When you're gone, the pieces of my heart are missing you | OPEN
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Kara Danvers knows loss. Of course she does. Her planet died; her family with it, with the exception of Kal. Most people would know him by his human name: Clark Kent.
But this...this is so much different. This feels like a heavy ache that refuses to do anything other than persist. It doesn't want to fade. It doesn't want to go away. It hurts to have been so much in love and to know that the sentiment was shared and still to be torn apart so cruelly. It's almost worse that he'd been so brave about it.
She'd needed some time alone. She'd needed to get away from everyone asking her if she was okay; she's not okay. She's not going to be okay with this probably ever. Even when she heals from what feels like a gaping wound in her heart, she's still never going to be okay with losing her first love the way she did. But maybe she can move on a little faster if she doesn't have an older sister and several friends hovering to try to make sure that she's all right. So Kara walked through the door.
...and when she immediately regretted her decision and thought better of it to head back, the door opened to nothing more than a wall. There had been punching of said wall. There had been feral screams of pent up depression and anger and raw emotion. There had been tears.
And then she'd walked away. Now she's roaming the streets of this new place, trying to decide whether it's the Universe's way of telling her she really does need this break from life or whether this is something more sinister. Tear tracks are mostly gone by the time she starts to see othe people walking the same street she is and she assumes she's further into town at that point. Seeing what's clearly a bar — Houndstooth, huh? — nearly sets her off in tears again because Mon-El worked in the alien bar and she has a ton of great memories with him in bars, but instead, she lifts her chin and pushes the door open, marching in with purpose. She can't drink her sorrow away but maybe she can knock back a drink or twenty and reminisce for a minute while she tries to figure out what the heck she's supposed to do with herself.
Well. That and bartenders and regulars tend to know a lot more than most people think they do, in Kara's experience. Maybe someone can offer her some insight. Worst case scenario, she can blow off a little steam. The alcohol hardly touches her, but she does get that little warm sensation in her cheeks and there's something weirdly comforting about that. In a pinch, maybe that'll do.
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What is this? Does this connect to a special app or something or am I just calling out into the ether?
Hello? Can anybody see this?
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"There's a Pickled Surfer, a Rosemary Salty Dog, Bloody Marys, of course. Even a porn star dirty martini counts as savory," Lucy rattles off a few drinks. "Personally, I'd go with the Bloody Mary. I think it's one of Jill's better drinks, but if you want fruity, it's not going to hit the spot."
Maybe this place will give her a chance to heal and feel better. She knows it's done that for many of the people here, including her and Jill. "Three years. It's practically home now. I'm from Birmingham, Alabama though."
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Mon-El. Mon-El knew. Alex. Winn. Maggie. Literally everyone you left behind probably knew, she finds herself thinking and her brow creases with frustration at herself, because right now is really, really not the time to get lost in her own head. It's rude to do that when someone is trying to talk to you. "What's in that? A Bloody Mary, I mean?" she asks. "I don't really know what I want. Like I said, I mostly drink club soda..."
Three years, she thinks, is kind of a long time. She supposes it makes sense that it would feel like home to her by now. "Did you get stuck or haven't you wanted to go home?" she wonders aloud. The tone is curious rather than accusing or suspicious. Kara genuinely wants to know; everyone is different. Lucy might have a better life here than she had at home, Kara has no idea.
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To be fair, Lucy has been helping Jill bartend here for three years. She was also an avid drinker before then and raised by a mother who was an avid cocktail drinker. She probably knows a good deal more cocktails than most people.
It would be understandable though, particularly as Kara hasn't been here long. "Tomato Juice, vodka, a little Worcestershire, a splash of tabasco and some pepper. It's good stuff."
Three years is kind of a long time. Lucy had spent a couple of years before that in another snowglobe style city so she's become accustomed to being away from home. "At first, I didn't want to check into going home," Lucy admits. "I'd just lost my dad and I didn't want to deal with any of that." Her tone is quiet and somber. "Now...I was curious and my door is just closed. It only opens to the stone wall it's set into." She smiles at Kara. "It's okay though. I've got Jill and I've got friends here. This place is like a permanent vacation with occasional crisis-es."
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It's interesting to hear a new perspective. Kara lost a part of herself when Mon-El had to leave, but that hadn't changed the fact that she hadn't necessarily meant to come here and she still feels responsible for what happens if she doesn't go back. There's only been some reassurance that things will be okay in her absence, but Kara would feel better knowing rather than having to trust strangers. It isn't like it never occurred to her that things could be different for different people, but all the same...it's interesting to hear a different experience.
"I have to go back. I have a responsibility to go back," she sighs. Then she gives Lucy an apologetic look because that probably sounds rude. "At least the first person I've met so far seems nice?" Yes, Lucy, she means you.
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Lucy certainly didn't mean to come here. She'd been forced out of the city that she'd been living in and separated from the guy that she loved. However, that had been long enough ago that she's gotten over it. Itinere has become her home.
"Just keep checking your door. Maybe eventually you'll get to go back." She smiles at Kara's compliment and fluffs her hair. "Well, I do try." She pauses a moment. "Oh. I should probably tell you if I'm the first person you've met, time back home, it goes on pause. Like literally no one will miss you because no time will pass back home and if the door does open for you, you'll walk back into the same second that you left."
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Her eyebrows lift with hopefulness when Lucy suggests she keep checking the door. "Does it really sometimes work like that?" she asks. The thing is, she feels the responsibility of the safety and well-being of all of the people in National City is firmly on her shoulders and hers alone. Being here feels to Kara like abandonment and she can't help still feeling like people are going to get hurt and it'll be her fault for not being there to stop it. It doesn't matter that she didn't mean to come here.
But then Lucy says that and Kara looks even more surprised. "...how is that possible?" she asks. Because if that's true, at least it'll buy her time to get back through her door.
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Kara's question is met with a shrug. "I've heard it does and sometimes people leave this place. Sometimes they come back too. I've never really tried to find my door." Lucy can see how it might feel like abandonment. It had been escape for her, but she knows not everyone feels the same way. Hopefully, Kara will be able to come to terms with her presence here if she's to stay. She'll be happier if she can.
"I don't know, but I've heard enough people talk to know that it is possible. The place I was before this, it worked like that too."
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"Fair enough," Kara replies softly, taking another sip. "This is good, you're right," she says, although there's a lack of fervor in her tone, which has nothing at all to do with Lucy or the drink.
Kara looks over at the other woman. "What was the other place like? What's this place like?" Granted, Lucy's started to tell her a little about it, but admittedly, Kara's been distracted with her own feelings. This time, she's making it her mission to pay full attention and actually absorb and retain in the answers she's given. It's important.
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"You're welcome," Lucy responds, "and I like to think I usually am." The last is said with a teasing smile to let Kara know that she's joking. She can't help but notice that Kara's words aren't really terribly impassioned.
"Oh. The City was a lot more brutal than this place. They messed with us every week, sometimes several times a week and the people...some of them were awful. Evil." Her expression darkens at this and her brow furrows, but she forces a smile a moment later. "This place is good though. Like...ninety percent of the time, this place is really good. The people are awesome. We hardly ever get really messed with."
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"Well, I'm glad that this place has been better for you," she says with a soft sincerity. "I don't think there's anywhere that's good one hundred percent of the time, anyway," she adds.
After finishing her drink, Kara sighs and pushes the glass away. "I should go... I suppose I'm going to have to settle in at some point or another. Might as well be now. Besides, I'm probably sort of bringing things down with my own mood. I just have a lot to wrap my head around."
Getting to her feet, Kara holds a hand out to Lucy. "It's been really nice talking to you and thanks," she says, nodding toward the empty glass she'd pushed away, "for the recommendation. I'll keep that one in my back pocket for next time. I really liked that." She offers Lucy a small smile that she hopes apologizes for the fact that she's excusing herself a little abruptly. Kara needs a minute to herself to really get comfortable in this place and to go through the stages of grief for the loss of Mon-El. It's better if she does so in private.