[National City, Various Locations — September 2017]
The change was subtle at first.
Mon-El caught himself doing it—little things, small deflections. When Kara asked about his childhood, he steered the conversation to safer topics. When she wondered about Daxamite customs, he answered with facts that weren't lies but weren't the whole truth either. When old memories surfaced—memories that shouldn't exist, couldn't exist, belonged to someone who'd never lived on Daxam—he swallowed them down and changed the subject.
It had been easier when they were in crisis mode. Survival didn't leave room for introspection. But now, in the peaceful aftermath of the invasion, there was time to think. Time to notice. Time for the weight of what he was hiding to grow heavier with each passing day.
"You've been quiet lately."
Mon-El looked up from his untouched breakfast. Kara sat across from him at their small kitchen table, her expression caught between concern and careful neutrality.
"Just processing," he said. "A lot happened recently."
"The invasion was over a month ago."
"Some things take longer to process than others."
It wasn't entirely a lie. The invasion, his parents' deaths, the transformation into Valor—all of it required adjustment. But that wasn't what kept him awake at night. That wasn't what made him catch himself before speaking, afraid he'd say something that didn't fit the story of who he was supposed to be.
"Mon-El." Kara's voice was gentle but insistent. "Whatever's going on—you can talk to me. That's what partners do."
"I know." He reached across the table, took her hand. "I just need a little more time."
She studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Okay. But I'm here when you're ready."
He squeezed her hand, grateful and guilty in equal measure.
---
The DEO training room was empty when Mon-El found Winn there, running some kind of equipment diagnostic.
"Valor!" Winn looked up with his characteristic enthusiasm, then paused. "You look terrible."
"Thanks."
"I mean that supportively." He set down his tools. "What's wrong?"
Mon-El leaned against the wall, exhaustion pressing against his eyes. He hadn't slept properly in days—couldn't quiet his mind long enough to rest. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Kara's face, imagined her reaction to the truth.
"I need to tell Kara something," he said finally. "Something big. Something I should have told her a long time ago."
"Okay." Winn moved to sit on a equipment crate, giving Mon-El his full attention. "Something bad?"
"Something... complicated. Something that might change how she sees me. How everyone sees me."
"Is it illegal?"
"No."
"Dangerous?"
"Not exactly."
"Then what's the problem?"
Mon-El laughed—a hollow sound that had no humor in it. "The problem is that I've been lying. Not about everything—but about something fundamental. Something that matters."
Winn was quiet for a moment, processing. "You're not secretly married, are you? Because James tried that once and it did not end well."
"No." Despite everything, Mon-El almost smiled. "Nothing like that."
"Then whatever it is—she loves you. Anyone can see that. She loves you more than she's loved anyone since she lost her world." Winn's voice softened. "Kara doesn't give her heart easily. But she gave it to you. That means something."
"That's what makes this so hard." Mon-El scrubbed his hands over his face. "She gave her heart to someone. I'm not sure that someone is really me."
"Okay, now you're being cryptic and dramatic. Which is my thing, by the way." Winn stood, moved to stand in front of Mon-El. "Look. I don't know what this big secret is. But I know you. You're a good person. You fight for what's right. You treat Kara like she deserves to be treated. Whatever you're hiding—it doesn't change the person you've become."
"You don't know that."
"Neither do you." Winn poked him in the chest. "Stop imagining the worst-case scenario and actually have the conversation. The uncertainty is clearly eating you alive."
He wasn't wrong about that.
---
The observation deck had become one of Mon-El's favorite places in the DEO.
He stood at the window, watching the city below. National City, rebuilt and recovering. Homes and businesses slowly returning to normal. People walking streets that had been battlegrounds just weeks ago.
Through the glass, he could see Kara on the main floor, laughing at something Alex had said. The sound carried faintly—that particular brightness in her voice that made his chest ache with how much he loved her.
She deserved better than what he was giving her.
Not better than him—he'd stopped thinking in those terms. He was the person she'd chosen, the partner she'd built a life with. That was real. That mattered.
But she deserved the full truth. She deserved to know that the consciousness inside Mon-El's body hadn't always been there. That he carried memories of a world she'd never imagine. That he'd watched her story unfold before living inside it.
Whether she could forgive that—whether she'd see it as betrayal or simply as one more strange thing in a universe full of strange things—he didn't know. He couldn't know until he told her.
And he couldn't keep not telling her.
The distance he'd created was hurting them both. He could see it in how she looked at him sometimes—searching for something he wasn't giving her. He could feel it in the careful way she chose her words, navigating around the unspoken tension.
This wasn't sustainable. This wasn't fair to her or to them.
Mon-El pulled out his phone, opened the calendar app. Three days from now. He marked it—both their schedules cleared, a day off from patrols, arranged with J'onn under the guise of "personal time."
Three days. No interruptions. No excuses. Just truth.
He didn't know what would happen after. Maybe she'd understand. Maybe she'd feel betrayed. Maybe the relationship he'd built would crumble around him.
But at least it would be honest. At least she'd finally know who she was really with.
His hands were shaking as he put away his phone. Fear, probably. Or relief that the waiting was almost over.
Both, maybe.
---
That night, Kara woke to find him staring at the ceiling.
"Hey." She shifted closer, her warmth a comfort in the darkness. "Can't sleep?"
"Just thinking."
"About what?"
He turned to look at her—at her face in the dim light, soft with sleep and concern. The woman he loved. The partner who'd given him everything.
"About us," he said. "About how lucky I am."
"That's a nice thing to think about." She pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "But you should also sleep. Heroes need rest."
"I know." He pulled her closer, tucking her against his chest. "I know."
He didn't sleep. Not really. Just held her and counted the hours until he could finally be honest.
Three days.
Whatever came after—at least it would be real.
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