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Sometimes, Lena forgot who Kara truly was.
(She knew her for so long as just Kara Danvers the meek but so utterly kind reporter, that the glimpses of the alter ego still threw Lena for a loop.
Glimpses of steel in Kara’s eyes, pride in the set of her shoulders, god-like strength in the way she stood.
Lena had ignored these signs, once upon a time. Had written it off as a Kara Danvers, the meek but kind enigma. Tossed it in with everything else that so puzzled her about Kara.)
Lena shouldn’t forget who Kara truly was, though. She couldn’t afford to.
(She now saw lies where she once saw nothing but truth. She saw a morally flawed superhero where once she only saw a friend with integrity.
Once she believed there was trust, friendship, honor, but now…
But now, she realized she saw only what she wanted to see, and even the thought of it was excruciatingly humiliating.)
Sometimes, Lena just…forgot. Forgot how angry she was, forgot how hurt she was, forgot that somewhere along the line Kara took something and broke her in a way Lena didn’t understand, wasn’t capable of understanding. Because somewhere along the way, Kara made Lena feel loved.
And Lena Luthor had an inexplicable, unexplainable relationship with the word ‘love.’
She loved sushi. She loved Star Trek, loved her collection of fountain pens, loved the vinyls her father used to play before bed (pulling her towards him, allowing her to scuff his shoes as she stood on his toes and pretended to dance, the two of them swaying and laughing). She loved watching the sunset from her balcony at L-Corp, loved the wine Lex had gotten her as a graduation gift, loved the way she could sometimes close her eyes and feel fifteen again, before Lionel was dead and Lex was crazy and Lillian stopped forcing herself to play nice.
Lena loved feeling loved.
She loved the coffee Jess made every morning, the one person she'd allowed herself to bring from Metropolis, the one person she allowed herself to trust. She loved a lingering remnant of a memory, the fading warmth of a kiss pressed to her forehead, a woman's soft voice echoing through her skull, repeating a strange phrase that Lena was sure was just from a dream, never a reality.
She loved how her very first girlfriend used to curl into her in bed, tugging her hand and entangling their fingers, pressing kisses to each one of Lena's fingertips almost reverently (and Lena allowed it to fill her from within, the warmth spreading from her chest to her every extremity, tingling and leaving her wanting for more). She loved the tears in her girlfriend's eyes the day they broke up, Lena off to her 'bright future' and the girl she cared so much about shaking her head as she claimed she couldn't follow.
But for all that love—for every moment she craved an action, a gesture of affection, breathlessly waiting for the confirmation that she was somehow worth loving—Lena was woefully incapable of it herself.
She never really managed to return Jess's smiles.
She hadn't gone to her father's funeral.
She pretended she didn't recognize her ex when she ran into her.
She hadn't been able to offer Lex the help he needed and wanted.
She sent her own mother to prison.
(She'd read somewhere once that there was more than one way to say 'I love you,' that it was said in between laughter, inscribed in the motions of tucking someone in, tacit in breathless concern and hands hovering just shy of skin, searching frantically for injuries.
She wondered what her own actions have said. I don't appreciate you? I'm selfish? I hate you?)
Lena loved the feeling of being loved. She craved it, needed it, desperately attempted to hide her desire for it.
But loving? She didn't think she even knew what that meant.
Except…
Well, except—
Except that if there’d been anyone left in her life who’d be interested enough to ask, she could’ve rattled off the exact moment she fell in love with Kara Danvers.
She would have smiled, ducked her head, and explained it was a Tuesday afternoon. She would have described the light filling her office, how it seemed like Kara was literally bathed in some angelic golden hue. She would have talked about Kara’s blue eyes, the ready smile, the way fingers fiddled with glasses, unnecessarily straightening them.
She would mention that it was on a Tuesday afternoon that she fell in love with Kara’s voice, Kara’s faith in others, Kara’s smile—the fact that she could elicit that smile.
On a Tuesday, sipping the coffee Kara brought her and wondering how she’d gotten so lucky, Lena would close her eyes and just take the plunge.
(She didn’t think she’d ever admit it aloud, the fact that she dived in headfirst, that she fell so hard and so fast that it left her reeling.
No, never out loud. But in quiet moments—when she was staring into the mirror and traced the twist of her lips with her eyes, ran her fingertips over the hard edges of her frown—she admitted to herself that she willingly, happily, thoughtlessly fell for Kara.
And that was the problem in the end, wasn’t it? The thoughtlessness.)
It was extraordinary in and of itself, this concept of a Luthor falling in love (she wasn’t quite sure that was even possible, had never seen evidence that any Luthor was even capable of love). But Lena especially—
On a Tuesday afternoon, drinking her coffee and staring at Kara Danvers with nothing short of awe and thinking she’d do anything to keep that smile on Kara’s face, Lena had thought she’d cracked some kind of code, that she broke the Luthor curse—that her mangled, malformed, and misshapen DNA had finally found a semblance of normalcy—and figured that maybe she knew a little more about love than she first thought.
(She wasn’t sure what day it was that Lex destroyed her world with only a few words, what day it was that the pain of pulling the trigger was overwhelmed by the knowledge that her lovemeant nothing, what day it was that she was forced to remember her distorted, deformed, and disfigured DNA always had been, and always would be, Luthor.)
Yes, Lena loved the feeling of being loved. She craved it, needed it, desperately attempted to hide her desire for it. It was why it was so easy, sometimes, for her to forget who Kara was, for her to closer her eyes and pretend none of it was real.
But love? For someone to genuinely love and care about her? To be in love with someone? She didn’t think that even existed outside of fairytales.
At least, not anymore.
i.
For as long as she could remember, Lena had been told that Luthors should smile but could never laugh. It had been a message engrained into her by Lillian when she was barely old enough to read, reinforced when Lionel took her into the office when she was a preteen and taught her about what it meant to run a business.
Smile more, Lillian had urged. It’s all about creating the proper image.
Smile more, Lionel had taught her. You want to make the deal.
(Not to brag, but Lena had turned smiling into an exact science. She knew exactly how wide and expressive her smile was to be based on what she wanted to convey.
Threats were accompanied by small smiles, no teeth, thin lips, and unwavering eyes.
Persuasion required more finesse, a half grin, almost to catch her adversary off guard and make them believe she hadn’t planned each word, each blurted idea, meticulously.
Cheerful smiles at galas, polite smiles with those she wasn’t quite sure about yet, smiles that hid her boredom as another aging white man attempted to lecture her about her own company.
She knew how to defuse a situation with merely an upturned tick of her lips. She knew how to get the deal done with the barest hint of teeth. It was an exact science...with one glaring exception.)
Kara Danvers never asked her to smile. In fact, Kara never asked her to do anything except be true to herself, providing support and faith and uninhibited, heartfelt looks. And somehow, it was Kara Danvers who drew out a true smile, Kara Danvers who seemed to notice it for what it was—her eyes brightening, biting her bottom lip as if in an attempt to hide her glee, her expression becoming more open, more honest, more herself—
—and if all that was something Lena looked back at with barely concealed fury at her own stupidity, her blindness in allowing a pretty face to delude her so long, it didn’t do much to detract from the fact that Kara Danvers was still the onlyperson who could draw out Lena’s true smile.
(“It’s the eyes,” Kara had confessed once, her fingers twitching in her lap as if she was itching to reach out and touch the thing that betrayed Lena’s confidence so easily, as if her fingers wanted to immortalize the moment, the sight. “It looks like the moment right before someone bursts into laughter, that second before the body has to expel some joy because there’s just too much for it to hold in. I guess that’s why I like it, it means you’re happy.”
Lena had swallowed down the rush of emotion at Kara’s words, had broken their gaze, had busied herself with pretending she was reading an important email.
“I’m a Luthor, Kara,” she had said flippantly. “Don’t you know we don’t do laughter?”
Kara had remained silent for a moment, long enough that Lena looked back up and immediately found their eyes locked once more.
Her eyes had been stone-cold serious as she said, “Oh, but you’re so much more than just a Luthor, don’t youknow that?”)
Lena sighed, placing the memories, the feelings, in tiny little boxes and setting them aside, needing to concentrate on the present moment.
The world was in danger again. (It never seemed notto be anymore.)
The DEO, Alex, Supergirl needed her help again. (And Lena wasn’t quite sure how to shelve the boxes furiouswith Kara for keeping this secret for so long, how to navigate this new, awkward truce between them, how to meet Kara’s—Supergirl’s—blue, blue eyes and think anything other than, why you, why of all the people in her life destined to hurt her, break her, shake her down, why was Supergirl—Kara—one of them too?)
Kara was looking at her again.
“If my calculations are correct, and they are correct,” Brainy was saying, “there is a 98.67% chance the seismic event will occur 100 miles outside National City. This, of course, still means National City and the surrounding area will be—”
Lena tuned him out, unable to help it.
(Kara’s eyes on her made her feel as though her skin was on fire. There was an intensity to it, a purpose Kara seemed to think she could convey with only the heaviness of her gaze. But other than shaky hands and the sudden need to breathe in more deeply—her lungs set aflame and unable to expand fully—Lena was in the dark.
Long gone were the days that she and Kara were in sync, in tune, capable of understanding one other with looks and sighs and trembling hands, when a single word in a text could set off alarms and had them trying to figure out what was wrong.
Now, Kara stared, and Lena pretended she didn’t notice.)
“—right, Lena?” Alex said, breaking Lena’s train of thought, but also mercifully forcing Kara to break her gaze.
“Sorry? I didn’t catch that.”
“Brainy needs help with some of the calculations. You can work with him, right?” Alex repeated, her eyes narrowing a little, darting between Lena and Kara with poorly concealed suspicion. Lena wondered how much she knew, how much she suspected, if she’d been able to suss out Lena’s feelings. The very concept terrified her.
“Yes, of course,” she said, proud that her voice remained firm and strong. Alex nodded approvingly then turned to Kara.
“Supergirl, we’ll need you in the sky to monitor—”
“Is that really necessary?” Lena interrupted, unable to help it. Alex frowned, Brainy blinked several times in quick succession, and Kara kept looking at her—knowing, understanding, expecting. It grinded her gears, it set her on edge.
She hated, hated, hated—
“Is what necessary?” Alex asked dangerously, tone hard.
“Calling her ‘Supergirl,’” Lena clarified, refusing to cower before the flash of protectiveness in Alex’s eyes. “We all know who she is, what’s the point of all this nonsense?” One of the DEO agents who had been approaching with some kind of scanner in her hand—a woman named Vasquez, Lena thought—stopped as Alex held up a hand and immediately turned around, directing other agents to also give the four of them a wide berth.
“How could you—” Alex began hotly, but she never got to say her piece. Kara gently cut her sister off with nothing but the barest of touches against her arm, Kara’s eyes never leaving Lena’s.
“She doesn’t know, Alex, it’s not her fault,” Kara said softly, still not looking away from Lena. “The truth is, quite a few of the agents did know. I was here a lot, as myself,” Kara explained, her expression changing, becoming so utterly broken, that Lena felt herself fold first, tearing her eyes away and focusing on Brainy’s contemplative expression. “But with everything that happened last year,” she didn’t have to say it, Lena knew what she meant—Lockwood, the Children of Liberty, the President working for Lex, becoming public enemy number one—and her heart twisted once more, “it was too dangerous to let the people here know who I am.” Something on Lena’s face must have shown her confusion, because Brainy cleared his throat and expanded on Kara’s answer.
“J’onn wiped the DEO of all their memories of Supergirl’s true identity,” he said. “Even Director Danvers. Unfortunately, this is irreversible without lasting and potentially catastrophic effects for the human mind. Director Danvers only remains intact because of the emotional trauma of seeing Supergirl die—”
“—briefly,” Kara hurried to add, looking panicked and reaching out to touch Alex’s shoulder, as if to reassure her, “it was only briefly.”
“Briefly,” Lena repeated, almost dazedly.
(She didn’t know, how could she have known? But it made her wonder just what else she didn’t know, what else was she supposed to find out in an offhand remark, what else was she supposed to discover and hopelessly stand there, heart beating wildly and hands shaking, and all the while lying to herself.
She hated, she hated, she hated the fact that even after everything she was still in love with Kara.)
“What Brainy means,” Kara said softly, hand still on Alex’s shoulder, but her blue, blue eyes focused as ever on Lena, “is that a lot of people I care about, my friends like Vasquez, could be hurt if we aren’t careful. So I hide here too,” she tacked on listlessly, tonelessly. And it was odd, it was terribly inconvenient, but in that moment, Lena just knew.
She and Kara had been so out of sync, so out of sorts, but one phrase managed to cut through all the static and all the distance between them, ringing out loud and clear in her mind: I hide here too, she was saying, so careful to get the words out without changing her inflection, yet unable to disguise the pain in her eyes or the alarms that wailed in Lena’s chest at the sight. I hide here too.
Hiding in the one place she’d once been able to be herself completely. Hiding among friends who used to know her full, entire self. Hiding and acting and pretending to be something else, all the time.
Constantly.
“Okay,” Lena said, and Alex huffed, clearly unenthused by the response. She shrugged off Kara’s hand and shook her head, stalking off with Brainy hot on her heels, apologizing for bringing up Kara’s ‘brief’ death. But Kara didn’t move. She just kept looking at Lena, and for the first time since Lex rocked her entire worldview askew, Lena looked back steadily.
“Okay,” Kara repeated after a long pause, her eyes both bright and soft, biting her bottom lip as if in an attempt to hide her glee, her expression becoming more open, more honest, more…herself.
(And though Lena took a deep breath and turned away, pretending not to notice, she knew exactly why Kara reacted the way she did.
Because for a brief moment, between finding herself capable of filling her lungs completely after what seemed like an eternity of suffocating and the knowledge that she’d somehow come close to losing Kara and hadn’t even known it, so utterly grateful Kara was still present—still here—regardless of all her anger, Lena was happy.
And she was sure it showed in that one real, true smile that only Kara was ever able to elicit.)
ii.
The second Kara Danvers stumbled into her office, Lena knew something was wrong.
(There were a lot of reasons, Lena would tell herself later, a lot of tells. There was the way Kara’s shoulders were stiff with discomfort, not straight and proud and willing to carry any weight. There was the way she nodded, awkwardly and forced—as though she wasn’t quite sure how to move her own body. There was the fact that Kara hadn’t come by her office since long before Crisis, as though by some unspoken agreement, as though she knewLena well enough to know that L-Corp and Lena’s apartment were off limits to Kara Danvers for the time being.
But most telling of all, the thing Lena wouldn’t admit really gave it away, was that Kara wouldn’t meet her eyes. And never—never—had Kara been unable to gaze at Lena, Lena equally too weak to turn away from those blue eyes.)
“Who are you?” Lena asked the Kara Danvers imposter, her hand reaching for the watch Kara gifted her, the watch that she’d taken to wearing again since the conversation at the DEO, the watch that the realKara would’ve noticed immediately upon entering Lena’s office. “What do you want?”
The imposter didn’t answer. Instead, their hand went to their ear, seemingly listening intently. “I don’t have a lot of time, Ms. Luthor,” they finally said, before facing Lena fully and dropping their hand. “We need your help.”
“I’m not going to—” Before Lena could finish her comment, the imposter Kara was glowing in a bright red light, and where Kara’s figure once stood was J’onn. “What—what are you doing? Where’s Kara? Why are you impersonating her?” She didn’t say the again, but she didn’t have to.
“There’s been a situation,” he told her gravely. “We really need your help.” He watched in silence as Lena got to her feet, rounding her desk and crossing her arms over her chest.
“Help with what?” she asked, working hard to maintain a blank expression. But on the inside…on the inside, she was falling apart.
(A situation? Like the kryptonite in the atmosphere that almost killed Kara? Or like the time Kara died—briefly—and she hadn’t even known?
Would she always feel her heart pound with equal parts worry, fear, and anger every single time Supergirl’s visage appeared on the news, every time J’onn or Alex graced her office with the words we need your help? Would she always be waiting with bated breath, simultaneously craving her next conversation with Kara and fearing that her hurt and anger would be the last thing between them that ever reached Kara’s ears?
Would she always, always, be half in love with the person who broke whatever remained of her mangled, dysfunctional heart—always willing to rush to her aid, wanting to make sure she was okay, needing to make sure she was okay?)
“There was a substance created by Lord Technologies years ago,” J’onn said slowly, as if intending to wordlessly remind her that what he was saying was top secret DEO information, not that Lena needed the reminder. “It…affected Kara quite negatively.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lena told him, genuinely confused. Then again, between Lex and the death by a million cuts of the Luthor last name, Lena hadn’t been paying much attention to Supergirl until the superhero became her motivation for moving to National City. But Lena also didn’t need J’onn’s grave expression to know that whatever Lord did had had disastrous results—Maxwell Lord had always been too arrogant and shortsighted for his own good.
J’onn opened his mouth—either to explain or to tell her they didn’t have time for this, Lena didn’t really know—but before he could get a word out, his hand flew to his ear, clearly listening intently to whoever (likely Alex) was on the other end of his earpiece. “Okay, understood,” he said, eyes flitting over to Lena’s balcony as if he was expecting something to come through the window at any moment. He tensed and moved slightly as if ready to shield Lena with his body if he needed to. “I’ll take care of this end, you make sure you contain her.”
“Contain her?” Lena said, balking slightly. “Are you talking about Kara? What’s going on, J’onn?”
“Can you cancel any engagements or meetings you have for the rest of the day?” he asked rather than respond, eyes still flitting over the expansive windows.
“I—um, yes. Of course,” Lena said, protest dying on her lips as J’onn met her eyes for the first time since walking into her office and she saw the thing he was so desperately trying to hide: fear.
“Do you know anywhere where there’s a heavy press presence? Somewhere where you’ll be sure to be photographed if you had lunch with your best friend?” J’onn asked, shining red once more. When he stood before her as Kara Danvers, Lena had the brief, hapless thought that she was stupid for ever being fooled by J’onn’s lackluster acting.
“Any restaurant,” Lena said with a wave of her hand, “as long as we walk and don’t take my car.”
“Good. Then let’s take a walk.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me what is going on.”
For a moment, nothing but half a second at most, it looked like J’onn would refuse on principle to say anything else. But then his features—or Kara’s features, really—slackened, his tight shoulders loosened, and he shrugged, acting so much like Kara in that moment that Lena’s heart nearly stopped.
(Because for a moment, half a second really, it looked like the last time Kara was in this office, the last time she stood by Lena’s door, the last time she allowed Lena to push her away without much of a fight.)
“A group, remnants we think of CADMUS, same ones you helped with several weeks ago, threatened to release Kara’s identity to the world about a week ago unless she capitulated to some…demands.” J’onn cleared his throat, and Lena tried to blink away her discomfort with hearing Kara’s voice and seeing Kara’s mouth refer to herself in third person—attempting to remember who was underneath the cardigan and the glasses. “Kara, of course, refused. She and the DEO attempted to capture the group earlier this morning but….”
“But what?”
“It was a trap, Lena,” J’onn said softly. “Kara’s been exposed to some sort of Red Kryptonite analog—it doesn’t work quite the same as Maxwell Lord’s but, well. She’s not herself.”
“And what do you need me for?” Lena asked, mentally reminding herself to research Red Kryptonite and the events that occurred before she came to National City.
“Well, first, we need you to establish an alibi—to protect Kara’s identity. After all, how could she be Supergirl if she was photographed extensively with her best friend?”
“And second?” Lena prodded, ignoring the second mention of Kara being her best friend.
“Kara has agreed to allow us to protect her identity and treat her for whatever she was exposed to under the condition youare involved every step of the way.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Of course, she’s having a hard time with an integral part of the plan, and doesn’t seem to want to trust us to get you to her. Which we will if she gave us half the chance.”J’onn hissed his last sentence, clearly not meant for Lena, but for an alien with superhearing, miles and miles away. Lena briefly imagined Alex’s frustration as her sister refused to listen to a word said, all because she didn’t trust the DEO.
She allowed herself a tiny smile at the thought.
“Well, there’s a restaurant about three blocks away, which I think will give the press plenty of time to grab their cameras. Ready for a walk?” Lena asked, grabbing her purse and coat and brushing past J’onn towards the door. But he didn’t move. “J’onn?”
“You’re going to agree just like that? But you won’t ask if she’s okay?” He sounded legitimately confused and more than a little protective, and Lena raised her eyebrows in response.
“I’ll always be there for Kara if she needs me, but this? Means nothing.”
(It was a lie, she knew it was a lie.
She felt it with every stabbing beat of her jagged heart, with every rugged, shuddering breath of her icy lungs. It was a lie, and it burned as it came out of her mouth, as she forced it past her lips. Because she wanted to be there for Kara, neededto be there for her, would always, always, always, be half in love with the person who always saw the good in her. It meant everything, her mangled, broken, not-quite-right heart be damned.
It was a lie, she knew it was a lie—and from the way J’onn looked at her, he knew it was a lie, too.)
iii.
Alex hovered nervously.
“Remember, it’s not her,” she said, swallowing hard, as if pushing down some memory. Or, well. It is her. But it’s the parts of her that are deep, deep,” she cleared her throat, “deep, inside.”
“It’ll be fine, Alex.”
“Just…don’t take what she says personally,” Alex warned, grabbing Lena’s arm and pulling her to a stop. They were standing right outside the room Kara had been “contained” in, the faint green glow of kryptonite (provided from, oddly enough, the Man of Steel) visible from the gap between the door and the floor. “We all have demons. We all have thoughts and feelings we’re not proud of.”
“I don’t think there’s anything she can say that would hurt more than what she’s already done,” Lena said, her eyes on the door and not on Alex as she shrugged off Alex’s hand.
“Oh Lena,” Alex muttered, and when Lena turned to look at her, she was shaking her head. “Sometimes I forget how much you two love each other.” She didn’t give Lena a chance to argue, to say no, that’s not what she meant at all, to ask what Alex had been smoking to get that conclusion from what Lena just said. Before Lena could even make a face, Alex pushed the door open and led her inside.
The room was small, mostly lit by ghostly green and one glaringly bright light directly above the hospital bed situated in the middle of the room. Tucked away in the corner, almost haphazardly, almost like an afterthought, were computer screens, tablets, a centrifuge, dozens of empty flasks, a Bunsen burner, and various test tubes. Alex followed her gaze and shrugged apologetically.
“We’ll get you whatever you need. This has been, uh, well. We weren’t quite prepared.”
“I can make you a list,” Lena offered helpfully, wanting to assure Alex she wouldn’t have to stick around, not when it was so obvious she was so stricken by Kara’s current state, and Alex smiled in relief. (Lena had never really cared about making anyone other than Kara feel comfortable, feel as though she’d have their back, but now…Kara would’ve wanted this, and so Lena was helpless to do otherwise.)
“That would be great,” she said, nodding.
From the hospital bed, the bed that both Alex and Lena were avoiding looking at, came a loud, unamused snort.
“Supergirl’s fate rests in the hands of two people who aren’t even willing to lookin her direction. Yes, I feel so safe now,” Kara said, her voice icy and dripping with sarcasm. Lena finally gathered enough courage to look over, having to clench her hands into fists to keep them from shaking once her eyes fell on Kara.
It wasn’t Kara. Not really. Her blue eyes still shone brightly, a stark contrast to the red vein-like glow that spread out from her eyes, across her cheeks, down her neck, and all up her arms and legs. She was straining against the restraints that bound her to the bed, muscles tight and tense. The flimsy hospital gown she wore made her seem more harmless than she actually was—even with the kryptonite dampening her powers, Lena had no doubt that if Kara wanted to be out of her restraints, she would be.
“I’ll be going then,” Alex said softly, eyes on the ground, “let me know if you need anything, okay?”
“Yes, Alex. Go. You’ve done quite enough, haven’t you?”
Alex briefly met Lena’s eyes, then turned on her heel and left—not once looking in the direction of her sister.
(Lena had looked it up, the last time Kara was exposed to the Red Kryptonite. She read about Supergirl throwing Cat Grant off her balcony, how the city was terrified of her, how it took quite some time to earn back her forgiveness.
And from J’onn, during their lunch, Lena learned more: the clothes, the odd behavior with James, the cruelty of her words, how Kara had hurt Alex.
And Lena didn’t fault Alex one bit for wanting to keep her distance this time.)
“So,” Lena said tonelessly, picking up a tablet, and walking closer to the hospital bed, eyes on her screen. “Let’s start with the basics. How is this time different from last time?”
To Lena’s ultimate surprise, Kara responded. “I don’t feel the overwhelming urge to throw anyone off their balcony,” she said, and despite the cold tone of her voice, Lena would’ve sworn she was joking.
“Right. Any pain, nausea, anything?”
“Let’s talk about you, though,” Kara continued, completely ignoring Lena. “Why are you here?”
This made Lena look up, meeting Kara’s eyes, hating they looked so normal, so like her, when nothing about this was normal. “You asked me to be here.”
“And you came running?”
“Far be it from me to question why this city loves Supergirl so much, but it does. So I’ll do my part to help when I can.”
“Doesn’t it get tiring to lie to yourself all the time?”
“Did you only ask me here to talk?” Lena demanded, frustrated, feeling exposed and vulnerable.
Doesn’t it get tiring to lie to yourself all the time? Well, yes. Of course, it did.
“Why are you here, Lena Luthor?”
“Because Supergirl needed help.”
“You’re a liar,” Kara spat, straining against her binds, looking for a moment like she was ready to reach out and grab Lena and shake her. “I’m tired of all your lies.”
“The only one of us who’s ever lied is you!” Lena shouted, the tablet falling from her hands and to the floor, miraculously unscathed by the sudden crash. But neither Lena nor Kara paid it any heed—both were staring at each other as if hoping to get a sense of what was in the other’s mind.
(And Lena thought she knew Kara. Knew the meek but so utterly kind reporter, knew the steel in Kara’s eyes, the pride in the set of her shoulders, the god-like strength in the way she stood.
Once, Lena would’ve said she knew Kara. Knew her even when the lies were bared, even when her heart was broken, even when every instinct told her to shield and distance herself and she could do nothing but remain in Kara’s orbit.
But the truth…the truth was more complicated. What Lena knew, without a doubt, was that she loved Kara Danvers. She loved the meek and utterly kind reporter, the woman with the pride in her shoulders and the steel in her eyes. She loved Kara’s commitment to others, her selflessness, her gentleness, her smile, that stupid ‘S’ on her chest.
The truth was that there was so much about Kara that Lena didn’t know. She didn’t know the depths of her pain, didn’t understand the importance of that ‘S,’ had never seen her shoulders stoop and the steel in her eyes crumble. Lena had never really known Kara, had never been allowed to get too close, allowed glimpses but never truly let in. And the one time that Kara hadlet down all her guards and walls, the single time she’d been vulnerable—completely and totally—Lena had just…turned her away.)
“You’re a liar, Lena,” Kara told her icily, tugging on her bound wrists as if to accentuate her point. “Anything, right? You’d bring up anything to avoid what the real problem is.”
“And what’s the real problem, then?”
“You’re a coward. You’re running scared because you don’t know how to deal with your own feelings.”
“You lied—”
“—it wasn’t your secret to know!” Kara shouted. “I had to grow up lying about who I was. I never got the chance to choose who to tell, others made the choice for me. Have you ever stopped to wonder for a second why it hurt you so much that it was Lex who told you and not me? Why you’ve been so angry about—”
“—shut up, Kara,” Lena mumbled, but Kara was on a roll.
“Did you ever think that maybe I didn’t owe you that part of me, not when you’re still unwilling to admit even to yourself how you feel?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lena snapped, stepping forward, glaring at Kara, their eyes locked. (And Kara’s eyes were so blue, so lovely, so full of anger.)
“Don’t I?” Kara asked, the rhetorical question slipping past her lips like acid, and Lena felt its inexplicable burn. “I’ve had your back, stood up for you, been there for you every single day since I’ve met you. I risked my life, my reputation, my friendships for you. But that’s not enough, is it? Because you and I both know the real reason you’re so angry—not because you’re hurt that I lied to you, not because of some stupid secret I didn’t even owe you, but that you’re terrified that my not telling you means that I don’t love you back. And you’re too much of a coward to ask me the one thing that matters, the one thing you actually want to know. Because it’s easier isn’t it, to pretend you care about the Supergirl secret when deep down we both know you guessed at it a long time ago.”
Lena stared at Kara, her heart hammering away in her chest, as if desperate to escape its cage of ribs.
(Lena fell in love with Kara on a Tuesday. She fell willingly, happily, thoughtlessly. She fell, with no thoughts to the consequences, no speculation on the outcome, no fear at the drop.
Lena fell in love with Kara on a Tuesday, falling, falling, falling, panicked and terrified halfway in her jump because she suddenly realized she’d never considered making sure there was a parachute attached to her back, a soft landing when she inevitably crashed to the ground.
She fell, only then realizing that she didn’t know if Kara would be there to catch her, didn’t know if this fall would end well or end in a lot of pain.
She fell, and it was a sign that Kara didn’t tell her about being Supergirl; it was a sign that Kara didn’t trust her; it was a sign that Lex’s maddening laughter still rung in her ears as he gleefully twisted the knife in her back.
And at some point during the fall, it felt safer to remain in midair, in limbo, to never touch the ground at all, than it was to risk the crash and a heart shattered beyond repair.)
“You don’t need me here,” Lena guessed softly. “The DEO already has the antidote to the Red Kryptonite.”
Kara laughed without amusement, settling back into the bed for the first time, relaxing into the pillows. “Lord made plenty before he disappeared—seemed to feel guilty about what he did to me,” she said, still laughing. Lena scoffed, turning her back on Kara and stalked towards the door, pausing only when Kara spoke up once more. “You asked what was different between this time and last time? Last time I wanted control—over what people did or said to and about me, control over what I did or wore or said. Worst thoughts, come to the surface,” she said, chuckling. “This time, I want to lose control, because my worst thought is how much pain I would’ve been spared if I just never met you.”
Lena blinked away tears and left the room without a word or once looking back.
iv.
Right after Crisis, Lena saw Kara once.
It was what led to their tense stand-off, their silent agreement for a truce. Lena went back to being a normal (or whatever was normal for her anyway) CEO, gave up the cliched evil Luthor thing she’d momentarily been crazed enough to chase, and Kara…Kara kept her distance, respecting Lena’s desire to be left alone.
Except for one time.
She showed up on Lena’s balcony still dressed as Kara Danvers, entering Lena’s apartment without waiting for permission. And wordlessly, expressionlessly, she handed Lena a small metal box.
“Did you know there’s an Earth where Batman successfully kills my cousin?” she asked, meeting Lena’s eyes evenly, the blue in them so…cold, vacant, hard. “It’s funny, really,” she continued, though neither one of them seemed to find anything in that statement funny, “how different things could be if there were just one or two tiny changes in our lives. Entire universes where I never come to Earth, where you and I never even meet.”
(Lena didn’t like that thought when Kara said it then, and in the millions of times she went over that strange night in her head, she liked the thought of never meeting Kara even less.)
“What are you doing here, Kara?” But Kara wasn’t listening.
“There’s only one universe now, only one shot. And when I think about it, it occurs to me that the trajectory we’re on is one I’ve seen happen hundreds of times with Lex and Clark, and it breaks my heart.” She began to unbutton her shirt but rather than reveal the blue of her suit, there was nothing but skin. Once a good chunk of her sternum was exposed, she fell to her knees. “I know not telling you about Supergirl hurt you,” she said, swallowing hard, “and I don’t really know how to fix that. I don’t know how to explain that I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to, because I was scared to, because I didn’t know how to. I don’t know how to explain that it was never about trust. But I can show you I trust you. With everything.” She pointed at the box in Lena’s hand. “Open it.”
Lena didn’t even break eye contact.
“No.”
“Lena—”
“We’re not Lex and Clark. And I don’t want…whatever this is. I just want—” You, she didn’t say. She just wanted Kara. She was so in love with Kara. “I want some space.”
Kara’s blue eyes were windows to her soul. Steely, full of strength, warm, kind, gentle, crinkled with laughter. But for the life of her, Lena didn’t recognize what was swirling in their depths as Kara stared up at her.
“Okay,” Kara said softly, slowly getting to her feet. “Okay. I can do space.” She buttoned up her shirt and accepted the box wordlessly, eyes never leaving Lena’s. Then she blinked and turned away, taking graceful steps to the balcony. “Millions of possibilities for us, Lena,” she said softly, “and I would give anything for it not to be this one.”
Lena closed her eyes, and Kara was gone, the box now on Lena’s coffee table, where it remained untouched, even weeks and months later.
v.
It took a few months, but the DEO finally managed to wrangle the last of the group they were sure was a remnant of CADMUS. Off and on, Lena’s help was requested, though Lena’s relationship with Alex strained further.
(“You knew I wasn’t needed and you pushed me in that room with Kara anyway.”
“She agreed to come in quietly and receive the antidote if she got to talk to you first. What was I supposed to do? Put others in danger and give her the antidote without her consent?”
“Right, because you waited for her consent the first time, did you?”
“Look, Lena, I’m sorry. Truly I am. I just—I don’t like seeing her that way and I wanted to get her back to herself as quickly as possible.”)
Things between Lena and Kara were…well, chilled. Lena made great efforts to not be in the same room as Kara for any amount of time, and Kara allowed it, her features impassive every single time they were forced to spend any amount of time together.
It was miserable. Awful, really. And Lena wondered, perhaps for the first time, if she had anyone to blame for it except herself.
You’re a coward, Kara had said. But that…wasn’t true.
She’d gone up against her mother, an advanced alien race, she’d fought against her brother and his henchmen, stood up to Lockwood, didn’t back down when Morgan Edge attempted to bully her, fought and clawed her way back from every setback, constantly and consistently throwing herself in the deep end to help her name, her reputation, her company.
And yet….
And yet, she was so afraid of telling Kara how she felt, hiding behind being friends and distancing herself when she felt she’d been too open.
Lena rubbed her eyes and walked over to where the box sat, still unopened from when Kara had left it. And suddenly, she knew what to do.
Within half an hour, she had the box tucked under one arm, the other balancing a box of doughnuts, standing in front of a familiar door with little idea what to do next. She must have been standing there for quite some time because suddenly the door swung open.
“I wanted to wait till you knocked,” Kara said apologetically, “but it’s been twenty minutes. I worried. Want to come in?”
Lena nodded, but didn’t move. “I wasn’t angry or hurt because you didn’t tell me,” she said, causing Kara’s eyes to widen. (Blue, so blue, so full of that thing Lena wasn’t sure she recognized.)
“Okay,” Kara said gently, motioning for Lena to enter the apartment. After a second, Lena did.
“There was truth to what you said. I am scared to ask you the one thing I actually want to know. But I,” Lena said, setting the doughnuts and the metal box on Kara’s kitchen island, “but I don’t need to know the answer to my question. What I’m scared of is admitting the truth aloud to you. That makes it real, and this isn’t something I’m very good at or experienced with.”
“Lena, it’s okay, you don’t have to—”
“—I’m falling in love with you,” Lena blurted, ignoring her fear, ignoring her worries, ignoring everything but the truth. “And I was scared that not being part of the Supergirl secret meant something. I was hurt and angry and I…I pushed you away because admitting I was scared of feeling something real was too hard, and it was easier to just be angry at you for my unrequited feelings.”
“Oh Lena,” Kara breathed out, shaking her head, “that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for months and months now. Your feelings aren’t unrequited.” Kara’s eyes brightened, and she bit her bottom lip as if in an attempt to hide her glee, her expression becoming more open, more honest, more herself. “For someone so smart, you really struggle to listen,” she teased, taking the bite out of her words by stepping forward slowly—clearly to give Lena plenty of chance to say no, turn away—before pulling her into a tight hug. “Of the millions of possibilities for us,” she whispered in Lena’s ear, her words mending a jagged, scarred heart, her gentle touch warming icy lungs, “this one is my favorite.”
And Lena’s fall finally came to a halt: safe in Kara’s arms.