversational. Like she was discussing the weather. "I've been looking for her. I thought she might come here. You were always her favorite."

"I haven't talked to Lena in two years."

"I know." Kara tilted her head. "I checked."

Of course she had. Skye felt a flash of something hot and bitter in her chest. Kara had been checking on her. Watching. For how long? The thought should have made her angry. It did make her angry. But underneath the anger was something else, something she didn't want to name.

"So you came here looking for Lena," Skye said. "And you found me. Congratulations. Now you can leave."

"I'm not here for Lena anymore."

"Then why are you here?"

Kara closed the distance between them. She moved fast, faster than Skye could track, and then she was there, right there, close enough that Skye could see the flecks of gold in her blue eyes. She reached out and caught a strand of Skye's hair between her fingers, rubbed it like she was testing the quality of silk.

"I'm here for you," Kara said. "I've always been here for you. You're the one who left."

"I left because you were out of control."

"I was in control. You just didn't like what I was controlling."

"You were hurting people, Kara. You were hurting me."

Kara's fingers tightened on the strand of hair. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind Skye that she could.

"I never hurt you," Kara said. "Not in any way you didn't ask for."

Skye pulled her head back, breaking the contact. She stepped away, putting the workbench between them. Her heart was pounding. She could feel the pulse of it in her throat, in her wrists, in the scar on her neck.

"You need to leave," she said. "Now. Before I do something we both regret."

"Like what?" Kara leaned against the workbench, crossed her arms. The leather of her jacket creaked. "Call your friends at S.H.I.E.L.D.? They don't exist anymore. Not the way they used to. You know that better than anyone."

"I know a lot of things."

"You know you can't beat me. You never could."

"I don't need to beat you. I just need to make you leave."

Kara laughed again. That low, rich sound that made Skye's stomach clench.

"You're adorable when you're defiant," Kara said. "You always were. It's one of the things I missed most."

Skye felt her power surge, a wave of vibration that rattled the tools on the workbench, sent a coffee mug sliding toward the edge. She caught it without looking, set it back in place.

"Don't," she said. "Don't talk to me like we're picking up where we left off. We're not. That's over."

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"Then why is your heart beating so fast?"

Skye hated that Kara could hear it. Hated that her body was betraying her, that the years of distance and healing had done nothing to dull the edge of Kara's presence. She'd spent so long building walls. Kara had walked through them like they were made of paper.

"I want you to leave," Skye said. "I'm asking you nicely. One time."

"And if I don't?"

Skye met her eyes. "Then I'll make you."

Kara smiled. It was the smile of a predator who had just spotted interesting prey. She pushed off the workbench and walked toward Skye, slow and deliberate, each step a small declaration of intent. Skye held her ground. She'd faced worse than Kara. She'd faced Hive, she'd faced Fitz with a scalpel, she'd faced the yawning void of her own power and learned to ride it instead of drowning.

But Kara had always been different. Kara had always been the one thing she couldn't fight, because fighting her meant fighting herself.

"I missed you," Kara said. She stopped a foot away. "I missed the way you smell. The way you taste. The way you say my name when you're coming apart." She reached out, touched Skye's cheek. Her fingers were warm. "I missed the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention. Like I'm the only thing in the world that matters."

"Kara."

"Say it again."

"Kara, stop."

"I didn't say stop. I said say my name."

Skye's throat tightened. She could feel the vibration building in her chest, a pressure that needed release. She could level this building if she wanted to. She could bring the whole strip mall down around them. But she didn't. She stood there, frozen, while Kara's thumb traced the line of her cheekbone.

"I've been thinking about you," Kara said. "For years. Every time I closed my eyes, there you were. Every time I touched someone else, I wished it was you." Her thumb moved to Skye's lips, pressed down gently. "Do you know what that's like? To have everything you want except the one thing you actually need?"

"I'm not a thing you need."

"You're the only thing I need."

Skye pulled back, breaking the contact. She turned away, pressed her hands flat on the workbench, and tried to breathe. The soldering iron was still hot. She could feel the heat radiating against her knuckles.

"You're not the same person I fell in love with," she said. "You're not the Kara who used to bring me donuts at three in the morning. You're not the Kara who cried when I got hurt. You're something else now. Something that scares me."

"I'm exactly the same person," Kara said. "I just stopped pretending to be something I'm not."

"You were never pretending."

"Weren't I?" Kara moved behind her, close enough that Skye could feel the heat of her body. "I spent years trying to be the hero everyone wanted me to be. The girl scout. The symbol of hope. And what did it get me? A city that turned on me the first time I made a hard choice. Friends who abandoned me when I needed them most. A lover who ran away because she couldn't handle the truth."

"The truth?"

"That I'm not good. I never was. I'm a weapon, Skye. I was built to conquer, not to save. And the only person who ever understood that was you."

Skye closed her eyes. She remembered the night she'd left. The rain on the windows. The sound of Kara's voice, cold and calm, as she explained why she'd done what she'd done. The bodies. The blood. The look in her eyes, flat and empty, like a shark's.

"I understood you," Skye said. "That's why I left. Because I understood exactly what you were becoming, and I knew I couldn't stop it."

"You could have stayed. You could have helped me."

"Helped you do what? Kill more people? Take more power?" Skye turned around. Kara was right there, inches away. "I'm not a monster, Kara. I never was. And I'm not going to stand by while you become one."

"I'm already a monster." Kara's voice was soft. Almost gentle. "I've been a monster since the day my planet died. I just hid it better than most."

"That's not true."

"It is. You know it is." Kara reached out, caught Skye's wrist. Her grip was firm, not painful, but unbreakable. "You knew it when you fell in love with me. You knew it when you let me tie you to the bed and take you apart. You knew it when you screamed my name and begged me not to stop."

Skye's breath caught. The memory hit her like a wave, the weight of Kara's body, the bite of rope on her wrists, the way Kara had looked at her with those cold blue eyes and made her feel like the only person in the universe.

"That was different," Skye said. "That was before."

"It's not different. It's the same. You just stopped pretending."

"I'm not pretending anything."

"Then why haven't you pulled away?"

Skye looked down. Kara's hand was still around her wrist. She could break the grip. She could vibrate her molecules, phase through, step back. But she didn't.

"I don't know," she said.

"Yes, you do."

"I don't."

"You do." Kara's other hand came up, cupped Skye's chin, tilted her face up. "You haven't pulled away because you don't want to. Because you've missed me as much as I've missed you. Because the only time you ever felt alive was when you were mine."

Skye felt tears prick at her eyes. She hated it. Hated the weakness, the vulnerability, the way Kara could still reach inside her and find the soft places.

"You're wrong," she said.

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"Then tell me to go."

"What?"

"Tell me to go. Tell me you don't want me here. Tell me you never want to see me again, and I'll leave. I'll walk out that door and I won't come back."

Skye opened her mouth. The words were there, right there, ready to fall out. *Go. Leave. I never want to see you again.* But they didn't come. They stuck in her throat like fish bones.

"I can't," she whispered.

"I know."

Kara leaned in. Her lips brushed Skye's ear, warm and soft.

"I've waited three years for you," she murmured. "I've searched every corner of this planet. I've torn apart governments looking for you. And now that I've found you, I'm not letting you go. Not again. Not ever."

Skye shuddered. The vibration in her chest was building, spreading, making her whole body hum. She could feel the power rising, the way it always did when Kara was close. It wasn't fear. It wasn't anger. It was something else, something deeper, something she'd spent years trying to bury.

"Kara," she said. "Please."

"Please what?"

"I don't know."

"That's okay." Kara pulled back, just enough to look into her eyes. "You don't have to know. You just have to trust me."

"I don't trust you."

"You will."

Kara kissed her.

It wasn't gentle. It was a claiming, a declaration, a reminder of everything they'd been and everything they could be. Skye's hands came up, pressed against Kara's chest, and for a moment she thought about pushing her away. She should push her away. She should run. She should do all the things she'd promised herself she would do if Kara ever found her.

But she didn't. She kissed her back.

The soldering iron tipped over, clattered against the workbench. Neither of them noticed. Kara's hands were in Skye's hair, pulling the ponytail loose, tangling in the dark strands. Skye's fingers curled into the leather of Kara's jacket, held on like she was drowning.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard. Kara's eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. Skye could see her own reflection in them, small and flushed and wanting.

"There," Kara said. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Skye shook her head. She couldn't speak. Her throat was too tight.

"Good." Kara stepped back, straightened her jacket. "Now pack your things. We're leaving."

"Leaving?"

"This town. This life. All of it." Kara gestured at the shop, at the clutter, at the three years of quiet desperation Skye had built for herself. "You don't belong here. You never did."

"I can't just leave. I have a business. I have a life."

"You have a holding pattern." Kara's voice was sharp. "You've been hiding, Skye. Hiding from me, hiding from yourself, hiding from everything you are. I'm offering you a way out."

"I don't want a way out. I want to be left alone."

"No, you don't." Kara stepped close again, caught her chin, forced her to meet her eyes. "You want to be found. You've always wanted to be found. That's why you didn't change your name. That's why you stayed in the same city. That's why you kept the same haircut, the same style, the same everything. You were waiting for me."

Skye's eyes burned. The tears were back, threatening to spill over.

"That's not true," she said.

"It is. And you know it is." Kara released her chin, stepped back. "I'm going to give you one hour. Pack what you need. Say goodbye to whoever you need to say goodbye to. Then meet me at the airfield on the edge of town. There's a ship waiting."

"And if I don't come?"

Kara smiled. That blade of a smile, sharp and beautiful.

"Then I'll come back for you," she said. "And next time, I won't ask nicely."

She turned and walked out. The bell above the door jingled. The door swung shut. And Skye was alone.

She stood there for a long time, staring at the door. The soldering iron was still on the floor, the tip slowly cooling. The ceiling fan turned overhead, lazy and indifferent. Outside, a car drove by, bass thumping. Normal sounds. Normal life.

She looked down at her hands. They were shaking.

*You were waiting for me.*

She hated that Kara was right. Hated that she'd spent three years telling herself she was healing, moving on, building something new, when really she'd just been holding her breath. Waiting. For what? For Kara to find her? For the other shoe to drop? For the universe to remind her that some things couldn't be escaped, no matter how far you ran?

She walked to the back of the shop, to the small office she'd set up in what used to be a storage closet. There was a safe under the desk, a duffel bag in the corner. She hadn't packed it in three years. She'd told herself she was done with that life.

She knelt down, spun the combination, pulled the safe open.

Inside: a passport with a name that wasn't Skye. A gun she'd never fired. A photograph of her and Kara, taken on a beach in Costa Rica, both of them laughing, both of them young and stupid and in love. And a collar. Black leather. A small silver tag engraved with a single word: *Mine.*

She picked up the collar, turned it over in her hands. She remembered the day Kara had given it to her. Remembered the weight of it around her neck. Remembered the way Kara had looked at her when she'd fastened it, like she was the most precious thing in the universe.

She should throw it away. She should burn it. She should leave it in the safe and walk out and never look back.

She put it in the duffel bag.

---

The airfield was a private strip on the edge of the desert, a single runway and a hangar that had seen better days. Skye parked her truck at the edge of the tarmac and sat there for a minute, engine idling, hands on the wheel.

She could still turn around. She could go back to the shop, lock the door, pretend none of this had happened. She could call someone. Who? S.H.I.E.L.D. was gone. The Avengers were a mess. Her old team had scattered to the winds. There was no one left to call.

And even if there was, would she?

She killed the engine, grabbed the duffel bag, and got out.

Kara was waiting at the hangar door, leaning against the frame. She'd changed clothes, swapped the leather jacket for a simple black shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. She looked like she belonged here, in the middle of nowhere, under a sky that was turning orange with the setting sun.

"You came," she said.

"You didn't give me much choice."

"There's always a choice." Kara pushed off the frame, walked toward her. "You could have run. You could have fought. You could have called for help. You didn't."

"I didn't because it wouldn't have done any good."

"Or because you didn't want to."

Skye stopped a few feet away. The desert wind kicked up dust, swirled it around their feet.

"Where's the ship?" she asked.

"Inside."

"And where are we going?"

"Somewhere we can be alone. Somewhere no one will find us." Kara reached out, took the duffel bag from her hand. "Somewhere I can remind you who you belong to."

Skye's heart skipped. She hated that. Hated the way her body responded to Kara's words, the way her skin prickled with anticipation.

"I don't belong to anyone," she said.

Kara smiled. "We'll see."

She turned and walked into the hangar. Skye followed.

The ship was beautiful. Sleek and black, curved like a blade, engines humming with a low, almost subsonic pulse. It looked like something from a dream, or a nightmare. Kara led her up the ramp, through a narrow corridor, into a cabin that was surprisingly comfortable. A bed, a couch, a small kitchenette. Soft lighting. The walls were a dark, matte gray.

"Nice," Skye said.

"I had it custom built." Kara dropped the duffel bag on the bed. "For us."

"For us?"

"I've been planning this for a long time." Kara turned to face her. "The ship. The destination. Everything. I knew I'd find you eventually. I wanted to be ready."

"You're insane."

"Maybe." Kara stepped close, caught her hips, pulled her in. "But you're here. So what does that make you?"

Skye didn't answer. She couldn't. Kara's hands were on her waist, her thumbs tracing circles on the bare skin above her jeans. Her eyes were dark, hungry, fixed on Skye's face.

"I'm going to ask you something," Kara said. "And I want you to think about it. Really think. Don't just say what you think I want to hear."

"Okay."

"Do you want this?"

Skye blinked. "What?"

"Do you want this? Me? Us? Everything that comes with it?" Kara's voice was low, serious. "Because if you don't, I'll let you go. I'll take you back to your shop, and I'll leave, and you'll never see me again. But if you do, if you stay, there's no going back. You understand? Once you're mine, you're mine. Forever."

Skye looked at her. Really looked. The sharp line of her jaw. The gold in her eyes. The way she held herself, like a queen, like a god, like someone who had never known what it meant to be small.

She thought about her shop. Her quiet life. The three years of solitude, of healing, of trying to be normal.

She thought about the collar in her bag.

She thought about the way Kara had kissed her, the way her body had come alive, the way she'd felt more in that one moment than she had in three years.

"Yes," she said. "I want this."

Kara's smile was slow, satisfied. "Good girl."

She kissed her again, harder this time, and Skye melted into it. Into her. Into the heat and the hunger and the promise of everything that was to come.

When they broke apart, Kara's hands were in her hair, tilting her head back, exposing her throat.

"I'm going to mark you," Kara said. "Right here." She pressed her lips to the pulse point, sucked gently. "So everyone knows. So you know. You're mine."

Skye shivered. "Kara."

"Say it."

"What?"

"Say you're mine."

"I'm yours."

"Again."

"I'm yours."

Kara pulled back, looked at her. Her eyes were bright, almost feverish.

"Good," she said. "Now take off your clothes."

Skye hesitated. Just for a second. Then she reached for the hem of her tank top and pulled it over her head.

Kara watched. Her eyes traveled over Skye's body, slow and deliberate, taking in every inch of skin. Skye felt exposed, vulnerable, and more alive than she'd felt in years.

"Beautiful," Kara murmured. "You're so beautiful."

She reached out, traced a finger down Skye's sternum, between her breasts, down her stomach. Skye's breath caught.

"I've dreamed about this," Kara said. "About having you here, like this. About touching you. Tasting you. Taking you apart piece by piece."

"Kara, please."

"Please what?"

"I don't know. Just... please."

Kara smiled. "That's what I like to hear."

She pushed Skye back, onto the bed. Skye landed on her back, the duffel bag shifting under her. Kara climbed on top of her, straddled her hips, pinned her wrists above her head.

"You remember the rules?" Kara asked.

"Yes."

"Tell me."

"Don't move unless you tell me to. Don't speak unless you ask me a question. Don't come until you give me permission."

"Good." Kara leaned down, kissed her forehead. "You remembered."

"I remember everything."

"I know." Kara's lips moved to her ear. "That's why I love you."

Skye's heart clenched. Love. Kara had said love. Did she mean it? Did it matter?

"Kara."

"Shh." Kara's hand covered her mouth. "No talking. Not unless I ask."

Skye nodded. Kara's hand moved from her mouth to her throat, rested there, a gentle pressure.

"I'm going to take my time with you," Kara said. "I'm going to touch every inch of you. Kiss every inch of you. Make you feel things you forgot you could feel." Her hand moved lower, traced the curve of Skye's breast. "And when you're ready, when you're begging, I'm going to fuck you until you can't remember your own name."

Skye's hips bucked. Kara pressed her down.

"Patience," she said. "We have all the time in the world."

She lowered her head, took Skye's nipple in her mouth, sucked hard. Skye gasped, arched, tried to move her hands. Kara held them down.

"No," she said. "Stay still."

Skye obeyed. It was harder than she remembered. Harder to surrender, to let go, to trust. But she did. She let Kara take control, let her set the pace, let her do whatever she wanted.

And Kara did.

She kissed her way down Skye's body, slow and thorough. Her lips on Skye's collarbone, her sternum, her stomach. Her tongue dipping into her navel. Her teeth grazing her hip. Skye moaned, twisted, tried to press her thighs together. Kara pushed them apart.

"None of that," she said. "You're going to take what I give you."

She hooked her fingers in the waistband of Skye's jeans, pulled them down, along with her underwear. Skye was naked now, completely exposed, and Kara was still fully dressed. The power imbalance should have bothered her. It did bother her. It also made her wetter than she'd ever been.

Kara settled between her legs, her breath warm on Skye's skin.

"You're so wet," she said. "Is this for me?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

"It's for you. All of it. All of me."

"Good girl."

Kara's tongue touched her, soft and warm, and Skye's world narrowed to that single point of contact. Kara licked her slowly, deliberately, like she was savoring the taste. Skye's hands fisted in the sheets. Her hips moved, small circles, trying to get more.

Kara pulled back. "What did I say?"

"Don't move."

"So why are you moving?"

"I'm sorry. I can't help it."

"You can. You just don't want to." Kara's finger replaced her tongue, circling Skye's clit, light and teasing. "You want to be bad. You want me to punish you."

"No."

"Liar."

Kara's finger pressed harder, and Skye cried out. The vibration in her chest was building again, the power responding to the pleasure, making her whole body hum.

"Kara, please."

"Please what?"

"I need... I need..."

"You need what?"

"You. I need you."

"You have me." Kara's finger slid inside her, and Skye gasped. "You've always had me. Even when you ran. Even when you hid. I was always there."

She added a second finger, curled them, found the spot that made Skye see stars. Skye's back arched, her mouth opened, a sound came out that wasn't quite a word.

"That's it," Kara said. "Let go. Let me hear you."

Skye did. She let go. She let the power take her, let the vibration fill her, let the pleasure crash over her like a wave. She came with Kara's name on her lips, her body shaking, her mind blank.

When she opened her eyes, Kara was looking down at her, a satisfied smile on her face.

"Good," she said. "That was good."

Skye tried to catch her breath. "That was... wow."

"We're not done yet."

"No?"

"No." Kara stood up, pulled off her shirt, unbuttoned her jeans. "I'm not done with you. Not even close."

She stripped, slowly, deliberately, letting Skye watch. Her body was perfect, of course. Hard and lean and powerful. Skye had forgotten how beautiful she was. Or maybe she'd just tried to forget.

Kara climbed back onto the bed, settled between Skye's legs, and looked down at her.

"Ready?" she asked.

Skye nodded.

"Say it."

"I'm ready."

"Good."

Kara kissed her, deep and hard, and Skye kissed her back. And then Kara was inside her, and there was no more thinking, no more worrying, no more anything but the feel of her, the taste of her, the weight of her.

They moved together, a rhythm as old as time. Kara's hands pinned Skye's wrists. Kara's mouth was on her neck, her shoulder, her breast. Kara's voice was in her ear, whispering things that made Skye's blood burn.

"You're mine," Kara said. "You've always been mine. You'll always be mine."

"Yes."

"Say it."

"I'm yours."

"Again."

"I'm yours. I'm yours. I'm yours."

Kara's rhythm increased, harder, faster, and Skye met her thrust for thrust. The vibration was building again, higher this time, stronger. She could feel it in her bones, in her blood, in the very atoms of her being.

"Come for me," Kara said. "Now."

And Skye did.

She came with a scream that echoed off the walls of the ship, her body arching, her power surging, the whole world dissolving into white-hot light. Kara came with her, a low growl in her throat, her fingers digging into Skye's hips.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. They lay there, tangled together, breathing hard. The ship hummed around them, steady and patient.

Finally, Kara spoke.

"Welcome home," she said.

Skye didn't answer. She couldn't. She was too tired, too spent, too overwhelmed. But she didn't need to. Kara knew. Kara always knew.

She pulled Skye close, wrapped her arms around her, and held her while she slept.

---

Skye woke to the sound of engines. The ship was moving, the vibration different now, deeper. She sat up, looked around. Kara was at the controls, her back to Skye, her hands moving over the console.

"Where are we?" Skye asked.

"Somewhere new." Kara didn't turn around. "Somewhere we can start over."

Skye got up, walked over to her. Through the viewscreen, she could see stars. Millions of them, scattered across the black like diamonds on velvet.

"It's beautiful," she said.

"It is." Kara turned, caught her hand, pulled her close. "But not as beautiful as you."

Skye rolled her eyes. "That's cheesy."

"I know. But it's true." Kara kissed her knuckles. "I'm going to give you everything, Skye. Everything you've ever wanted. Everything you've ever dreamed of. All you have to do is trust me."

"I do trust you."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"Good." Kara's eyes were dark, serious. "Because I'm going to ask you to do something. Something hard. Something you might not want to do."

"What?"

"Lena." Kara's voice was flat. "She's still out there. She has something that belongs to me. I need you to help me find her."

Skye's stomach dropped. "Kara, I told you. I don't want to get involved in that."

"I know. But I need you." Kara's grip on her hand tightened. "You're the only one who can find her. You're the only one she'll listen to."

"I haven't talked to Lena in years."

"I know. But she'll talk to you. She always did." Kara's eyes were pleading now, soft and vulnerable. "Please, Skye. For me."

Skye looked at her. At the woman she'd loved, the woman she'd run from, the woman who had just claimed her body and soul. She thought about Lena. About the last time she'd seen her, the last time they'd spoken. About the things Lena had done, the things she'd become.

And she thought about what Kara was asking. What it would mean. What it would cost.

"Okay," she said. "I'll help you."

Kara's smile was bright, radiant, the smile of the girl she'd fallen in love with all those years ago.

"Thank you," she said. "You won't regret it."

Skye hoped she was right.

She really, really hoped she was right.