Chapter Text
Their progression from friendship to something more was so seamless, so easy, that sometimes Kara still had trouble processing it.
The interviews had turned into lunch dates, which had turned into game nights, which had become sleepovers and bedsharing and late-night talks—the kind of talks that took place with whispered, hushed voices when National City was finally quiet, content to let her have a time where she could just be Kara. It was during their first sleepover that Kara had revealed her secret, to which Lena had responded with a soft smile and a murmured I know.
If pressed, Kara would call that moment the catalyst. That one gentle, pleased smile. It was the moment that she had stopped noticing things about Lena in an abstract way and instead saw them in a more concrete manner. Rather than simply seeing her best friend as objectively gorgeous, Kara had started to see her as beautiful.
And not just her appearance, either.
Lena’s beauty was deeper, more meaningful than her looks. It was in the way she held herself, the confident line of her shoulders and soft smirk on her lips. It was in the pleased hum she would give at every victory during game night, the furrowed brow smoothing as a wide smile made her eyes crinkle at the corners. It was in the timbre of her voice, crisp and cool with board members or fellow CEOs—people that meant to undermine her, people who looked at her and saw a girl rather than a woman—soft and sweet with kids in the children’s hospital.
That soft, sleepy smile had been the catalyst, but the moment Kara knew for sure what she felt happened after having inadvertently walked in on Lena Luthor—CEO of two Fortune 500 companies, National Chess champion and certified genius—sitting in a hot pink bean bag. Lena had been surrounded by children who watched her with wide, rapt eyes as she spun a tale about princesses, dragons and medieval knights. She had looked so young that day, so carefree, with her loose hair and soft smile. Their eyes had met less than a minute after Kara walked in and something in her heart had given a sharp tug.
And later that night, after the movie which had been playing was over and the popcorn was long gone, they had lied together in relative silence, Lena tucked warmly against Kara’s side. In the end, there had been no grand gestures or declarations. No rambling speeches or stuttering confessions. Just green eyes holding Kara’s own in a searching gaze for a long, endless moment, the quiet sound of Lena drawing in a trembling breath and then softness as their lips met for the first time.
It was the beginning of forever. After that careful press of Lena’s lips against her own, everything had clicked into place for Kara. The love she felt for Lena had poured out in a series of enthusiastic kisses, murmured promises and the knowledge that they were definitely moving way too fast. The thought prickled like a warning on the back of her tongue, but who was Kara to fight inevitability? Hadn’t she lost enough? Being Supergirl was a privilege—an honor, one she never could have imagined—but she was a person too, under the cape.
She was a person who wanted nothing more than to be free to love the woman of her dreams, to chase the forever she saw in Lena’s eyes.
Now, almost six months after that first night, Kara wished she would’ve listened to the voice that said slow down.
Lena’s eyes were bright, watery and spilling over with tears that she had long since stopped trying to wipe away. Everything about her posture screamed heartache, pain, and for once Kara was absolutely powerless to stop it. There was nothing she could say or do to make it any better. “I-It’s not something I ever wanted for myself, Kara. Not a path I ever saw my life taking.”
Kara swallowed against a dry throat, feeling her own tears burn against her eyes. She couldn’t cry, she wouldn’t cry. How had they never talked about this? How—after that whole debacle with Alex and Maggie—had they let this slip through the cracks? “I did though. I-I always—”
Despite the fact that she was Supergirl, Kara had always pictured her future including at least a few kids. Her partner had always been more of an idea than a person—kind, caring, loving. They loved her but most importantly, they loved the kids they had together. After she and Lena had started dating, that blur of a person had smoothed out into a fully fleshed wish complete with bright, mischievous green eyes and black hair. Pale skin. Lena. Lena and Kara’s kids.
Their family. They would all make breakfast together and watch movies together, cuddled snuggly on the couch. The kids would sleep in their bed during storms while Kara held them safe and secure, whispering stories about Krypton while wide eyes held her gaze and little bodies curled against her side. She couldn’t give that up. She couldn’t. Not the one thing she had always let herself hope for, the one part of her dreams she promised herself she would achieve… but…
Lena.
How could she live without the love of her life? It would be like losing her heart—Lena was her heart. She wanted kids, needed them in a way she didn’t know how to explain, but she needed Lena too. How could they—
“I don’t want kids, Kara.”
The words sounded warbled and distorted in her ears, echoing strangely. It was like time itself had slowed down, stopped, frozen in the face of Lena Luthor’s desperate gaze. Kara knew what Lena wanted her to say, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t okay. It wouldn’t be okay. Right now, it felt like nothing would ever be okay again. Kara felt the world tilt and shift, she saw deep black cracks against a blazing red sky and realized she was about to lose her world all over again. “I-I need to… go…”
It was the cowardly thing to do, but Kara couldn’t help it. Her thoughts were getting too loud, and she could hear the way Lena’s breath was hitching in her chest as she tried to calm down and she needed to go.
Not even the sound barrier could withstand the speed Kara flew at. There was an answering crack of sound to the velocity she reached, and some part of Kara was distantly grateful that she’d flown above the buildings as the rest of her was wracked with pain. How had this happened? Their open communication was something Kara had always been proud of in their relationship. They talked. It was a way to assure no misunderstandings, to express their feelings and—yes, sometimes to vent their frustrations. How in Rao’s name had they missed this?
She was up high, too high. The tears on her cheeks became speckled with frost and Kara finally slowed down, letting out a shuddering sob miles and miles away from the ground.
There, hovering at a standstill, she forced herself to try and imagine it. Picturing her life with Lena—her future—but taking away the nameless children she’d always imagined they’d have. She could see herself smiling, overjoyed at getting to wake up with Lena every day. She could see their lives together, the trips they’d take, the places they’d get to see. The love they would share.
And then she saw the inky, twisted shape of resentment settle slowly over their picture-perfect relationship. The pain she would hide behind a smile every time Clark and Lois came to visit with their boys, the not-so-subtle looks of worry Lena would throw her way after they left. The fight for normalcy even when they both knew it would never be achieved again. The longing that she would silently drown in.
The fallout. Messy and painful. Permanent.
Six months. They had only been together for six months, surely their friendship could recover eventually? It might take some time, but they could make it work. A couple weeks, even a couple months of awkwardness and skirting around each other, surely that was better than the alternative?
It would have to be, because the only other option would be losing Lena altogether and that simply wasn’t an option. She couldn’t do that—she wouldn’t survive that.
Before she even registered moving, Kara landed harshly on the balcony of Lena’s penthouse. The other woman didn’t jump, didn’t so much as flinch, just looked up at Kara with red-rimmed eyes and a set jaw. Kara swallowed thickly, not bothering to wipe the tears off of her cheeks. What was the point? “Lena—”
Lena hushed her, taking a few deliberate steps closer and running her hands up Kara’s suit, twisting into her hair and pulling her down towards red lips. “I know, love.” Lena murmured, a sob catching in her throat. “I know.”
“I'm sorry—” Kara whimpered, tugging her body closer, pressing them together entirely. It wasn’t close enough. There couldn’t have been an inch of space between them, yet it still wasn’t close enough. “I'm so sorry, Lena. Baby. I—”
“Shh,” Lena whispered, pressing their lips together again and again. Kara tried to pull away, to talk, but Lena shoved her roughly towards a wall and crowded against her, mouthing at the skin of her neck before biting down harshly. “I need this, I know, but I—Kara, please. I need this. Just… just one more time.”
The number of reasons it was a bad idea flashed through her head in order of importance, but Kara ignored each and every one of them and exhaled slowly, nodding. It was a bad idea, a terrible idea, but this was something Lena needed—something Kara could give her without sacrificing her soul. Her heart? Well, that already belonged to Lena.
Lena groaned in relief, melting into Kara’s frame and gasping when her lips pressed against the pale column of her throat. Hot, wet kisses were trailed down smooth skin and Kara blocked out any sound that wasn’t Lena’s ragged breathing or racing heart. Nothing else mattered in this moment. Button by button, skin was revealed, and Kara took her time mapping it—with her fingers, her lips, her tongue.
This is the last time. Just one more time.
A stuttered gasp, and then Lena’s back arched off of the wall when Kara’s lips made contact with a particularly sensitive bit of skin. Slow, ragged breaths, and Kara waited a few of them before she trailed her tongue over that same area.
One more time.
//
Valid. It was the word that everybody kept using.
Her feelings are valid, Alex had told her with a hug.
Her need for space is valid, Winn had murmured with a sad smile and a soft squeeze of her shoulder.
The way she chose to react is valid, J’onn had said, though he had pulled her into a tight embrace and squeezed her hard enough that she could feel it after his soft-spoken declaration.
And she understood that they were all right, that Lena absolutely had the right to take some time and recuperate after their breakup, but that didn’t make the news that she had moved to Europe any easier to swallow. That wasn’t the official announcement of course, as far as all media outlets were concerned LCorp’s CEO had taken an indefinite hiatus to visit some international offices.
Kara knew better. Lena had left to get some space—from National City, from the press, from Kara—and the absolute worst part was that she hadn’t even told her.
It had been a moment of weakness, when Kara did the one thing that she had been trying so desperately not to. But her bed was too big without Lena in it, too cold with only her body heat to warm it and she had caved, focusing her hearing to listen for the steady heartbeat that never failed to calm her only to hear nothing. Thick, haunting silence. She had been up and dressed in less than a second, frantically tearing through Lena’s empty penthouse, calling Jess only to be told that Lena was fine. She was fine, just moved. Temporarily of course, Jess had said. Just checking in on the overseas headquarters.
That had been nearly a month ago, and after the dozenth unanswered call and hundredth unanswered text, Kara had gotten the message.
Space, Kara remembered. They would need space to recover. Space, she had thought—even when she had been kissing down pale thighs. Space. But a whole ocean? How much space was too much space? And why hadn’t Lena told her instead of just leaving and—
“Supergirl?”
Kara blinked, focusing on the group of people staring at her expectantly. Immediately she straightened her spine, fighting to keep her fingers from fidgeting nervously when the gazes stayed locked on her. While most looked curious, Alex’s was worried. Kara tried her best to smile subtly at her sister, not quite sure if she managed it. “My apologies, Director Danvers. Can you repeat that last part?”
Alex held her gaze for a beat longer before she cleared her throat and nodded sharply. “Of course. I was just reiterating how strong this alien seems to be compared to the ones we normally see. Its strength and speed are why none of the NCPD containment procedures have been effective, why I—why we need you to be cautious. Those punches, Supergirl… they won’t bounce off.”
“I’ll be careful,” Kara murmured gently, keeping her gaze locked with her sisters. Alex’s heartbeat was thundering in her chest, a clear sign of her distress, and Kara wished there were something she could do to reassure her; wished Alex didn’t always have to be there, watching her fly headfirst into danger. “And I’ll do my best to coordinate with the NCPD to get it out of the city.” Her voice was louder then, addressing the rest of the agents present and Kara found her fists unintentionally gravitating to her hips, trying to draw comfort from the familiar pose.
She shot off before anything else could be said, before she had time to dwell on the one voice missing from the people cheering her on, wishing her luck.
//
Kara was tired. Physically tired. It was an uncommon feeling for her, and one she really couldn’t afford to have at the current moment.
The alien had spent the better part of an hour charging at civilians, after realizing Kara was too fast for it to get a good hit in. Its plan, while sloppy and underthought, was effective in postponing their inevitable fight. While Kara would rush to save whatever citizen it was charging at, the alien would simply turn and head towards a different one. They played that game for nearly an hour, chasing each other all throughout the streets of National City before Kara finally saw her opportunity.
She waited, watching with sharp eyes as the alien hissed out a gravely, rough series of sounds before turning to dash towards a coffee shop where dozens of erratic heartbeats were hidden and when the alien went to move forward again, when it shifted its weight—the single half second where it wasn’t completely steady, that’s when Kara flew. Flew with everything she had left in her system, using every bit of it to fly fast enough, strong enough that the alien had no choice but to fly with her when they collided.
On a good day, a normal one, Kara could make it to the desert outside of the city in a little under fifteen seconds at a leisurely pace. The times where she really had to push herself, where speed was invaluable, she could do it in about three.
It took her two minutes to get the alien out of the city, two minutes of fighting and twisting midflight. Their bodies thrashed and wriggled as it tried to claw its way out of her hold. By the time Kara finally managed to get far enough away from the city, she had dropped down several feet and could feel the strain in her muscles and lungs as the alien finally wrenched itself from her grasp. There was a moment where it simply watched her and Kara could visibly see the aliens anger rising, could witness in real time as its body drew tight in preparation while Kara clenched her jaw and braced herself.
The distance between them was closed in the blink of an eye, and all hell broke loose.
//
Kara woke up to warmth. Not only the warmth of the sunbed, but the warmth of a body pressed tightly against her own, a hauntingly familiar heartbeat drumming frantically in her ear and Kara immediately went to sit up, feeling a searing ache explode and branch like lightning through her ribs right as Lena whispered a desperate No! and tugged her back down. The blonde fell gracelessly back into Lena’s arms, hissing out a sharp curse as pain radiated throughout her body. She waited, lock-jawed and tense, for the waves to subside; tucked securely against her ex-girlfriend’s throat, breathing in her familiar scent.
“I'm sorry Kara, I should’ve warned you. I hadn’t realized that you were even awake until you moved and then—”
“Lena,” Kara breathed out finally, pulling back just enough to meet the other woman’s eyes. It didn’t feel real, laying against Lena’s chest as she almost obsessively ran her hands up and down Kara’s back. Her touch was still as electric as ever—but it was also light and painfully delicate. No powers, then. “Lena, I don’t understand. I thought you were… I thought…”
“I know, Kara. I know.” Lena exhaled a shaky breath and pressed a feather light kiss against the top of the blonde’s head, gently tugging her nearer. Kara complied happily, pressing her nose back against the crook of Lena’s neck and snuggling close. She could feel the words as much as she could hear them, tucked against the raven-haired woman like this. “God, I was so stupid. I was—I wanted some distance. Just to reset a little. I-I went overseas, stopped by the London offices for a meeting the other day and—” another shaky breath, this one with a quiet sob at the tail end of it. Kara cuddled closer, ignoring the sharp twinge in her ribs, moving in to try and soothe. It wasn’t hard to imagine what must have happened next. “And there you were, fighting that alien. It was a world-wide broadcast, b-because you were—you were losing. You looked s-so tired my darling, a-and I was so very far away from you because I'm an idiot and I wanted some space, but that same fucking space meant I couldn’t rush to you the way I wanted to. I-If Clark and J’onn hadn’t arrived when they did…”
Kara swallowed thickly, pieces of the battle flashing through her mind as Lena shivered slightly. “I'm okay, Lena. I'm… a bit sore, but I'm okay.” Lena shook her head minutely as she fisted the bright red fabric of Kara’s cape. “Baby, I am. Really. I'm just sorry you had to see that.”
The sound that came out of Lena’s throat was something between a laugh and a sob, guttural and painful and aching. “You’re so good, Kara. You're so…” Lena pulled back enough to meet her eyes, tucking a wayward strand of blonde hair behind Kara’s ear with something like reverence. “I left, like a coward. I ignored your calls and texts for a month. I-I was cruel to do that, and I know it but I'm weak and—”
“You are not weak.” Kara carefully sat up, ignoring the sharp sound of protest Lena made in the back of her throat, and switched their positions so Lena was folded securely against her body, a dark head tucked under her chin. “That doesn’t make you weak, Lena. It makes you hurt. It makes you human.”
“Selfish, then.” Lena murmured after several beats of silence. Kara went to protest again, but Lena reached up and placed a single finger against her lips. “I was Kara, even you can admit that. Going to Europe without telling you first, spending time in offices that didn’t really need me there just to avoid reality. It wasn’t fair to you, Kara. I knew it then, when I first boarded the plane and I know it now.”
Valid. That had been the word that everybody kept using. And while Kara had nodded along with them, she hadn’t really understood what they meant by it. Not until this moment, with Lena tucked tightly against her, their breathing syncing up naturally. Effortlessly. “Your feelings were valid, Lena. So was your reaction. And yeah, it kind of sucked to hear it from Jess instead of you, but you don’t owe me an explanation. Not really.”
Silence. Several long, painful moments of complete silence. Their quiet, even breaths sounded so loud in comparison, thundering almost. And the thick, roaring sound of her own heartbeat echoed in her ears, loud and unforgiving. Silence had never been so deafening. Kara was about to say something—anything, really—to make it stop, then Lena drew in a shuddering breath, and everything went still again.
“I don’t know if I agree with that, at least not completely. You would never have—” she cut herself off with a sharp sound of frustration, burrowing impossibly closer into Kara’s hold. Their legs were hopelessly tangled, bodies intwined like they were one being. It was as close as they could get, but still not close enough. Closer than they should have been, Kara thought, even as she twisted her fingers into dark hair. “It was what I kept thinking, on the plane. How I had just left without saying a word, and you never would have done something so self-centered. And then the calls and texts started, and I didn’t know how to face you, so I just ignored it.”
Tears splashed gently against her neck and Kara could feel them sliding down towards her collarbone as she gently coaxed Lena from her hiding spot, smiling sadly at the sight of watering green eyes. “We still love each other—”
“So much,” Lena cut in, wriggling until she could prop herself up over Kara, dark hair falling in a curtain around them. The air smelled like lavender and vanilla and Lena, so excruciatingly familiar that Kara started tearing up despite her best efforts not to. Pale fingers wiped them away with that same reverence Lena had given her wayward strand of hair, red-rimmed eyes soft and adoring and broken. “God Kara, I love you so fucking much. It’s like I can’t breathe without you.”
“I know,” Kara choked out, more tears spilling down her cheeks. She wiped them away impatiently, blinking harshly until Lena was once again in focus. “I know baby, me too.”
Lena lowered herself gently, reclaiming her place snuggled under Kara’s chin. “What are we going to do?”
“We’ll figure it out,” Kara promised, trying to infuse her voice with both confidence and conviction that even she didn’t believe. But still, the only alternative was no Lena at all, so relearning how to be friends it was. “We always do. And besides, we were friends first.”
“Friends?” Lena echoed doubtfully, scratching her nails gently against Kara’s abs for emphasis.
“There were extenuating circumstances.” Kara justified, running a comforting hand over Lena’s back and through her hair when she stiffened at the reminder. “Which was not your fault at all, and I'm okay. I promise. It’s like I said, we were friends first. We can be friends again. We still are.”
Lena grabbed for the hand that wasn’t busy absently stroking her hair, entangling their fingers smoothly and bringing them up to her face, her lips brushing featherlight against the back of Kara’s hand before tucking their joined hands under her chin. “Friends.” She murmured despite the intimate action, and Kara understood. There wasn’t an alternative for them, no path that could give them any sort of respite from the heartache, only one that promised not to compound it.
Kara refused to let herself think about all the various ways it was a horrible idea, the ways it could go terribly wrong. She ignored the traitorous voice in her mind that whispered friendship was all well and good, until Lena decided she was ready to start dating again. It was a phantom pain, one that picked at a scar she hadn’t even received yet, thoughts of standing across from Lena as the love of her life smiled with love drunk happiness at someone that wasn’t Kara.
Enough, Kara thought sharply. Lena was asleep in her arms, peaceful at last. It was a temporary ceasefire, a timeout before the sun rose tomorrow and they had to separate again. When and if the time comes, I’ll manage it. I always do.
Pain wasn’t a stranger to her, had visited Kara more often than not, leaving it’s twisted gifts behind to claw at her heart. Still though, whatever pain would be caused by watching Lena inevitably move on with her life would be a hell of a lot easier to bear then a life without Lena at all.
Friendship was the only way for them to stay in each other’s lives, so friendship it was.
“You're staring.”
Lena didn’t flinch at the sudden voice next to her, hardly reacted at all beyond an absent hum of agreement. The entirety of her attention was directed at Kara and the little boy she held securely above her head as she spun in endless circles. The pair of them were cackling madly, Kara seemingly carefree for the moment. It wasn’t an expression Lena got to see on her very often, the sort of open and beaming happiness.
Even less so since their breakup two months ago.
They had managed to get passed their initial awkwardness quickly, though Lena wasn’t that surprised. Watching Kara bleed on live television while Lena was an ocean away and unable to help certainly expedited the process of relearning how to be around each other in a strictly friendly capacity. It would have had to, really, because the image of hazy blue eyes blinking away drops of sweat and blood was permanently seared in her mind now. It was all Lena could see at night when she closed her eyes—Kara fighting. Kara losing. Kara bleeding. And then herself, half a world away. Unable to do anything but watch.
So yes, the process of working through the early discomfort had most definitely been rushed, because Lena absolutely refused to ever be that far away from Kara again. It was all she had thought about on the plane ride back to National City, the only reason she hadn’t completely broken down during the flight. Lena would never be that far away again.
Which meant that she needed contingency plans.
So many contingency plans.
It was just enough to keep her overactive mind occupied, a trail of plans to make keeping her from being engulfed in pure panic. It had kept her busy enough during the flight, hypotheticals and what-if scenarios. The second the plane touched down though, all thoughts that weren’t Kara had promptly scattered and Lena had launched herself into the DEO van waiting for her immediately.
Seeing the love of her life lying in the sun bed, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths…
Never again, Lena thought firmly, and then blinked back to tears the memory had coaxed forward. I’ll never do that again.
“Did I ever tell you that my parents kicked me out?”
The statement was so abrupt and unexpected that Lena nearly choked on her next inhale, sputtering inelegantly as she gaped at the woman next to her. Right on cue a blonde head turned her way, blue eyes wide with concern. Lena smiled reassuringly, feeling her heart clench painfully in her chest when Kara held eye contact for a few seconds longer before nodding and returning her attention to the toddler that had commandeered it for that afternoon.
Her heart twinged again, sharper this time, and Lena finally tore her gaze away.
Maggie was smirking, the top of her beer bottle brushing against the bottom of her lower lip as she regarded Lena thoughtfully. There was an edge to her smirk, a sort of buried pain that twinged and tugged at Lena’s own still healing scars. The CEO shook her head slowly, leaning farther back against the wall she was resting on. It was all the invitation the detective needed. “Yeah. It was when I came out to them officially I suppose. They had their suspicions I think, but plausible deniability is apparently a hell of a coping mechanism.”
“I'm sorry, Maggie.” It wasn’t just an apology, and Lena was sure that the other woman knew it. It was an acknowledgement, an unspoken you’re not alone, I get it. I get it, and I really wish you didn’t too. When the slightest of smiles quirked the detective’s lips as a half-empty beer bottle was pointed her way in a silent toast, Lena knew Maggie had understood.
“Their loss, really. I turned out great.” Maggie gestured briefly towards herself and then her family. “Ended up finishing high school living with my aunt. Tía Rosalinda. She lives up in Gotham, she took me in. Kept me fed, kept me clothed. Kept me out of trouble, for the most part. Even took me to my first Pride.”
Lena smiled at the thought of a young Maggie, bent from rejection but determined to stay true to herself, covered in rainbows and beaming with the freedom of it. “That’s incredible.”
“It was,” Maggie breathed out, eyes unfocused in a way that told Lena she was reliving it. “It really was. God, I had never felt so free. So entirely myself, surrounded by people I knew wouldn’t reject me because of my sexuality.” The brunettes smile melted into something a bit more serious, her eyes sharpening as they refocused. “The thing is, I turned out great. I'm a good person, I do good work. But my parents… they really fucked me up. Like, really fucked me up.”
For goodness sake, Lena. You're not truly one of us, but could you at least try not to be such an embarrassment? A ninety-five, really? Did you even try?
“Yeah,” Lena murmured, wrapping her arms around her own waist in a kind of self-hug. Her heart gave a sharp quiver of pain as she blinked away the ever-present echo of Lillian’s voice. It was over, in the past now. The memories shouldn’t still hurt this badly, not after all these years.
“Lena?” Kara called out suddenly, questioning as blue eyes slid sharply over to Maggie in silent accusation.
Damn heartbeat.
As Maggie raised her hands in supplication, Lena forced herself to relax and sent a soft smile Kara’s way. “Just fine, darling. I promise.”
The words mollified her enough that the blonde turned around, looking back at the little boy who had been tugging impatiently at her shirt. Kara smiled softly, squatting down to whisper something in his ear that made him shriek with delight and take off across the yard as fast as his tiny, chubby legs could carry him. After a healthy second of pause, Kara took off after him.
“Sorry,” Maggie muttered apologetically, recapturing Lena’s attention as she wiped her free hand roughly against the faded material of her jeans. “I didn’t mean to…”
Lena waved away the apology, pushing off of the wall they had been leaning on and making her way towards a pair of chairs that had been vacated on the back porch. Maggie followed behind her, stopping briefly by the cooler to grab a couple of beers, handing one to Lena. “You were saying?”
“Just that everything ended up okay, despite my asshole parents.” Maggie popped the cap off of her new bottle of beer, taking a healthy gulp before meeting Lena’s expectant gaze. “Everything ended up okay, but I still freaked out when Alex mentioned us having kids.”
Lena blinked, sitting up a bit straighter in her chair as she waited for the detective to elaborate. Truthfully, the topic was one she thought about often. Too often, really. A question that had been on the tip of her tongue for years. Alex and Maggie had been engaged, blissfully happy and absolutely, sickeningly in love. Until one of them had mentioned children and the whole thing had blown up in their faces.
Maggie had left, and for four months nobody heard a thing from her.
Alex, of course, had been absolutely devastated. Which meant that Kara had started spending more time with her distraught sister and Lena had started actually tending to the work she had been putting off in favor of spending time with her best friend. It continued like that for months until one day, Maggie came back.
Kara had told Lena the story a million times, walking into Alex’s apartment with their usual takeout order from their favorite Chinese place, only to freeze at the sight of Maggie cradling a hiccuping Alex against her chest, eyes squeezed closed and lips murmuring words she actively, purposely blocked out. It had been an intensely private moment, so Kara had spun on her heel and left immediately.
Two months later, Alex and Maggie got married.
Eight months after that, Maggie was pregnant.
Neither of them had asked exactly what happened, nor had any information been offered from Alex or Maggie.
Until now.
“I realized that I was afraid,” Maggie’s voice was soft, like she didn’t want the words to carry any farther than the space between them. Like Jamie might have somehow inherited his aunt’s super hearing and could start listening in at any moment. Like he could understand it at all. “And I knew that, I knew when I left that I was scared… I was just wrong about what my fear really was. That’s why it was so important for me to carry him, I needed to feel him growing. I needed to grow with him, to grow passed that lingering fear.”
Jamie shrieked out a laugh, the kind of joyous sound that only children are really capable of making, before charging full speed towards Kara’s open arms. Lena watched as the blonde rolled her shoulder back just before the little boy made contact, watched as she contorted and twisted to make herself as soft as possible. She lifted him with ease above her head, dark brown curls bouncing while Kara flew him in giant, looping circles—even as her feet stayed firmly planted on the ground.
Maggie sighed, once again drawing Lena’s attention. “I thought… “ Tan fingers tapped absently against a bottle as the detective looked out at Alex, a helpless smile on her lips. “I thought my fear was of having kids, and it took me four months to realize that wasn’t the case.” Dark eyes caught hers, and Lena’s breath stuttered at the intensity suddenly burning in Maggie’s gaze. “I wasn’t afraid of having kids, I was afraid of hurting them. Like my parents hurt me.”
Honestly Lena. Is this really your best? Truly? How disappointing.
There was a long moment of silence as Maggie let her words sink in. Lena’s heart had started to beat a bit erratically, but Kara only glanced her way, making sure everything was okay, before she resumed playing with her nephew. “I can see how you… I get that.” Lena finally responded, carefully. Cautiously. “But why…” Why tell me this? What does it matter?
“Life is short.” Maggie shrugged, a deliberately careless gesture that was immediately belittled by the pain in her eyes. “There have been too many close calls in work like ours, too many nights spent by hospital beds or in a medical wing. Alex is… she's my everything. I don’t tell her that nearly enough, but I hope she knows. Her and Jamie are my entire world.” A quiet sniffle, nearly imperceptible, and Lena politely looked away as Maggie composed herself. Close calls. Lena certainly knew about those, the countless nights spent worried as the love of her life lied prone and unconscious on a sunbed. Still beautiful, just softer, heartbreakingly vulnerable—like a fallen star, glowing and painfully grounded. “It kills me a bit inside, you know? The fact that I spent four months away from her. That’s time I can’t ever get back.”
“You think I'm making a mistake.” It wasn’t a question. Lena had read the writing on the wall the moment Maggie mentioned Jamie, knew the conversation that was inevitably going to follow. A large part of her felt somewhat indignant, it wasn’t like the decision had been easy to make. There had been a moment, a singular moment, where Lena had forced her mind to press passed the discomfort and really thought about it. It had been like trying to shove a square through a circular shaped whole, like she was once again attempting to contort herself to fit someone else’s needs.
Painful and messy and temporary.
Always, always temporary.
Because she couldn’t change it, couldn’t stop the clench of dread in her stomach at the thought of kids. The sense of burgeoning panic. The slight feeling of nausea. So what was she supposed to do? Ignore it? Pretend like it didn’t exist? At best, she would get to keep Kara until they eventually had their baby and then that child would grow up with a parent that was closed off and cold. Unreachable.
No. No, Lena wouldn’t do that to anybody, especially not a child. Not when she’d grown up in the same environment and knew just how damaging it could be. She was only trying to do what was best for everyone involved, particularly Kara and whatever children she would have in the future. It was fine, she had accepted the role of “Aunt Lena”, had already started practicing her smile for whenever she had to interact with Kara’s future partner.
A bit ridiculous maybe, before Lena had realized that she would most definitely be in love with Kara for the rest of her life. And that meant Lena would be forced to watch as someone came in to woo Kara, showering her with the love and attention that she deserved—someone who could give her what she needed in a way Lena couldn’t. As Kara’s best friend, she would have a front row seat to it all—first date, first kiss, first everything. She would have to box her feelings up again, tape them down tight—maybe put them in another box after that, just to be safe. It also meant that she’d have to play nice, which started with a genuine smile.
Genuinely faked.
It was a work in progress, at least.
Either way, it didn’t seem nearly as ridiculous as before.
Maggie made an almost affronted noise in the back of her throat, sitting up straighter in her chair. Any other time it would’ve been amusing to watch the other woman sputter, but not now. Not when the fingers that had been absently fiddling with her empty bottle suddenly stopped and pressed together as brown eyes met her own in a way that clearly meant business. “That’s not what I said, Lena,” she stated firmly. “I'm serious, nobody can decide that for you but you, and I'm sorry if that’s how I'm coming across. I'm really not trying to pressure you.”
“You didn’t,” Lena admitted softly. Of all of her inadequacies, jumping to conclusions had to be Lena’s absolute least favorite. It was right up there with the annoyingly persistent desire to make Lillian proud. An echo of her childhood self that Lena had thankfully gotten better at smothering as time passed, even if she couldn’t quite manage to make the longing go away altogether. “It’s just… hard. All of this, being apart from her… it’s so fucking hard, Maggie.” Lena looked away, quickly wiping at the tears that slid down her cheeks. “And then I remember that I get to feel like this forever and that just…” Compounds it, is what Lena would have said, if she hadn’t finally gotten control of her emotions.
A sudden, high pitched laugh broke the fraught moment and Lena exhaled thankfully, latching onto any distraction she could. Jamie was once again in the air; this time being tossed up gently and caught by Kara before resuming their “flight”.
“Oh no!” Kara cried suddenly; wide blue eyes filled with a kind of faux, playful panic that made Lena’s aching heart melt. “There's… there’s turbulence! Hang on and fasten your seatbelt! Its gonna be a bumpy ride!” She gently shook the toddler in her arms, sending him in swooping downward arches as she made loud, whooshing sounds. Lena thought it might have been to represent the wind, maybe the plane itself. Either way, it was ridiculously endearing and horribly heart breaking. Her traitorous mind colored over the child in Kara’s arms, giving them golden blonde hair and green eyes. Kara’s smile. Lena’s eyes. A perfect mix of the two of them to create someone entirely unique.
Enough, Lena thought sharply. Even the brief pseudo vision filled her with uneasiness, a thick discomfort that engulfed the slightest flicker of warmth the thought might have caused.
Kara finished the flight with one last dramatic downward dive, beaming when Jamie shrieked gleefully as his little arms flung outward. “And that’ll do it, folks! Thanks for choosing K.D. airlines, we hope you enjoyed your flight!” Lena smiled softly when the little boy promptly tugged at Kara’s sleeves, his Again! Again, Aunt Kara! making the blonde groan exaggeratedly, as if she were actually tired.
Yeah, Lena was ridiculously in love. And so extraordinarily fucked because of it.
When she looked back at Maggie, the other woman was biting at her lower lip in a rare show of unsureness that immediately recaptured Lena’s full attention. It wasn’t like the detective to be nervous. Their eyes meeting must have been enough of an invitation because Maggie seemed to ponder for a second longer, and then nodded to herself before she spoke candidly. “Little Luthor, have you ever thought about… talking to someone?”
“About my fear of having kids?” Lena asked slowly, feeling her defenses instantly rise when Maggie shook her head.
“No, just in general.” Maggie shrugged, once again fiddling with her empty beer bottle even as she held gentle eye-contact. “I started seeing someone. Alex suggested it actually. And yeah, at first it seemed pointless and uncomfortable but after a while… things sneak up on you, you know? Whether it be things you’ve seen, or maybe just seen someone else do—but you shove it aside, all the same. Tell yourself its part of the job, part of being an adult. Pretty soon though, there’s nowhere left to shove it and you’re left with this…” Maggie circled a halfhearted finger around her head, “Mess. It’s a mess. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing ever, someone helping you clean it up?”
Luthors don’t need help, was her first thought. A response ingrained in her by Lillian years ago, a mantra she had been forced to live by. Even after Lionel’s death, when she had admitted to needing someone to talk to. Lillian had merely reiterated the age-old phrase and then promptly walked away, leaving no room for further conversation.
A week later, she had been sent to boarding school.
Her next thought was of boxes, stacked impossibly high and everywhere. There would be no hope, going through all of them. Not when there were so fucking many.
“Maybe,” was all Lena finally said, grateful when Alex called out that the burgers were ready. It ended their conversation and absolved Lena of elaborating, even as Maggie shot her a curious look. Her thoughts must have shown then, in some degree. Besides, Maggie was a damn fine detective.
Because even as the word maybe left her lips, Lena’s mind echoed absolutely with a sort of desperation she had never felt before. And maybe Maggie had been right when she said Lena should consider going to a therapist. She probably was, honestly. It was the only explanation Lena could come up with as she sat down at the table, setting a reminder on her phone before putting it away and engaging in much lighter conversation.
Yes, Maggie must have been onto something.
Why else would Lena feel the sudden need to visit Lillian in prison?
//
“Absolutely not.”
Kara’s reaction was nothing less than Lena had expected, right down to the arms crossed tightly over her chest and the disapproving frown prominently in place. “Kara, this is something that I have to do. I know you don’t like it; I know you think it’s unsafe, but I need to do this, okay? I'm asking you to trust me.”
The blonde slumped slightly, toned arms falling slack at her side as wide blue eyes met her own in a muted plea. “I trust you with my life! This isn’t—Lena, she's tried to kill you. This isn’t about trust!”
“Technically, she didn’t try to kill me.” It was strange, finding herself playing devil’s advocate for a woman she had spent the majority of her life loathing. Besides, Lena knew she was right. And while abandoning her to her fate at the hands of cyborg Hank Henshaw certainly wouldn’t win Lillian any mother of the year awards, it still didn’t count as an actual assassination attempt.
She didn’t think, at least.
A strong jaw clenched though, and Lena knew Kara didn’t care much for the technicality. “Leaving you for dead is no better than trying to kill you, Lena.”
Lena closed the slight distance between them with a few steps, taking one of Kara’s hands in her own as she led the sulking blonde to her couch. It had been a good idea to have this conversation here, in Kara’s apartment, rather than Lena’s own penthouse. Here was where Kara felt the most at home, the most comfortable with herself and her surroundings. Lena allowed herself a moment to bask in the feeling of their joined hands. The feeling of rightness that she had been missing for the past two months. And then she released her gentle grip, scooting a touch closer to make up for it. “I need to do this, Kara.”
“I know,” Kara murmured gently, in an unexpected turn of events. With all of her various explanations rendered moot, Lena could do nothing but blink at the blonde in surprise. A sad quirk of her lips, and then Kara brushed the pad of her thumb just under Lena’s eye. “You have this look of determination and it’s so fierce, so powerful, I swear the world itself would answer to it. I can’t stop you, I won’t try, but can I… can I be there? Please?”
You're my world, Lena wanted to say. A sentiment she had expressed repeatedly during their too short relationship, always with a quiet tone of wonderment that didn’t nearly cover how she felt about Kara. Awed, inspired. Adoring. But it didn’t matter now, none of those things did, because that wasn’t who they were to each other. Not anymore. “As Kara?”
“As whoever you need me to be.”
Mine, Lena thought. The only thing I've ever needed was for you to be mine.
“Okay.” Is what Lena settled for, even as Kara smiled sadly in silent acknowledgement of the words she’d left unsaid.
//
The prison loomed in front of them ominously, hauntingly.
All dark grays and muted colors, it was like the air itself had been sucked from the car. From the whole city, maybe. Lena kept her eyes forward, studiously ignoring the soft blue eyes that had remained locked on her. “I'm fine.” She wasn’t sure who the words were for, herself or Kara. Probably herself, since a quick glance over showed the blonde’s face with an expression so soft and understanding that Lena immediately had to look away again.
Kara sighed gently, reaching over to give Lena’s knee a comforting squeeze once the car was safely parked. “You're not.”
No, she really wasn’t.
All of the fiery determination she’d had days ago had melted away to nothingness when the prison came into view. Now, all she felt was a sense of budding dread and sickness at the thought of facing her mother. The one she had sent to prison.
Twice.
“Hey, look at me.” Lena blinked at the abrupt demand, nevertheless meeting Kara’s warm eyes with her own. The familiar devotion shining in those blue depths brought her a measure of calm, calm that was instantly heightened when two tan hands cupped her cheeks gently. “You’ve got this. You have an incredible heart and such a pure, deserving soul. She didn’t have any part in that, it was all you. And no matter what nonsense she tries to pull in there, in the end you’re going to be the one who walks out while she gets escorted back to her cell, okay? I’ll be in the lobby the whole entire time. I promise.”
Lena laughed wetly, lips twitching into a melancholy grin when Kara gently brushed the tears from her cheeks. God, Lena loved this woman. Regardless of the nearly suffocating wave of emotion she currently felt, Lena couldn’t resist teasing the blonde. Just a little. “Weren’t you the one who thought this was a horrible idea?”
“And I stand by that,” Kara returned instantly, even as she leaned over to unclip both of their seatbelts before suddenly tugging Lena into her arms. Lena heard a soft sound of surprise escape from her own throat, but she instantly went pliant against the other woman, basking in the feeling of being entirely surrounded by Kara. The safety. “Though that had absolutely nothing to do with my belief in you or your virtuous qualities and everything to do with protecting you. I hate that she… I just really want you to be okay. That’s all.”
Lena melted further into the warm embrace, nuzzling as close as she could in the cramped space. “I know, love. I know. You’ll be there?”
“The entire time,” Kara swore vehemently.
Lena could hear the steel in her voice, could see the shape of Supergirl surrounding Kara like an aura, and she smiled despite herself and her remaining nerves. Kara would be there, which meant that everything would be okay. If there was one thing Lena knew she could count on—it was Kara. Regardless of their relationship status or the lingering awkwardness that stained their frequent meetups, Kara would be there. The thought made her smile, even as she gently extracted herself from Kara’s firm embrace. “Then I’ll be just fine.”
//
“Lena dear, I was surprised to hear that you stopped by. You’ll have to forgive the sentiment; it’s just been so long since your last visit. If I remember correctly, you haven’t stopped by since they threw me in this wretched place. Finally come to gloat?”
Despite Lillian’s words, she seemed to look alright. Her hair was a touch longer than Lena remembered, brushing just past her shoulders, and somehow hadn’t lost its shine or volume whatsoever. Her eyes were still intense and calculating, her posture easy and relaxed despite the handcuffs keeping her locked to the table. All in all, if it hadn’t been for the bright orange prison uniform and chains, her adoptive mother looked as if she could’ve been at a country club.
Is there anything money can’t buy? Lena thought wryly, disillusioned. “Leave us, please?” She requested finally, meeting the guards eyes.
It would drive Lillian crazy, Lena knew. Being ignored, even just for a moment—it would chip at her haughty expression the longer it went on, the longer Lena denied her being the center of attention.
Narcissism.
“Regulation ma’am is one guard posted inside and one posted outside. I don’t know…” he tampered off a bit stiffly, resolutely not looking in Lillian’s direction. Either he really really hated the Luthor matriarch or—
“Oh for pity’s sake, Kyle. What am I going to do, hm?” Lillian raised her bound hands, rattling the cuffs that kept her chained to the table pointedly. “It’s not like I've got much room to move here. In fact, I want to see Andrews after all of this is over. He always does these too tight and I'm starting to think it’s not an accident.”
—or he was one of the guards she had apparently bribed while inside.
Lena watched as the tips of the guards ears turned red in shame, his shoulders hunching a bit as the CEO stared him down coolly. “Leave us.” This time the request was uttered as a demand, curt and short. The guard nodded meekly, gesturing vaguely outside the visiting room.
“I’ll just be… outside. Right outside, if you need anything.”
Lillian smirked, once again relaxed and leaning back in her chair. Cold brown eyes followed the subdued guard as he left the room before slipping back to Lena. “Please, have a seat. It’s been such a long time since we had a chance to catch up.”
Lena crossed the room slowly, keeping her steps even and light as she perched delicately in the chair across from her mother. “We both know I'm not here to ‘catch up’.”
“I figured as much, dear.” Lillian’s smirk gave way to something curious, nearly wanting. Her eyes hadn’t warmed any, but they lit up with an emotion Lena had never seen before. Something she couldn’t identify. “Which is why I reiterate my previous question, have you finally come to gloat?”
Narrowly resisting the urge to scoff, Lena settled more comfortably in the cold metal chair, keeping her guard up. “No, mother. Gloating has never been my style. That was you and Lex.”
The corner of Lillian’s lip twitched slightly downward before once again pressing into a thin smile. “Now Lena dear, you know how I feel about that particular conversation topic. This is hardly news, why bring it up?”
“Which conversation topic was that again? Gloating? Or Lex?”
A locked jaw, and she could practically see Lillian grinding her teeth in irritation. Lena discretely drew a few deep breaths to steady herself. Her heartbeat thudded loudly in her chest and she mentally willed the organ to calm, knowing Kara would burst in here the second she suspected Lena might be in danger. “What is your game here, exactly? We’ve established that you’re not here to reminisce, nor do I think the world is ending and you need my help to save it. So what, pray tell, are you doing?”
Riling you up, is what Lena thought, even as she shrugged with a carelessness she certainly didn’t feel. “Maybe I'm just reveling in it, being free while you and Lex are stuck behind bars.”
Another locked jaw, this time with a slight clench of a fist. Lena took another steading breath. “As we established, that’s not really your style. Last chance, dear. What do you want?”
“Last chance or what, exactly?”
Lillian stared her down, eyes cold and angry. “You’re not the only one with power in here, Lena dear. I can end this little reunion session whenever I want.”
“But you won’t,” Lena replied confidently, finally feeling comfortable enough to lean back slightly in her chair. She met Lillian’s dark gaze head on, lifting her own brow in slight challenge. “It would drive you crazy. Why, after all these years, would I decide to visit? You couldn’t handle not knowing.”
Several heavy, thick moments passed by in complete silence. Lena kept her breaths slow and calm, forcing herself to meet Lillian’s searching gaze. Her heartbeat thankfully remained even, slow enough that the danger of Kara crashing through the doors—civilian clothes and all—was incredibly unlikely. Truthfully, that thought is what kept her composure intact. The knowledge that if there was even a possibility that Lena was in danger, Kara would risk it all to save her. It’s what gave her the strength to look directly into Lillian’s eyes without flinching.
Finally, after an eternity of staring, Lillian spoke. “What do you want, Lena?”
Bingo.
Narrowly resisting the urge to exhale a breath of relief, Lena thought about how best to phrase her question. The absence of dear meant that she actually had Lillian’s attention, her full attention. It was a window, albeit a brief one, where Lena might be able to actually get some answers. All of the questions she wanted to ask jumbled up in her head, rising and tripping over themselves as they all clawed to get to her tongue first. Despite the multitude of them, in the end they really all boiled down to only one. “Why?”
“Why what?”
Why wasn’t I good enough? Why couldn’t you love me? Why didn’t you give me a chance? Why cou—”Why couldn’t you be a mother to me?” There it was, the question that had been screaming in the back of her mind since she was a child, after every fake pose with cameras and award tucked away on a shelf somewhere. She did everything Lillian asked, tried her best to uphold the Luthor reputation with the dignity and excellence she once thought it deserved. Why hadn’t it been enough?
Lillian narrowed her eyes in suspicion, even as her eyebrow rose in slight surprise. “That’s why you're here, after all these years? What on Earth brought this—”
Lena could see the exact moment Lillian drew her conclusion, heard the quiet rasp of a suddenly sucked in breath. “Irrelevant,” she answered hastily, before her mother had a chance to regain her footing. “Why I'm asking is irrelevant to you, but it’s what I want to know. Why I'm here. If you can’t answer that, then spare us both the trouble and say so. No sense in wasting time.”
After another borderline excruciating stretch of silence, Lillian hummed thoughtfully. “It is precious, isn’t it? Time, that is.”
Lena felt her eyes close briefly, the familiar sense of disappointment slinking down her spine as she chuckled mirthlessly. She should have known better than to hope, not when things never seemed to quite work out for her. “And you're deflecting. I’d say its been fun, but that would be a lie.” As she went to stand, Lillian quickly reached out to stop her.
The cuffs prevented Lillian from actually catching her hand, but the abrupt movement froze Lena all the same. “I'm not deflecting. What you asked is… it’s a loaded question.” For the first time in her life, Lena saw Lillian look slightly unsure. That same almost wanting expression, except now it was clearer. Almost startlingly clear and Lena had absolutely no idea what to do with it, wasn’t even sure what Lillian wanted exactly.
There was only one way to find out, and Lena slowly lowered herself back into the chair, giving her mother a tight nod.
“I spent so much time building Lex up, preparing him to take over the Luthor mantle one day.” Lillian’s eyes went distant, slightly unfocused as her brow creased. Lena swallowed thickly at the mention of her brother, pressing both of her palms down on her knees to keep her legs from bouncing anxiously. It was a bad habit she’d picked up from Kara, one she’d been unable to kick despite years of trying. “He was so smart, even then. Especially then. And I knew if I just gave him enough time and resources, he could change the world.”
Lena fought back a shudder, locking her jaw stiffly at the memory of a red sun against her skin. It had been beautiful, and for a brief moment of blissful ignorance, she had stared up in absolute awe.
And then a flash of green had shot across the burning red of the sky, heading straight for the suddenly falling form of Metropolis’ Man of Steel, and reality had sharply snapped back into focus.
“I still remember it, you know,” Lillian continued thoughtfully, her lips twisting into a strained smile as Lena refocused. “He was seven, I believe. One of the maids had found something peculiar when cleaning his room that morning. A knife. Just a switchblade, nothing too drastic. But she had noticed the dried blood on it and brought it to me. I, of course, went to investigate and Lex was…” Lillian’s fragile smile melted away into something aching, confused. “The bird. I'm not even sure if it was old enough to fly yet, but he had—”
Lena swallowed back a mouthful of bile, feeling a sort of numbness tingle in her fingers as Lillian kept talking.
“He told me it was for science, that he had just been curious and hadn’t meant to hurt it. Kept insisting it, really. I believed him and took care of the bird. Buried it in the backyard. A few months later, our neighbors cat went missing. She was an old thing, harmless and—well, you get the picture. I found Lex in the backyard with it, right next to where I had buried the bird.”
The numbness had spread up her arms and was making its way to her chest. Lena felt cold, empty. “You—”
“There were signs,” Lillian interrupted swiftly, seemingly oblivious to the hysteria rising in Lena. “But I had put so much time into him, and it was—I didn’t see it. He was going to be the Luthor that changed the world, that saved millions with his brilliance. I just knew it.” Lillian trailed off and met Lena’s burning gaze thoughtfully. “And then you. You were a variable, one I hadn’t expected or wanted, really.”
Lena tried to hide her subtle flinch, not wanting to show that her old scars weren’t quite as healed as she would have liked. “That’s it, then? Because you didn’t want me?”
Lillian tsked, shaking her head in disappointment. “You know as well as I do that things are rarely that simple. It’s as I said earlier, your question was loaded. Now, would you like me to continue?”
After a moment of thought, Lena nodded.
“Very well. Lex was someone I had been prepared for, someone I had poured time and effort into. I wanted him to reach his full, glorious potential. I spent his life readying him for it. But you… it was different. You were different. I hardly spent any time with you and yet…” Lillian trailed off again, meeting Lena’s eyes with something like respect. It was far too close to the look Lena had been craving from her adoptive mother, the approval part of her still desperately wanted, even now. She looked away. “That day, two years after you came to live with us.”
Lena knew it well, remembered the pleasant surprise on Lex’s face, even as his brows had furrowed in slight vexation. The sound of Lionel’s huff of laughter. The shadow cast by Lillian as she stood impassive in the doorway. Her own pride burning in her chest as she looked around at her family and beamed, pleased to show them that she was worth it. That they hadn’t made a mistake by bringing her into their family. Their family. What a joke. “The day I beat Lex at chess.”
“The day you beat Lex at chess,” Lillian confirmed with a nod. “At first I thought he was letting you win, but I recognized the look on his face. It was the same one he had staring at the bird, that empty, searching look. So naturally, I did some damage control.”
Lena nearly scoffed, resolutely blinking back the tears that tried to surface. Is that really what she saw it as? Damage control, like Lex had been the only one she’d affected with her words. Like it hadn’t nearly bowed Lena over, the phantom pain of them still aching years later. “You told him to stop letting me win, that I would never learn how to stand on my own if he kept giving me handouts.”
Lillian hummed in acknowledgement, that same distanced look on her face. “Time. That’s what I think about the most when it comes to your brother. All of that time I spent, preparing him for a future he’d never really get to have.”
“By his own choices, mother.” Lena cut in tersely, feeling her jaw lock in barely repressed anger. “What about the potential he stole from all the people who were killed in his crusade against Superman? All the lives he took in the name of ‘collateral’. Surely not even your xenophobia runs deep enough to just excuse that—”
Lillian cut her off with a raised hand, a mildly irritated look on her face. “I'm not here to talk about my views on aliens or how they differ from yours. You asked me a question, Lena, and I am trying to give you an answer. I did give you an answer. Time.”
Lena exhaled a slow breath, feeling her brows furrow. Time. That was her answer? The reason Lillian couldn’t be a mother to her? “I don’t… What does that even mean?”
“Yes, time. The time I spent pushing Lex to be the best version of himself, time I spent teaching him how to act and react. The finer points of a deal. How to charm, how to wow. How to be confident without appearing aloof, how to be humble without appearing weak. Time, Lena. I gave him so much of it and you… you were still better. That day, that chess game, that’s when I knew. Knew you were destined to achieve more than him, knew you had the potential to go farther. All of those lessons, all of that time, and for what?”
Resentment was a bitter thing. Lena knew that better than most, knew how hard it was to claw herself out of its twisted grasp and rise above it. A challenge, sure, but she had faced worse. Had been forced to endure worse. After all, if the worth of a person was defined by their growth, what choice did she have? It was adapt and overcome or linger and settle.
And Lena had never been particularly good at settling.
Lillian apparently hadn’t gotten that message. Instead of growing like Lena had, she had chosen to regress. Let the bitterness of resentment lock her in both a cage of her own making and then later an actual cage. This was the cumulation of all those choices, Lena supposed, the very literal example of you reap what you sew. And in the face of all the information she had received, Lena… she laughed. Couldn’t help the cracked and broken sound that exploded from her, the way a sob would. All those days and nights where she buried her face in a textbook, denied herself sleep and food in the name of studying. Of making her family proud. Every award, every congratulations, every milestone goal she accomplished, reset and completed again.
It had never been for her. Not really.
They were all last-ditch efforts, desperation covered attempts. A blind, fruitless last hope at acceptance from someone she knew would never truly grant it. Just a bit more, she would think, one last award. One last trophy, then she’ll see. Then she’ll be proud.
The very thing she had convinced herself would earn her mother’s love was the very thing that stopped her from ever having a chance.
How useless. How utterly useless.
And then Lex.
All the time she had spent going over every interaction they’d ever had, combing them apart almost obsessively, trying to see where it had all gone wrong. Where she had failed him.
But that hadn’t been the case, had it? Because there had been signs—signs that Lillian had swept into a neat little pile and then promptly buried away. Like the bird. Like the cat. Like whatever other examples Lena hadn’t been privy to because she dared to upstage Lex in a competition she hadn’t even been aware she was competing in.
All those years. All that guilt. The crushing, crippling guilt. The nights she’d cried herself to sleep after losing the brother she adored, wondering why her love hadn’t been enough to save him from himself.
How. Fucking. Useless.
“I don’t…” Lena blinked down at the table, breathing sharply through her nose. She didn’t dare look up at Lillian, not trusting herself. No, if she looked up at her adoptive mother, the only thing she’d do was break her nose. “I need to go. Now.”
Lillian might’ve said something as Lena rose on unsteady legs, but it was white noise. Everything that wasn’t her own trembling breathing at that point was muffled, jumbled nonsense as the world stopped and spun backwards on its axis. She couldn’t think, not without her mind moving in hyper speed as it tried valiantly to shove everything Lena had just learned into its designated box. There wouldn’t be enough room, she knew. No way to fit them all.
It took every ounce of her self-control to keep her face neutral as she made her way back to the waiting room, looking cool and disinterested even as the remaining pieces of her heart disintegrated into nothing. To keep her steps light and casual as she headed towards the one person she knew would make it better.
Kara was bopping her head along absently to whatever song was playing through the buds tucked securely in her ears, fingers twitching and tapping anxiously on a muscular thigh. The moment Lena spotted the blonde, the tapping suddenly stopped and blue eyes instantly met her own. Lena didn’t say a word—she didn’t have to. The second their eyes met, Kara was up an across the room and tugging her into a warm hug, lips murmuring soothing words against Lena’s ear as she carefully led them out the door.
For an indiscernible amount of time, that was all Lena felt. Warmth and the sweet honey-vanilla scent of Kara’s shampoo, wind through her hair and arms around her body. Words were thick and inaudible, nonsensical murmurings that she didn’t even try to catch, just followed the gentle tug of the hand clasped in her own until she was lifted up.
How very odd it was to know she was in emotional turmoil, but still feel very little of it. Each and every wall she had every created throughout her turbulent childhood had raised simultaneously in a foolish attempt to ward off the pain and the world around her had stilled because of it. Lena wondered—absently, distantly—if she had at least acknowledged the guards as they left. If she had walked with any sense of dignity, or if Kara had carried her out of the prison. She hoped not.
The press would have a field day with that.
But truly, most of all, she wondered if she had ever stood a chance. If the universe had ever looked down at her with anything other than contempt, content to watch her fight and struggle with no apparent relief after all was said and done. No family. No brother. No girlfriend.
No Kara.
Except she did have Kara, didn’t she? In a sense, at least. As a friend, which was both a blessing and a curse. As a confidant, but not a partner. As a comfort, but not a lover. It was relief and torture and beautiful and tragic and more words than Lena could articulate, but enough to bring her back to the present and the woman who would always hold Lena’s tattered, aching heart in her incomprehensibly tender hands.
Hands that were currently holding her against a rapidly beating heart, one running through her hair and one pressed against her shoulder, keeping her curled against Kara’s solid frame. She was positioned against the blonde, settled securely across taunt thighs and tucked under a sharp jaw. There was a gentle vibration against the top of her head and Lena blinked to focus in on it, cuddling closer when the arm around her tightened.
“—fault. Rao, I'm so sorry Lena. I knew this was a bad idea, I knew it! But you were so determined, and I didn’t want to… I should have, though. Because she isn’t worth this, nothing is worth this. I'm so sorry, baby. This is all my fault.”
Lena squirmed until the arms around her loosened the slightest bit, and looked up into shining, teary blue eyes. She made no move to get out of Kara’s embrace, just reached up and swiped her thumbs against the tear-tracks on the blonde’s cheeks. “None of this is your fault, darling. I was the one who insisted on going, and I don’t regret it. Please don’t blame yourself.”
Kara gaped, looking down at her incredulously. “Don’t regret going? Lena I had to fly you here, I was so worried. You just—stopped talking! We hugged and then I led you to the check out and you thanked the guards and the second we turned around, you checked out. I tried everything! Calling your name, leading you outside, hugging you again but you were just gone! Somewhere I couldn’t follow, so I flew you here.”
“Flew me…. What about the car?”
A gentle, halfhearted shrug before suddenly guilty blue eyes focused elsewhere. “I-I melted the cameras. And then I waited until the guards where facing the opposite way and I flew the car over the gate, the backside of it. Then I came back for you and flew you home. To my apartment, I mean. Flew you to my apartment.”
Lena kindly ignored the slipup, even as her heart twinged at the word home. She had no idea what that meant, not anymore. This—the lap-sitting and snuggling and pet names—it was all temporary. A ceasefire during an overwhelming moment, a brief pause in a reality that neither one of them had seen coming. “You left? I never… I felt your arms around me like, the whole time. I wasn’t… my mind is a mess, but I felt you.”
“I was fast, very fast. Super-fast.” Kara assured. “And I texted Alex the exact coordinates of the car, she and Maggie are on the way to go and pick it up.”
She let a gentle hum of acknowledgement be her answer and tucked back into the comforting cradle of Kara’s hold. Lena could feel the blonde gearing up to ask questions, could see the cogs turning in her brilliant mind even as she instinctively moved to hold Lena with just the right amount of pressure. “I asked why she couldn’t have been a better mother to me, or a mother at all really.”
Kara sucked in a sharp breath but didn’t say anything. Her hand once again moved to smooth through Lena’s hair and the raven-haired woman leaned into the offered comfort with a shaky sigh.
“I just wanted to know,” Lena confessed quietly. “I wanted to know what was so fundamentally wrong with me that I wasn’t worth her love or attention.”
Kara made an affronted, almost offended sound. “Baby no, that’s not—”
“I know that logically Kara, I just needed to hear her explanation. Her reasoning, I guess. I wanted something.” Lena’s voice cracked over the last syllable, and she cleared her throat softly, trying to dispel the lump that had settled at the base of it. Her walls were straining, hairline fractures racing against their surface as they tried in vain to protect her from the oncoming storm of pain. She could practically feel the phantom press of insecurity and worthlessness crawling, black and tar-like and creeping up her spine. “She was open, and surprisingly honest. I wasn’t expecting such a straightforward answer, even if it did take her a few mental exercises to get there. Blunt. Painfully so, really.”
“That sounds… not like her. Do you know why she…?” Kara trailed off gently, hesitantly.
Truthfully, Lena did have the slightest inkling of an idea. A quiet whisper. A drop of knowledge in the form of cool blue eyes shooting to her stomach. But that wound was raw and bleeding and aching, the absolute last thing she wanted to do was pour some salt over its still throbbing, pulsing surface—so Lena shrugged. “No idea. Latent guilt, maybe?”
“Maybe,” Kara murmured, unconvinced but unwilling to push. She could read Lena just as easily as Lena could read her, so her grip tightened in comfort right as the knot in the raven-haired woman’s throat thickened and the walls cracked. “What happened, Lena? What did she say to you?”
“A lot.” Lena admitted in a cracked whisper, her voice catching and breaking over the words. The walls splintered and crumbled, and the illusion of strength was lost in an instant as the weight of Lillian’s words pressed down onto her shoulders. They were in her head and in her heart and in her fucking lungs and Lena couldn’t breathe through them, couldn’t do anything more than gasp and choke on her tears as her walls fell and her boxes teetered dangerously, a hairsbreadth from following.
Through it all there was a pressure around her, a warmth that wouldn’t let the darkness engulf her completely. Lena clung to it—to Kara—and finally, finally let herself cry.
//
“I don’t know what I'm doing.” It felt important to say that, to get it out there, so there would be no misunderstandings. If Lena was supposed to have the slightest idea what was going to be expected of her, then this whole thing was about to end in a massive failure. For once in her life, she genuinely did not know what was about to happen.
The woman across from her grinned though, patient and soothing. Her eyes were a warm brown, an irrefutable kindness and compassion shining in their depths that damn near mirrored Kara’s, and Lena felt herself relax just the slightest bit. Whatever was about to follow, Lena knew this woman was ineffably good. She could feel it. “That’s alright, Miss Luthor. That’s why I'm here.”
“Lena please, and I know that. I think. I just—” Lena paused, searching for the right words. An explanation. Something to give the woman across from her besides half-uttered sentences and jumbled, messy thoughts. “I have a lot of boxes, and I thi—I know that I need to unpack them. And I need help.”
Saying the words didn’t feel weak, like Lena thought it would. Lillian’s taunts and whispers were drowned out by the sheer sense of relief that followed; a wave so potent it nearly bowed her over. The feeling must have shown, a feasible and tangible thing, because the woman across from her smiled.
In fact, Lena would even say that she looked proud.
“Alright then Lena,” Doctor Olsen clicked her pen before once again giving Lena that same soothing, gentle look. “Let’s get started.”