#superrojascorp

They don’t have an answer for Lena. Even after years of investigation and analysis, no one can tell her what or why it happened. All they can say is one moment Supergirl was there, and the next she was gone. There’s no body, but the Geiger readings are so high they say the Kryptonite must have melted her in a flash. One minute she’s there - her wife, her hero - and then she’s gone. Taken from the universe forever. Taken from Lena.

It nearly kills her, too, the loss. Kara was the one light she had in this life, and it was snuffed out like nothing. She almost lets it kill her. She wants it to, really, but Kara’s voice in her heart won’t let her give up. Despite her deepest desires to be with her wife Lena pushes on. She spends years pulling herself back from the brinks of despair and rebuilding herself into a new Lena. Not the same one, never the same without Kara, but something close. She finds a way to bear the pain. What Kara would have wanted.

And then, as unexpectedly as her second love had, her first returns to her. Slowly, somehow, Andrea finds her way back into Lena’s life. She’s different now, too, and Lena learns she’s lost her life’s light as well. Lena would recognize that look in anyone’s eyes. There’s no hiding a lost love like that. But Andrea has had longer in her grief, her scars less raw. She’s able to hold her pain and still hold Lena, too.

Andrea is remorseful and repenting and so acutely aware of the new scars Lena carries, and in her own twisted sort of way she’s good for Lena. No one else can see Lena like Andrea does, no one else can stare into the depths of her sorrow without flinching. The world mourns Supergirl, and the few mourn Kara Danvers, but only Lena mourns her wife. Alex mourns her, of course, as do their friends, but not the way Lena does. Never that way. There is a hole in her chest that will never close, and no one else will ever fill it.

And Andrea knows that. She never tries to fill it, never tries to replace. She holds Kara in her heart with a begrudging reverence. She knows the only reason she has Lena is because of Kara. Because she died, yes, but more so because she loved her. Her love opened Lena up again. Gave her hope. Made her believe in second chances. Kara was the light, Kara was the greatest lover and friend and hero anyone could have. She’s a dead god, and Andrea finds herself a parishioner.

Andrea loves Kara, in her own way. She’s an aspiration, a tormentor, a ghost that haunts the halls of their life. She’s in every embrace they share, every whispered word. When she finally convinces Lena to marry her, their wedding photos hang proudly beside those from her wedding to Kara. They both mention Kara by name in their vows. Kara is as real in their relationship as she is. And it works for them.

The jealousy is always there, what with living in the shadow of a fallen superhero, but it’s manageable. She knows she can win against a dead woman. And the pain and humiliation and constant pick of jealousy at the back of her skull is worth it because Lena is worth it. No one is worth more than her. And Andrea tries to make her happy - she promised that to Kara in her vows, after all. She made vows to Lena, and then made vows to Lena’s love: I will honor and cherish her as you would. I will protect her as you would. I will love her with all I have, as you would. I know the shoes I’m filling, and I will spend my life proving I’m worthy.

Andrea meant her vows and she keeps them. She loves Lena, and in her own way Lena loves her, and it’s enough. She’s happy. Andrea is so happy, and sometimes she sees that happiness in Lena, too. They build a life together and it’s good.