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Lena never saw the colour of her brother’s eyes before he descended his spiral staircase of insanity. The modernistic chequered floors of his brain left oozing blood on twisting black and white tiles and, when he was finally contained, his teeth gleamed brighter than anything Lena had ever seen. Predatory, the previous warmth of childhood hot chocolate left somewhere behind torn up gums and Lex cackled crimson as he was locked away.
At least, Lena assumed it was crimson. Just as she assumed his eye colour was once beautiful, light against darker greys. She watched the iris’s slowly match the pupil and assumed, for one last time, that whoever the man in front of her was, he wasn’t her brother anymore.
When Lena moves to National City her world is two shades darker than it used to be and the monotone buildings stretch impossibly towards the clouds, so that they blend together to form one big smear across the world. Recently she has found it hard to differentiate the ground from the sky, her dreams about falling inconclusive on where the ground is and she can only hope it’s close. Anything to wake up.
Moving into her apartment was as difficult as opening the door to a five-star hotel room. Looming opposite the door, a luxurious view of the city sits over the edge of the balcony, which is closed off by glass doors so clean Lena feels as if they aren’t there. It brings a sense of vertigo to the cushioned carpet, the sleek tiled bathroom and the unnecessarily big bedroom. Her family’s money is the only thing Lena can thank the Luthors for without burning up her throat, and even then, she can’t think about it too much.
But the apartment is like a five-star hotel room: expensive, comfortable.
Lena suspects that also, much like a hotel room, the apartment will never quite feel like home.
She’s a week into living in National City when it happens. The grey buildings are becoming family, standing solidly in unison, each one slightly different from the rest, and still the stone manages to be warmer than before.
Walking to Luthor-Corp, she picks at the skin next to her fingernail, wincing when a spot of dark appears at the place she pinched too hard. This nervousness has always been Lena’s downfall. Lex had made that clear. It was, he said, her inability to play poker without the left corner of her mouth lifting ever so slightly at the sight of a royal flush, that was her weakness.
He was right.
Lena has a lot of experience in business, boarding school, and various universities, and she knew that the poker face was the way to win the game. Don’t let them know what you’re thinking, Lex had hissed, be as kind as you can, as loving as a sister, and then, when the time comes, they’ll never see you coming.
Lena shudders, remembering the words. She reaches Luthor-Corp carefully and decides that, even if he was a genius, she probably shouldn’t take business advice from her mad brother.
That’s when it happens.
A gunshot rings out from the corner shop opposite Luthor-Corp and, as Lena turns to the noise, greyscale eyes too curious to think of danger, she sees commotion. People are running crazy, a masked man stands in the doorway of the shop, a handgun in one hand and the ten-year-old son of the shopkeeper in the other. The boy is called Tommy, Lena remembers. He showed her is pet fish once, hidden in a glowing tank in the back corner of the store.
She’s about to run over, do anything she can, when National City’s pride and joy flies in and Lena Luthor’s head erupts in agony.
It’s blinding, like the sun on a clear day and a phone screen in the middle of the night and Lex’s white teeth as he was taken away. Eyelids burnt shut, Lena curls into a ball onto the ground and thinks that she thought death would be more graceful, even for a Luthor.
Suddenly, everything goes quiet, and there’s a warm hand on her back, gripped to her forearms, her hands, helping her up.
“You’re okay, you’re good.” It’s David, the doorman of Luthor-Corp, his eyes always too soft for someone who spends a lot of time with Lillian Luthor. His weathered hands retract once Lena is balanced and he speaks again, softly, fatherly. “Lena, Miss Luthor, can you open your eyes?”
She can. Muscle memory urges her not to, fear mechanisms already formed by Pavlovian searing pain.
But she’s a Luthor, and she’s nothing if not determined.
Lena Luthor opens her eyes, and her world explodes in colour.
*
It wasn’t Supergirl.
It wasn’t.
Even if it was, it couldn’t be.
Lena convinces herself. The commotion was crazy, there were so many people running about, so many possibilities and it could have been any one of them.
(The pain only stared when she showed up though, striking primary colours against the clouded sky and Lena never saw it in colour but she has since.)
It wasn’t Supergirl because Lena’s last name is Luthor, and she’s never been allowed to forget what that means.
So, she swivels round in her office chair, staring out the window in wonder of what she can see and tries not to think about the why.
*
Clark Kent, of all fucking people, wants to come and talk to Lena about her company, the venture, well-thought out game plan or coincidence. Here she is, trying to escape the heavy chains of Luthor, trying to swim up from the bottom of Mariana’s Trench without her lungs collapsing and Clark Kent, Lex’s ex-best friend, Superman, wants to come and interview her.
She allows it, mainly out of manners but also with curiosity leaking into her edges as she thinks about who Lex used to be. Who Clark used to be.
He shows up exactly on time, clean cut and crisp, his winning smile not enough to hide the bite beneath and Lena wonders if that is what people see when they look at her. She wonders if they see the smile at all.
Shadowing Clark is a younger woman, her demeanour less outward, less intrusive. Her hands fall restless by her sides and the nervousness in her fingertips reflects in Lena. She hasn’t looked up from the floor yet.
It’s endearing.
Lena wonders if she knows she’s standing next to a God.
Opposite the devil.
The woman looks up and gasps. Stumbling back a few steps in a clumsy stagger. Her eyes squeeze shut for a few seconds and Lena finds herself mildly offended. “And who might you be.” She bites, sour words falling off the tip of her tongue.
The woman’s eyes snap open, vividly blue and she rubs her temples. “Kara Danvers, I’m with Catco Magazine.”
Raising an eyebrow, Lena smirks. “Catco Magazine?” She teases. “That’s a publication not known for its hard-hitting journalism. It’s more, high waisted jeans, yes or no.” Lena isn’t sure what she’s digging at, Catco or Kara, but the criticism can easily be veiled under her distaste for media hounds rather than her unsteadiness about Kara.
There’s some weird practise in the way Kara slowly adjusts her glasses, mutters something about tagging along with Clark. She’s composed, kindergarten teacher level composed with kind eyes and neatly braided gold hair and Lena finds she’s thankful for colours yet again as she compares eyes with diamonds and summer swimming pools.
At the same time, she is messy. She’s playing the role of put together, anyone with two eyes and a high intellect can see it. Everything she does is rehearsed. Lena gets the uneasy feeling that Kara is performing a play and everyone else is unknowingly part of the ensemble.
The interview is over before she knows it and Kara’s eyes linger on the room for longer than they should.
Lena catches her loitering in the corridor ten minutes after the interview and quickly walks her out. Kara stares and stares and stares and Lena is glad to finally part ways, say goodbye to Kara and the scrutiny that came with her.
She has no doubt that she’ll see Kara Danvers again.
*
Supergirl saves her life on the roof of her building.
Lex tried to end it.
Lex, her brother with his always too long, too curly hair, and his love for nature and board games and puzzles. Lex who’s eyes gleamed at fake treasure hunts Lena set up for him around their garden with riddles for clues and science for answers.
Lex who was family, tries to kill her.
His sworn enemy saves her life.
And her heart fills with colour as she sets eyes on Supergirl for the second time in her life that’s not through a TV screen. Her ribs leaks acrylic paint until her spine is doused in a plethora of colours like expressionist art. Lena’s body becomes the canvas as Supergirl checks if she’s okay.
Any doubts on who caused the colours flies away.
Even Lena Luthor can’t deny it now.
*
Kara comes back the next day, confidence eluding from her as if her role has changed to someone with composure. Her bright smile greets Lena and Lena is helpless but to smile back.
Supergirl may be art but Kara is music and Lena found that music became so much better once she could see vividly. She hears genius symphony’s in the pigment of Kara’s lips, her dark eyelashes and honey hair echo with melody and Lena sits back and lets herself fall back into her own trickery.
Maybe Kara Danvers was there that day. Maybe it’s Kara. Lena thinks she’d be okay with that.
The familiar feeling of self-deception settles upon her and she shakes off the thought. It’s Supergirl. Supergirl must know because she saw her, saved her, unfazed. Anger bubbles in Lena knowing that Supergirl has known right from the start and not done anything. Some hero.
Not that Lena particularly wants her to do anything.
At least not now.
Lena has been alone since Lex went mad. She can cope.
Kara Danvers sits patiently. Kara Danvers looks at Lena. Not through her or away from her or accusing her of anything, just looking. Kara Danvers listens and nods, humming ever so slightly and excitedly adding into the conversation, and Lena feels the room start to brighten.
*
Kara comes clean eventually. It’s a late night at Lena’s office and she bought takeout, like she’s been doing every other day for about two weeks and Lena’s starting to worry about her figure but she can’t say no.
Kara has this seemingly incessant need to be close, and Lena isn’t sure whether it’s a friend thing or a close friend thing or a-
She’s not going to go there. Not now. The night is too dangerous to think about how for the past week, Lena’s been only able to focus on Kara’s mouth. On the bare skin at the back of her thighs that travels up under her skirts and the way Kara’s muscles flex every time she waves excitedly and how, sometimes when they hug, the smell of Kara leaks into Lena’s pores like shampoo cinnamon smoke and it takes hours for it to go away. Lena doesn’t want to think about how she wishes it would never go away. Not on a night like this when the stars burn bonfires in the clear dark sky and the mellow streetlights combined with the crisp air create a tension. A hint at romance.
All that’s needed is a few candles.
Lena almost smirks at the thought.
Kara eats in silence for a bit and there’s something not quite balanced in the situation. Her face holds the same expression to the one it held way back in their first meeting. The shock and pain and confusion all alert and Lena cringes back to the bite at Catco and wishes she’d said nothing.
“Are you okay, Kara?” She murmurs, moving over closer to her friend so that she can drag her hand soothingly up her wrist.
Kara shudders back from the touch and Lena crawls inside herself.
Eventually Kara speaks through the icy silence that follows. “You know when you think you’ve made a mistake, but then you look back and realise it could’ve been worse?” She begins.
Lena laughs. “Kara I’m a businesswoman, of course I do.”
Turning to look at Lena, Kara smiles softly. “When I was fifteen,” She says slowly. “I was going to sleep and I kicked all of my math notes off my bed onto the floor. I was too tired to pick them up.”
Confused as to where Kara is going, Lena encourages her anyway. “Go on.”
“I woke in the morning and grabbed them from where they were randomly scattered, shoving them into my bag and leaving. It was a nuisance. I regretted that bout of laziness where I forgot to check what was on my bed before I tried going to sleep.” Kara sighs.
“So, what happened?” Lena is almost invested in the story now, leaning in closer and feeling molten gold fill her heart as Kara leans back into her.
“That day I was late to my math lesson because I really had to help someone out. The question on the board was incredibly difficult and whoever was late had to do it. However, when I got my folder out my math teacher let me off, giving me time to organise it instead.” Kara grins. “So really my laziness stopped me being embarrassed in front of my whole class.”
“Oh.” Lena doesn’t quite know what to say, she fiddles idly with the small string bracelet on her left wrist, winding it around and around. “That’s-”
“My point is that actions aren’t all about the action itself, but they’re also not about the consequence. You have to find a middle ground.” Kara takes a deep breath. “Which is why I’m about to say something.”
Lena’s heart quickens.
“This could be a really stupid action or a really brave action, and I have no idea what the consequence may be but I’m a hopeful person.” Kara swallows, standing up and taking Lena’s hand.
“Lena, when I first saw you.” Kara’s words are muffled behind the rush of blood in Lena’s ears. “I could suddenly see colours.”
The world crumbles.
*
The two women stand with more distance between them then there has been for the past two weeks.
“You should leave.”
Stay, Lena’s mind argues with her mouth. Stay, stay, stay.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because I don’t want to hurt you Kara.”
I have to tell the truth.
“You couldn’t hurt me! The colours, they mean we’re connected.”
“You don’t understand!”
Kara please.
“Whatever it is Lena, I’m a big girl I can handle it.”
“I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry.
“Just say it.”
I’m trying to be a better person.
“I could see colours before I met you. I’m sorry again Kara. It’s not you.”
Kara leaves hastily, and Lena turns back. The world stays silently colourful and she curses it. She curses the orange streetlamps and the glowing stars and the cracks in silhouetted buildings that run also through her heart.
*
Supergirl drops by three days later. Three days of Lena wallowing in her own misery, contemplating her own loneliness with cynicism.
It’s obvious she’s there with purpose, her cape billowing behind set shoulders and a stiff back. Storms brew silently in blue eyes and she knocks softly on the window, the gentle tap a juxtaposition to the power Lena sees before her.
Supergirl could easily break the glass, force herself in, but instead she waits in the rain, drops splashing against her face and collecting in her hair. She’s beautiful, righteousness jutting out in her bottom lip.
Trying to keep a normal pace, Lena moves to unlock the door.
“I have to talk to you.” The words tumble out before the door is barely a crack open.
This is maybe Supergirl’s fourth visit to Lena since saving her life. She had dropped in a few days after to see if she was okay, then there was a robbery outside and she needed security footage and the last time was to tell her to stop working at four in the morning. It was almost too caring for Lena, too close to a friendship, something, with a super that her father would be turning in his grave.
“Okay…” Lena narrows her eyes. She hasn’t moved back from the door but Supergirl has moved in, in an attempt to escape the rain. Coldness emanates off her like perfume and her skin is close, tan and human and Lena shivers… because of the cold. Lena shivers because of the cold and takes a step back. “Would you like to come in?”
“Yes please.” Supergirl steps forwards, shutting the door behind her and talking off her cape, draping it over the chair Lena keeps in the corners for visitors. “It gets heavy when its wet.” Supergirl explains when she sees Lena’s curious eyes.
“Don’t you have super strength?”
Smiling sadly, Supergirl shrugs. “The weight is still unusual. Plus I spend most of my life pretending to be human. Habit sticks.”
“Do you want a drink or anything…?” Lena swallows past the lump in her throat. She’s never really thought about Supergirl’s alter ego, but now she does and she wonders if she’s ever met her.
“No that’s okay.” Supergirl step forward.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” Lena tries to stay calm, collected, but the ominous feeling of something approaching places a shake in her slightly higher pitched voice. It’s inescapable, bigger than Lena. With Supergirl in the room it’s become hard to talk, to breath. Her face flushes slightly when she realises her guest can probably hear the quickening in her pulse.
“Colours.” Supergirl whispers.
The world connects into place.
Silence comes in various forms: comfortable at 2am in the backseat of a car as the windows flicker with streetlamps; blizzard icy after you’ve run out of things to shout about. This silence is neither, but instead all consuming. It isn’t awkward in the slightest, just suspenseful, as they sit on the precipice of something unsaid.
“It was you.” Are the words that finally fall out of Lena’s mouth. They have been on her mind for so long that to speak them out loud feels weird. Her red lipstick can’t quite form around the overly rehearsed syllables.
Supergirl merely nods, takes a step forwards.
Lena steps back, standing tall against the slightly crestfallen look that flashes across Supergirl’s face. She holds onto that rejection that burns in her stomach. The rejection Supergirl gave her, not acknowledging the colours before and yes, she may be trying now, but Lena’s had months of giving up to wear away her bones.
There’s also the rejection Lena gave to Kara, unwillingly but in the face of natural order. She wishes she could change the world, have the strength to date someone who wasn’t her soulmate. Have the strength to deal with them inevitably falling out of love.
The world has rejected Lena Luthor in more ways than one and acid burns holes in the bottom of the woman’s stomach as she stands like a marble statue in her office, hard and cold and facing a choice that will change her life.
“When did you realise?” Lena says, trying to keep her voice calm but not quite managing to disguise her wolf as a sheep. “The helicopter?”
“No.” Supergirl’s brow crinkles in a very familiar way and she steps forwards again. This time Lena doesn’t step back. “I realised before that.” Her voice is soft and Lena relaxes ever so slightly.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Now the anger is fizzling Lena is aware of how pathetic she sounds.
“Because I didn’t want to give away my other identity.” Supergirl says, slowly.
Something starts ticking in Lena’s brain, a countdown to an unsolved mystery, a flick to the end of a novel to read the last pages because having to wait the whole book to find out what happens seems too antagonizing. There’s something rooted beneath all the junk in her head, stuff she never needed to study but did anyway, useless facts, childhood memories and Kara.
Kara.
She must have met Supergirl as a human before, to set off the colours, before the helicopter… when she met Kara for the first time.
It’s in the jawline, certainly, the blonde hair trailing down broad shoulders. The eyes, now that Lena can see colours she doesn’t know how she could have ever glazed over the two sets of vivid blue eyes she’s seen before and not connect them. But it’s not the features. It’s the incessant will to do good, be good, think good. Kara and Supergirl are the only two people to believe in a Luthor.
One person.
“And what about now?” There’s a shake to Lena’s voice and they both know that the other one knows what’s coming.
“I think you’ve figured it out, Lena.” Supergirl steps forwards a last time, into Lena’s space. Her eyes are transfixed, her breathing steady and close. “Can I kiss you?” She whispers.
“I would like that.” Lena barely gets out before her own body pushes forwards, out of her control, and connects their lips.
The world explodes.
In a Jackson Pollock, paint waterfall, extravaganza. A street art graffiti paradise. The world explodes in vibrancy and in its place a garden forms where the flowers bloom bright under an ochre sun.
Lena can barely breathe.
Pulling back, she hears Supergirl softly murmur “whoa”, and can only agree with the statement.
Laughing ever so slightly, Lena shakes her head at the situation, her heart lighter than it’s ever been. “So what now?” She grins. “Kara.”
“Lena.” Kara giggles. “The world is ours.”