Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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Her shift ends.

Maggie trades her squad car for her personal one and makes the drive home in bumper to bumper traffic. Where’s Igor when she needs him? Not that she could imagine having a chauffeur. It might be nice to close her eyes and let someone else do the driving. On those days and nights when she’s tired. The last thing she needs is for Supergirl to stop her car from going off a highway overpass again. She’d be so disappointed in her.

The sky spills into the distance, pale blue with soft pink clouds, pulled like cotton candy. The roofs of cars ahead of her shine with bright color. Her thoughts idle, ticking like her turn signal. Tick, tick, tick.

She thinks of her coffee date Monday afternoon with Lena. Her nerves fraying as she waited on the balcony of Lena’s office, worried about how their conversation might go. If Lena would have taken the weekend to decide it wasn’t anything she would pursue after all. It wouldn’t be the first time. Easy girls never get the girl. That’s what they say. Or would if the world wasn’t so heteronormative.

Maggie waited for Lena’s meeting to finish, wondering what would happen if Supergirl were to land on that balcony. Supergirl didn’t arrive but Lena did, wearing a deep blue blouse. She stood at the balcony door with a smile. Hey. So much of the tension Maggie was holding slipped away. They made jokes about the blouse’s plunging neckline. About gaining monopolies. Their kiss skirted on tender. Calming. It made her heady. Lena palmed a hand to her face.

The green turn signal comes up and Maggie drives. Now she listens to the hum and crank of the car. She glances at the newspapers sitting in the passenger seat. They tend to be her only company. The past few weeks the car has had more passengers than she’s used to. Lena. Kara. It’s been months for Alex. The last time was when they ran into each other at the park during the rainstorm. Alex issued another one of her apologies. The open relationship was new then but Alex didn’t know. Alex’s thumb touched along her forehead. It scarred. Maggie worries that Alex takes it as a failure.

They met last night.

Alex kicked her ass at pool. They drank another few pints of beer and while she felt herself relax, she can’t say the same for Alex. Her energy crackled, her gaze like a lance that Maggie worked to remove. It’s about raising walls. They circled the pool table like sharks, Maggie catching her glances and releasing them. Watching as she lined up her shots. Later they walked out together, talking about nothing that mattered. Every moment was weighted. Maggie reclined against her car, smoking a cigarette, while Alex stood beside her, arms crossed, chin dipped in thought. Maggie watched her through the haze of smoke. Alex has always been serious and intense. Her silences aren’t peaceful. Her silences are bottled storms. Maggie wanted to kiss her. An impulse, selfish desire, nothing grounded in thought or sense. In love? She may be in an open relationship but she’s not a hedonist. They parted ways, Maggie with an apologetic smile. See you around, Danvers. Alex walked away. Some part of Maggie was relieved.

Friday and Saturday: Lena.

Sunday: Kara.

Monday: Coffee with Lena. Phone conversation with Alex.

Tuesday: Alex at the alien bar.

Work, work, work.

She’s tired. How does anyone do this? How do they have the time? The resources? The emotional capacity? She skipped out on the opportunity for OT tonight. The body found inside the dumpster was more than enough for the day, thank you very much. The uniforms and detectives made jokes while the scene was being blocked off and the CSIs took their pictures. Maggie smiled and laughed between sips of coffee. What does this work do to a person?

Maggie looks at her odometer. Five miles per hour, on the highway. A car accident, she thinks. Someone who won’t ever be coming home again, maybe. Others who will wonder what their last words were, what they would be had they known. Another forty minutes pass before she gets home.

She parks and grabs the stack of newspapers before entering her building. A walk up the creaking stairs and she enters her apartment, throwing the newspapers onto the coffee table in front of the couch. She sheds her jacket, hanging it on the hook by the door before pulling the cell from her back pocket. She reads Kara’s text again and smiles.

Just Kara 4:42pm: Supergirl put out a forest fire today. All the birds were fleeing so she got to fly with a flock of geese. They’re friendlier in the sky. Majestic, even. Maybe they wish they were up there all the time and that’s why they’re so cranky and take it out on you on the ground?

Maybe they’re not so far removed. They’re a work in progress. Maggie will continue her efforts into being patient, giving, and grateful. It’s harder for her than it is for people like Kara and Lena. But Maggie knows she should be grateful. She is grateful. She sent Kara a response but hasn’t heard back yet. Maybe Kara has nothing to say in return.

She goes to her bedroom, grabs a pair of scissors from the desk pressed against the wall and returns to the living room. Maybe tomorrow there will be a story about Supergirl putting out a fire. She wonders if there will be a shot of the geese flying off, Supergirl amongst them. She doubts it. But it would be nice. In the meantime, there’s a photograph of her hoisting a collapsed highway onto her shoulders, terrified onlookers frozen while others flee to safety. The National City infrastructure is terrible but Maggie can’t say she’s surprised given the constant alien and terrorist attacks they have to withstand.

Looks like a job for Supergirl. Or better yet, a unionized construction crew. It shouldn’t always be Supergirl using heat vision to weld metal back into place. Those aliens are taking our jobs. She hears that kind of crap at the station. Maggie smooths out the newspaper on the coffee table, before cutting out the article and picture. Her cuts are straight and neat. No jagged edges.

She cuts out the crossword puzzle, too. Kara likes them. She isn’t sure how Kara’s mind works. She pictures it constantly spinning, curious and eager for understanding and discovery. In a different way than her own. Maybe something about puzzles is soothing to her. She likes words, etymology. It makes sense though ‘sense’ isn’t always an indicator of validity.

Maggie takes the clippings with her to the bedroom, opening the desk drawer and putting the Supergirl pieces with all the other ones she’s saved. She hasn’t told Kara she does this, doesn’t know if she’d think it was weird. This all started with Batwoman. Gathering whatever she could to try to figure out who the mysterious masked woman getting a jump on all her crime scenes was. Kate and Kara both have a knack for interfering with due process and her job. Both got under her skin.

Maggie doesn’t know how she would explain it if Kara ever found the stash. It’s unlikely. Kara doesn’t visit often. In any case, Maggie’s not sure why she saves the pictures and articles of Supergirl. She started after she found out who she was. Is it strange? No. It’s a cop thing. It’s also a serial killer thing.

But she’s not a serial killer. It’s nice to see all of Supergirl’s good deeds. She inspires people. And she’ll continue to inspire her, along with Kara. It’s a reminder of all the good there is in National City, of all the lives being saved. They don’t work together, and the Supergirl defense has officially gotten old, but they work for the same purpose: the safety of National City. It’s too bad there isn’t a picture with the geese. She wonders if Jimmy Olsen has one. It would be easy to ask her to the park, to take a picture then, but the ask seems too daunting. Can I get a picture of you? Not a picture of ‘us’. There is an ‘us’. Shaky as they are. But they’ll never have that picture, will they, like Kara has by her easel. She can’t imagine the two of them existing in each other’s walls, something on display. What they are. What they’re worth.

She closes the drawer gently, settles the crossword stack at the corner of the desk with the others she’s saved. They’re weighed down by the pot of the first bonsai tree to die in her care. She has to be more careful. She told Lena she’d pick up another one, take pictures. She hasn’t yet. She doesn’t know when she will. She’ll bring the crosswords to Kara later.

She leaves the bedroom, goes to the freezer. A lone shrimp scampi dinner remains. She takes it out, ripping the box open and throwing it into the microwave. Not as nice as a picnic with Kara or dinner in bed with Lena. She folds her arms on the counter, watching the tray spin slowly. Her thoughts return to her meeting with Alex at the alien bar. Was it cruel to not tell Alex how she feels? Isn’t it crueler to lead her on when there’s nothing she can offer her? Kara, Lena and work already take up the majority of her time. They’re both so gentle she feels like a wrecking ball around them most of the time. And if she’s a wrecking ball, Alex is a nuke. But there’s something calming about that kind of directness. She won’t ever question that Alex cares.

The dinner finishes and Maggie pulls it out, balancing it on her fingertips, setting it on the table. She finds a fork and sits at the kitchen table, eating in the quiet. She hopes Kara’s having a nice evening. After the fire today, and the mess, she hopes she got a nice shower. She hasn’t taken a shower with Kara yet. She wonders if she ever will. She thinks of Lena. Okay, then I’m going to go down on you. Would you like that?

Maggie finishes the dinner, throwing the plastic tray into the recycling bin. She washes the fork, drying it and returning it to the utensil drawer. Her GCPD coffee mug is sitting by the sink. There’s a hairline crack on the side from when she dropped her tea the first night Kate arrived, bleeding, clad in black, the crimson bat symbol on her chest, her mask in tatters. Come on, Mags, I’m about to pass out, so please help me now and gape later.

She puts the coffee mug in the cabinet, thinking again of the coffee break with Lena on Monday. It’s easy to focus at work. When she’s alone, thoughts and memories lap over her, unbeckoned. She wades through them. Once they left the balcony and got into the office, Lena sensed… something. She was anxious, too. So… no regrets? Lena asked. None on my end, for the record. She has a playful way about her. Circling before returning to the question at hand. She provides her time to adjust. Maggie found a smile. How could I regret a thing like that?

They talked. Flirted. Kissed. Lena told her about the 92 year old conservative trust fund baby she was meeting for lunch. The one who always offers Lena a cigar when they order coffee at the end of a meal. Maggie told her about upcoming interviews. They want to watch each other work. Is it as strange for Lena to hear as it is for her? To watch someone at their craft implies worth and value. Who praises the CEO of L-Corp? Lillian? Who would it have to be for it to matter to Lena? To take pride in it? Maybe she doesn’t need anyone like that.

Maggie returns to the living room and starts the record player. The Etta James vinyl spins, the arm stretching out to the record before returning to its original position. Maggie frowns and tries again to the same result. “Come on, not you, too.” The walkman died two nights ago. She smacks the side of the record player, resulting in a screech of music before she quickly lifts the arm and sets it back to its starting position. She closes the cover. She'll have to take it to the shop.

No music, then. She sits on the couch, thinking back to Lena. The anxiety she experiences always dulls when they’re together. And so it was on Monday. Their hands wandered, Lena's resting beneath her shirt, rising up, cupping her. To think that only the week before they’d barely moved past chaste kisses.

I know I’m acting like a teenager but… this is really nice. I'd already forgotten how much.

Then let’s be teenagers together. I never really got to do that with anyone my age.

Lena told her she’d only had three lovers. Jack, Alex, herself. Another revelation said in whispers between kisses. Maggie flushes thinking about it. She can’t be sure whether Lena was teasing or not. She likes to do that, yet she’s sincere. Maggie doesn’t know what to think. She was the first woman Alex took to bed. If Alex was Lena’s first… She can’t overthink it. It doesn’t matter. Inevitably this ends up happening in small circles of queer women. But to say or even think that they pass each other around is cheap. Lena isn’t like that. Neither are Alex and Kara.

They parted; Maggie back to work to run interviews, Lena to meet with the conservative ninety-two year old trust fund baby. Want to come with me to the business lunch? Lena asked. I’ll tell her you’re my gal pal who’s been working very closely with the company these past few months, and that half an hour before this lunch, we were making out on the couch she usually sits on. That way, she’ll have a heart attack and kick the bucket and I’ll never hear from her again.

A tempting offer. A handful of lingering kisses later and Maggie was able to extricate herself from the situation, exiting the office with rumpled clothing she hastily had to put back into order. That was Monday afternoon. Now it’s Wednesday evening.

They never set up a time to meet or call, instead saying they wanted to hear about how their prospective follow ups went. She takes out her cell, pulling up Lena’s contact information. She’s uncharacteristically nervous about reaching out to her. Your tongue has been inside her. You’re past the point of being shy. True.

A breath. She texts.

Did you pitch the crone into the oven or do you need your gal pal to come to the rescue?

Lena Luthor 8:03pm: I smoked a cigar. I am a changed woman.

From her smoldering corpse or?

Sorry, too dark?

Lena Luthor 8:08pm: No, sadly she lit it for me with her 5k zippo. If I thought the perfume I was wearing that day didn't smell right, that cigar sure put things into perspective.

Maggie smiles. Lena complained about her perfume when they met, listed it as one, of many reasons she hadn’t initiated a kiss. Maggie leaned forward, drew in her scent, kissed her neck. I’m afraid I’m unconvinced by your first reason.

She fires back a text:

My last lighter ran 99 cents. Someone doesn't know how to bargain shop. 

In the market for a new perfume, then?

Lena Luthor 8:13pm: On the other hand, I'm pretty sure she hasn't had to buy a lighter for the past 60 years so maybe she's the savvy shopper in the end? And I'm always in the market for a new perfume. I have my go-tos but variety is the spice of life. How did those follow-up interviews go?

If I buy 5 lighters a year for the next 30 years it'll still run me 150 dollars. I'll pocket the other cash for a retirement home. If I’m able to survive the last day before I retire.

If you pick up new perfumes and I'll be your lab rat. Let you know if they make it unbearable to be around you.

As for the follow up interviews, they went okay... one of the guys lawyered up with a really bad attorney. The accomplice found a great one that likes to get cases thrown out on technicalities. Luckily my work is up to snuff. I took a lot of notes.

Lena Luthor 8:20pm: (she smokes like a chimney. I think five lighters would last her a couple of weeks tops. I don't understand how she's still alive.) You do seem quite meticulous. Do you take handwritten notes?

(Maybe she's not human).

I do take handwritten notes! Easier to remember that way. Electronic notes can be lost in the server or cloud or hardware crashes. Not to mention hacked. Handwritten it is. Is that terribly offensive to a tech genius like you?

Lena Luthor 8:32pm: Even if I did take offense, it's not up to you, is it? I imagine you're following NCPD procedures. But as it happens, I don't find it offensive in the slightest. You know those initiatives that have sprung up all over the country these past few years to help scan all the ancient manuscripts etc. sleeping in the archives of libraries big and small, make it all available to the public? L-Corp sure is doing its part. Best of both worlds.

I'd hate to not be called one of the most uptight NCPD officers on the force. Following procedure is akin to a compulsion for me. But that sounds like a great project. Old things should be preserved, even if they're not in my preferred form. Call me old fashioned, but there's something about the feel of something in your hands.

Old things disappear often, their memories lost to the wayside. Things should be documented. Remembered. Paper is tangible. Photographs, tangible. Things worth preserving, worth remembering. Digital is vulnerable to manipulation. The traces of their vanishing harder to find. She doesn’t remember what she looked like as a child anymore. As a child you're dependent on those around you. She rubs her forehead.

Thinks of the tulips she photographed in the hotel room. Digital photograph. She never prints the pictures in her phone gallery. They exist until something happens. The phone is destroyed or crashes, until something happens to no longer warrant that memory. She remembers Lena's breath against her shoulder.

I haven't been able to stop thinking of that night with you.

It's honest, but she regrets telling her. Even if it seems important to her that Lena know. Lena's been open with her. At least when it comes to the two of them. Isn’t returning that sincerity the least she can do?

Minutes pass without a response. Her palms start to sweat. Maybe it was wrong to tell her.

Lena Luthor 8:45pm: The next time I'm given a tour of some prominent establishment's archives because they're trying to convince me to support their digitization effort, I'll let you tag along.

And it's been on my mind, too. I'd love to spend some time with you outside the office again soon.

Maggie exhales. Touches her lips, smiles, going to the kitchen and retrieving a beer. She'll have to take Lena to one of the breweries. Maybe one of the more upscale ones. Lena hasn’t struck her as particularly snobbish. She didn’t like the one she brought back to Kara's the night of the dinner party. Something else, then. She wonders if she'll ever be invited to Lena's home. It was ages before Kara invited her inside. The thought of having Lena over to hers is mortifying. So what if it’s clean? It’s a ruin. Sometimes she wonders why she’s still here. She can afford better. But Lena wants to see her again. That’s what matters. It shouldn’t be a revelation. Not after they parted ways on Saturday. Or Monday. Why does she like her so much…? She shouldn’t like her so much. It’s an infatuation. It’s new. That’s all. And temporary, until Kara and Lena manifest. It’s okay to be free with her sincerities, easier when there’s an expiration date, when there’s no commitment.

I'd like that. To come along on the tour.

And to spend time with you outside the office, obviously.  I enjoyed our morning, too. So...

She feels hot. It’s the beer. It’s all this sappy bullshit she’s typing out to Lena Luthor. If Kara read it (she wouldn’t care), if Alex read it… She bites her lip. Being as removed from Kara as she has been has made her memories fuzzy. Forget beautifully composed shots by easels. There are no photographs of them together, period. Maggie hasn’t dared to take one, Kara hasn't thought to. Or maybe she has and decided against it. When was the last time she and Kara spent the night together? When she broke her rib. And before then? She can’t remember.

Lena Luthor 8:52pm ...so, would you like to meet up for dinner somewhere this week? Or next weekend.

She finds herself smiling and tries to squash it. Does she mean this coming weekend or the following weekend? What does dinner entail? Just dinner? More? She’d prefer to see her sooner rather than later. What happened to being exhausted? Sometimes it’s worth being exhausted. She tries to be clear.

I would love to meet for dinner sometime this week.

Lena Luthor 9:01pm: I'm not doing anything after work this week, except for Thursday, so what works for you works for me. I'd love for you to pick the place, this time.

I can do that. I'll take care of everything.

She grimaces, unsure of what exactly ‘everything’ entails. She writes again.

I'm sorry if this is really forward or inappropriate, but I would love to spend the night with you again. I can find a place for dinner but if you'd like to spend more time together afterward, we can do that, too. If you only have time for dinner I understand. Even if you do have time and just want to take things slowly. I can take things slow with you.

It’s not about the sex. She feels a flicker of panic. No, it is about the sex. No. It’s about the friendship Lena has offered her. It’s about their conversation. That makes her feel more at ease. She won’t deny the rest is fun. Feels good. They’re friends with benefits. This one just feels different than those previous arrangements. She never had a girlfriend and a friend with benefits on the side, for one. That’s why it feels different. She has to adjust.

Lena Luthor 9:09pm: Dinner and more sounds perfect. I was afraid to ask, or that you'd think I was feeling entitled to too much of your time. I just want to make sure you know I'd take just dinner over nothing in a heartbeat.

Maggie breathes a sigh of relief, taking a long drink of the beer. She wonders what Lena had for dinner tonight, whether she’ll be having a glass of her favorite wine.

Me too. Are you free Friday night? If you need to look through your schedule and get back to me that's okay.

They did Friday last time. Maybe it’s too much for Lena. It’s important to give her an escape. A way for them both to salvage their dignity if she’s being too presumptuous.

Lena Luthor 9:11pm: I can pretty much make it work every week night, except for Thursday, as long as we don't meet up before 8pm or so. So just let me know what works best for you, even on short notice.

Let's plan for Friday night. I'm not on call this weekend so if you don't have an L-Corp merger or whatever in the works we won't have to rush off at the crack of dawn.

She should flush the phone. Stop texting. She doesn’t like writing things down. This conversation would be better on the phone. She’s saying too many things that could be dissected and analyzed. Evidence. She nearly asks where she’d like to have breakfast. She won’t ask where to have breakfast.

Lena Luthor 9:15pm: That will certainly make the rest of the week fly by (weekly call from Cassius scheduled for Friday 4pm fml).

Fun. You'll regale me with stories of Wallis later on if need be. I'm looking forward to seeing you, too.

Her stomach clenches. Should she have said that? Kara's her girlfriend. Things are improving with her. She feels guilty only because things with Lena are … easier, lighter, fun. But that’s what happens with airy things. With weightless, impermanent things. Lena and Kara have an easier time, too, maybe because there’s the reassurance of permanence. Time. Maggie touches her temple. Is this what she should be doing? What about Alex?

No. She’s doing the right thing with Alex. The best thing she can do. Things with Kara are complicated and heavy. She needs to give that as much care and thought as she can. Lena's… a reprieve. Shelter from the storm. And Alex… what can she give her now? What that would be fair? Maybe once things settle down with Kara. Maybe once she adjusts to all of this. It’s going to take a bit to adjust to all of this. Is she allowed to experience a little joy with someone else? Why does it make her feel guilty? Shouldn’t she be honest? She gives Lena another out.

If something comes up and you need to reschedule just let me know.

Lena Luthor 9:19pm: Nothing will come up (unless Cleopatra the poodle passes away tragically and I'm expected to attend the wake overseas). I'm just glad you have time for me. I know you're busy.

Glad she has time for her? She is busy. But her post work hours are sprawling, despite their limited availability. She hasn’t asked to see Kara again. She won’t be clingy. She won’t push her. If Kara wants to see her Kara will ask. She hopes Kara will ask.

I try to make time when I think someone wants it. You're worth making time for. Oh. I made an Instagram thing. It's msawyer52. Maggie Sawyer was taken.

Lena Luthor 9:21pm: Did you send a request?

Maggie pulls open the app, tracks down Lena’s page, searching until she finds the ‘follow’ button. She’s established her own account and immediately set it to private, knowing the last thing she needs are the men and women she’s taken into custody (or ex-girlfriends), going over her (non-existent) gallery. She doesn’t intend to upload any pictures.

Lena Luthor 9:23pm: Got it. I'll send you a follow request, then. Obviously I'm not expecting you to post anything if you don't feel like it, or to fawn over my weekly updates on Lazarus (my sage plant that keeps dying and coming back to life).

She finds Lena’s request and approves it.

I've approved you. I still can't see your miraculous plant, though.

Lena Luthor 9:27pm: There, all sorted out. You're my seventh follower. Lucky number.

The app notifies her that the request has been approved. Lena’s page is as random as promised. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to her pictures. No people. Things. She thinks back to the one in Lena’s gallery with Kara soaking wet again. Crisis averted. She skims Lena’s gallery, afraid to let her eyes settle on something that will leave her feeling gutted.

And you're my first. I'm sure there's something to that number, too.

Lena Luthor 9:30pm: Probably. On day one, let there be light, on day seven, let there be rest, right?

That's a nice spin to put on it.

Lena Luthor 9:31pm: It is. Find poetry wherever you can is my motto.

You’re a romantic.

Lena Luthor 9:32pm: So are you.

Me? 
Okay. I do know you mean me.

Lena Luthor 9:35pm: No, my bad, I had you confused with the lady I spent a terribly romantic night with and who served me breakfast in bed last weekend. Silly me.

Is it that easy with Lena? They had hard conversations. Maggie shut her out but Lena was patient. Maggie did her best to be honest. Is that all it takes?

I'm relieved you found it romantic rather than frustrating. 

You deserve breakfast in bed. I can't say I've ever been called a romantic. I didn't know breakfast in bed qualified.

Lena Luthor 9:36pm: It does. Takes one to know one.

Does that earn the romantic little detective (better than angry little detective?) a question?

Lena Luthor 9:38pm: Absolutely. The romantic little detective gets to ask the romantic little scientist whatever she wants.

She silently acknowledges to herself that she would roll her eyes if anyone shared this exchange with her. That she would ridicule anyone else having this conversation. That she would hope the earth would swallow her if anyone were to read it. She’s not a romantic. She doesn’t do romantic things. Valentine’s Day remains a corporate scheme to monetize ‘love’. But maybe gestures are okay when love isn’t involved.

All right. How did the romantic little scientist... deduce what she did the night we were together?

You know.

‘You know’ is more diplomatic than ‘when you choked me’. She still remembers the pressure of Lena’s hand on her neck. Sensation heightened. She’s never asked anyone to do that. Hasn’t know she could trust anyone to do that. Alex would be appalled. Maybe, anyway. And Kara… Kara broke your rib. Kara could never.

Lena Luthor 9:47pm Ah. See, deductive reasoning would have gotten me nowhere. Inductive reasoning, though... but more prosaically, I just pay attention. Because that's what I do, but also, in that context? I'm not exactly sure of myself, so I guess I'm more attentive than most. And I wanted to make sure you were aware that you having a good time was my priority.

It’s usually the other way. Her partner’s good time their priority. Hers, too. She always had to be sure to deliver. She touches her fingers to her lips. She’s never been open about some of her more unconventional desires. Her family made her feel like a pervert. The kids at school did, too. How does one explain and ask for what they don’t fully understand themselves? Maybe it’s the kind of thing a shrink would have a field day with.

I've never known how to talk to anyone about that. It's weird. So I never ask—

I had a great time. I trust you'll ask if there's something you would like.

Lena Luthor 9:50pm: I will. But I'm afraid I'm terribly vanilla (which I know you approve of when it comes to ice cream, at the very least). I love figuring out what makes people tick, though. Or happy and content, in general. Maybe that's what I like. My own unconventional thing.

So it’s curiosity, then. The scientist in her, exploring and tinkering.

All right. But you'll tell me if you need more or less. I want you to have a nice time. We can take all the time you need.

She adds, quickly.

I don't mind vanilla.

The last thing she wants Lena to think is that she’s some kind of degenerate. That she’s opposed to what Lena is comfortable offering.

Lena Luthor 9:54pm: We can take all the time we need. That's what I'd like.

I didn't know if that would sound too...

'We' it is. That's what I'd like, too.

I hope that doesn't sound—

Lena Luthor 9:58pm: Good. There's been a lot of me, myself and I in my life. I could use some more we. Someone else to make time with.

Me too.

I mean before.

Obviously. But with you, too.

Her phone should be confiscated. This is an embarrassment. She worries she’s not making sense.

I'm happy to make time, love, you name it.

And I'm sure there are others happy to do the same.

Kara and Alex for example. Others. It grounds her to think that she isn’t the only one. Still, it might be best to flush the phone and forget everything she’s written.

Lena Luthor 10:01pm: Well, so far it's just you, and that's more than enough. Making friends, making time and making love is a pretty solid manifesto.

Maggie smirks faintly. Texts back. You're making me blush.

Lena Luthor 10:04pm: Blushing agrees with you. I would know, I've seen it.

Now her face is warm. I'd say it agrees with you even more. You flush everywhere.

Why is Lena Luthor single? Is she biding her time with Kara? Trying to give them space? Is she too busy to commit to a full time relationship? That would make sense. Maybe something casual is more attainable for her. Despite the Luthor name, Maggie doesn’t doubt there are legions who would be eager to be in a relationship with her. Who wouldn’t want to be with her?

Lena Luthor 10:07pm: It's a testament to my sincerity. Even if I felt like hiding how much I enjoy your company, my infernally pale complexion wouldn't let me.

Maggie remembers her in the shower. In bed. Her complexion hides nothing.

Then I will lovingly and gratefully gaze upon your sincerity.

Lena Luthor 10:10pm: Feel free to hug my sincerity, too. I have it on good authority that's it's a big softie, under the right circumstances.

Maggie’s mouth goes dry. All she has is the phantom sensation of Lena in her arms. It feels good to hold her.

I'll make sure we work on that.

My battery's dying.

She looks at the battery. 84%.

For our time together Friday night, would you prefer the same hotel as before or would you like me to find somewhere else?

Lena Luthor 10:13pm: "I want what you want." I'm fine with either. And for the record, simple is fine.

I'll cancel our reservation for Dubai. Mh. Safer that way, actually. I'll text you the details soon.

I can't wait to see you.

Lena Luthor 10:16pm: Dubai can wait. Unlike us, apparently. I'm glad I asked you out last week. I was expecting it to come bite me you know where, but it didn't. Anyway, I won't deplete your battery any further with my nonsense. Have a good night, Maggie. Highlight of my week, once again.

Mine, too.

She’s unable to hide her smile this time.

Sweet dreams, Lena.

She sets the phone on the desk in her bedroom, beside the two books on monochromes she took out from the library earlier this week. She showers.

When she exits she sees a blinking notification on her phone. Is it Lena with some other witticism?

Just Kara 5:40pm: [attachment]

The reception in her apartment has always been lousy. It’s better in the bedroom. Fitting. Kara responded to her text with a photograph. It’s no wonder it didn’t come through for hours. She runs a hand through her wet hair, looks at the picture attached. It’s a skilled drawing of a dopey looking goose with an olive branch. The green of the leaf is bright. She smiles faintly but doesn’t know what to say. It’s been hours since it was sent. ‘Cute' isn’t enough. Maybe it's condescending. She doesn’t respond. She picks up one of the library books, taking it to the bed with her. Maybe she’ll have something better to say in the morning.

X

“And here we are. Right before I ran the tank to empty.”

When the engine and the music fall silent, Lena realizes the hum of the city is gone. She looks around. The small restaurant nearby casts a warm glow in the night. They drove along curvy mountain roads, catching glimpses of the ocean. She turns to Maggie.

“That quite the change of scenery. I love it.”

Maggie playfully undoes Lena’s seatbelt. Probably a good idea. It seems like the easiest thing when Maggie does it, but Lena knows she’d be wrestling with it for entirely too long. She hasn’t gotten the hang of it yet. Kara may feel clumsy about all sorts of things, but she has nothing on Lena when it comes to locked doors and fiddly seatbelts.

“I was counting on you being too busy to stop and smell the flowers to have been here before. It's a bit of a drive, but it's a nice view.”

Maggie’s smiling, a little embarrassed. About the forty-five minute drive? About the darkness obscuring the view? Lena returns her smile and opens the passenger door. Fails to open the passenger door. All right. Maggie pushed it open from the outside the week before, so pulling it should do the trick. It does not. “Have you been here before?” She asks, still smiling while trying to discreetly get that bloody door open.

Maggie laughs quietly. Right, so much for discretion. “I haven't eaten here. I found it one night when I couldn't sleep. I was driving. It was a light in the dark. So I came over and took a look at the menu and told myself I'd come back. But I did read extensively on it and it has rave reviews. I thought we could have our first go at it. You know, tonight.” She kisses her cheek. “Need help with the door?”

Lena narrows her eyes at the offending door. “Yes. How do you open it from the inside?”

“You put your shoulder into it. But don't, you'll bruise. Um. I'll get that fixed for next time. I promise this isn't some scheme to trap you.”

Maggie is out of the car and going around to the side, opening the door before Lena has had a chance to say anything. She extends her hand. Lena wants to take it and brush a proper, aristocratic hand-kiss to it, just to see Maggie’s reaction. She raises her index finger instead, looking up at her. “One moment, please.” She closes the door, puts her shoulder into it, fails twice to get it open, and almost falls out when it unexpectedly yields, grabbing Maggie’s hand to steady herself. “Victory!” She climbs out, Maggie looking at her with a smile somewhere between fondness and disbelief. “Don't bother getting it fixed on my behalf. I've got it now. I like quirky contraptions.”

Maggie kisses her. Lena leans into it. Their previous kiss was… barely an hour before, when Maggie picked her up in front of her building. She was getting out of her car when Lena spotted her. For a few surreal seconds, Lena looked at her, her lovely dress, the way her hair fell on her shoulders, loosely held up at the back, and knew, intellectually, that she was the person this woman was waiting for. The person she was about to take on a date. The person she wanted to go on a date with. But there was this burning feeling at the back of Lena’s neck, that if she were to turn around, there would be someone else there. Someone more this, someone less that. But it’s just her. Being kissed. Now.

Maggie’s lips leave hers, curve into a smile. “No, it should be fixed. In case of emergency. I always forget about it because I never have passengers and — Kara's learned the trick. But I am very impressed by you.”

“What can I say, I’m a problem solver.” Lena slips an arm around her waist and gently steers them towards the restaurant, feels Maggie’s arm come around her shoulder. It’s nice being able to do that. Just casual touches. Less casual touches. To no longer wonder if they’re welcome. “But you're right, safety first. So, you go for a drive when you can't sleep?”

“Sometimes when I can't get my mind to slow down. Or I'll go for a run. Do you have nights like that? Not that I see you taking curves at high speeds.”

Lena pulls her a little closer. Nights like that. Days like that. You may only tempt the devil when I’m around to catch you. Just to even the odds. And Lena promised Kara she wouldn’t do it anymore, not by herself.

“I do have nights like that,” Lena admits good-naturedly. “I take curves at high speeds… in here.” She taps her own temple. “I'll tell you about it once I've had a glass or two. My racing mind is my weakness.”

“Let's try not to careen off the edge.”

They get to the restaurant and Maggie opens the door for her. “Thank you.”

“The wine selection here isn't as extensive as our first— second outing, but I hope there's enough to pique your curiosity.”

Lena smiles, steps inside. Warmth, mouth-watering smells and the loud, indistinct rumor of a small crowd enjoying a nice meal engulf her. She looks around. Cataloguing everything. Sometimes, she wishes she could stop doing that. The place is simple, the right kind of simple. A waiter approaches her right away.

“I believe we have a reservation,” she tells him, turning to Maggie with a questioning look.

“We do. Sawyer, party of two.”

He quickly checks what Lena assumes is the reservation book. “Let’s see… yes, here you are. Follow me, please,” he smiles, before leading them to a smaller room. There are people there, but it’s quieter, the lights dimmer. It’s restful.

“May I?” he asks, pointing at Lena’s coat.

“Oh, thank you.” She hands him her coat. She remembers the day Jack bought it for her. A symposium in London. They decided to skip one of the talks and go for a walk instead. He saw it displayed in the window of a Burberry store, joked about rewarding her for keeping everyone awake during the panel she spoke at. He slipped it on her shoulders, his hands warm. She shakes herself out of the memory when their waiter pulls her chair back for her, thanks him with a smile and sits down. Jack did that, too. Always. “This is so lovely,” she says, once again taking in their surroundings. “Good choice. Thank you for finding a place. I kind of put you on the spot, there.”

Maggie smiles. “By asking me to choose?”

“Yes. The place, and also the... type of outing this would be.”

“The type?” Maggie reaches out to brush her fingers. “I wanted us to have a nice night. It's nice to be able to go out with you.”

Lena nods, takes her hand. “I think we'll have a nice night. I wanted a night. Not just an evening.”

Maggie leans closer. “Me too.” Before Lena can say anything, she picks up the little clipboard listing the wines and drinks. “Do you think glasses or should we get a bottle? We can wait for him to make his recommendation or we can be daring all on our own.”

Lena looks at her. She’s flustered. The wine is a distraction. From… something. Lena glances at the clipboard, stroking her hand as her eyes skim the menu until she finds something she can vouch for. “Why not a bottle of… this.” She points at the Murua 2008.

“Absolutely. But I'm driving tonight so I'll have to be mindful. Maybe it was a bad idea not returning to where we...” Maggie pauses. “Shared our first night.” She looks at her for a bit longer, turns around as the waiter returns.

“It wasn’t. We have time,” Lena says quietly before he gets to their table, bringing glasses and a cold bottle of water. She doesn’t let go of Maggie’s hand, hoping she doesn’t mind. And if she does, maybe a little embarrassment is preferable to feeling like Lena doesn’t want to hold her hand in public. She thanks the waiter as he pours them glasses of water.

“You’re welcome. Menus are on the way, but in the meantime, is there anything you’d like to drink?”

“The lady and I will share a bottle of the Murua 2008,” Maggie tells him.

“Coming right up,” he says with a smile before taking his leave.

Silence stretches for a few seconds. Lena doesn’t mind. She looks at their hands. The last time she did this, holding hands in a restaurant… she can’t remember. With Jack, public displays of affection were limited. She didn’t mind that, either. Sometimes, she feels as though she should mind more. Care more. About things. People. But this is good. A hand in hers. Eyes onto her.

“It was good to see you Monday. I hope I didn't come off as overbearing by asking to see you so soon after our last time together.”

Lena shakes her head. Overbearing. Like anyone else is clamoring for that kind of attention from her. But then, she does value her own space. Too much, perhaps. “Actually, I was about to tell you that...” She lowers her eyes when she realizes she’s never said those words to a lover. “I've missed you. I mean, we texted and kept in touch, but I like being around you. I like your presence. And when I saw you outside my building tonight, I just... remembered. Again.”

Maggie’s fingers twitch against hers. That disbelieving smile again. “I like being around you, too.” Seconds pass. She licks her lips. “Um. You're easy to be around. Things feel... good. I feel good when you're near. You're—”

The waiter returns with the menus and the wine, opens the bottle for them. Maggie thanks him and goes back to trying to find the right words. Seems to give up. I’m not good with words. Lena watches her. She wishes she could tell her how moving that is, someone trying to give her… words, or anything that doesn’t come easily to them. Someone making an effort for her.

“I do make it a point to be easy to be around when I like someone, or even in general. But right now, I'm not trying to make you comfortable.” She pours Maggie a small amount of wine with her free hand so she can make sure it’s not corked. “I just... I'm the one feeling comfortable, for once. That's new.”

Maggie takes in the words, pours Lena a glass. Oh. Maybe Lena should have skipped the wine tasting part. She remembers their night at the hotel, when she did the same thing with their bottle of rosé and— hm. She should have poured herself a minimal amount, made sure it wasn’t corked, then poured them both a glass. No fuss. That wouldn’t have been very courteous, though. It might have looked like she didn’t trust Maggie to be able to tell whether she was drinking wine or vinegar. She feels a hint of resentment towards their waiter, who didn’t do his job and poured one of them the requisite sampling of wine, sparing her the embarrassing situation she now finds herself in. Or worse, the possibility of embarrassing Maggie. But then, he took her coat with such a kind smile. Ah, to hell with etiquette. Lena switches their glasses, mournfully skips the swirling and smelling part – a shame, she vaguely recalls this wine smelling like… heady memories of Spain. She had it in Toledo, the first time – and has the small amount she initially poured Maggie. Not corked. Right temperature.

“It's good. I'm giving it the Luthor seal of approval,” she says lightly, pouring herself a glass too.

“Ah, the Luthor seal of approval. Now I know it's solid,” Maggie says, not a hint of sarcasm in her tone, only gentle teasing. “And I'm glad you're comfortable. That drive is a haul otherwise. I wouldn't take it with just anyone. You're warm. You're...” she shakes her head, smiling a little. “Anyway, that's a relief.” She hesitates. “I know it's weird but it feels like I've known you longer than I actually have.”

Lena blinks. This is… not quite the reserved and perhaps a tad defensive side of Maggie Lena has grown accustomed to. Or rather, has begun to figure out how to navigate her way around. So, it does pay off, sometimes. Kindness and lowering her own defenses. Lena’s had a good teacher this past year or so.

She gives Maggie’s hand a light squeeze. “I think we have known each other for a while. And there's something to be said for bridging the distance.”

“I know we've been in each other's lives for probably longer than either of us might have wanted for a while there,” Maggie replies with a wry smile. “Should we toast to you making the first move that night in the conference room?”

“If you don't mind, I'd rather toast to us making it through. And being here, tonight. There were... quite a few obstacles.”

Like the fact Lena is reasonably sure they wouldn’t have gone much further than a kiss, if that, had Maggie not been mistaken about the nature of her friendship with Kara. A misunderstanding that made it… safer to pursue whatever she wanted with the person she thought was Kara’s lover. But, well. They crossed their own Rubicon. Alea jacta est.

Maggie takes her glass, lifts it. “To making it through. And continuing to make it through.”

Lena clinks their glasses with a smile and has a sip. Maggie looks so lovely in the dim glow of the lamps. Lena wants to kiss her.

Maggie has a drink. “Good choice.” She strokes Lena’s hand, making her skin tingle. “I've realized, heathen that I am, that I haven't told you how beautiful you look tonight. I was too busy thinking you might have thought this too long of a drive for our second date.”

Lena hesitates. She’s never done that before, in public. Not with Jack, not with a woman, not with anyone. She brings Maggie's hand to her lips and kisses her knuckles. “I like long drives, actually. And…” She feels a blush creeping up her neck, because paying a sincere compliment to someone she’s on a date with, and attracted to, and moved by, is also new. “You should wear your hair like this more often. You're gorgeous.”

Maggie watches her, bows her face with a smile. “We really need to get through this dinner so I can kiss you. We don't have to limit our adventures to wine. We'll hit the road. I'll drive.” Her hand comes up, stroking the inside of Lena’s wrist.

Lena’s eyes follow her movements. It’s hypnotic. It’s like she’s watching her touch someone else’s skin. She breaks the spell by kissing Maggie’s palm. “You’re right, let’s get through this dinner.” She flags their waiter, grabs a menu. “I’m ordering for us.” She knows enough, has eaten enough meals in boardrooms and elsewhere with Maggie to have a pretty good idea of what she’d like.

“A woman who takes charge,” Maggie grins. “I suppose you can't help yourself.”

She’s teasing, but Lena feels laughter bubbling up. She has a drink of water to stop herself from snorting like a piglet. She remembers her first laughing fit with Kara. Lena had asked Kara to pick the movie and they ended up watching Babe, which Lena hadn’t seen before. She lost it when Babe the piglet started bleating the sheep’s secret password at the shepherding contest. Kara was crying just watching her laugh. They couldn’t stop. She has to stop thinking about this or she’s going to start cackling all over again. She sets her glass down. So, taking charge. Oh, if Maggie knew. And maybe she will, if this is to continue, between them. She’ll know that the second Lena steps out of L-Corp, and whenever she’s with someone she no longer feels she needs to perform around…

“What if I told you—” she begins, but their waiter is coming their way. “I guess it'll have to wait.” She smiles up at him when he gets to their table, then glances at the menu. All the names are in Greek. Well. She speed-reads the descriptions. “We’ll have... I'm sorry, I can't pronounce any of this, but we'll have the three dipping spreads with pita, the vegetarian roasted vegetables, and the daurade royale. Oh, and we’ll share so if could bring an extra fish knife…”

“Of course.”

“Thank you,” Lena says. He nods with a smile and walks away. She focuses on Maggie again. “So, what if I told you that I hate taking charge. Of anything.”

“I'd believe you because it must be exhausting to do everything you do constantly?” Maggie cocks an eyebrow. “I'd want a break, too.”

“And what about you?” Lena asks. “Do you ever want a break?”

“Oh, god, all the time. But I'm used to doing everything myself. You must know what that's like.”

“I don't know. I do... what no one else can do for me. But if someone offers to take over, even for a little while, for the most trivial thing? I go for it.”

“I'll keep that in mind. And I just let you order,” Maggie sighs apologetically. “I'll order next time. You might be sorry, but I'll do it.” She takes her hand, kisses her wrist.

Maggie’s lips pressing on her skin, warm, soft. Lena swallows. She really wants to kiss her. But what if… what if what? She can ask. Easier, that way. “Can I kiss you? I'm not sure how comfortable you are with...” She looks around.

Maggie leans over, palms her face and kisses her, reassuring and slow. “I hope that's one of those instances where it was okay to take over. And for what it's worth? You never have to ask.”

“Okay.” Lena leans in for another kiss, and it’s just as gentle as the first, but a little less careful, a little deeper. She pulls back when their tongues brush, because that’s something that should be for the two of them alone. “Chalk it up to... my lack of experience. Feel free to take over whenever you like.”

“Careful what you wish for,” Maggie smiles. “I’ve had lousy times with people far more experienced than I am. What matters is what you put into it. How engaged you are with your partner, trumps experience every time. You’re attentive and warm and giving. I’ve had a lovely time with you.”

Lena nods. Attentive, warm, giving. Maggie’s a good person. She wouldn’t kiss you if she didn’t think you were, too, Kara told her when Lena wondered if Maggie would disappear from her life, should she get back with Alex. “Thank you. But as for what I wish for… I don't need to be careful. I trust you, remember?”

“All right,” Maggie smiles. “You trust me.” Lena sees a hint of tension in her jaw, but it’s gone right away, replaced with Maggie’s hand taking hers again. “If we’re not careful, what does that make us?”

It makes us normal people who don’t expect others to hurt them for no reason. Lena shrugs. “I don't know. People who aren't doing anything wrong and are trying to do right by each other?”

“Oh.” Maggie blinks. “I don’t think we’re doing anything wrong.” A beat. Worry flashing in her eyes. “Do you thing we’re doing something wrong?”

Lena opens her mouth, but she spots their waiter heading their way with their order. He sets the plates on the table, asks if they need anything else. Lena shakes her head, thanks him and has a sip of wine after he’s gone.

“Come on,” she tells Maggie. “We're past this. The only person I could wrong at this stage is you, and I have no intention of doing that.”

The relief in Maggie’s eyes makes her heart clench. “Okay. Let's dig into this food. And maybe this isn't something I should say, but… I want to be careful with you? Not because you're fragile or anything. I care about you. And I try to be thoughtful with the people I care about. Even if what that means with you is that I stop overthinking things and just enjoy our time together. Because I do. I didn't see you since Monday and...” she laughs. “I know we texted but it felt like a while.”

“It sure did,” Lena says softly. On Wednesday morning, she entertained the notion of stopping by the station to give Maggie a hug. She didn’t, because it wasn’t scheduled, because that might have gotten this awful woman at the reception, Morris, talking. Because she wasn’t sure it was okay. “Can I ask you something? About your relationship. Not about Kara, just... the logistics of it.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“How do you... because, you work a lot, and the time you have to spend with your partner and whoever else is limited, right? Is it hard to… spread yourself out?”

Maggie frowns lightly. “Do you mean... do I get to spend enough time with... the people I need to spend time with? Yeah, I think I do.”

Ah. So… It’s two Friday nights in a row that Maggie is spending with her, not Kara. And Lena knows they had their picnic this past Sunday. But they didn’t do anything on Saturday. Or during the week, probably. It’s somewhat comforting. Knowing that two wonderful people can make it work together while preserving their need for space and making room for others. Even though Lena suspects they might not be quite evenly matched when it comes to just how much space they respectively need. But then again, who is? They’re making it work and working on it.

“No, I meant, making yourself available for more than one person. Emotionally, physically. That’s... sorry, I’m just curious. I’m not judging. I feel like doing this for one person is already considerable. I don’t know how you do it.”

Maggie scratches the faint scar on her forehead. Lena idly wonders if she used to do this before Alex took out the stitches.

“Don't be sorry. I think it's... manageable with how giving you and Kara are. Um.” Maggie has a drink of wine. “Is it okay for you? How things are?”

”You mean being involved with my best friend’s girlfriend? Or being involved with someone in an open relationship?”

“I meant the second. But you're welcome to answer both. Or neither.”

“Oh,” Lena sighs pensively. “It’s oddly freeing. I suppose it’s a bit selfish, but on my end, it’s just... I get to enjoy whatever you want to share with me.” It’s not like I have a relationship to cultivate outside of this. “It’s nice. Welcome. And the rest isn’t for me, and I get that. Everything is...” she smiles. “A nice bonus.”

Maggie returns her smile. “Yeah. There's... there's nothing to be afraid of. It's honest, that way.”

Lena looks at her. She tucks a strand of hair behind Maggie’s ear. “Nothing to be afraid of? I suppose danger and adrenaline are better suited to a good, cathartic bike ride, than relationships. Still. You took a chance on me, however small. That doesn’t happen very often.”

“You took the first chance. And the second. And the third.” Maggie smiles. “The shirt and the collaborative and the kiss. It's been nice discovering you. I've never been a big fan of surprises but you've turned that around. So let's keep taking chances.”

Lena wonders what Maggie would think, if she knew some of the thoughts that cross her mind. About people. About herself. The world. Good and evil. Science. Love. The future.

“Wise words,” she says instead. “And to demonstrate my good will, I’ll take a chance on...” she observes the plate of root vegetables, picks something up. She chews thoughtfully. “I have no idea what that is, but it’s sinfully good. It looks like one of those... you know, those ancient vegetables that you only find in obscure organic food stores, and you have no idea what they are, and you ask an employee, and they say, that’s a banana, and inwardly you go, uh, no it’s not, but it turns out that’s what bananas used to look like centuries ago, and there’s a resurgence in farmers trying to grow all sorts of things the old fashioned way?”

”Do you spend a lot of time in obscure organic food stores? I can't imagine you picking up the chemically infused products available at our local shops. They taste awful. Or don't taste like anything. Then again, I had a frozen dinner the night I texted you. So what would I know?” Maggie rolls her eyes. “Was it the parsnip you had?” She has a bite. “That's good.” Tries some sweet potato. “I bet everything tasted better before.”

“Actually,” Lena objects, “I’ve read that if we were to try medieval cuisine, I mean, recreate the way they cooked and seasoned their food? We’d find it awfully bland. But then, maybe our taste buds aren’t as sensitive as they used to be. Maybe those people would find our own food atrocious. And yes, when I have some time on weekends, I like poking around little stores and markets. I visited one once, and they had this Heirloom Vegetables booth. As it turns out, an ancient, authentic zucchini is as big as a baseball bat. Incredible.” She shakes her head, remembers the enormous penis-shaped carrots next to the zucchinis, considers showing Maggie the pictures she took. Would that be in poor taste? A little. “And don’t feel bad about your frozen dinners. I may make myself organic kale smoothies but whenever Kara asks if I’m game for some awfully good pizza from Domino’s, of all places? My Pavlovian reflex kicks in, so go figure.” She has some wine and a bite of daurade. “Oh my goodness, try it.”

“Awfully good or awful good? And I don't feel bad about the dinners. It's... just how it is. But! Pizza-wise, I'll stick to Giovanni's.” Maggie smiles faintly. “I'm glad you and Kara have a Danvers/Luthor tradition. Not the only one, I'm sure.” She tries the daurade. “I have to say, you killed it with the plates you picked out.”

Lena is starting to recognize that smile of hers. So again, she’ll tread lightly, but not too lightly. “Thank you. I don’t think I could have gone wrong, though, I mean, have you seen that menu? You killed it by picking this place. We’ll have to come back and make our way through all this.” Because, all these things Maggie said? About what Kara shares with Lena, what Lena thought Kara shared with others, not just her… perhaps it was easier to accept for Maggie when she thought they were lovers. Now they’re just friends, and still they share… differently. “As for Domino’s... I must confess that sadly, it’s just good, period. I think half the appeal is customizing your pizza in their ridiculous app for half an hour before ordering.” With Kara. Customizing their order with Kara and all her cute additional requests, as though making her pizza look lovely was more important than what went in it. Lena leaves that part out and looks at Maggie with a smile. “And I’m pretty sure you have your own Sawyer/Danvers traditions. A little bird may or may not have told me about a certain picnic by a waterfall.”

A glimmer of surprise in Maggie’s eyes. “Kara told you about that?” She pauses. “It was nice spending time with her. At a beautiful place like that, I mean. We just...” she smiles, has a drink of wine. Shakes her head. “She's... Anyway, yes, we'll come back here.”

“She did tell me. She said you found it while investigating a case and that it had, I quote, a happy ending. That’s all I know.”

Another one of those faint smiles. “That's sweet.”

Lena nods. “Yeah. And it got me thinking about your wandering ways. Combine that with having to explore all sorts of different areas for work, and I imagine you must know so many interesting or unexpected places.”

“I tend to move around. I think I've always been a little restless. So, you combine the sleepless nights and work and... my cat-like curiosity that will supposedly get me killed one of these days... mixed with talking to the locals about the hidden places... you're bound to land somewhere exciting.” She shrugs. “But when you find a place you weren't looking for? That's something else. It must be what the old explorers felt like. The real ones, not Columbus.”

Lena returns her smile. “Like Marco Polo and his unicorns? You know, when he discovered rhinos and thought they were unicorns, just, uglier than expected? Or Magellan and his obsession with finding the fabled Island of Spices? Or Alexander who just wanted to see more, always more? Ah, the good old days.” She has some wine. “So... what’s your favorite spot? Some special place you weren’t looking for and stumbled upon.”

Maggie laughs. “Way to put me on the spot. Let’s see. Mh well, I'm afraid it isn't very exciting. Back when I was a kid, I went to a party with some people I knew. College kids. It was this... bonfire in the woods, which ought to tell you how smart we all were. I got wasted and it was cold and— I ended up leaving. I didn't know where the hell I was so I just walked and walked and walked. Everything looks the same in the dark. Anyway, I ended up finding this tree house. I don't know how I climbed up the plank steps but somehow I did. I don't even know whose place that was. Or... I mean there were beer cans everywhere and it was cold,” she says, shaking her head. “But there was a sleeping bag and I must have just passed out. When I woke up ... I don't know how to describe it. All the light was streaming in... in shafts. It... was warm and golden. I was hungover but it was beautiful. I think that was the first time I really started to think of beautiful. If it wasn't about a girl, you know?” She has a drink of wine.

Lena rests her chin on her palm with a small smile. “You’re right, it’s not exciting. It’s better. It sounds like an eerie fairy tale, and the moral of the story would be... sometimes, lost children find a nefarious witch’s house in the forest, or evil men who would harm them and snatch them away, but on occasion, the forest keeps lost children safe and teaches them beauty. That’s a great story. Thank you for sharing it.” She takes her hand. Thinks of the little alien boy Maggie told her about, the one she found alone in his apartment, his parents missing. “And to think that now, you’re the one trying to find all the lost children the forest couldn’t protect. I’m guessing all endings aren’t happy, but... some?”

“If you keep flattering me like this I'm going to get an ego.” She gives a small headshake. “But seriously, you have a really lovely way of putting things. Find poetry where you can, right? You have the children's hospital. Not all endings are happy. Not enough but some. And that's better than none. Even if it's not as many as we'd like.”

Lena has some wine. She doesn’t need to look for poetry in the children’s hospital. It’s already there. People coming together out of love, to support each other through hardship, to try and relieve unfair, arbitrary pain. That of the kids, that of their loved ones watching them suffer, losing them. The little ones in there aren’t the lost children. The lost children are Lex telling her that their father had never once said I love you to him. They’re Alex losing her own father and watching her mother devote her attention to the child she thought needed it most. They’re Maggie, cold, drunk and passed out surrounded by beer cans in a stranger’s tree house. They’re Lena, sleeping on the hardwood flood under her bed for a year after her mother died, because at least there were no monsters there. They’re Kara always pausing and adding in Midvale after saying back home, as if she had another home somewhere, waiting for her.

“You should get an ego. I believe it’s not a bad thing, being proud of yourself once in a while. And you find poetry where you can, too, don’t you? With your pictures.”

“Don't get me wrong. I believe in the work I do. It's important. As for the pictures...” Maggie pauses for a while, deep in thought. Drinks some wine. “It's... I don't know that... It's not quite the same.”

Lena nods. Maggie’s reasons for expressing herself artistically, or whatever it is photography means to her, are certainly her own. “You know best. And I don’t doubt that you’re proud of your work. But being proud of yourself? That’s important, too.”

Sometimes work is the only way I make a difference. But I’m probably just an asshole, Maggie told her, eight days before, in their hotel room.

“It is. I am.” Maggie shifts. “Sometimes, I wonder. Maybe there's more I can do. More I should do. It's not about being the best but being the best I can be?” She’s fidgeting. “Have we gotten to the part where you tell me about the curves you take in your mind?”

“Perhaps part of being the best you can be is to do what you can... today?” Lena says slowly. “And maybe that’s less than what you did the day before, more than what you’ll do the next, but sometimes the big picture isn’t all that representative. I think.” She smiles. “I’m partial to little pictures. And yes, let’s talk about my speed racing mind.” She refills their glasses. Takes a moment to consider how to phrase it. What angle to present. “When I can’t fall asleep, and there’s nothing else to do but think, thoughts pick up speed. More than usual. And I feel like I’m not on solid ground. That everything is... paper thin. Everything I’ve done, everything I’ll do, everything I am... and then, I find a steadying thought or two, if I can, and fall asleep. And when I wake up, the world is solid again. Not quite a night drive, but... there’s speed and sharp, risky turns all right.”

“But with the wheel you can at least choose a direction. Or steer in a certain way.” Maggie thinks for a while. “I know this probably isn't... Everything about you feels solid and... genuine. Tangible.” She lowers her voice. “Your breath on my skin... There's nothing about you that is paper thin. You are no paper tiger. Whatever racing thoughts come, I know you'll keep pace.”

But it would be better not to. It would better to let go and let it all slow down. Aware of his weakness, a man decides to give in rather than stand up to it. Wishes to be down, lower than down. This is one of her steadying thoughts, words she read long ago and keeps like an invaluable, secret lifeline.

“I believe you, and I’ll keep that in mind. To help said mind shut up for a bit, ironically. And...” Lena takes a breath. “You’re quite tangible to me, too. Hence my repeated amazement when we go from speaking on the phone or texting to seeing each other in person.” She has some food, a drink of wine. Furrows her brow. “You know, the day before our... date, last week? I kept wondering, at the most random times, how long it would take for me to remember certain things about you. Physical things. You know, like your scent, or,” she says quietly, “the feel of your lips. And part of me doesn’t really want to learn that. Because I like rediscovering it every time.”

She feels self-conscious, saying these things. But she doesn’t want to regret not saying them, down the line. She gives Maggie a sheepish shrug.

Maggie picks at her food, mulling it over. “Me too. I was nervous that night.” She smiles briefly. “We'd been having our coffee breaks and they were really nice and maybe safe.” She glances at her. “But why be careful? I just felt... I'd been feeling and... take this, um. Whatever way you want to take it. But I just wanted to be closer to you. There's a draw there for me. And I can't say I don't know where it comes from. I do. It's who you are. The draw is obvious.”

Obvious. Latin, ob-viam, ‘in the way.’ That’s the word Lena used with Kara on the phone, two days before. Things have a way of… echoing, between all of them. She smiles at Maggie, wonders whether she lets those inevitable echoes reverberate, or silences them. “That moves me more than you know. Or maybe you do, and I’m the one who knows very little. Very few people have expressed interest in who I was, beyond the name or my position as head of a major company, or my bank account... least of all my mother. I’m not Lena to her. I’m a Luthor, or not enough of one, or... I don’t know. So, this is new to me. Finding friends, people who want to be around me. Close to me. And what’s even newer is having one who went from, perhaps, not having any interest in looking past the name, to...” she nods to their surroundings. “This. Thank you for telling me.”

“I don't know it. Not the way you do. I don't have a... my family name doesn't mean anything to anyone not in it. But I'm not really a Sawyer, either. Not to them.” She shrugs indifferently. “But, it doesn't surprise me that you have people who want to be close to you. This is all new to me, too. Friends. People who care about me.” Maggie takes her hand. “I'm glad we're here.”

Not really a Sawyer to her own family. So… are they not in good terms? Does that have anything to do with Maggie stealing her father’s camera? Lena resolves to be extra careful.

“Well,” she says gently, “if you ever feel like sharing your take on the... intricacies of familial expectations, I dare say I might be the right person to do that with.” And now, she suspects, time to change the subject to something a little lighter. She kisses Maggie’s hand before reaching down to take her phone out of her bag. “There’s another grave matter we must discuss, something I’ve kept hidden for fear it would change your opinion of me forever.” She impassively unlocks her phone, scrolls through her gallery until she finds the freaky penis-shaped carrots. She hands Maggie her phone. “Those were next to the giant zucchini at the Heirloom Vegetables booth.”

Maggie leans forward curiously. Her eyes go wide for a second and she lets out a delighted laugh. “Luthor, you perv! Did you take those home and chop them up? Wow, look at them.” She looks closer. “Sounds like this place was a sexual bonanza.”

“I know, right? But the lady manning the booth kept giving me weird looks for peering at those particular carrots, so I didn’t have the... well, let’s stay on topic, I didn’t have the balls to purchase them. I just took pictures and sent them to Alex and Kara. It was a while ago. You would have been included otherwise, I mean, how could I let any of my friends miss out on mother nature’s… peerless wonders.”

“Don't worry about it. We text now. And I know you weren't the lucky girl to take them home but I'm sure they were enthusiastically taken home for uh— well.” Maggie smirks. “You know. And the nurses at the hospital had a fun story for the following morning.”

Lena raises an eyebrow. “I’d love to see that x-ray... actually, when Alex got the pictures? She texted back something like, Make sure it’s properly lubricated, I went to med school but I’m not a miracle worker and this looks huge.” Lena blinks. “And Kara just asked if I could take her to that market the next weekend.” And said those carrots looked less like penises and more like atomic mushroom clouds to her. “The Danvers sisters certainly are a unique package.”

Maggie smiles. “They're both something else, that's for sure. So, did you take her to the market? I'm sure it would have been a different trip if Alex was involved.”

“I did take her to the market,” Lena chuckles. “She spent over an hour at the booth asking the gruff lady about the history of everything, and how to cook this and that, charming her to the point she offered us an assortment of the strangest ancient vegetables that had caught Kara’s eye. But now that you mention it, I sort of wish Alex had been there to undo her good work with all sorts of inappropriate questions that would have gotten us banned from the market for public indecency. Can you imagine if you’d been called to take us in?”

“Nothing would have delighted me more.” She pauses. “Though I tend to be the bad influence and not the other way around. Scandalous for a cop, I know.”

Lena picks up a piece of pita bread and dips it in tomato and aubergine caviar. “So... you got merrily drunk around bonfires in the middle of the woods as a teen, you were perhaps a bit of a troublemaker, but now you’re painfully by the book – something I’m personally grateful for, as you know – and are considered a bad influence, apparently. That’s an interesting puzzle.”

Maggie shrugs. “I'm not sure it’s that interesting. You have a family legacy. And you were too busy spending time at the science club to worry about relationships and still you are perceived as an icy CEO overlord. When in fact you are an effective businesswoman and a very affectionate lover. Our families don't make us. Or maybe they do, in our response to them,” she smiles. “Can you imagine us in school together? Not that I would have been allowed near you. Or that you would have been interested in...” She shakes her head. “Making trouble, I guess.”

Ah, but Lena being perceived one way even though she’s not like that privately is one thing, Maggie being several contradictory things at once is another. Lena decides not to press.

“In all fairness,” she says, “I don’t let many people see that other side of me. And I can be quite the icy CEO. But you’re right, whether our families raise us or we raise ourselves against their values, they’re always in the picture, somehow. And we always come from somewhere.” She has some wine and pushes her empty plate away. “But let’s play that game. We’re about the same age, so picture yourself at age twelve or fourteen. Where would we have met? Boarding school in Ireland?” She smiles. “Maybe not. How about your school in... Nebraska, was it? It could have happened. I know very little about my biological mother, so for all I know, if she’d lived longer, maybe we’d have settled in Nebraska for some reason.”

Maggie smiles faintly. That smile again. “Um. All right. Well. That depends. Either in science class or...” she laughs. “Smoking a cigarette while class was in session. Skipping. Yeah, I was a punk.” She rolls her eyes. “I skipped a lot later, actually.”

Right. Difficult family dynamics, a stolen camera, rejecting authority.

“So...,” Lena follows, “one day, you deign to show up in science class, and you’re a bit late. Gotta finish that smoke, you know? Waste not, want not. So I often sat alone at the front, and one of the reasons was that, this way, I couldn’t pair up with anyone during experiments. I preferred working alone. Twice as much work, but done my way.” And the others reasons were, she couldn’t see anything from the back because she was self-conscious about wearing her glasses, and also, she had a hard time concentrating if anything was between her and the teacher. “But oops, you show up late, the science teacher gives you a disapproving frown when he sees you headed towards the back of the lab, and politely demands that you sit at the front for once. What happens?”

“I continue to move to the back of the class until he threatens me with detention, ha ha, and I've already had them call my aunt four times in the past two weeks so I sit resentfully in the front, slam my books on my desk and... I don't know. Wait for it to end. And probably resent you for being a teacher's pet.”

“Oh, dear.” Lena says with mock shock. “Fourteen-year old me would have been too intimidated by such brazen rebellion, to ask if you wanted to do whatever the experiment of the day was together. But I might have offered to let you copy my notes at the end. Because everybody always asked for my notes, in every class – I guess even before I was rich, people came to me for stuff, not my winning personality – but I’m guessing you wouldn’t have asked, which would have endeared you to me.”

“‘I don't need your notes. I don't need anyone's notes!’” Maggie says with that smile again, that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I would have refused your notes and gotten the hell out of there the second class ended. And then,” she grins, “hoped I'd see you at... I don't know. One of the parties with the older crowd.” A frown. “I never really... I don't know. I think kids my age scared me, so I didn't bother.”

Difficult family dynamics, living with her aunt, not her parents. Camera stolen from her dad. Rejecting authority. Risk-taking. Not having friends her age. Growing up… too fast?

Lena files all this away and nods. “They can be cruel. At that age. But I’m afraid nobody ever invited me to any party, much less with older people. And I wouldn’t have had the courage to show up uninvited, if I was even aware a party was happening. Which I wouldn’t have been. So we would probably have been condemned to only run into each other in whatever classes we shared, you hoping to see me at one of your grownup parties, me hoping you’d show up late again and you’d be asked to sit next to me.”

“The good news is that we ended up...” She rubs her forehead scar. Lena wonders again if there’s some phantom itch, if she picked up that habit because she associates that scar with Alex. “I swear there was a point where I thought the universe was out to get me. When really it might have been telling me to pay attention to the woman in front of me. And I'm glad I did. You're still a nerd. And I'm slightly more pleasant to be around these days.”

Lena plays with the stem of her glass, crosses her arms on the table, leans forward a little. “I did notice I wasn’t exactly a sight for sore eyes for you every time we ran into each other, until that fateful dinner and your heroic rescue when you battled spaghetti sauce on my behalf. But hey, you did get something out of all those skipped science classes. You’re dating a nerd, now, and you’re going on dates with another one...” She almost mentions Alex being a bit of a nerd herself, but she has no idea how things are between Alex and Maggie at the moment, so… perhaps not. “Someone has a type.”

“I'd have hated for that lovely dress you were wearing to get ruined.” Maggie falls silent for a moment. “You know... maybe it's not my place to say but I don't think you and Kara are at all alike. You're both fantastic, don't get me wrong, it's just. Different. Not in a bad way,” she adds quickly. “But you are both nerds.”

“We are,” Lena nods. “And be thankful you didn’t accept my notes in our Rewriting History session, because teenage me would then have asked you if you wanted to come to the science club after class, to help us build our planetarium.”

“I probably would have liked to help you build it, to be honest.”

Lena tilts her head with a smile. “Well, we’re building something else, now. But what do you mean, Kara and I aren’t alike?”

“I should really think before I speak. You're not... unsimilar. You're both generous and accepting. You're both kind. But... you're funny. Kara is too, but in a different way. You're open. And...” Maggie shakes her head.

Funny and open. That’s where Maggie thinks they differ. Kara’s funny in a different way, all right. Lena knows most people have laughed at her, rather than with her. Kara isn’t witty. Or, more accurately, has no interest in being witty. And yet, they laugh so much together. About silly, harmless things. And Kara’s either open to a fault, or utterly unreadable. Lena understands how that could be… unsettling, for some. She finds it calming.

“Yes, she’s...” Lena says, chuckling to herself. “I was on the phone with her a couple of days ago, and she made a non joke and I went, please never do stand-up comedy, because I’ll be the only one laughing. And you know, we do talk a lot, Kara and I… but sometimes we don’t? Sometimes, it’s silent. I mean, not that she’s sulking or anything. I don’t think she means to close herself off. Or be... unresponsive.” Her mind is her sanctuary, is all. But that’s not for Lena to say.

Maggie thinks for a while. “You're probably right. I'm not looking for anyone to fix me. People have tried and... But she's been good to me. Patient when I wouldn't have been or didn't deserve it. And I don't need her to heal me or anything but I think she... teaches me to a better person. To be kinder and patient. So I think I just need to be more understanding. Sometimes it's hard for me to take words at face value, but you're sincere. She's sincere. I'll keep working on it. I need to... not be so defensive.”

People have tried to fix Maggie. Maggie has been defensive around Kara. Thinks she doesn’t deserve her patience. I know I do have a lot of love to give, but with Maggie, and even with Alex now, I seem to give the wrong things. Or to run out of things to give. Hm. Lena scratches her nose. Whenever Kara alludes to the disconnect she feels between herself and what she ought to give the people she loves, or in order to feel like she belongs… what if the gap isn’t imagined, but felt by others, as well? And the very day Kara told her this, Lena told Alex… What am I in denial about? That she makes me a better person? Is Kara tired of making people like Lena, like Maggie, like Alex, kinder, more patient, more open, better? Or is it what keeps her standing? Both?

Lena looks at Maggie for a while. “One thing I know, is that Kara has no intention of fixing you, because she loves you just as you are. Obviously, I don’t know the details and I’m sure you have your disagreements, but she’s never said a word to me that sounded like she wanted to change you.” She hesitates. But what if Maggie needs to talk? What if she needs a friend? Lena’s the only one. But she’s Kara’s friend, too, so… does that negates whatever inclination Maggie might have to confide in her? She doesn’t know whether to keep silent or offer to listen. “Do you think... and I don’t want to pry, I really have no interest in doing that, I just want to be a good friend to the two of you. But when you said that she and I aren’t alike, did you mean that... you two don’t communicate as well as you’d like?”

Maggie tenses up, subtly but visibly. Returns her hands to her lap. Well. Speaking up was the wrong decision, then. “Look, I get that... there are ebbs and flows. In all relationships. You are a good friend. Kara and I... we're good. We're working on it, you know? I have to do my part. I've never been good at words and... so.”

Lena has some water. What to do… one the one hand, wrong choice. On the other hand… she’s been on the receiving of Maggie’s indifference and dislike, for a time, before they agreed to a truce for Kara’s sake. She knows what it feels like. And what Maggie is showing her right now isn’t that. It’s vulnerability, of a kind. Which, on some level, implies… trust. So. Perhaps not such a wrong choice, after all.

“I didn’t mean to imply that you and Kara were going through a difficult time. I apologize. I don’t know how you two are together in private, we all show different sides of ourselves to different people, so I shouldn’t have assumed anything. I just know that it’s been difficult for you to see that Kara and I are close. In some ways, not... you know. And I’ll never repeat anything you tell me to her, or vice versa. I just hope you know I’ll be here if you ever want to talk.”

Maggie doesn’t relax. “I know. And I appreciate it. But I don't know how to talk about it... without it coming out in the wrong way. Kara deserves more than that. No, sometimes I don't feel as close to her as I'd like to. I've been jealous of the two of you.” Her jaw is tight. “But everyone's different. What I am to her, what I am to you, what you are to us. No relationship is the same.”

Lena just needs to let her know one more thing, and then she’ll switch to something lighter, let her relax. She nods. “I agree. And I understand if I’m the wrong person to talk to about these things, considering my place in all this. You two are remarkable people, understanding, able to recognize your own... perceived shortcomings. And above all, people who would never willingly hurt each other or anyone else. That’s quite a strong foundation for any sort of relationship, in my book. And that’s all I’ll say on the matter, because…” You know what the problem is? You’re easy to be around. I start conversations that I can’t finish. “This is one of those conversations you don’t quite know how to end, isn’t it?” She has a sip of wine. “So… what if I told you that this morning, I received a confirmation email informing that me a certain order had shipped. One which may or may not contain a custom mug, tee-shirt and hoodie?”

A relieved smile spreads on Maggie’s lips. She leans over and gives her a brief kiss. Lena almost palms her cheek to keep her there a second longer. “A custom order? What did you pick up?”

Lena cocks her head. “Well, it wasn’t technically my idea,” she says slowly, taking her time to wipe her glasses with a napkin. “Maybe you should work in advertising? Catchy taglines are a rarity these days.”

Maggie looks at her in disbelief. “You didn't.” A pause. “Did you?”

Lena shrugs apologetically. “I’m afraid I really do mean what I say. It’s delightful, you’ll see.” Delightfully retro, at least. Supergirl is my other ride! Lena didn’t use the Girl of Steel’s likeness, or her symbol, so the design doesn’t quite pop as much as it could, but… a joke is one thing, trivializing a visual that has come to mean a lot to many, Lena included, and probably even more to Supergirl herself, another.

“You troll,” Maggie teases with a laugh. “I hope Supergirl sees it and is very impressed. Maybe she'll offer you another ride. But! If we're all set here, you can settle for me and we could go for walk? I know a place.”

“Jesus, I hope she never sees it. I’d be mortified. Private use only. And yes, I’d love to go for a walk. Also, the food and wine were wonderful. You do know places, romantic little detective.”

Maggie smiles as they stand, goes to pick up the check while Lena retrieves her coat. They walk out hand in hand. Outside, the cold air replaces the warmth, and the night, the lights. Maggie kisses her. Lena’s eyes flutter shut before their lips touch, her arms coming around Maggie’s waist to draw her close. She does not want to get used to this. She wants to marvel every time, at the softness of her lips, and breathe her in again and again.

"Thank you for having dinner with me," Maggie says quietly when they separate.

Lena shakes her head, rests it in the crook her neck. “Don’t say this like I did you a favor,” she whispers, kissing her there. “It was entirely selfish.”

Maggie breaks the hug to kiss her again. “In praise of selfishness, then.”

And again, after they’re both seated in the car. And again, if Lena had her way, but Maggie turns her attention to Lena’s seat. “Get your seatbelt on. You don't need help, do you?

Help? Lena looks at her. It could be a cheeky joke, because it’s not like Lena hasn’t fastened her seatbelt all by herself in this car before, but then… it is a fiddly seatbelt and, well. Lena couldn’t get the armrest up, couldn’t get the door open. It might just be Maggie being thoughtful. “I’m afraid I can build a small nuclear reactor in no time, but basic contraptions elude me, as you’ve no doubt noticed. So.” Lena spreads her arms slightly. “I welcome your help.”

Lena tries to pay attention to how Maggie tugs the capricious seatbelt free, but she’s being kissed before she’s had a chance to figure it out. Not a bad tradeoff. Lena gently holds her in place before she can pull back. Gives the seatbelt a pointed glance when it clicks into place. “Another... idiosyncrasy I should put to good use later on?”

She’s kidding, but as soon as the words pass her lips, she wonders if this could actually be another thing Maggie’s into but hasn’t had a chance to experience before. Lena briefly imagines the two of them experimenting with bondage, Maggie looking at her with the same mesmerized look she gave her when Lena put her hand around her neck during their first night, and… getting increasingly puzzled as she watches Lena struggle with knots the way she struggles with keys and fiddly doors and quirky seatbelts. She bites back a smile.

“Well,” Maggie says, her breath ghosting on Lena’s lips. “You are the romantic little scientist.”

“My bad. I’ll run you a candlelit bath with a trail of rose petals leading to it, if romance is more your thing.” She kisses her with a smile, gives her lower lip a playful bite. “And we’ll keep the silk ribbons handy, just in case.”

“Are you implying that I'm a kinky little detective?” Maggie asks with mock offense.

Lena strokes her cheek. “I think you’re many things, and so far I quite like every single one.”

“I'm game for anything, if my partner is, too.” Maggie gives her another brief kiss and pulls back, starting the car. “Romance.” A frown, soon gone. “Kink. Why not both?”

“What a positive attitude. You should do sex ed in high schools. I’m only half-joking. That could be our next project after the collaborative is up and running.” Lena chuckles. “NCPD and L-Corp partner up once again, defeating heteronormativity, kinkshaming, and promoting consent, one school at a time.”

Maggie laughs. “What an enticing proposition. But you know, I wouldn't be opposed to keeping it between the two of us.” They drive in silence for a while. “What I said earlier about being jealous? I know that's not an admirable quality. I know that's more about me than you or Kara. So I'm working on that.” She glances at Lena. “I don't think I could create issues but I don't want to be in the way. I don't think I am.”

Oh. It definitely wasn’t the wrong choice earlier, then, speaking up instead of keeping silent. Ripple effect. Maggie feeling comfortable enough to say these things, now? Worth the gamble. But there’s something about trying to explain what it is that works between Kara and herself, that Lena finds difficult. Perhaps because she doesn’t quite know herself? No, that’s not it. It’s because… this is the one part of her life where questions and answers have become irrelevant. Being around Kara is being… Being what? Maybe… just being. As opposed to becoming. And the now is anchored, and the weight of the past, of the future, lessens.

But that’s hard to contextualize, to put a timeframe on. And Maggie deserves more than vagueness and concepts. She deserves clarity. Lena clears her throat. “You’re not in the way. And we all get jealous, or feel left out. That hurts, no matter what. But... you know how I am, questions over misunderstandings: by in the way, you mean in the way of my friendship with Kara? Or potentially more?”

Maggie glances at her again, focuses on the road ahead. “In any way. Relationships shift. They did for us.”

“That’s true.” Headlights cutting through the night, devouring the asphalt in a blur. There was a time, before Kara told her she was dating Maggie, and after, when Lena felt oppressed by the maybes and the might-have-beens. Still feels that way, at times. Fleetingly. Because then, she sees Kara, shares time with her, shares so much with her, and it’s intimate. I feel close to Kara already. We’re together in other ways, she told Alex on that dreadful night. Yes, if there was more, it would probably be meaningful, but what we have now… Evidently, it was the wrong way to put it. Or perhaps Alex wasn’t capable of hearing any of it, that night. Lena sighs inwardly, runs a hand through her hair. Maybe she can put it differently. Maybe Maggie will hear what Alex couldn’t. “I understand what it looks like, from the outside. Why people who are close to us, you and Alex, would think that this is the next logical step for Kara and I. But… and I tried to explain it to Alex, when she practically accused me of not being with Kara, that it’s just not something we’re... missing, exactly. And, Maggie, she… Alex laughed in my face. I’m—” Lena needs some air, but the window won’t open. She fiddles with the button. Nothing. She could try to open it manually, just a crack… oh. It worked. She looks at Maggie. “See, I figured it out? Wonders never cease. Um, what was I saying? Oh, yes. So, I can’t say what the future holds, for any of us, but Kara and I, we have our own thing. It’s a very good, very solid, very important thing to me.” She reaches out for the handle above the window. “And there’s something to be said for finding such a... rare balance. We’re good where we are. The reason we’re not somewhere else now isn’t because of Alex, or because of you. Is that... does that make sense to you?”

“It makes sense.” Maggie smiles over at her. “I hope you don't think I'm trying to push you into anything. I've decided... I'm just going to enjoy every moment that I have. I'm done trying to question things or... trying to make sense of them. I'm happy spending time with you and you're both happy spending time together. If it makes sense for you two, if it makes sense for us, why question it?” She pulls to what looks like a grove. The sound of the engine dies down, replaced by the distant lull of the ocean. “Here we are. Should I let you fight with the seatbelt and then we make out, or should I undo the seatbelt for you and then we make out?”

Lena squints at her seatbelt. “No, this infernal thing and I are going to settle our differences once and for all.” She gets to works. “And no, for the record, I don’t feel like you’re trying to push me into anything. I think you’re trying to understand and that you’re—” She glances up at Maggie, trying to tug the belt free and returning her attention to it when it refuses to budge. “Well, it’s easier to put on than to remove, I’ll give you that. Anyway, I think you’re afraid you’re going to wake up one morning, and Kara and I will have disappeared from your life.” The end of the belt pops out of the buckle. “Yes!” Lena exclaims triumphantly. She blinks. That was excessive. “Sorry.” She turns in her seat to face Maggie. “So, in short, you can ask me whatever you want, whatever you need to know, and it won’t feel intrusive to me. Because you’re kind and respectful about it and you have a right to be worried. It’s not my place to judge what is or isn’t something you should be concerned about when it comes to your relationship with her, or to what we have, you and I. If no longer questioning things is the best way for you to feel at peace and make the most of your separate... relationships, dynamics, then that works, too. But don’t hesitate to ask.” She strokes Maggie’s cheek. “Kara might have difficulty talking about these things, but I don’t.”

Silence settles between them for a long time.

Then Maggie takes her hand, kisses her palm. “Thank you. Maybe that seems like nothing to you, but it means a lot to me. I don't... get many good things. And when I do, I don't tend to hold on to them. Sorry if—” She take a shaky breath and smiles. “So. That walk.”

Lena nods. “Yeah, well. Lucky for you, I know all about watching the few good things in your life go away, one by one. And holding on to the remaining ones is tricky. You start thinking... wouldn’t it be easier if there was nothing to hold on to? Why not get rid of that future baggage in advance, spare yourself the heartbreak. So. Never apologize for not having much, of for not knowing how to hold on to it. Not to me, at least. Are we clear, little detective?” she teases, holding her gaze.

“You know, you're barely taller than I am,” Maggie retorts, smiling. She gives Lena a peck on the cheek. “I won't apologize. And I'm sorry you haven't had much. Have lost so much. But I'll give you everything I can. All of us who want you in our lives will.” She exits the car. Lena watches her go around to the other side and wonders what it takes to make that kind of commitment, on one’s own behalf and on the behalf of others. To give everything they can. Lena doesn’t even know what she has to give. What everything is. Maggie opens the passenger door for her. “For the record, I know you can open it but let me open it. Leave your shoes!”

Lena complies. “I’m wearing tights. Should those go as well?” She looks up and waggles an eyebrow.

Maggie leans down to kiss her, her teeth grazing Lena’s bottom lip. Lena’s hand comes up to cup the nape of her neck, her fingers threading in her hair. It’s like running a hand through water.

“Yes.”

“Oh my,” Lena sing songs. “Phallic carrots have nothing on that scandalous naughtiness. Or on that kiss, for that matter.” She wiggles out of her tights. “The only reason I’m not asking you to close the door is because it’s nothing you haven’t seen before, by the way. I have many flaws but being an exhibitionist isn’t one.” She pockets her phone, just in case, and climbs out of the car, leaving her handbag inside. The grass is cool under her feet. There’s a chill in the air, caressing her bare legs.

Maggie kicks off her boots and leaves them there on the ground. She takes Lena’s hand and tugs her towards the beach. “You're not an exhibitionist? You know I could have helped you out of those tights. I would have been very professional.”

Lena’s mind goes straight to the night of the arrest, but she’s pretty sure Maggie had no intention of alluding to it, so she lets the thought come and go and laces their fingers. She bumps into her playfully. “Hey. Give me time. For all my bravado, I can’t quite loosen up as smoothly as I’d like. I don’t really... let’s say the mere idea of letting anyone undress me terrifies me.” She glances at her apologetically, squeezes her hand. The back of her neck is burning. “Even as a joke.”

Maggie looks surprised. “Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. We can do whatever you want when it comes to that kind of thing. It's okay.”

The grass is giving way to sand under their feet, the ground starting to slope gently down to the shore. Lena looks up at the sky. “This is so nice. I feel like I’m on vacation. Look at the stars. Slightly less light pollution, here.” She gazes at the constellations for a while. Kara knows them all. They spent an evening at the National City Observatory, it was one of the first things they did together, other than trying out cafés and little restaurants. They didn’t know each other very well. Every time I go home, in Midvale, Eliza sets up the telescope for me. I used to have an imaginary friend, Captain Stargazer. I drew her everywhere. Drawing was easier than writing. “Don’t worry,” Lena says, her eyes falling on Maggie. “I only ever do what I’m comfortable doing. Unless I’m at work. And I don’t mind jokes, you’re very considerate when it counts.” She disentangles their fingers to put her arm around her shoulders instead. “Shall we dip our toes in the vast ocean?”

Maggie wraps her arm around her waist. “Why do you think I told you to leave your shoes behind? The water might be a bit cold.” She looks at her. “Is that okay?”

Lena scowls. “Are you implying you didn’t have an ocean-sized jacuzzi prepared for me?”

“I know you're used to being pampered but you're really going to have to lower your expectations.”

They stop where the sand is starting to get wet under their feet. Receding tide, then. Maggie kisses her, the warmth of her skin a nice contrast to the breeze. Lena palms her face, deepening the kiss. “That’s cute. But darling,” she whispers against her lips, “you’re talking to someone who used to sneak out of school to go skinny dipping in the ice cold lake half a mile away.” Alone. To stay sane. The colder, the better. Cold and calm, her mother’s voice whispers at the back of her mind, an unsettling, consoling mantra.

Maggie nods. “So when I go into shock, I'll count on you to breathe life into me.” She walks them over to the water. “I promise I'm not going to dunk you in it.”

“Oh, I’d just laugh and pull you along if you did.” A wave laps at their feet, sending a pleasant shiver up Lena’s legs. She tugs Maggie a little further and sighs contentedly. “It feels good. Were you barefoot the night you called me from the beach?”

“I was. I wanted you to look at the moonlight.”

Lena smiles and looks up at the bright cloud the moon is hiding behind. And then Maggie pushes her and she falls face first into a wave. Her hand comes up reflexively to hold her glasses in place before the cold even registers. And then it does, another wave crashing over her, punching the air out of her lungs, soaking her coat. Christ. She pushes herself up into a sitting position, blinks at Maggie, who looks mildly worried.

“Are you going to laugh?”

“Yes,” and pull you down, like I said, “but allow me to mourn my coat for a minute.” Jack would find her predicament hilarious. He wouldn’t care about the coat. All he cared about was the work. She wants to laugh, too. Oh no. Her phone. In her coat pocket. Well, rest in peace. She tries to rub the salt out of her eyes. “Help me up?”

Maggie winces, stretching out her hand. “Should I take your coat?”

Lena shakes her head. “It’s quite all right.” She takes Maggie’s hand and, instead of standing up, firmly pulls her down. She watches her resurface a moment later, coughing and spitting out water.

“You weren't kidding around. I swear, I wasn't planning on this for our romantic walk. Holy shit, that's cold.” Maggie laughs, taking a few deep breaths.

Lena grins, watching her trying to adjust to the temperature. “I mean what I say, don’t I?”

Maggie goes to her. Lena lies down on the sand, pulls Maggie on top of her in the same movement so the waves won’t wash over her. Lena, for her part, welcomes them.

Maggie looks down at her. Strokes her face with a smile. “I just want to look at you.”

Lena almost wraps her arms around her neck, but her coat is soaked, and water would drip all over Maggie, who looks cold enough as it is. Lena’s hands settle on her sides instead. “I don’t blame you. I am a gorgeous billionaire, after all.”

“About time that you realized.”

Maggie leans down to kiss her. Lena savors the kiss, and the waves, and the numbness creeping up her legs. But she feels Maggie shiver against her, so she lifts herself up slightly. “And the best part is, I foresee a hot shower in our very near future, to get rid of all that salt and warm you up,” Lena smiles, brushing Maggie’s hair away from her face. “Your lips are turning blue.”

"I'm not sure about the shower, actually. Definitely a tub, though." Another kiss. "I think you'll like it."

“Oh no,” Lena laments as a particularly strong wave surrounds them. “You’ve found the ultimate secret weapon. I’m at your mercy, now.” She kisses Maggie’s nose. “Come on, let’s get up. You dying of hypothermia in my arms after you promised me a bath would be in poor taste.”

Maggie stands and pulls her to her feet.

“Thank you.” Lena takes off her coat. It sits heavy on her arm.

Maggie wrings the water out of her hair. “So, would this be the first bath you're sharing with someone or are you experienced?”

“That’ll be another first.” They start the walk back to the car. “What about you?” Oh god. Why did she ask this? It was a reflex. Maggie is with Kara. She’s been with Alex, Alex who told Lena exactly how nice taking a shower with Maggie was. Maggie has been with other people. Of course she’s taken a bath with at least one of them at least once, and if Alex and Kara are on the list… how very awkward.

Maggie eyes her coat. “Let me take this. I'll pay for it if it's ruined.” She winces again, takes her hand. “It'll be my first time with you and that's all that matters.”

Yep. Awkward. Good job, Lena.

“Pay for it? You will do no such thing. However...” She leans down to pull her ruined phone out of her coat pocket. “I might need to use your phone for a minute.” She chuckles when water trickles out of the headphone jack. “Just to make sure I have a new one waiting for me at home tomorrow.”

“Oh, shit. I'm so sorry,” Maggie says quietly, her eyes darting helplessly between Lena and the phone. “Next time, I'll make sure that nothing valuable is on your person before I dunk you in the water I promised not to dunk you in. My phone is yours.”

Sand becomes grass under their feet. It’s soft. Lena can barely feel her toes. “Oh, it’s not valuable. Just expensive. What was inside was valuable, and lucky me, not only is it all backed up, but I can afford a replacement. So, catastrophe averted. And thank you for lending me your phone. I won’t look at anything, I just need to text my assistant.”

“What a relief. I'm really sorry. I feel bad.” They pause by the car. “And there's nothing on my phone. I don't really text anyone so explore away.”

Maggie doesn’t text anyone? What about Kara? Sure, Kara isn’t the enthusiastic texter most people might expect from someone as warm and open, and her texts are few and far between, mostly to the point, or bizarre and endearing once in a blue moon, but… still, Kara texts. And Maggie and Lena text. Ergo, logically, Maggie and Kara should— bloody hell, shove your fucking logic up your ass for once in your life, Luthor.

She nods. “I’m curious, but where’s the fun in exploring and snooping by myself?” She looks at the car. “Hm. Should we put my coat in the trunk? Do you have a... I don’t know, anything to wrap it in? Or we can leave it here. Pick it up tomorrow. I don’t want to ruin your seats.”

“We're not leaving your coat. Throw it in the backseat since you won't take advantage of me back there. What do you mean about the snooping?”

Lena is glad her complexion and the absence of light ensure Maggie won’t see her paling. Taking advantage of her in the backseat. People usually prefer me in the backseat. What happened? Maggie, hanging out with older people, growing up too fast… She wrings as much water as she can from her coat, trying to keep her face composed. Does anyone know? Did anyone look out for her? Her aunt? Before dating this… Gotham vigilante, was she with women who only cared about… Lena swallows uneasily as she bundles up her coat before putting it on the floor behind the driver’s seat. She hopes it doesn’t ruin the carpet. Maggie’s car may be a little quirky on the passenger side, but it’s pristine. God, what happened to her? At least she’s with Kara, now. Kara, who can make even a pariah like her feel loved and valued for who they are. So it won’t happen again to Maggie. Ever. Not with Kara, not with her, not with Alex if they… grow close again.

Oh, and Maggie asked about the snooping. Wait. Why did she ask about the snooping? Did she think Lena was joking about being a Luthor and stealing NCPD contact names or something like that? Fabulous. Again, she swallows her discomfort and smiles over at Maggie. “I just meant that if you’ve taken lovely pictures, I’d rather you show them to me than go snooping through your gallery.”

Maggie smiles back as they get in the car. “You're being so overly polite I don't know what to do with you.” She kicks on the heat, unlocks her phone, opens her gallery. “You can look through. It's just places.” She scrolls, shows Lena a picture of the place they just ate at. Layers of blue against the white of the restaurant. “And here's this one. The sun had just set but there's still a gradient. I was flipping through this when I thought to invite you.”

Lena’s glasses are all fogged up. She rummages through her bag, finds Kara’s lovely blue handkerchief and uses it to wipe her glasses. “Ah, better. Let’s see.” She takes Maggie’s phone. Oh, that’s gorgeous.” She scrolls. Yeah, just places. No people. No Kara. It’s funny, Lena’s Instagram account is a clinical journal of all the plants, objects and places in her life, an attempt to bear witness, to remind herself that she was there. But her personal gallery, on her phone? Not so clinical. Maggie’s Instagram account is empty, her personal gallery on her phone is devoid of people. But full of beautiful shots. “You have all those backed up, right? On your computer, or in the cloud?” Oh. There’s a shot of… the tulips Lena got them, for their first night. She feels herself smile. So, they meant something to Maggie, too. But she isn’t sure Maggie meant for her to see that picture, so she keeps her face neutral and scrolls past it, not wanting to make her feel self-conscious.

“No. I probably should.” Maggie shrugs. “You warming up a little?”

Lena glances at her. No people. Hm. She turns her attention back to the phone, pulls up the camera app and leans across the armrest to snap a surprise selfie of the two of them. “Well, now you absolutely must back it all up. And yes, I’m warming up. Not that I was shivering in the first place, unlike a certain delicate someone.”

Maggie blinks, looks at her. “And now I'm delicate.” She looks at the picture. Smiles. “I'll try to remember to back it up.” She gives Lena a light kiss. Her lips are warm again.

“You can always send it to me. For safekeeping, of course. Now, let me just text my assistant...” Lena doesn’t mean to, but before she can press the New Message icon, she catches Kara’s name. The last message is a picture. So, they do text. Good. Maggie just meant she doesn’t text much, then. Lena quickly texts her assistant, then locks Maggie’s phone and hands it back to her.

Maggie takes it, her eyes on Lena’s own phone. “Are you sure you don't want to me to cover anything? For the record, the dunk and follow up— first time for me. It's a good thing you kept your stockings in the car.”

Lena snorts. “Right? My most treasured possession is safe. And no, don’t worry about the costs. I might ask if I were struggling to make ends meet, but...” Wait, does this sound entitled? Snobbish? “I mean, just because I could buy hundreds of those in the blink of an eye doesn’t mean I don’t know they’re a significant investment for the average person, you know? But what good is all that money if I can’t be self-indulgent once in a while?”

Maggie frowns. “But it wasn't handed to you. You turned Luthor Corp around. Made it your own, I mean. In the beginning, I wasn't so sure. I don't think a lot of people were but you put in the work and time. Don't tell anyone, but a few people at the station have mentioned your name without any colorful adjectives. You're really making a name for yourself. In any case, I'll be more careful in the future.”

“They have? Thank you for telling me. That’s heartening. It’s such a fine line, you know? Between doing good things because it’s right and I have the resources for it, and doing good things because I know it’ll reflect positively on the company, thus making it more attractive to investors and shareholders, thus allowing me to do even more...” Lena makes a spinning motion with her index finger. “And I have to be careful not to be overambitious. Not to become my brother.”

Maggie starts the car. “Is that something you worry about? Becoming like him?”

Lena puts her seatbelt on. They start driving. “Oh, yes. Constantly. Sometimes, the only steadying thought I hang on to, at night?” She looks over at her as they pull away from the clearing and onto the road. “You know, when I can’t sleep? It’s knowing that if I ever cross that line... she’ll be here. Supergirl. She’ll do what she needs to do, the way she did when my mother went on her crusade, the way Superman did when Lex lost it.”

Maggie tenses. What did she say? Should she not have shared that? Does it make Maggie uncomfortable because she’s police? Because she doesn’t always agree with Supergirl’s methods?

“I don't think it'll come to that. You're a good person. Supergirl believes in you. Kara. Alex.”

Lena frowns. “Of course. I mean, I know, and I’m so grateful, and it helps. But I need that, you know? That guarantee. And she knows that, too. That’s the deal. I help her, she helps me. We keep each other in check. We both wield... terrifying power. Hers more... natural, or raw, I guess. Mine, financial, intellectual... it balances out.” Hopefully.

“It won't happen,” Maggie says, eyes on the road.

Lena has to suppress a nervous laugh. How can Maggie say this so categorically? She doesn’t even know the half of it. “I hope not, but... insanity runs in my family. I can’t ignore that.”

Maggie glances at her. “We're almost there.” Lena sees her fingers tighten on the wheel. Well, that seems to be a sore subject. As always. Lena doesn’t blame her. Kara is the only one who never seems uncomfortable discussing these things. “If you ever feel yourself slipping,” Maggie says, “you know there are people there for you.”

Lena briefly touches Maggie’s hand. “If I feel myself slipping, you and Kara will be the first to know. I guess what I’m scared of is how it went for my mother and Lex. They didn’t feel themselves slipping. I saw...” She shakes her head to herself. “What was in one of his vaults, when my mother broke me out of jail. He’d created... frightening things, Maggie. Frightening.” Brilliant. “And I’m smarter than him.”

If a two-bit player like Maxwell Lord managed to almost replicate Kryptonian physiology, if Lex could… well. Lena could so much worse. As they say in Gotham, all it takes is one bad day.

“We're here.” Maggie parks the car, turns it off and turns to look at her. “I know you're brilliant. But you care about this world and the people in it. And if that ever changes...” She palms her face. “There will still be people in this world who care about it, who care about you, that will do what it takes to set things right. For everyone. Okay?”

Lena smiles and nods. Those people wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Lex outsmarted them all. The police, black ops agencies... only a Super could stop him. Barely. She knows, she hopes, that if it comes to this, Supergirl will do the same for her. She turns her head to kiss Maggie’s palm. “I appreciate it. I really do. And I trust you. But that’s not... I’ll always carry this with me. I think worrying about it is a way to keep it from happening. Lex and my mother? All they do is out of concern for this world. Twisted concern, but genuine concern. So, I can’t believe a hundred percent in what I do. I have to keep at least one percent free. To ask myself, is this right? To call myself into question. I need that doubt. It’s not scary to me. It’s comforting.”

“You know,” Maggie says pensively. “I've worked with addicts. And it’s not the same,” she shakes her head. “But they've said to me— when they think I've got this, that's when relapse happens. They need that fear. Or caution. So I think I get where you're coming from.” She smiles and undoes Lena’s seatbelt. “Do you want to try the door? I'd like to get out of the car before our clothes dry.”

“Watch me.” Lena tries to open the door. Nothing happens. Well, that’s just swell. Another attempt, and… veni, vidi, vici. Lena mentally high-fives herself. “I think I deserve a considerable reward for that extraordinary feat.”

“I'd hate to break precedent.” Maggie kisses her, her fingers tracing the curve of Lena’s ear. Lena decides almost dislocating her shoulder to open that door was well worth it. Maggie exits the car and comes around. “You can bring your shoes this time.”

“Are you saying I can’t frolic barefoot in the lobby? How dull.” She puts her shoes on, grimacing when she feels sand scraping again the insole. She grabs her handbag, reaches for her coat at the back and climbs out.

“Wait until you get to the room,” Maggie smirks. She takes her hand again and leads her towards the building.

The rumor of the ocean is almost inaudible, but it’s still there, somewhere in the distance. Like the restaurant before, the small hotel is the only artificial source of light in the night. They walk in, soaking wet. It’s dim in the lobby. An old receptionist looks up from her desk. For a second, Maggie’s grip on Lena’s hand loosens. Oh. It makes sense. Maggie is no stranger to bitter, homophobic receptionists, after all. But then, Maggie tightens her hold again. Lena smiles at her as they stop by the desk. The attendant turns out to be kind and professional, shooting Lena an amused glance when water drips from her hair onto the counter and she tries to wipe it off but only makes it worse. Lena gives her a sheepish smile and looks away as Maggie pays for the room, not wanting to make her feel like she’s under scrutiny. Maggie thanks the receptionist and tugs Lena towards the staircase. The walls are made of aged stone, cool to the touch.

“No elevator, I’m afraid.”

The building only has two or three floors. Lena looks down at her shoes. “Oh, look. No high heels. Bring on the high-rise.”

Maggie leads her up. “Need a piggy back ride?”

Lena stops, raises an eyebrow. “Do you?” She’s fairy sure she could do it.

“I'd take you up on that but I refuse to let you throw me down the stairs,” Maggie laughs.

“Damn it. My evil master plan, thwarted once again.”

“Not on my watch, Luthor.” They reach the next landing and Maggie stops by the closest door, handing Lena an old key. “This should keep you occupied for the next while. Long enough for me to foil any of your plans.” She takes Lena’s coat and handbag.

Lena observes the key. Beautiful. She waves it in Maggie’s face. “I’ll have you know I grew up in a very traditional house. Wrought iron keys hold no secrets for me.” She slips it into the lock, turns it to the right. Nope. To the left. Nothing. Come on. “I’m channeling Kara here, but... golly. It’s like those USB ports, you know? You try one way, it doesn’t fit. The other way? Still doesn’t fit. Try the first way again? For some reason, it works this time.” She tries a couple more times. “I give up. You do it.”

Maggie cocks an eyebrow. “Are you actually a vampire?” She opens the door in no time and gestures towards the inside. “Please. Come in.”

A vampire? Oh right. They need to be invited in. No, Lena thinks, it’s only post-traumatic stress disorder after literally every door in the mansion was gently closed in her face, save for Lex’s room and her father’s study. She steps inside the room. “Well, rescind your invitation, then. See what happens.”

Maggie closes the door behind them. “But this room feels chilly. Who will keep me warm if I send you on your way?” She goes to turns on the low lamps. “So, this is it.” She looks apprehensive.

Will the billionaire find this humble abode suitable? Lena suppresses a smile and walks around, taking in the atmosphere. Old stone, wood, no television, nothing superfluous. It’s perfect.

“That’s gorgeous. I’d take a couple of pictures but someone ruined my phone. It feels like one of those troglodytic homes in Greece or Italy.” Abruzzo. Santorini. She stayed in hotels like this one, there. It’s uncanny. “How did you find out about this place?”

“I'm afraid it was another one of my late night discoveries. I keep a notebook in my glovebox. I write down the places that catch my attention and come back to them when I'm a little clearer. Feel free to use my phone if you want to snap pictures. I'll unlock it for you.” She does so right away, clasping her hands after Lena takes it. “And I looked it up, nothing awful has happened here. Habit, whenever I stay anywhere.” She tugs Lena to show her the bathroom. She looks so nervous. “It's kind of cramped but the tub is a nice size. Not quite a shower, I know.”

Lena wants to pull her into a hug, tell her it’s fine, that her billions are nothing next to feeling like someone cared enough about her to try to find a hotel she’d like in the first place. But that might come off as condescending. Instead, she hands Maggie’s phone back to her. “You’re the photographer. As long as you promise to send me everything, you’re in charge of the memory-making.” She looks around. “I love it. I really do. I feel like I’m on one of my business trips to some of my favorite European countries. I miss them. Anyway. Did you keep a notebook like this in Gotham? I’ve only been there a few times.”

Maggie smiles anxiously. “Not really. Gotham's different from National City. I can get lost here. Even with, you know, rampant alien attacks, it's still relatively safe. Normal. Gotham's mean. Getting lost there might mean never coming home. And being held captive and tortured just to piss a vigilante off.” She goes to set Lena’s coat and bag on the nearby table. “What are your favorite European countries? You must get to see nice places.”

Lena wonders if Maggie chose to leave Gotham after things with her vigilante girlfriend went south. “Gotham’s a piece of work. Lex once considered moving Luthor Corp’s headquarters there, but… nope, too much of a headache. And yes, I’m very fortunate.” She walks up to Maggie and wraps her arms around her waist, kissing her cheek. “So… I love the UK and Ireland, obviously,” she says, rolling her eyes. “And Scandinavia, Germany. Did you know Luthor is a Germanic name? Kara has declared I have Viking ancestry. Mediterranean countries are my favorite, though.” She traces an invisible map in the air. “We start with southeastern Spain, then France, Italy, the Balkans, Greece, Turkey...” She lets her hand fall to Maggie’s hip and kisses her.

Maggie leans into it, her tongue gliding along her lips, hands resting on Lena’s arms. “Let's add cartography to the high school curriculum.”

“I do love maps,” Lena whispers. She palms Maggie’s face delicately and joins their lips. She feels drunk on how soft Maggie’s lips are. “Thank you. For finding this great restaurant, this beautiful hotel, for offering to go on a romantic walk with me. And for throwing me into the ocean.” She thumbs her cheeks, touches their foreheads together. “That was the loveliest date. I was promised a bath, though.”

“Yes. I've been completely selfless and have gotten nothing out of this.” A beat. “I'm relieved you didn't lose your glasses in the water.” She gives Lena a swift kiss. “I'll go run that water for you.” Lena misses her warmth right away. She watches her run the water, adjust the temperature. “Come test it and tell me if it's too warm for you.”

Lena dips her hand into the water. “Feels about right. I’m going to turn lobster red anyway, as you’ve already witnessed, but it doesn’t mean I’m being cooked alive. So. Shall we?”

“Yeah, um. I can turn around if you...” Maggie laughs. “Do you want to get in first, or…? I can come back when you're decent.”

Oh, right. Because Lena told her earlier she wasn’t ready to be undressed by anyone. So now, Maggie can’t tell what she’s comfortable with. “How about,” Lena says slowly, “you take off your clothes, I take off my clothes, and whoever’s naked first takes the plunge?” She starts unbuttoning her dress.

Maggie watches her, smiling. Her fingers drop to the bottom of her own dress. She presses her fingers to her skin and lifts it slowly. "You're on."

“I’m on.” Lena lets her dress pool at her feet, unclasps her bra, takes everything off. “And I win.” She steps into the tub, sits down and feels her muscles relax right away. She looks up at Maggie, who smiles and pull her dress off in one movement, getting rid of the rest almost as quickly before getting in and sitting across from her, draping her arms over the sides of the tub.

"I would have taken my time but I'd hate to keep you waiting."

Lena leans back, shivering when the cold of the porcelain enameled steel and the heat of the water clash against her skin. “As lovely as watching you take your time would have been,” when in doubt, go for the truth, “I want you close. For as long as I can have you.” They can’t press pause on time. Seconds, hours are trickling away from them. “Come here.”

Maggie shifts again, kneels between her legs, kisses her carefully. “Admittedly, it's been a very long time since I've done this. Tell me how you want me. Should I be big spoon? Do you want to be big spoon? Is there some other configuration you have in mind?"

Lena chuckles. “Big spoon... It sounds funny when you repeat it over and over in your head. But I’m staying where I am. You decide where you want to be.” A very long time. Not with Kara, then. Maybe not with Alex, even.

Maggie kisses her, gently pushes her knees apart and turns around to sit between them. "Who needs the iron throne?"

Her fingertips ghost over Lena's knees. She's not quite reclining against her, like she isn’t sure what Lena would be comfortable with. Lena wraps her arms around her and draws her close, letting her hands settle on her stomach. “Cersei does. She’s my favorite. Though, I must say, in most indo-European languages? The throne is a synonym for the toilet. So I suppose everyone needs it.”

Maggie laughs. “And now you've made it weird.” She leans back into her. It’s the nicest sensation, that weight against her. Lena’s been missing out. She hugs her a little tighter. “Cersei's not getting the throne.”

Lena wonders if one day, they’ll be watching Game of Thrones together. Maybe at her place? Would Maggie like to come to her place? What’s Maggie’s place like? “Fine. Sansa, then. I won’t accept anyone else. And yes, I make things weird. So do you, by the way.”

She kisses her temple. Maggie smiles and turns to look at her. “What do I make weird?"

“Oh, plenty of little things,” Lena says, tucking Maggie’s hair behind her ear. “And I’m sure I do, too. Comes with the territory, when you decide to make room for a stranger. But what’s really, really strange,” she says, resting her chin on Maggie’s shoulder, “is that I’m now in a hotel I’m convinced is in fact in Italy, and the front door was probably a portal of some sort, and the light is warm and restful, and I’m having a bath with a gorgeous little detective who, another one of my very scientific conclusions, probably was a cat in a past life, hence her curiosity. Because...” She kisses Maggie’s neck, under her ear. “She can be a bit skittish, and she snuck up on me, and now I like her, but she can also be a little git who pushes her good friend into the ocean and hangs up on lovely room service people, much like a cat who, gracefully sat on a mantle piece, will give a priceless vase a little push and watch it shatter below, because why not, before purring contentedly. That’s you. You’re weird. We were probably destined to get along, at some point.”

Maggie closes her eyes for a moment, her hands are stroking Lena's legs absently. "Destined is a big word. Maybe I had to grow up too fast and I'm making up for lost time." She turns to look at her. “Or maybe I was a cat, and I'm with a beautiful woman and I'm desperate to get her attention. It's not every day Lena Luthor and her beloved coat and phone go for a swim in the ocean. I should have snapped a picture of that." She pauses. “But I won't forget.”

Lena sinks a little lower into the water, gesturing for Maggie to turn around and wrapping her arms around her when she does. They’re so close, now, facing each other.

“There will be other opportunities for you to document whatever ridiculous situation I get myself into. Or get pushed into, I suppose.” She strokes Maggie’s hair, brushes a few strands away. “And, I mean... you have a picture of me, drenched in your car, glasses askew. So you do have something to remember your appalling behavior by.”

Maggie smiles. “Appalling? I'll have you know, if you were anyone else, I would have tried to seduce you then and there. Sex on the beach isn't just a drink.” She frowns. “The sand can be obnoxious, though.”

Anyone else. Someone… more this, less that. But Lena’s not anyone else. Lena doesn’t want to have sex on a beach, or in the backseat of a car. She wants to make love in a bed, she wants to be warm, and safe. “I’m afraid I’m already seduced. And I agree, why make love on the beach under the moonlight when we can drag each other under the waves, ruin each other’s clothes and giggle like preteens? Making up for lost time, indeed.”

“Have I seduced you so quickly? Maybe I am the lesbian whisperer.” She smiles. “Hey. So, tonight. Whatever you want. I just… I thought it'd be nice to have a night and morning with you. The rest is optional.”

Lena cups Maggie’s cheek and kisses her. “I know.”

X

Alex pulls back on the force of the punch at the last minute, but it still grazes off Winn’s cheekbone. He recoils, hand to his face, falling to the floor and lying (pathetically) on the training floor mats. “Is that it?” Alex asks. “I thought you were ready to step out from behind the computer and be a hero?” She never understood Winn and James’ sudden insistence on redefining what a hero is. They’re there for Kara Danvers. What more could they want? What can two men without a day’s training have to contribute to the streets of National City?

“That mugger didn’t hit as hard as you do, and he was trying to kill me,” he complains. She watches him sit up, limp to a standing, doesn’t hide her smile. “I changed my mind. Maybe I’ll get a normal person to train me.”

“Like who?”

“Like Kara. She knows how to be delicate.”

Sure. Delicate Kara Danvers. Delicate as a freight train. Alex rolls her eyes, picks up her bottle of water and has a drink though she isn’t parched and hasn’t built up a sweat. Combat training against Winn is like battling pocket lint: annoying but with complete victory assured. “You’d know all about delicate.”

“What does that mean?”

She doesn’t know, to be honest. She goes to him, takes his face hard in her hand, turning it to look at the small welt forming there. “Put some ice on it. You’ll be fine.” He’s still pouting when he starts to leave the room. She smiles, looking at his plaid country boy shirt. It looks like it could be out of Kara's collection. So do his pants. “Let me know when you’re ready for more.”

“Does that mean you’re going to spare me next time you’re pissed?” She narrows her eyes and he leaves the room quickly. Sigh. It’d be nice to have someone who could properly challenge her. Her regrets these days seem silly given how badly she’d wanted to be a medical doctor. And yes, she has her PHDs and masters but this isn’t how or where she thought she’d be applying them. Oh well. Life changes. Adapt or die.

She picks up her phone from the bench where she left it.

It’s 2:17pm.

Maggie [today 2:02pm]: I’m glad we talked, too. Let me know if you’re ever looking for a running buddy.

Alex smiles wanly. Maggie always did like her early morning runs. They would meet at the park or go together when Maggie slept over. Kara’s never liked running. Alex doesn’t blame her. It must be like faux racing a child, pretending to just barely keep up. Only in Kara’s case she could be halfway across the world in the time a human took ten steps. It bores her, Kara said. But Maggie loves it. Alex loved going with her. Doing those couple things. It was their couple thing. Or maybe it was only that to her. Maggie’s kept running. Maggie will always run, whether anyone goes with her or not. And now she texts Kara her confessions of love and cute geese parables. Maggie hates geese.

Alex starts a response. She won’t tell her she’s missed their morning runs. Will do, she sends back. She doesn’t want to get in over her head. She has to take things slow with her. They’re friends. And for all she knows, they’re friends who are in love, but until Maggie tells her so, nothing changes. Nothing can change. She still doesn’t understand how Kara seems so convinced when Maggie would rather be with Lena than with her. And sure, Lena is fantastic but she and Maggie hardly know each other. What could they possibly have in common? Great sex? No. She can’t think like that. She’ll drive herself insane.

She scrolls through her very short list of contacts.

James Olsen

Jon

Kara

Lena Luthor

Maggie

Mom

Winn Schott

It annoys her that Kara, Lena and Maggie’s names are lined up. It’s been too long since she’s reached out to Lena. Lena, who told her that Kara makes her happy but whom Kara will only say makes her feel real and loved. You’re right, that’s totally different. Pish, posh, who cares for oh, so, vague happiness. Tell it to the people who don’t feel anything, who jump off a bridge, who would settle for ‘vague’ happiness. Fucking Lena and Kara. She doesn’t get their ‘vague’ verbal masturbation. Their semantics acrobatics. Their adroit agility when it comes to defining who they are to each other. Their fucking resistance to the obvious. Whatever. They can enjoy, enjoy, enjoy. Some people have to live on planet Earth (and hope for ‘vague’ happiness).

She sets the phone down. She won’t call now. Not when she’s getting lost in bitter memories. Why is she so bitter? Kara makes everyone a better person, la dee dah. But what they don’t realize is how much others had to sacrifice so Kara could have that freedom, so she didn’t have to see all the ugliness necessary to preserve what innocence and childhood she could.

Does she make Kara happy? She tries to imagine what little spin answer Kara might give her, compare the feeling she provokes to a worm finding a drop of water on a leaf on a dry summer day. Bah, she gives up. Maybe she wasn’t made for love or be loved. Her parents are scientists. She works for a black ops government agency. She should forget love. She has purpose, agency, a mission. Love’s a liability for someone like her. And yet, how many times has Kara been what’s pushed her through what she thought were impossible situations? Life or death situations? It wasn’t about her disgusting feelings. It was about Kara. It was about good. It was about doing the right thing. Don’t ever kiss me again, Kara. Why does the right thing always feel so lousy?

Alex circles the punching bag, throwing punches, weaving when the bag swings back, roundhouse, front kicking hard. She joined the DEO at the top of her class, despite drinking her nights away and gratefully crawling out of men’s beds, having reaffirmed something (it was a mystery then) for herself, despite how… uncomfortable it made her. Headhunted by the DEO. Turned and trained into a lethal killing machine. And no one knows the half of it. They don’t know what she’s seen. They don’t know what she’s done. They will never know what it has taken to keep Kara and this city safe. The Cadmus agent she beat to a pulp, the one everyone flipped out about, that wasn’t authorized. But the other, terrible things she has done, under the direction of the DEO, to safeguard National City, Kara, and the rest of the world, those were authorized. Snapping bones. Pins under nails. Killing. She doesn’t regret it. There’s a reason she’s risen so quickly through the ranks. She’ll never regret doing everything it takes to keep those she loves safe. But if they didn’t have Kara to lord over her, would she feel the same? How often does love push people to terrible things?

She goes for another twenty minutes, emptying into the bag, kneeing hard, jabbing and uppercutting. When she stops she feels more restful, adrenaline, bright and heady moving through her. She grabs her bottle of water, downing the whole thing in seconds, feeling sweat on her brow as she sits on the bench and leans back into the wall.

She picks up her phone and calls Lena. Maybe Lena won’t pick up and she’ll have to leave another voicemail. Sorry I was a bitch. Drinks sometime? Or Fucking Maggie yet? Or Did you and Kara braid each other’s hair last night and talk about your delicate bird feelings? Don’t talk about how happy she makes you, that’s basic. Lena picks up.

“Hey, Alex.” Her voice is warm.

Alex breathes. Smiles wryly. Feels like a bitch. “Ms. Luthor.”

“Call me that again and I’m hanging up.”

“Don’t hang up.”

“You sound out of breath.”

Alex laughs softly, running the back of her hand over her forehead, fingers pushing the hair back from her face. “Just a rigorous afternoon workout. Nothing fun, I’m afraid.” But that’s a lie. If Maggie likes her runs, Alex lives for her training. There’s very little she can control in this world. Not Kara, not other’s feelings, not the enemies National City faces. But she can control herself. She can shape herself. Maybe one day she’ll exercise complete control over her emotions, her heart. Maybe one day she’ll be the machine everyone at the DEO thinks she is. “What are you up to?”

“Mh, well, I’ve just returned from a delightful brunch not too long ago.” Only Lena would refer to a brunch as ‘delightful’. Scratch that, Kara would, too. Did they have brunch? Thanks for the invite! She doesn’t think she’d have gone. “Now I’m planning to go over a few meeting notes in preparation for the rest of the week, and then do my best to spend the rest of this weekend doing absolutely nothing.”

“Don’t you break out into hives when you’re doing ‘absolutely nothing’?”

“Come to think of it, I’m not sure I’m even capable of doing nothing. It’s always busy in there. Too busy. But I meant, nothing productive. Although I suppose relaxing is productive in its own way. Where are you? At the gym?”

Alex smiles. “I’m working. We have a gym here. Eat it, L-Corp.”

“No need to be so smug about it, I’m not a sore loser. Unlike some.” Uh huh. “And surely you’ll be gracious enough to get me a visitor’s pass and show me what L-Corp is missing out on. Unless the receptionist is once more adamant you don’t work there.”

Fuck. She puts a smile into her voice. “The last thing I need is Lena Luthor visiting me at work. I’d never hear the end of it. But if you want to hack the FBI database and get a look at our layout, I’m all for it. It might be slightly illegal but hey, you’re a Luthor. Live dangerously.”

“Normally that joke would really sting, but… I’m glad you called, and even your clever barbs can’t do anything about that. So I’ll let it slide.”

Nice apology, Alex. Alex closes her eyes. She grounds her body. Feels her feet on the ground, thighs pressed to the bench, back and head resting into the concrete wall. Breath emptying out of her before swooping in again. “But the joke is that you wouldn’t. Obviously I’d never encourage you to infiltrate our database if I thought you’d hack said database. But thanks for letting it slide.”

“That’s what friends are for. Cutting you some slack… once in a while. Anyway, how have you been?”  

“Oh, you know. Trying to hang on to my last shreds of sanity.” She shrugs. Lena said (she thinks) that she was stressed leading to the time of their meetup at the distillery. That she and Maggie thought of how to approach her about what happened. Like a battle plan. No, like a couple. No, they’re not a couple. Are they a couple? Maggie says they’re friends. And then gets irritated when Alex points out they’re not normal friends. Alex rubs her temple. She is too educated to be this confused. “Anyway, it’s been a while since we talked. There are some women in my life who have kindly encouraged me to get my head out of my ass. So here I am. Attempting to do just that.”

“Attempting? I’d say you’ve already succeeded. I mean, we’re talking. You’re gently insulting me. Whoever those women are, they give excellent advice and you’re lucky to have them in your life.”

“Yeah. Look.” She lowers her voice. “I…” Say it, say it, say it. “Wanted to apologize. I wanted… there’s a lot of things I want to say.”

“And I’ll gladly hear them, but no more apologies. Not to me. That’s been taken care of the last time we saw each other.”

“I know I was awful that night.” What she remembers, anyway. What has faded and blurred, hidden in the black? Are there some memories she’ll never get back? Were they ever stored? The thought makes her cold. She waffles. Stands. Fidgets. Goes to the punching bag again, pressing her palm flat against it.” Her mouth is dry. “I was hurt and… I just thought. I might as well hurt everyone else, too. Mature, I know. I don’t always know how to deal with…”

“With what?” Lena asks softly.

“Feeling things.” She’s flippant. “Guess I’m not practiced, you know?” Work liability. Her hand goes from flat to curled, knuckles pressing against the punching bag. “Anyway. I called for a reason. I’ve been thinking a lot. About you. And us.” Her face warms. She scratches her cheek. “Not like… I mean. Not like that.”

“So have I.”

Maybe she wasn’t out of sight, out of mind with Lena Luthor. “You have?”

“Yes. I think we should talk. Not about what happened, not about the others, but… maybe make sure we’re on the same page when it comes to what we want and expect. From each other, I mean.”

She isn’t sure what that means. What to expect. She’d expected to talk, not a conversation. She prefers to do the talking. She doesn’t know how Lena and Kara function, like smoke in the ether, coiling and shifting, evolving prettily, beautiful and without labels. Flowing. She doesn’t know how to flow if it’s not in combat. Her hand flattens again. She has to try. She has to ‘just be respectful’. “I’d like that.” Say something honest. “I’ve missed hanging out with you. You always make me laugh. I don’t laugh a lot, Lena. I know we’ve never talked about anything because…” she looks around cautiously, despite the room being empty, despite that, for all she knows, someone (Winn) is actively listening in right now. “It’s always been casual, but.” She lowers her voice. “There are things I want to say to you, if you’re open to it. Nothing bad. Preferably in person.”

“Of course I’m open to it. I think this week is going to be a crazy one schedule-wise and I’ll probably be stuck at the office until dead o’clock most nights, but… next weekend?”

Alex breathes out, feeling some of the rigidity in her body slip away, but not all. Will she be able to say anything she means to say to Lena if they’re face to face? She doesn’t know. Lena, her friend. The love of Kara’s life. Whom Maggie would rather make out with than her. She has to laugh or she’ll blow her brains out. “Sounds like a plan, Luthor. See you later.”

“Yeah. Take care, Alex. I mean it. And thanks for reaching out.”

Alex scoffs softly. “Don’t get all mushy on me.” She hangs up. Pockets the phone. She’ll hit the showers and go home. Maybe everything isn’t awful.

X

“And here it is.”

Lena runs her hand along the edge of the wrapped canvas. Kara smiles up at her, takes off her shoes and places them next to Lena’s. She shrugs off her coat, Lena takes it wordlessly. She looks tired. Her eyes aren’t red. She’s not wearing her comfort MIT hoodie.

“Should I…” Lena gestures at the canvas. “Open it now?”

Kara shakes her head. Lena closes her eyes and takes a slow, deep breath. Kara thinks that maybe, this is the part where she hugs her. She stays still. She doesn’t want to make it awkward instead of comforting by being too careful, or not careful enough. She doesn’t think Lena wants to be hugged now, anyway. She wants a presence, her presence, and she wants space. At the same time.

Lena opens her eyes, they fall on hers and they exchange a small smile. Lena nods towards the living room. “Kettle’s on.”

Kara picks up the box she brought and follows her further in. Lena glances at it when they get to the open kitchen.

“Flowers,” Kara says helplessly.

Lena’s gaze softens. “Let me get a vase for them.”

“No need. I found this tiny, tiny shop,” Kara explains, putting the box on the kitchen island. “It’s not fancy or anything, but the florist? She’s positively ancient. Knows everything about plants and flowers. She’s probably a witch. A nice one. I wasn’t sure what would be appropriate, so she helped me choose. She even asked what kind of person you were. And she said, for you, not freshly cut flowers that would wilt in two weeks, but perhaps…” She opens the box, takes out the small, hand-painted ceramic planter and unwraps it, making sure not so spill any of the soil mixture. “Something alive, that you can grow yourself. Because I told her I wanted something that would accompany you for longer than the socially accepted period for… mourning whatever it is you need to mourn. She helped me plant the seedlings the right way.”

Lena traces the rim of the pot, brushes her fingers to Kara’s and lets them linger there, not quite taking her hand. Maybe it means thank you. Maybe it means that her heart feels like a stone, that it presses against her lungs and there’s not enough air in there to push words out. Kara focuses on blocking out the sound of Lena’s heartbeat. She only wants to know what Lena wants to show. It’s difficult, when they’re so close. She hears the calm, steady thump of Lena’s heart, until she succeeds and it fades away, and all she can hear is the kettle on the stove behind them.

Lena peeks at the barely visible top of the seedlings. “What flowers are they?”

Carnations. White, for loving with integrity, and pink, for I will never forget you. “You’ll see. In time.”

Lena looks at her, unsmiling and focused. “Another bit of advice from the witch? Let time do the work?”

Kara shakes her head. “That one’s from me. However,” she adds lightly, “Worry not, I’ve written you detailed instructions. What kind of light exposure they need, how you should water them… you might even be able to coax them into blooming more than once.”

Lena pulls the folded pages from the box and reads them quickly. Kara remembers the first time Lena handwrote something for her, the information she needed to find Veronica Sinclair’s fighting ring. There’s something generous and free about Lena’s handwriting. Not like her own. Lena looks up from the light blue paper, like she can’t quite figure her out. “Since the day we met, you’ve shown up. Every time. Your first article, the gala, when you grilled me about my mother and I pushed you away, when you brought me donuts, when you stood up for me. When you were the reason Supergirl even knew I needed help. You’ve been there for me.”

Kara nods and says nothing. She stays there. Where Lena wants her. But she should say something. People get uncomfortable when she doesn’t say anything. Lena doesn’t, but what if she just hides it better than most? “You know that feeling when… if you could be anywhere you want in the blink of an eye, you’d just stay right where you are?”

The kettle starts whistling behind them. Lena ignores it, crosses her arms on the island. “Once in a while. I’m working on that. On being… where I am. On wanting to be where I am.”

Kara wants to kiss her cheek again, like she did in the car. But she’s afraid. Stupidly afraid she’ll do it wrong, and that Lena, unlike Alex, unlike Maggie, who can tell her when she misses the mark and won’t read anything into it, she’s afraid that unlike them, Lena will need an explanation with a cost Kara isn’t willing to pay. So she leans forward to catch her gaze instead. “Lena.” She loves saying her name. If she can’t take her in her arms, it’s the next best thing. “Today, of all days? I don’t want you to work on anything. Today, regrets are allowed. And wishing things had turned out differently.”

Lena glances at the shrieking kettle, wincing slightly. Kara turns off the stove. “And tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, too. And however many more days you need. And then, whether you like it or not, time will do the work,” Kara smiles. “Come on, go sit down. I’ll get tea ready.”

“No, you go sit down.”

Kara crosses her arms. “Uh, why?”

“Because I made you a blend and…” Lena pinches the bridge of her nose with trembling fingers. “Okay, you do it. This cup is yours, that one’s mine.”

“Got it.”

“Sorry.” Lena lets out a mirthless chuckle. “I know you can tell them apart, I know you know exactly how I like it. I just— I haven’t slept in over forty-eight hours. I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

“Lena, go and make yourself comfortable. Put on…” well, not Don’t tell the bride. Nothing involving couples. “The Great British Bakeoff. I’ve got this.”

Lena nods and goes to sit on the couch. Kara takes a looks at the small tray. It’s her favorite. Of course it is. A Meiji era tea tray, glossy black lacquer adorned with an exquisite rendering of a fisherman at dusk in gold relief. The tea ball in her cup is filled with a small quantity of what looks like… rooibos? No. But something herbal, for sure. No tea plant. Kara looks at Lena across the room. She was so interested when they started making tea together. They tested quantities, blends, how long to let it infuse, until they found what was just right for Kara. Most people would say it doesn’t taste like anything, but to her, it’s just fine, subtle and rich. It’s just enough. She peeks at what’s in Lena’s cup. Her usual jasmine-based blend. Kara hesitates. She knows where the shortbread biscuits and the Jaffa cakes are, but if Lena didn’t put some on a plate… maybe she can’t eat, right now.

She fills their cups before going to the guestroom to retrieve the blanket on the bed while the tea infuses. When she comes back, Sue’s familiar voice is coming out of the television at low volume, asking a contestant, When you were foraging in the hedgerows, did you eat any weird mushrooms that maybe have inspired this bake? Kara chuckles and Lena turns her head to look at her briefly. She’s not quite smiling, but there’s an amused twinkle in her eyes.

Kara lets Lena’s blend infuse a little longer, puts the tea ball in the sink and brings everything over to the coffee table. She drapes the blanket over Lena’s legs and sits on the couch at a respectable distance, but Lena, her eyes not leaving the screen, lifts the blanket and motions for her to slip under it right next to her. Kara smiles and complies.

They watch in silence. Kara keeps an eye on Lena’s hands, watches her fingers run along the edge of the saucer absently, waiting for her tea to cool down. Kara knows how long it takes for most humans to be able to drink tea without burning their tongue, but she feels so insecure about these things around Lena. Not the intimate conversations, not the flowers, not the feelings. The practical things. The physical things. When Lena takes her first sip, Kara knows she can believably do it too.

“Did everyone treat you okay, at the funeral?” she asks when their cups are almost empty.

Lena nods, tears her eyes from the screen and shifts to face her. “They did. It was a dignified affair. Lots of people. Most of them barely knew him.” She shakes her head. “God. Kara, if Lex, or my mother, or whoever comes after me next has their way, and I don’t make it out alive? Small, private ceremony, with the… what, three people who care? No, four. Jonathan. And maybe… anyway, I will leave detailed instructions, but you’re in charge.”

Kara sets her cup on the tray. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Lena frowns. “The thought of hundreds of random acquaintances and journalists showing up like they did for Jack, just because he was rich and the story around his death was juicy… And let’s be real, if something happens to me, who else is there? To take care of things.”

Kara thinks of her parents. No grave, no resting place. Of Astra, who had her husband and niece to send her off. Those things are important. “Yeah, okay. I’ll keep it together long enough to take care of your funeral arrangements, and then,” she smiles brightly. “I’ll mourn you for the rest of my life.”

Lena returns her smile with a soft one of her own. “What happened to whether you like it or not, time will do the work?”

Kara pulls her legs up under the blanket, propping her elbow on the back or the couch and resting her chin on her hand. “What do you think time will do the work means?”

Lena puts down her cup by Kara’s and stays silent for a long time. Kara can practically see the gears turning in her head. It occurs to her that all she needs to do to literally see her synapses fire electrical impulses, to see her bones, her nerves, is to look at her above the rim of her glasses. She closes her eyes to banish the mere possibility of such an image, but it’s even worse in the darkness behind her eyelids. All she has to do to turn her world into a grotesque horror movie, is to look at it without her glasses.

“I’m guessing it doesn’t mean that time heals all wounds.”

The gentle sound of Lena’s voice calls her back, she opens her eyes and the vision of horror is replaced by her friend, pale and exhausted, beautiful.

“It doesn’t. It just means time will drag you back to work. Not just your job, but… the work of living.”

“Well,” Lena says, smoothing out the wrinkles in the blanket. “I’m going back to work tomorrow. I wonder what that says about me.”

Kara goes to give her a playful shove, becomes paranoid about breaking her shoulder. Her hand ends up landing awkwardly on Lena’s forearm. Lena glances down at it. Her sweater is soft. Let’s be awkward together.

“It says you’re going back to work tomorrow. The job and the other kind of work.”

Lena sighs, her hand coming up to cover Kara’s, turning her bizarre gesture into something resembling… into something that makes sense. “I wasn’t just being obnoxious, though. I felt… removed. Before, during and after the funeral. I was his last girlfriend, you know? I think his mother needed someone she could treat like a daughter-in-law. Not for propriety’s sake, just… emotionally.”

“To feel like he had a special someone who misses him as much as she does?”

“I think so. It’s understandable, but it was a performance. Not that I pretended I was still with him, but acting like my heart was in it. It really wasn’t. I was there physically, I was sad intellectually, but that’s it. And…” She pauses, licks her lips.

Kara wait but nothing else comes. “And?”

“And it reminded me of...,” Lena says thickly. “When Lex was arrested, my mother was there. Saw her son dragged, bleeding and raving, from her house. And when I got there, Lillian was tidying his room like he’d been away on a business trip. That’s how I feel. Cold and calm. And then I think of his assistant dying in jail and I feel warm for a minute. And then, cold again.”

“What would you rather feel?

Lena looks at her. “Something.”

“I think,” Kara says quietly, not looking away, “that most of the time, you feel a lot. A lot of sadness, among other things. So for once, let yourself feel nothing, okay? Give your heart a break. The good kind of heartbreak. And you know what?” she adds with a smile. “I can feel for two. I’ll keep your feelings safe for you and you can have them back when you’re ready.”

Little white lies, told to inconsolable children by adults who wish to god they were true. Lena nods. Kara scoots closer and stretches her arm across the back of the couch, nodding at Lena to lean into her. Lena puts her head on her shoulder and Kara brings her arm around her, letting herself relax into the embrace until she’s not particularly holding back in any way. She looks at their hands, Lena holding hers so lightly. She wants to see her play piano again, like that day in the street. Lena hadn’t practiced in ages, but it was even lovelier for it, for all the little mistakes. Five minutes of harmony. The people gathered around the street piano went quiet. A baby, watching her with big, watery eyes even stopped crying. The mother came closer and, not wanting to disturb Lena’s concentration, gave Kara a smile and a questioning look, and Kara nodded, and the mother stood by the piano so her baby could watch Lena’s hands from up close. Kara wonders if some part of this tiny human’s mind will remember this, carry it with her. Being fascinated and calmed by music before she could even talk, or walk, or comprehend that she’s an individual. Kara’s read about human children’s developmental stages. Until a certain age, they think they are the world. That all others creatures see what they see, feel what they feel, and to them, everything is alive, and they are everything. They think like all-powerful little gods. And then they become separate from the world, a second birth, a second primal parting. And some of them, much later in life, through various means, spend the rest of it trying to be one with the universe again.

Lena is looking at her. She hadn’t noticed. Kara blinks her daze away. “Do you remember that beautiful baby who watched you play piano?”

Lena smiles, pulls out her phone and a minute later, Debussy’s Rêverie is playing in the room. She opens her gallery and finds the picture Kara took of her holding that little girl after she was done playing, her mother smiling besides them, draped in the traditional, brightly colored garments of her native Kenya.

Kara’s throat is tight, but she wants to smile. “Look at how you’re holding her.” So securely. “The way you’re looking at each other. The way her mom looks at the two of you. Every time you think you’re following in your mother’s footsteps, look at this. Just for a few seconds.”

Lena looks at it until the screen goes black and the phone slips from her hand. She turns slightly, draping an arm around Kara’s waist and tucking her head beneath her chin. Kara rests her cheek on Lena’s head, pulls the blanket a little higher. She doesn’t know who’s comforting whom.

They stay like this for so long, unmoving, that a ray of sunlight starts creeping out of the guestroom and into the hallway. Whenever she sleeps over on a clear day, she stands before the floor-to-ceiling window of the guestroom and watches the sunset. Lena told her that the word Occident comes from the Latin occidere, “dying, killing.” Because the west is where the sun goes to die, as opposed to the Orient, the east, from oriri, “originating, rising.” It’s interesting, because the light of the setting sun on that side of the apartment reminds her of the light that her home’s red sun emitted. Rao, all amber, gold and rust, forever setting. Rao, in the Andromeda galaxy, 2.5 light-years west of the Milky Way. Andromeda, space’s Occident where her past went to die. In approximately four billion years, according to the latest Hubble data, the two galaxies will merge, their stars far enough apart that they won’t individually collide. Her two homes, reunited. What will be left of Krypton’s ruins then, of Earth? Of herself. Who will send her off and say the prayers, if she outlives everyone she loves?

Lena’s breathing is so regular Kara wonders if she’s asleep. She tilts her head down, Lena tilts hers up. “Good evening,” Kara smiles. “I thought you’d fallen asleep on me.”

“I think I did take a brief nap at some point.” Lena glances at Kara’s shoulder. “I didn’t drool on you, so there is that.”

Kara shrugs. “If you’re going back to work tomorrow, I’d say you need all the sleep you can get, but… I’m not letting you go to bed before you’ve eaten something. Unless you had lunch before I got here, but… I doubt it.”

“No, I didn’t have lunch.” Lena hugs her briefly before disentangling herself and stretching for a few seconds, stifling a yawn. “I haven’t eaten anything since whatever they served us on the plane this morning. And I mostly stuck to coffee, to be honest. My stomach’s been in knots for days. But enough about me. Are you hungry? I can whip something up.”

“Are you hungry?”

Lena ponders. “Not precisely, but… I could eat something.” She gives Kara an apologetic smile. “Turns out, sorting out my funeral arrangements with my best friend and then napping on her does wonders for an upset tummy,” she says, patting her stomach.

Kara imagines giving in to her natural impulse, which would be to laugh and pull her into a big warm hug, to offer to be her personal pillow any time she wants. Instead, she breaks into a smile she hopes conveys all this, all the love, all the warmth, all the hugs she wishes she could give her without thinking twice.

Lena averts her eyes for a second, but she’s smiling, too. “How are you?”

Kara makes a so-so gesture. “In general. But right now, it turns out taking care of my friend does wonders for a troubled mind. And on that note,” she says, standing up, “let the therapeutic pampering continue. You aren’t going to whip anything up for dinner, you are going to go take a bath, with candles and a glass of wine and a book and music, the works. And when you come out,” she glances at the kitchen, “I’ll have improvised something suitable for… a sensitive tummy.”

Lena looks up from the couch, searches Kara’s eyes. Kara knows that look. It’s Lena’s 3% of me is here and the rest is busy elsewhere look. She kneels by the couch so she’s the one looking up at her. “What’s up?”

“What you said. It reminded me of something. I remember… being sick, I must have been very young, and someone taking care of me. I don’t know who, or whether it happened before the mansion, if it’s even real or just a fantasized memory of, you know, those days as a kid when you can’t go to school and someone stays with you at home, taking care of you, putting on your favorite movies.”

Kara nods, playing with the hem of the blanket still on Lena’s legs. “Well, real or not, I think it’s meaningful that you remember this. I didn’t get sick much as a kid, but when I got adopted, I couldn’t go to school for a while. And Eliza was great. I mean, it was horrible, because she wasn’t my mom, it wasn’t my home, but… yeah. Disney movies and cartoons and musicals all day, comfort food. One day, Alex and Jeremiah covered the ceiling above my bed in glow stars. Not randomly, accurate constellations and everything. So I could look at them when I couldn’t sleep.” Didn’t want to make myself sleep. “That helped.”

Lena smiles. “You liked astronomy before, then? Before Midvale.”

Kara shouldn’t go on. This was supposed to be about Lena, not her. But words are pressing against her throat, begging to be let out. “Oh, yes. So did my family. I grew up watching the stars, learning all about them. So when the Danvers took me in, the little glow stars above my bed? That was so thoughtful. It was Jeremiah’s idea but Alex wanted to help, to do something for me. And when I started getting better, that’s when it got hard for her, I think. It was one thing to see her parents take care of an orphan who couldn’t even leave her bed for weeks, but it was another to see them keep paying more attention to me when I seemed fine.” She sighs quietly. “Sorry, I made it all about me.”

“I don’t know.” Lena brushes a lock of hair that escaped Kara’s loose half-braid behind her ear. “Brought into an unfamiliar house at a young age, having lost your family, with a new sibling named Alexander, or Alexandra,” she gives her a dim smile, “trying to welcome you, but feeling neglected because one of their parents is more focused on you. Having to adjust to a completely different lifestyle… It’s not the same story, exactly, and yet.”

“And yet. I’m guessing glow stars and cartoons weren’t what made it easier for little four-year old you. Do you remember how you… coped?”

Lena surprises her by sliding off the couch to sit next to her on the floor. “Plenty of little things, I suppose. The staff was nice to me. But mostly… the park and the gardens around the mansion. I’d spend hours and hours there. I didn’t have friends my age, since I was home-schooled, so I talked to things. Plants. Books. Hugo the Tiger. One day, I, uh…” Lena chuckles absently. “I had no concept of time, I was too young for that. Everyone was looking for me. The gardener found me, but instead of bringing me home, he fetched my father, and he— my father, grabbed his camera and filmed my spirited debate with a bunch of flowers and stones for half an hour.”

Kara feels a wide smile blossom on her lips. “Do you still have the video?”

“Yeah. I’ll show you. And the unsettling part? My mother kept them all after he died. The videos, the photo albums. And I don’t know if it was out of respect for him, or because she knew I was a Luthor and that name is just… catnip to her.”

“Would you like to ask her, one day?”

Lena nods. “She’d probably lie, or not even realize what’s a lie and what‘s true… but yes. I’d like to hear it from her. Lies and all.”

Kara thinks about her mother’s hologram. Telling a broken illusion about her day, her hopes. “Hey, do you know The Secret Garden? The 1993 movie.”

“No,” Lena admits, unbothered by the abrupt change of subject. Maybe she trusts that it will make sense. “What’s it about?”

“It takes place around 1900. It’s about a little girl, Mary Lennox. She was born in India, when it was still a British colony. It’s all she’s ever known. Her parents are rich, their life a parade of military duties and parties with the Maharajah. They have no interest in her and she resents them, but she says, I never cried. I didn’t how to cry. One day, there’s an earthquake and everyone but her dies under the palace’s rubble. Now an orphan, she’s taken in by her uncle, a reclusive lord. She leaves everything she knew, the warmth and colors and traditions of India, to go live in dreary England, in this huge, cold manor. She learns that her uncle closed himself off after his wife died. She was Mary’s mother’s twin sister. Did I ever tell you my aunt and my mother were twins?” Lena shakes her head no. “Well, they were. Anyway, one day, wandering around the park, Mary finds a hidden door. It leads to her aunt’s secret garden, forever sealed and abandoned after her passing. She finds the key in her aunt’s old bedroom, goes back to the secret garden, gets in, and… brings it back to life.”

She looks over at Lena, whose eyes are already on her. “Sounds like I could have used that movie when I was little,” she says with a small smile. “Let’s watch it, sometime.”

“You bet. I have the DVD, so… the next time you come over?”

“Deal.”

Kara nods resolutely and gets up, picking up the tray. “In the meantime, you go get that relaxing bath running, and I’ll take a peek at what’s in your fridge. And your wine compartment.”

She doesn’t wait for Lena’s reaction and goes to the kitchen, stifling a laugh when she hears Lena mutter O Captain! My Captain! to herself. She sees her fold the blanket and disappear into the guestroom to put it back on the bed. When she exits the room, she seems to hesitate between joining Kara in the kitchen, and heading to her bathroom, but a little goodbye wave from Kara is enough to send her in the right direction.

Kara puts the teacups and saucers down in the sink, wipes the impeccable tray and puts a tall glass of water and a small wine glass on it – Lena finds the huge balloon glasses excessive. She opens the wine compartment above the fridge and settles on a light, dry Gewürztraminer from Alsace. She fills one of Lena’s cute porcelain bowls with a mix of stuffed olives. She wonders what it’s like to drink on an empty stomach. Does it go to one’s head faster, does it burn on the way down? She should ask Alex. Or not. Sometimes I feel calmer when I’ve got something to do. When I have a drink. It’s strange. Alex drinks too much, meanwhile Kara’s in her late twenties and has only had two drinks in her life. Technically. And there won’t be a third. The last thing the world needs is a drunk kryptonian breaking everything she touches because her coordination is off. Or kissing Maggie way too hard and hurting her. Or telling Lena something she shouldn’t. But there’s only one thing, really. The rest is fine, the rest is true. Loss, love, interests, difficulties, quirks, habits… all this, Lena knows. Will continue to know. Unfiltered by this one other thing Kara can’t say, it will mean something.

She thinks about the very beginning with Maggie, when she didn’t know. I just wanted to not be careful, for once in my life. I wanted to be irresponsible. I just wanted to feel human. And as a result, she was selfish and careless. Not carefree. Not human. She was a teenager sneaking out past curfew, not an adult interested in getting to know another complex person. Or in letting this other person know her. She reveled in seeking excitement, freedom, anonymity. They fought. A lot. About each other. About Alex. I want something normal. This… this isn’t normal. You aren’t normal. Neither am I. I want to be able to come home and tell someone about my day. I want to hear about their day, too. You shut me out. So Maggie got her normal with Alex, then Alex dumped her. Kara and Maggie got involved again. They tried Tell me about your day, and little work anecdotes, and let me bring you lunch at work because I saw it in a movie once, the failed dinner at Noonan’s because that’s not where Maggie wanted to go and Kara didn’t listen. Maggie brought what they needed to make brownies, added candles in the shape of a K. We don’t have a thing yet. You know… like an inside joke thing. They started dating. So, Kara Danvers, what do you say about being my girlfriend? Kara had asked her what she’d get out of it. I get an enigma. Every word that comes out of your mouth is sincere, even when it pisses me off. I get someone who pushes me to be better. I get a hot alien babe. Kara blinks, her breath shallow. She’s trembling. Massages her temples. She slipped on the very thought of someone being in love with her, of being in a relationship for the first time, without having to hide her identity, at that, the way one slips on a new persona, an experimental disguise, instead of stripping layers away to offer something closer to the truth… and it wasn’t smooth sailing, it was a roller coaster, alternatively exhilarating and exhausting. Push and pull. And they kept arguing. About Lena and Cadmus, about Lena, period, about the DEO and NCPD, about Valentine’s Day. Maggie cheating on her. All of this interspersed with peaceful interludes, some of that normalcy Maggie found with Alex. Kara will never be Alex, but she sees, now, that not being normal can also be a crutch. That she can be better. As Kara. And if she can, she must. She will.

Because all the while, without realizing it, she was becoming that more grounded adult wanting to know another complex person, wanting this other person to know her. She didn’t realize it because there was no roller coaster. Lena wasn’t her hidden lover, then her girlfriend. Lena was Lena. An amicable acquaintance who made her feel like she was being taken seriously as a reporter. The first person she interviewed and disagreed with on that same day, without it becoming an argument. Then someone she admired for her intelligence, for fighting against her legacy, for fighting for it. Then a friend.

Not a friend like Winn, a funny coworker to geek and hang out with, a friend who wanted to be a boyfriend. Not a friend like James, her crush before he was her friend, sent explicitly to keep an eye on her by her cousin, and never someone she knew in a context that wasn’t somehow related to being Supergirl. Not a friend like Cat, who warmed up to her but remains a mentor, a teacher, not an equal. Not a friend like Alex, who’s been in her life, her Earth life, since the beginning, the family she was given here, who gave her the strength to at least try to live in this senseless world. No, Lena was someone she met in her adult life who, knowing nothing of her secret, saw beyond the looks, the kindness, the mystery or the awkwardness. Who saw her intelligence, valued her opinions, wanted to share with her all the things she loved. Wanted her in her life as a friend first and foremost, would come to her for advice, for comfort. Someone who feels good around her. Someone she’s never hurt.

Perhaps Maggie saw this more clearly that she herself did. She’s older, more experienced, a detective by nature and by trade. She may not understand, but she sees. So does Alex, but… unlike Maggie, Alex now takes it as a personal slight, an insult to wholesome simplicity, when Kara refuses to use her vocabulary to describe whatever it is she feels – Dating. Happy. Yes or no. Kernels of truth wrapped in layers of anger, misunderstanding, pain. Weren’t Kara’s answers clear? Weren’t they crystal clear? Didn’t she say that happiness was about allowing oneself to experience it, rather than expecting it from others? Didn’t she say that feeling real and loved was more important to her, was that answer not good enough for her sister? Alex “fine, make it about semantics and availability but it's yes or no. And I don't need to make a diagram and punch in the values to get the exact degrees of happiness” Danvers. Well, good for you, Alex Danvers. But you don’t make me happy. Maggie doesn’t make me happy. Lena doesn’t make me happy. I don’t know what happy means. But real and loved, I know what that means, I know how that feels, in my mind, in my heart, in my bones. Do you, Alex?

Kara wants to scream, fling the tray off the counter, break everything. But she can’t. She can’t. She tries to get her breathing under control. Why can’t she do this, why can’t she scream and break things? List the reasons, Kara. One, this is Lena’s place, these are Lena’s beautiful things. Not yours to break. And you don’t want to break them. She loves them. You love them. Two, Lena would be scared, and worried, and it would be dangerous for her if you lost control, she could get hurt. And three… three what? Three… find the anger behind the anger.

Kara tries, comes up short. There’s no anger behind the anger. There’s nothing but bearable sorrow. A planet’s worth. No, two planets. It would be easier if it wasn’t bearable. But it is. And she will bear it. And now she feels tired. I do not do well with change, she told Cat when it was time to say goodbye. What she didn’t say, because how could she have known, then, is that when change comes from within, and you can no longer tell endings from beginnings—

“Kara?”

And just like that, no more planets. Only an apartment. She looks up, realizes she’s slumped on the counter, her face in her hands. She straightens up. Lena stands in the doorway, wearing her thin, lovely blue bathrobe. Kara almost says I’m fine, but that too has changed. No more white lies. She opens her mouth but nothing comes out.

Lena looks at her, her gaze penetrating, almost analytical. “I got the water running, but let me just go turn it off and I’ll be right back.”

“No, no, Lena,” Kara calls, not as assertively as she’d like. “No need. I was telling myself I felt like I’d aged a hundred years in a very short time. And with that, and before that, came a lot of thoughts. I just lost track of time. I was about to bring you this,” she lifts the tray, “and let you enjoy your well-deserved, luxurious bath. Doctor’s orders.”

Lena bites her lip. “All right. Go ahead.”

She gestures gracefully towards the hallway, evidently not intending to follow her right away. Kara doesn’t question it and they exchange playful smiles when she catches Lena’s spellbound glance at the way she’s balancing the tray. Lena‘s fascination for the waitressing tricks Kara has managed to retain from her three-year stint at Noonan’s is a source of amusement for both of them, and Kara is always willing to show off.

She goes to Lena’s bathroom and sets the tray on the ledge of the tub. She’s lighting a candle when Lena walks in with another glass of wine. She puts it on the tray, lowers the water pressure to a minimum.

“At this rate, it’s going to take a while for this to be filled to my— well, your satisfaction, since you’re calling the shots tonight,” she says, helping Kara light up a few other candles. “So in the meantime, I figured, why not have a glass together and talk. About your newfound growth, about what bubble bath I should use… you name it.”

She sits on the edge of the tub, giving Kara that soft, unguarded yet undecipherable look that makes her feel the way she imagines sailors of old felt when, after perilous months at sea, they caught sight of distant shores. They would not know where they were, or what they would find there, but they knew there would soon be solid ground under their feet.

She turns away to study one of Lena’s shelves, picks a long, elegant glass bottle of organic bubble bath. Lena looks at the label and gives her a thumbs up. Jasmine, citrus and tuberose. Kara uncorks it, grateful it’s just like uncorking a bottle of wine and there’s no risk she’ll just snap the neck of this thing clean off because she’s never handled it before. She sprinkles a few drops into the tub before sitting next to Lena, who hands her a glass and raises hers with a questioning look.

“To…” Kara mulls it over. “To anyone who has, does and will matter in your life.”

Lena looks at her, murmurs a thank you inaudible even to Kara. Either she didn’t actually voice it, or Kara’s doing an admirable joy tuning out all the sounds a human wouldn’t be able to hear. The thing is, it’s been about fifteen years since she was under her own sun. It’s getting difficult to recall what she could or couldn’t hear, or see, then. They clink their glasses, Kara stopping an imperceptible fraction of a second before contact so Lena is in fact doing the work. Not that she thinks Lena would be alarmed if their glasses shattered, she’d probably just laugh and help her clean up the mess. Still.

She takes a sip, savors the light, dry tingle on her tongue. Lena is in no hurry to get her to talk, offers her the bowl of olives instead. Kara takes one. They’re from Lena’s Cretan caterer friend, the one who handles L-Corp’s smaller receptions and parties. He’s so funny.

“So…” Kara says quietly, watching the water fill up the tub, so slowly it’s hypnotizing. Bubbles are starting to form and the scent of jasmine wafts up. “I do want to talk, but I don’t want to put you in the position of… having to devote your attention to my problems, or questions, today.”

Lena shrugs. “Maybe I’ll burst into tears about Jack in the middle of dinner, maybe I won’t… it all comes and goes. Right now, I’m fully available. So talk.”

“Thanks, Lena,” Kara whispers, trying to sort through her thoughts. The situation is intimate. Drinking wine in Lena’s private, candlelit bathroom, the soothing trickle of water and steam rising behind them. Lena, so close to her, comfortable enough to wear nothing but a bathrobe, even though they’re not lovers, or even childhood friends. She blinks drowsily. She wonders what it would be like to just… hold her. Not to have sex, just to feel her skin against hers. Alex has. Maggie, maybe. And she knows Lena is such an affectionate person, when she feels allowed and welcome. Has she shown them that side of herself? Do they appreciate it? She both hates and loves how respectful Lena is of all these boundaries she doesn’t quite understand. Lena is the only person on this planet who holds back with her, who touches her carefully, not the other way around. She doesn’t know if the irony of it all makes her sad or relieved. Someone thinking of her as fragile. The idea of fragility isn’t something she gets to experience physically with anyone else. It’s grounding, it’s the light of the red sun she misses every day. Kara looks up from the water, now halfway up the tub. As usual, Lena hasn’t said a word to fill the silence, she’s just looking at her with gentle interest. This is who she is, then. Kara has a drink of wine to swallow the lump in her throat. Her human red sun. “I’ve been thinking. A lot. All the time. About…” she says hoarsely, even though she hasn’t cried. “About taking a step back. Not just taking my time, I mean… finding measure. In all things.”

Lena waits until she’s sure Kara isn’t going to add anything. “What you said in Waterlily House all these weeks ago? It sounded to me like the culmination of something. Maybe it was a long time coming, and this whole open relationship thing, Maggie telling you we’d kissed, just… facilitated it?”

Kara narrows her eyes playfully. “Sounds like you’ve given it a lot of thought, too.” She doesn’t know why, but she wants to let herself fall backwards, splash into the bubbles and the water. “Does it make it harder to be around me? I mean, I feel like you’re comfortable, but you’re great at making people feel that way, and I’m afraid that deep down you’re just as... exasperated or lost as…”

“As?” Lena asks. Kara shakes her head. Lena doesn’t insist, gives her an olive instead. It’s stuffed with blue cheese, makes Kara’s mouth water before it touches her tongue. “Look,” Lena says after taking a sip of wine, “I don’t know about the others, but as far as I’m concerned? It’s made being around you even more interesting. We’ve been spending more time together, you’ve opened up more, so have I… I love when we talk, I love when we don’t, I love that we have… little habits, now. And I no longer feel like you’re sometimes guarded around me.”

Kara bows her head. Yeah. And Lena’s not talking about flying on buses. “I’m sorry I made you feel… like you were on the outside, looking in. For a long time.”

“For what it’s worth, I knew it wasn’t because of my name. I just felt like maybe I was your escape from the things you didn’t want to think about, and I wasn’t supposed to step out of that role and… I don’t know, be involved in your life beyond brunches and exhibits. And I liked being that, your respite from whatever you wanted to get away from, it was a nice ego boost, but…” Lena catches her eyes. “I like having access to other aspects of you more.”

“The broody, scattered, clumsy aspects of me?” Kara teases.

“The contemplative, bookish, vulnerable aspects of you, yes,” Lena counters. She massages the back of her neck, her brow furrowed in thought, “but I also know that this kind of realization, that you need to slow down, to shift your perspective… it comes with growing pains, and not just for you. For the people who love you, too.”

Kara forces her free hand to stay relaxed on the edge of the tub, resists the urge to clutch the porcelain enamel, even lightly. Imagines it turning to dust, like clean, weathered bones. “But you don’t mean you, right? Because you just said…”

“No, no. Not me. But what for me has felt like a net gain might, for others, feel more like…”

“A loss?”

“At this stage, at least. Like you’re less rather than more. Less light-hearted, less understandable, less active, less… reliant on others to give you what you need. And feeling like someone you love is finding within herself what she used to find in you, as a sister, or a girlfriend… even if it’s not accurate, it’s still something to adjust to. And I don’t know if they will, but… they might. And that’s something.”

Kara hesitates, has a drink of wine. She thinks liquid courage can be like a placebo, but the placebo effect only works if you think there’s a chance you’re drinking the real deal, right? Her glass is almost empty, now. “But that’s the thing, Lena. They both think that… I find it all with you. Or through you. And I’ll be the first to admit that you’re a constant source of discovery for me, about all sorts of things, external or personal, and I’ll go out on a limb and say I think I’m the same for you, or I hope so, but it’s not… as simple.”

“Kara, so what?” Lena asks softly. “You can’t fault them for trying to make sense of things with what they know, what they understand, or misunderstand. I bet you misunderstand a lot of things about them, too. But don’t use them as a convenient obstacle to… I mean, you have things to do, and paths to explore, and you’d be doing yourself a disservice by just stagnating. What was it Cat Grant told you the day we met, the day I mistook you for a reporter and you became one?”

“You know what she said. I’ve recited that speech to you at least ten times.”

“Make it eleven.”

“Okay. She said, you are standing there, looking out at your options, the icy blue water, the fast flowing river and the choppy sea. And they all look very appealing to you because you’re dying to go for a swim, but you know that the water is going to be cold, and the journey is going to be hard, and when you reach the other side, you will have become a new person. So,” Kara sighs, “time to dive, then?”

“I’d say you already have.”

Kara nods. “Maybe that’s why lately, I’ve had conversations that were… difficult. With Maggie and Alex. Because I didn’t take shortcuts, easy ways out, I didn’t smooth out the rough edges, I didn’t say anything to fill the silence… and I think they both hated it. We didn’t fight, not really. It ended well both times, but it left me feeling like I’m failing to communicate anything meaningful. I mean… Maggie listens. She tries to understand. But Alex? God. She chewed me out for not… I was so angry, Lena. I still am. Because…” Kara feels herself getting agitated again, looks around for a safe spot to put her glass but Lena takes it from her hand and puts it on the tray. Kara gives her a grateful look. She flexes her fingers, realizes she’s not even hiding it. “Because… she keeps asking me what she thinks are simple questions, and she gets so annoyed when I don’t answer the way she thinks I should to prove that I know what I want. Like I’m just… like I have zero self-awareness and I’m just taking everyone for granted, and I don’t live in the real world were words have one meaning that all sensible people agree on.” Kara stops, a little breathless.

Lena idly glances at the water level behind her, then pops an olive into her mouth, her gaze focused on Kara like she just gave her an interesting riddle to solve, something bearing no emotional charge. Kara loves that she can never tell how much of Lena’s detachment is genuine, something she simply feels comfortable displaying around her, and how much of it is for Kara’s benefit, like a balm, a gentle stop sign.

“What words? Give me an example.”

Kara tilts her head up, closing her eyes. “Happy.”

“Nice,” she hears Lena say appreciatively. “Alex knows her classics. Happiness. Go big or go home.”

Way to make it feel less dramatic than it is. Kara can’t help but laugh, opening her eyes to look at her. Lena gives her a mischievous smile as she turns the water off.

“She says it’s yes or no. She says she knows exactly who and what makes her happy.”

Lena nods. “That’s a good thing. A precious sort of personal compass, I suppose. What did you say?”

“Um… she asked the night Maggie told her about the two of you. If I was happy now, as in, with this new development. I said I wasn’t unhappy. Wrong answer. Then last week, the day before you came to help me out with the painting, she asked if Maggie made me happy. I tried to explain that being happy wasn’t, you know… something another person makes you, that it’s something you work on welcoming when it doesn’t come to you the way it comes to Alex, I guess. Wrong answer. Then, she asked if you made me happy. I said no, but that you made me feel more important, more tangible things. Important and tangible for me, I mean, I’m not generalizing... anyway, wrong answer. I could have told her that joy is easier to identify than happiness for me, and that it’s something I’m more interested in experiencing anyway, but… she was so over it, at this point.”

Lena looks at her with the beginning of a smile. “I’m not as earnest as you. I pick my battles, I take shortcuts. I’ll say happy if it’s convenient. And plenty of other words, if it’s convenient. Especially in a heightened context where… the conversation might not really be about you, in the end. When it’s more about the other person’s frustrations. And it does make things easier. Smoother. Not truer, exactly, but… it’s all about what you want to emphasize, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, do you think communication should be as accurate and uncompromising as possible, that it should break rather than bend? Or do you allow approximations for the sake of keeping it going, hoping it will pay off down the line? Both are fine, but the tricky part is when you realize you have a choice in the first place. That’s the tricky part for me, at least.”

Kara frowns. “I think Alex would strangle me if I put it in those terms. Is truth radical, or is it a compromise… Just more bullshit, she’d say. And I get it, nobody wants a heartfelt conversation about someone they love to turn into one of Plato’s dialogues, but where does that leave me, if I make my relationships or my feelings sound simpler than I think they are?” She stares at Lena’s bottles of perfume lined up on the windowsill. Shalimar scintillates in the dying sun. “Now, everything that comes out of my mouth, or doesn’t, causes… confusion, tension, anger, hurt. It’s disconcerting, being the source of so many negative emotions for them.”

“To be fair,” Lena objects evenly, “the situation itself is a source of volatile emotions. Positive and negative alike, it seems.”

“It seems?” Kara repeats, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Lena says, running a hand over the surface of the water, tracing a path through the bubbles. Kara follows her movements, mesmerized. “Out of the four of us, I’m the only one who’s not anyone’s girlfriend or ex, so I’m more of an observer, I guess. Nothing about my situation is confusing, or hurtful... at least not in the sense it might be for Alex, or Maggie… or you, perhaps.”

“It’s interesting,” Kara says slowly. “Each of us, in our own way, we think we’re on the periphery of this thing I started. Maybe we’re right, and we’re all just circling an empty center.”

“Or,” Lena muses, “it’s a changing center. One that shifts according to the person you ask.”

Kara stands up, smiling to herself. She goes to Lena’s elegant towel warmer rack and puts her hand on it, realizes belatedly she can’t tell if it’s on. She finds the switch. It’s off. She flips it on. “It’s like our own Labyrinth, you know?”

Lena watches her intently as she moves around the bathroom to get a fresh towel from the ancient wooden chest against the wall. “As in, capital L Labyrinth?”

“Yeah,” Kara says distractedly, frowning at the piece of furniture even as she folds the towel over the rack. She crouches besides the chest, runs a hand over its surface, its discrete carvings. “Remember the story?”

Lena comes to sit on the carpet next to her, watching her examine the chest. “Only vaguely. All these mythical names spring to mind, Daedalus, Minos, Ariadne, but how they all fit together…” She huffs. “I forget. Here,” she says, holding the chest open now that Kara is prodding the lining.

“Thanks.” Kara glances at her, amused that she’s cooperating without having any idea why Kara is taking such an interest in her beautiful antique. “You should brush up on all that stuff, you’ve got it all on your Mare Nostrum shelves.”

“My what?”

Kara gives her a blank look, goes back to observing the state of the sandalwood inside the trunk. “Come on, keep up.”

“Well, since you’re asking so nicely. Let’s see, Mare Nostrum, Roman name for the Mediterranean Sea… you mean my ancient literature shelves, in my room? That’s cheating, those writers didn’t all live in that region.”

Kara perks up. “Excuse you?” She starts counting on her fingers. “Apollonius, Diodorus, Herodotus, Hesiod, Homer, Ovid, Plutarch, Pausanias, Virgil—”

“All right, all right,” Lena interrupts, making a slow down gesture with her free hand. “You win.”

“Nah, you do. Unlike me, you’ve actually read them all.”

“True. And thanks to Hesiod I now know when to water my crops and how to take care of my goats, and from Ovid I learned how to court pretty people, a few possibly lethal recipes for cosmetics, and fashion tips.”

Kara snorts, sticking her head into the trunk again. “How to rock that toga, 2 AD edition. I did read that one.”

“See? You’re worthy of my book collection, so into the last will and testament it goes. You’re officially inheriting it if I kick the bucket.”

“You’re not scared I’ll speed things up to get my hands on all those rare editions of yours?”

“Why would you? You have full access to them already.” Lena pulls Kara’s hair up as it’s getting tangled in the wrought iron handle. “So, what about that Labyrinth, what have I forgotten?”

“Right. Minos, King of Crete— ha, like your caterer friend,” Kara chuckles from inside the chest, pushing soft-smelling towels aside to get to the bottom. “Maybe they’re related. So, Minos was fighting with his brother for the throne, and he asked Poseidon to send him a beautiful white bull as a sign of support. Poseidon does, and Minos gets the throne. But then, instead of sacrificing the bull to honor Poseidon, he decides to keep it, because it’s such a marvelous animal.” Kara almost x-rays the wood to check its condition, but… nobody’s ever needed to do that to maintain furniture. Besides, what if she accidentally sees through twenty-five floors, or deeper, into the earth, through the earth— she cuts these thoughts short and sits up, crossing her legs before resuming her story. Lena mirrors her position attentively. “Poseidon does not appreciate Minos’ ungratefulness, so he punishes him accordingly: he makes his wife, Pasiphaë, fall in love with the bull. The monstrous Minotaur is their hybrid offspring. Pasiphaë takes care of her baby, but he grows to be ferocious and uncontrollable, so Minos has the architect Daedalus build a giant maze to trap the Minotaur. Nothing but human flesh sustains him, so over time, the maze becomes this place where young men and women are sent as ritual sacrifices to be devoured, to avert plagues and other disasters thought to be caused by angry, neglected gods. But Theseus, the mythical founder of Athens, vows to enter the Labyrinth, slay the beast once and for all and put an end to the sacrifices. The daughter of King Minos and Queen Pasiphaë, Ariadne, falls in love with him, and gives him a ball of yarn, or Ariadne’s Thread as it’s commonly known, so that he’ll find his way back out of the maze.” Kara releases the breath she forgot she was holding while recounting the story.

Lena nods, eyes narrowed in thought. “Why do I need all these books when I have you? So, you said that this open relationship wasn’t unlike the Labyrinth. Who or… what’s the Minotaur? Who’s got Ariadne’s Thread?”

“Well, I…” Kara stutters a little, “I haven’t thought the analogy through, exactly, but I think I’m onto something. About… what happens when, like Pasiphaë, we decide to go off the beaten path and love or desire in a different way, and what needs to be sacrificed to contain the results of... transgressing certain boundaries, I suppose? And the Minotaur is the moving center of the Labyrinth, and he’s not evil, just… neither human nor beast, or both, and… out of everyone’s control. I don’t think any of us here feels in control of anything.”

Lena sighs, looks at her a while, shaking her head slightly. “Kara, you need to write these things down. I can’t be the only one who… sees how you think. How you understand things, how you make sense of them. It’s too valuable.”

Kara scoffs. “Right, because you show everyone else how you think.”

“Touché.”

“I’m sorry,” Kara swallows, pushing her glasses up her nose. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“You didn’t snap at me.”

“Still. I’m sorry. I guess, it’s just… I know other people can understand and give it some thought and find it interesting, but…” she winces. Condescending condescending condescending. When she started being able to speak English, a few months after the Danvers took her in, she was unintentionally, but so unbelievably condescending towards Alex and her parents. Krypton, as a society, placed such emphasis on knowledge from the earliest age. And her House was expected to represent the best of what Krypton had to offer. How do you go from being a daughter of the House of El, to being… “But not everyone finds meaning in the stories of… the stories that humanity tells itself. Or the origin of words and names and idioms, like you. Nobody else will let me ramble on about Cassini and turn it into a metaphor for my life to make me feel better about it.”

“Do space probes dream of electric sheep?” Lena teases. “And yes, true, these things don’t resonate with everyone. But do it for yourself, then. Get a notebook, write it down. You’ll be glad to have it later, to see how you used… the stories others came up with, to make sense of your own as a person. To think more deeply, more richly about yourself. Because who knows, maybe one day, you won’t know how to do that anymore. We take ourselves for granted, and pardon my French, but time is a bitch. Change is a bitch. We forget. We move on, and that’s not bad, but some things shouldn’t be lost in translation. So, keep a trace. You might need it to remember and be inspired by… who you once were.”

Kara feels overcome with affection for this… fragile human in front of her. She imagines herself, hundreds of years from now, trying to remember who this young woman was, who painted and loved pizza, and cooking, and gardens, who had a sister and a girlfriend and a best friend. She can’t. “It’s happened, you know. Once. Having to remember that part of myself.”

Lena gives her a questioning look, but then her lips form a knowing oh.

“Yeah,” Kara whispers. “My aunt would tell me stories all the time. Every time I asked. Which was a lot. And she was fun, and lively, and… my mother told me stories, too, but they were more educational. In a good way. She’d tell me about our… about history, and myths, and when I lost them all, I felt like that part of me was locked away. Maybe not completely, because I did get into art instead, that was my major in college, and I liked books and movies, but… passively. They only became an active source of understanding when… I guess when I stopped finding it anywhere else.”

“I don’t want to assume, but your family?” Lena says, picking at the pristine carpet between them, “Before the Danvers, I mean. The way you talk about them, it seems like one of their priorities was raising you so that you’d have all the tools you need to… find your way. Intellectually, emotionally. And it sounds like you had such a safe, happy childhood.”

“Yeah.” Kara keeps her eyes fixed on the carpet. “Safe and happy. That was me. I knew what happy meant, back then. Or… I didn’t even need to know what it meant. I just was. Happy.”

Lena leans forward until she catches her eyes. “That’s very self-indulgent of me, but… knowing that someone I care about very deeply had the safe and happy childhood I didn’t have? That gives me hope. I don’t know why, but it does. And…” She stops.

Kara’s hand settles over Lena’s, as lightly as she can. She opens her mouth, hesitates. But, well… it’s the truth. “I think my family would have liked you, if they’d had the chance to— no, the privilege, to meet you. And I like to think that you would have felt at home with them, too. At least, as I want to remember them. As caring people, with… a sometimes excessive sense of responsibility. And they would have seen then, as I see now, how much you have to give. You’re a treasure, Lena. Not just to science, but to your friends.”

Lena takes a moment to compose herself, or so Kara assumes. “So are you, Kara. As god is my witness, so are you.”

The hint of a smile or her lips clues Kara in. “Wait.” She squints. “Lena Luthor, did you just quote Gone with the wind?”

Lena’s smile widens. “I’m going to live through this and when it’s all over, I’ll never be hungry again. No, nor any of my folk.” She stops, looking at Kara expectantly.

Kara rolls her eyes, but she can’t help grinning. “If I have to lie, steal, cheat or kill. As god is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again!” They look at each other, smiling, Lena’s eyes still a little too bright. “Well, speaking of hunger, I should get started on dinner. Whatever dinner is going to be.” She looks at the tub. “Your bath is probably lukewarm.”

Lena gives Kara’s hand a squeeze. “It’s fine.”

She stands and Kara sees her begin to hold out her hand to help her up as well, but she doesn’t go through with it and lets Kara stand up by herself. A reminder of the incident at the botanical gardens, a reminder that Kara has no idea how to pretend to be pulled up by a human without potentially hurting them. It’s sad, but also… nice. That Lena remembers what she is or isn’t comfortable with, no matter the reason. That she doesn’t need a reason.

“So, um… do you have everything you need? Do you want a book or something?”

“No. But thank you. I think I’m just going to float in there and pretend I’m one of our koi fish from the pond. Try not to think for a while. Losing battle, I know, but…”

Kara scratches her nose. “Okay. I’m pretty sure they think, though. Our koi fish.”

“True. But if their placid demeanor is anything to go by, those must be pretty peaceful thoughts. I wouldn’t mind being a carp for a while.”

“Yeah,” Kara ponders. “Hey, let’s just be koi fish in some fancy Japanese pond in our next life. All we’d have to do all day is sleep, play, and eat all the food people throw us reverently. That’d be a nice rest before the next life.”

“Deal. Let’s be fish.”

“That’s settled, then,” Kara says determinedly, stopping in the doorway. “You start practicing for that and I’ll go make dinner. Call if you need anything.”

“Will do,” Lena promises with a somewhat disbelieving smile.

Kara closes the door behind her and exits Lena’s room, closing that door too to give her some privacy in case she exits her bathroom in a towel or something. She goes back to the kitchen and takes stock of what she has to work with. Something… healthy. To make up for all the skipped meals. But not too heavy. Easy to digest. What’s easy to digest? Kara can digest any food. Hm. She eyes the lovely fruit and squash bowl on the kitchen island. Her epiphany comes in the form of a glorious butternut squash sitting in the middle. It’s so pretty. It’s almost a shame to cook it. She thinks of this article she read about recent scientific discoveries regarding the cerebral activity of plants. They don’t have brains, of course. They are brains. They make decisions constantly. To germinate, or not to germinate. When to look towards the sun, when to draw water from the soil… unlike animals, they can’t run in the face of danger, but they have defense mechanisms. Do plants get stressed? She thinks of the new carnivorous one at the botanical gardens. Does it hate it there? Does it care at all? Maybe it’s as happy as a clam. Do clams think? God, everything edible is a thinking being. That’s… unsettling. Maybe Kara should stop eating so much. It’s not like she needs ninety-nine percent of the food she consumes. The sun is mostly enough to sustain her, and even though she’s pretty sure one day, science will prove solar radiation is intelligent in its own way, it’s not like eating an animal or a… brain-plant. But food is… important to her.

She pats the butternut squash experimentally. Apologetically. When she’s sure she isn’t going to accidentally crush it, she lifts it carefully from the bowl and sets it on the counter. She retrieves a sack of potatoes, washes her hands, dries them on a dishtowel and slings it over her shoulder. She promised herself she wouldn’t do that anymore after the last one caught fire and she almost outed herself as an alien because she couldn’t feel it – one of the scariest moments of her life, until Lena’s hilarity snuffed out her fear just as surely as the water she drenched her with snuffed out that fire. But it was close. Too close. So she promised herself she wouldn’t do it anymore, but that was a lie, because habits die hard. Not all of them. It’s funny, how… it’s the little habits that are hard to break, not the big ones. No more flying, only buses? Easy peasy. No more superspeeding as Kara, no more anything alien as Kara? Done. Pleasurable, even. No more dishtowel on her shoulder as she cooks? Problematic.

She sets about peeling everything before chopping it all up into small cubes. It’s been… seven days since the last time she cooked dinner for the two of them. And a little longer since they cooked together. And before that, it was Lena’s turn. Not that they take turns. It just happens. Lena made her pizza, forbade her to lift a finger, ordered her to sit down and watch whatever she liked while Lena cooked. A documentary about Larsa, a major city-state of the earliest known civilization in Mesopotamia, Sumer, and the center of the cult of their sun god, Utu. Six thousand years ago. Lena joined her on the couch partway through. She had flour on her nose.

Kara grabs the biggest pot she can find, lets a generous slab of butter melt at the bottom on medium heat while she minces a couple of onions, then puts everything into the pot. That’s a lot. Oh well. Leftovers are always a good thing, especially home cooked ones. She adds some paprika, turmeric, salt and freshly ground pepper to the mix, stirs for about ten minutes, the repetitive movements easing her mind into loosening its grip on concrete thoughts. It’s interesting, watching your own mind, Kara thinks. It’s easy to fathom that a person isn’t their body. But to realize they’re not their own mind, either, since they can observe it? Now, that’s fascinating. Because, what are we, if not our minds?

She adds vegetable stock until only a few bits and pieces of potato and squash are poking out. She starts a fifteen-minute countdown on her phone. That should be enough for everything to be fully cooked. Is there fresh bread anywhere? The kind Lena buys from the bakery down the street would go so well with— nope. Makes sense, Lena hasn’t been home since Tuesday, and her priority on her way back from the airport was probably not bread. Kara wonders if fifteen— no, fourteen minutes and eighteen seconds is enough to… oh well, Fortune favors the bold!

She rushes out of the living room, slips her shoes on, grabs her wallet and her coat, borrows Lena’s keycard and exits the apartment, calls the elevator.

To Lena Luthor [Today 07:12 PM]: Popping out to get something for dinner, brb. Kitchen is off limits.

She waves at the security guy behind his desk. Abel, she thinks his name is. He started recognizing her after Lena had him put her in the allowed visitors registry, so he wouldn’t have to check with her every time Kara came by.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket halfway to the bakery.

From Lena Luthor [Today 07:15 PM]: Need me to open the door for you when you come back (I won’t look at the kitchen, scout’s honor) or did you take my key?

Kara glances at the line. Only two people before her, now.

To Lena Luthor [Today 07:17 PM]: I took it. Don’t stop building bubble castles on my behalf.

It’s her turn. She gets a big loaf of garlic bread, adds a slice of Lena’s favorite cheesecake on a whim. Even if she’s not in the mood for it tonight, it’ll be there in the morning, or when she comes home from work tomorrow. Kara wants to buy everything. She remains reasonable and only adds four croissants to her order, and a cup of coffee, asking that it be bagged separately along with two of the four croissants. She hurries back to Lena’s building.

“Here,” she tells Abel, dropping the paper bag on his desk. “To make the night shift go a little faster. Coffee and croissants.”

It’s not the first time she’s done this. He smiles. “Thanks, Ms. Danvers. That’s really thoughtful of you.”

“Kara. And I know, right?” she says, walking backwards to the elevator. “Ms. Luthor has excellent friends, if I do say so myself.”

The countdown comes to an end in the elevator. Not too shabby. She realizes Lena has answered her previous text with a picture of… a foamy igloo?

To Lena Luthor [Today 07:27 PM]: Is that supposed to be a castle?

She swipes the keycard. Green light, beep, click. She pushes the door open, balancing the bag in one arm and smiling at her phone in the other.

From Lena Luthor [Today 07:28 PM]: It was. Around 500 AD. It may be in ruins now, but any archeologist worth their salt would see what an awe-inspiring citadel it used to be. Keep up, Kara Croft.

The smells wafting out of the kitchen and the warm, underlying scent of Lena’s place welcome her. Kara checks on the vegetables as soon as she’s washed her hands again, poking them with a knife the way Lena showed her. It’s such a useful trick, especially for Kara. The knife goes in as it would through butter. Properly cooked, then. She turns the stove off and plugs in the food processor. A few minutes later, enough soup to feed a small army (or one kryptonian foodie) now sits in the pot. She adds some heavy cream and stirs until it’s all blended to perfection, then covers it to keep it warm.

She hears Lena emerge into the living room as she’s chopping some fresh chives she spotted in the fridge when she opened it to store the cheesecake.

“Kitchen still off limits?”

“Nope, you’re right in time.” She turns around to give her a smile. She looks so cute in her pajamas, her cheeks rosy and her hair wet and wavier than usual from the time spent in what must be the equivalent of a sauna. Kara feels her heart banging on the door again, demanding that she pay attention to how nice it is, to see someone like Lena so comfortable around her, and she’s about to open her mouth to tell her, when she notices the hoodie she’s wearing. It’s dark blue, and reads Supergirl is my other other ride! in some eighties inspired, neon-colored font. What the…

Kara blinks. “That’s… that’s new,” she says, wincing internally when she stutters again.

Lena follows her gaze. “Oh, this? Yeah. Maggie came up with that a couple of weeks ago.”

Two weeks ago. Kara swallows. “On your date?”

Lena nods with a smile, sticking her hands in the hoodie’s kangaroo pocket. “I think she was driving herself crazy trying to figure out why I never seemed to, well… drive. Pun unintended. And we ended up talking about modes of transport, and I told her that when it comes to flying, anything smaller than a big old commercial airliner was a no-no, unless it was wearing a cape. And she came up with that line. She thought I should get it as a bumper sticker, but obviously, I can’t joke about that publicly. But it’s funny, and kind of… reassuring, actually. And true. So I designed this. There’s a tee-shirt and a mug, too.” A pause. “Please don’t tell Supergirl. It’s just a joke, I won’t wear it outside and I didn’t use the, uh…” she traces a diamond shape in the air.

“Sure,” Kara whispers breathlessly.

So, they have fun together, Maggie and Lena. They talk, they’re comfortable enough around each other for Maggie to make jokes. Jokes Lena finds funny. And… Kara blinks again. She’s upset. Is she upset? What is there to be upset about? That they like each other? No, no, no. That’s a good thing, and besides, she knew already. So is it… the joke’s crude undertones? No. Maggie makes these jokes all the time. Needs to, probably. Kara might not find the kind of easy, playful comebacks that Alex and… maybe Lena, can come up with on the fly, but it’s okay. Or is the very thought of Maggie playing with fire, joking about Lena’s history with Supergirl, upsetting to her? No. She trusts Maggie to keep her secret. Any secret. So… is she really upset? Maybe not. Maybe she’s just dazed. Reassuring and true. Lena finds the thought of Supergirl flying her to safety, if she’s able, reassuring and true. And she didn’t use the House of El’s—

“Kara? You all right?”

Kara shakes herself out of it. “Yeah, I just. The…” she mimics Lena’s earlier gesture. “Do you know what it is?”

“I just know what it’s not. An S.”

“It’s—” Kara’s throat tightens unexpectedly. She clears it. “Her family’s coat of arms.”

“Oh.” Lena looks down at her hoodie again. “I figured it was something with personal significance. And it means so much to so many. I wouldn’t have used it as a joke even if it was just as S. The MIT hoodie hits a bit too close to home for me today, so when it comes to comfort clothes, I don’t see what could top anything Supergirl-related, considering all she’s done for me. What she does every day. So the… coat of arms, I don’t take it lightly.”

Kara plays with her belt, unable to look up. “Isn’t that what it’s for, though? To give people hope, comfort, inspire them to take a stand? You know, when I see little kids wearing it, or even adults… sure, it’s not great that manufacturers and toy companies get to make money off of it, but… I think anyone who needs it or believes in it gets to wear it. Isn’t that what she signed up for when she chose to display it?”

Lena nods. She takes a measuring cup out of a cabinet, fills it according to Kara’s written instructions, and waters the soil mixture in the planter in a calming circular motion. “To tell you the truth, I also thought of it in terms of… and I know she doesn’t see me that way, but a Luthor deciding she has a right to wear the symbol? Kind of grotesque. Insulting. But…” the last drop of water hits the soil, briefly reflecting the soft lighting. “I’m wrong. And you’re right. About… the idea that if you believe in it, or need it, then you de facto have a right to wear it.”

Kara tries to smile. It’s one thing to feel proud of what she accomplishes as Supergirl, but feeling proud of someone else? Not proud of the nameless people who follow a hero’s example and honor her values by finding strength in togetherness. No. Feeling proud of someone she knows, someone she loves, for doing the same thing, without shying away from sounding like a goody two-shoes in front of a friend, without knowing who that friend is… it’s something else. More personal. “I… I whole-heartedly believe that she would agree.”

Lena smiles faintly. “Why would she trust you the way she does, if you didn’t believe?”

“Right back at you,” Kara retorts.

Lena looks away, as if the very thought of not being merely tolerated by a Super, but trusted, was too much to bear. Kara focuses hard to block out the sound of her heartbeat. She owes her that. She owes everyone that.

Lena exhales audibly. “Okay, let’s move on before I ask you to get me an autograph. This smells divine,” she says, pointing at the pot. “What is it?”

Kara rolls with it, gestures at the nearest stool by the kitchen island. “Take a seat. Butternut squash and potato soup,” she explains, filling two soup plates. She sprinkles chives and ground nutmeg over them before setting them on the island in front of Lena and her own stool. “And this,” she unwraps the loaf of garlic bread, “is why I went out. To the bakery.” She cuts a couple of slices into a dozen soldiers and leaves them on the wooden cutting board, to add a rustic touch. She fills two tall glasses with Lena’s favorite sparkling water. “Oh, and I got some of your cheesecake while I was there. It’s in the fridge, ready when you are. And uh... this,” she points at the bag by the fruit bowl. “For breakfast. Or if you want to take them to work, or… anyway. Croissants. It’s kind of an unpopular opinion, but I think they taste even better if you warm them up the next day. Please say something, I can’t stop rambling, and I know it all sounds like way too much but I just wanted to get you… everything you needed, or might want, or… say something.”

Lena nods. “Spoons.”

“Spoons… oh! Yes, yes. Here.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Kara sits on her stool, waits for Lena to dig in before doing the same, grateful for the silence. They eat quietly for a minute. Lena reaches out for a soldier, dips it in her soup and has a bite. “So… is this a family recipe?”

“A family recipe?” Kara frowns. “No, I made it up. Why?”

“I don’t know. I’ve told you what a great cook we had at the mansion, but my parents’… exacting standards ensured it leaned more towards gourmet than homey food. And Alex told me Eliza is kind of a more traditional, home cooked all the way sort of mom. And…” she has some more soup. “I feel like that’s exactly what it’s supposed to taste like. Homey food.”

“What does it taste like?”

Lena shrugs. “Tasty, filling, familiar even if it’s not. Nobody’s ever cooked me that sort of thing. It’s really good.” She takes Kara’s free hand. “Thank you. For all this. The future flowers, dinner, cheesecake… the painting I haven’t unwrapped yet. It’s been a hard week, and I know I didn’t call or text after hopping on that plane, but… with his relatives, or all these strangers, every time I felt out of place, or like I wasn’t feeling the right emotio? Thinking about what you’d say, what you’d do… it helped. That’s why the first thing I did when I got back this morning was to call you. I don’t do that. I don’t reach out to people. But you’re… and I hope this doesn’t come off as needy, but I’ve come to… rely on you. On the certainty that you’ll be in my life today, and tomorrow, and… I know you have Alex, and Maggie, and your friends, so it’s different for you, but… as far as I’m concerned, a lot of what I like about my life right now, aside from my work, has come from you, directly or indirectly. And I’m very grateful that… you want me in your life, too. Because I know you do. I know you’re not just being nice, or doing me a favor. And I wouldn’t trade that for the world. What we give each other.”

Kara wants to lace their fingers, bring Lena’s hand to her lips, but she doesn’t trust herself to do it safely, not to break her bones, not to... She’s too emotional. What can she safely do? She has to do something. She can’t let those words… hang in the air and float to the ground like dust. She leans across the island and kisses Lena’s cheek. It’s safe. It’s just contact, barely any pressure, and it doesn’t feel weird for the person on the receiving end. Hopefully. Hopefully, Lena knows how much she cares. How much she loves her. Somehow, Kara thinks she does.

They go back to eating in silence.

“You’re staying here tonight, right?”

“Yeah.” Kara finishes her plate. “I’m having seconds. You?”

Lena nods. “You know what the worst part is, about this whole thing?” she asks as Kara fills their plates once more.

“I’m guessing it’s got something to do with his CFO, but I stayed away from articles covering the story. I figured you’d tell me, or…” She quickly chops some more chives. “So, what’s the worst part?

“Thanks,” Lena says when Kara sets her plate in front of her. “It’s such a sordid affair. Remember when I told you Jack and I created our own startup after we graduated, and humbly decided our first order of business should be to cure cancer?”

Kara chuckles. “Yeah.”

“So, we get on it, figure out nanotechnologies are the way to go, and for three years that’s what we work on. Not exclusively, but… almost. We create these nanobots, but no matter what we do, how we program them, they remain passive. They don’t fix anything, they behave like a confused swarm in need of a queen. We can’t crack it. And I’m starting to have to step up more and more over at Luthor Corp, because Lex is going cuckoo over there and the science division isn’t going to run itself profitably. As a result, I have less and less time to hang out in a garage with my boyfriend to work on what, at this stage, is beginning to look like a dead end, or something we should downscale and find other, smaller applications for. But Jack, he remains obsessed, he’s still getting a kick out of repeatedly getting so close, but of course never actually there. We start fighting about it, I throw a microscope at him—”

“What? A small one, right?”

“Well…” Lena dips dome garlic bread into her soup, going from animated to dainty suspiciously quickly. “Maybe not that small, but he dodged it easily. Still, though. Not my proudest moment. It was a very expensive, custom microscope I’d built myself.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. I rather liked it. Anyway, it comes to a head, I tell Jack we should let go, it’s not working, we’re wasting valuable time and resources we could be spending on more attainable goals. And you know the rest, he accuses me of wanting to devote myself to Luthor Corp. Maybe he wasn’t entirely wrong. And then Lex is out of the picture, I’m CEO all of a sudden, and Jack tells me, our work’s more important, if you don’t step down, if you move to National City, we’re done. So… all right, bye then.”

Kara hides her smile behind her glass of water. “And that’s when he founded Spheerical Industries.”

“Yeah. Turned our startup into it, really. And he had to diversify to make it profitable, but at the heart of it was still our work on the nanobots. And it’s not like he asked exactly, but… I was fine with him using it. Because I deeply believed we were at an impasse, and we couldn’t solve it, there was a fundamental… mistake, in our approach. I still don’t know what it is. Because we tested it on animals, right? Which is always horrible, but… what else can you do? It’s science. And every species we tested it on, had the same reaction, displayed the same symptoms: abulia, and—“

“Abulia?”

“Loss of volition. Coupled with quasi hypnotic susceptibility. In short, the worst combination. And no matter what we did, how efficient the nanobots got in terms of fixing damaged tissue, we couldn’t get past those side effects, couldn’t get to a level where human trials were even an option.” Lena pauses to finish her plate. “Kara, this was so good.”

Kara smiles. “Really? Well, there’s plenty left, so…”

“I’m taking some for lunch tomorrow. And the cheesecake. Culinary moral support from my best friend will make the transition easier, and I’ll need all the pick-me-ups I can get. To say I have a mountain of work to catch up after being away for three days is an understatement.”

“And you’ll think about that tomorrow. For now, if you’re done, I’m going to do the dishes while you finish telling me all about what happened, and what the worst part is.”

Lena slides off her stool, gathers their plates and the cutting board, obviously having no intension of letting Kara do all the work. Well, if keeping her hands busy helps… and Kara likes doing the dishes with her. She just needs to remember not to dip her hands in water Lena hasn’t touched, in case it’s scalding.

“Right.” Lena gets a couple of Tupperware glass containers and proceeds to fill them with the leftover soup while Kara washes the blender. “So we broke up, I moved here and I thought, he’ll either waste his brainpower on this until the cows come home, or he’ll crack it one day, in which case, I’ll be there to pop the champagne corks and celebrate his perseverance.”

“But you don’t like champagne.”

“I should, though,” Lena muses, taking the dishtowel from Kara’s shoulder to dry the clean blender. “It’s dry, it’s got bubbles galore… and yet. I do love cider, though. Go figure.”

“Oh, me too. Eliza makes the best cider. I’ll ask her to bring a few bottles the next time she comes visit. Anyway, sorry, I interrupted you. Go on.”

Kara shifts so that she can wash the pot in one sink while Lena takes care of the rest in the other.

“Well, very recently, I heard rumblings in the scientific community, of a potentially world-altering medical breakthrough that Spheerical Industries was about to unveil. But then, days later, Jack was dead. Foul play? A greedy rival? Corporate espionage? No. This… this imbecile,” Lena hisses, squirting dish soap into the sink, “ended up testing the damn things on himself. I checked the public records. Human trials supposedly took place about two months ago. But there were no human trials, plural. He was the sole human subject. That’s what I got from what little the authorities were willing to disclose: official cause of death is basically a freak accident, an experiment gone wrong, and there are some falsified records.”

Kara sighs. “So at the end, he was possibly… just a puppet? More or less.” She starts drying the pot.

“Yeah. I don’t even know why his CFO was arrested, it’s all very hush-hush, but if the side effects were anything like what we observed on animals, I bet pushing our faulty nanobots on the market had more to do with Jack doing whatever someone else was telling him to do, for profit, to keep the company afloat, who knows, than… although, what do I know? A week ago I’d have said sure, he’s obsessive and insufferable, but he’s not greedy, and as a scientist, he genuinely has people’s best interests at heart… but then, to go and inoculate himself with this because he knew it wasn’t safe enough for properly regulated human trials? That’s desperate. Did he feel like he’d wasted five years and sunk his fortune into a pipe dream, lost his girlfriend in the process, all for nothing, and what he did to himself was some crazy, last-ditch attempt at making it work? Did his CFO prey on that desperation, egged him on, and then pressed a kill switch so he wouldn’t talk? Or is it something they decided to do together, and it just got out of control and killed him because… I mean, who knows what those things do to human physiology. Maybe they cause catastrophic organ failure over time, maybe… anyway. Not the point.”

Kara puts the pot back in its usual cupboard and moves to dry what Lena has put on the dish rack. “I’m guessing that if I offered to ask Alex or Maggie to look into the details – nothing illegal, just making some calls – you’d tell me that it’s the least of your concerns.”

Lena nods, passing her their spoons and emptying the sink before drying her hands. “Maybe not the least, but… close to the bottom of my priority list, yes. He did something foolish, for whatever reason, he died because of it, and that’s that. But our work, my work, almost got a mass market release even though it’s a deadly time bomb, the results of two kids fantasizing about eradicating death, but unlike most stupid kids who think that way, we had the brains and the money to make it happen. Talk about hubris and flying too close to the sun. And it worked. If I sliced my palm open now, those nanobots would fix it in milliseconds. And then turn me into… whatever they did to those mice, to Jack. But it’s still brilliant, we still got further than anyone else ever did. And it would be so easy to think, oh, I’m older now, I’m different… but am I? I still want to cure cancer. Eradicate famine. You name it. And if I did find a way... what else could it be used for? What horrors? What unintended consequences would it have? Look at my mother. Dr Frankenstein all right, slapping an unstable kryptonite core into a cadaver to power it back to some semblance of life. Not to mention what my brother was on the verge of doing. It’s… insane, but all of it was done for the betterment of humanity. And then, oops, genocide or something.”

“I guess a key difference here is that unlike all these people, Jack, Lex, Lillian... you don’t cut corners. But still, the more ambitious the work, the higher the risk of it being misused. Or misguided,” she adds with a pointed look at Lena. She puts the loaf of garlic bread back into its paper bag, wraps it in a clean towel. Best way to keep it fresh, Lena taught her when they began cooking together. “I’m sorry it keeps happening, Lena. That all of your contributions end up… I’m sorry.”

Lena leans against the kitchen island and finishes her glass of water. Kara pushes her half-full one towards her, Lena takes it with a thankful glance. Kara can’t say she’s happy Lena needs those tricks to feel calmer – although, she’s one to speak – but… at least she stays hydrated? And it’s better than… Sometimes I feel calmer when I've got something to focus on. When I have a drink. Kara.

“So am I,” Lena says. “You know, there have been headlines and articles already. Jack Spheer, esteemed member of the scientific community, partnered up with the youngest Luthor and met a tragic end working on their shared findings. Or stressing what a peculiar coincidence it is that days before the unveiling of something extremely lucrative, my name pops up as one of his partners, and maybe I undeservedly wanted my share, and maybe we didn’t see eye to eye, and maybe… maybe, maybe. This is what they’re printing. And even if it blows over, because it’s baseless speculation and tabloid journalism, it’s still… it still looks like the blueprint for my future as a scientist, as a CEO. Everything I do will either be insignificant and forgotten, or it will be significant, and stolen, or misappropriated, or… Even my mother steals from me, from my labs. Or tempts me with Lex’s inventions. Because, Kara, they’re remarkable. The positive applications of some of the technologies he developed… you can’t even imagine. For example, a worldwide dispersal system no bigger than…” Lena lifts a small red kuri squash from the bowl. “This. In a matter of hours, the global population could be vaccinated against diseases that kill people every day. Malaria, Ebola, the plague, polio, maybe AIDS, one day. That, or... or what, Kara? What’s the alternative?”

Kara takes the squash from Lena’s hand and puts it back into the bowl. “Or, close to eight billion people could be inoculated with every single one of those viruses, or worse.” Medusa all over again, but worse. Some other virus designed by her father, blanketing the world via L-Corp proprietary tech. A Luthor and a Super, indeed.

“Precisely,” Lena whispers, running a hand over her eyes. “So obviously, I’m not going to use any of this, I’m not going to give in to other grand ideas I might have, but… it’s still in there. The possibility of it. I can sign checks, I can have hospitals and schools built in my name, give to charity, fund this or that, but… it’s killing me. That I could be doing so much more, not with money, but with my mind, and all of it, all of it, could be turned against me, against others, twisted into its abject opposite. You know, the Greek word for poison? It’s the same as the word for remedy, cure. Pharmakon. That’s how I feel. I’m the one Luthor with a conscience, which is good, because it means I’m not a mass murderer, or a soulless businesswoman, but it sucks, because I can see just how… every good idea I have could, in the wrong hands, including my own, become of a living nightmare.”

What can Kara say to this? Lena may be exhausted right now, more pessimistic than usual, but it’s all true. Empty reassurances are something Kara knows Lena would hate hearing from her. She traces the abstract carvings adorning the fruit bowl.

“I haven’t told many people, but my father? He was a scientist. A... virologist.” Lena tilts her head, and Kara knows she’s found the right angle. “I recently did some digging, and what he had no problem working on? Let’s say that… from what I can tell, he had a lot in common with your mother. As a scientist, I mean. Not as a parent. So my advice would be to think small. Not to get carried away with big ideas, because with a mind like yours… but I can’t give you that advice, because there’s no cure for intelligence,” she smiles. “What if you do eradicate famine, or major diseases, and put an end to all kinds of suffering? Those who say pain is part of the human experience? Screw that. Because maybe it is, but it’s still unfair, and horrible. So I can’t tell you not to make progress. Not to think big. But I would tell you to keep doing what you’re doing, to keep working ethically. Because, look, I’m not going to lecture you on the age-old conundrum when it comes to scientific discoveries. You’re neither the first nor the last genius to wonder whether nuclear fission is going to result in a near limitless energy source with virtually no air pollution, or in Hiroshima or Fukushima or… like you said, it’s science. Those doubts come with the territory. Should come with the territory. And as a researcher, sure, you have a moral obligation to ask yourself these questions, but also… you’re a scientist, not an ethics committee. Surround yourself with the right people, without conflicts of interest. It may sound naïve but I believe that as imperfect as it currently is, and always will be, the system has some pretty solid safeguards in place. So… focus on R&D. You’re not going rogue in hidden labs and vaults, you do things with integrity. Look at what happened with the alien detection device. It wasn’t something you developed in secret and unleashed on the market. So, keep coming up with whatever you want, publicly, and I guarantee you there will be journalists and other scientists to question you. That’s how it should work. And for the most part, I think that’s how it does work when you’re not a Lex or a Lillian Luthor or a Maxwell Lord who think they’re above the law.” She leans forward, even though Lena hasn’t look away. “And don’t forget. There’s one part of your work that can’t be misused. It’s not flashy, but it’s building a better world and saving lives just the same. The collaborative you and Maggie put together. And I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Because I’ve been thinking about how nobody knows, nobody cares. Not just about what you and Maggie are doing, but the issues it’s meant to be a response to. Humans don’t know. Or, don’t want to know. And the press isn’t doing its job. So… I know I’m not a reporter anymore, but I still have connections to one of the biggest media empires. I could put together a dossier, something solid, and present it to James, ask him to pass it on to Snapper. If I can gather enough material for them to see that there’s a story worth telling, I don’t care whether I’m on the byline. And if we can get this out there? I don’t see what negative consequences it could possibly have. It’s not a cure for cancer, or famine, it’s not a brilliant invention. It’s just… community work. On the ground. And that is also what you’ll be remembered for. Not just your IQ or your bank account or the children’s hospital or your family history. And more selfishly, I want people to know what Lena Luthor and Maggie Sawyer have put together. How they got L-Corp and NCPD to work together to make the city a safer, more welcoming space for people who have lost everything. That’s the kind of world I want to live in. A world where not every problem can be solved with a Super flying in, where humans make decisions like this, that this world is for everyone, and everyone deserves to be protected. The opposite of what your mother believes is you, and people like Maggie, who don’t have superpowers, who don’t break the rules, who work from within the system. As a reporter— former reporter, that’s the kind of story I’d want to pass on to the public. Admittedly, I also loved it when Snapper sent me to write articles about animal shelters, or when I could write little puff pieces about my favorite cafés, but… still. So, what do you say? Would you be willing to let me interview you and Maggie, to point me in the right direction when it comes to the people I should talk to? I’ll do your work justice, you have my word.”

Lena hides her face in her hands. “I’m thinking,” she informs Kara a while later, her voice muffled.

“Okay,” Kara laughs. “I’ll make some herbal tea in the meantime… what’s the plant that’s a natural sedative, again? The one you used when you found me reading at three in the morning.”

“Valerian root,” Lena replies from behind her hands.

“Right. Valerian root,” Kara whispers, her eyes skimming the labels of all the teas and infusions in Lena’s cupboard. She finds what she’s looking for.

By the time she sets the two steaming mugs in front of them, having added a dash of honey to each on a whim, Lena is just looking at her. They sit in silence for a few minutes, waiting for their tea to cool, Kara quietly breathing in the heady, earthy smell of valerian root every time she inhales.

“I’m on board,” Lena finally says. “Talk to Maggie, and if she’s game too, we’ll do it. Give you access to everything you need.”

“Okay, good. And thanks for trusting me. It could really give the collaborative a boost if the Tribune runs the story. And you’ll get hate from xenophobes, naturally. No good deed goes unpunished.”

“Naturally,” Lena echoes, but there’s no bite to it. “And… Kara, what you said before? I heard every word. It’s rare for me to feel like someone else has given me something to think about. Words meant for me, not read or heard somewhere else. So thank you. For always talking things out.”

Kara touches her fingertips to her glazed ceramic mug, as if it could warm her up. “It’s not often that I feel like my words carry some weight. I find that… invigorating. To be asked for my opinion about things that have nothing to do with me.” With Supergirl. With Kara. She has a drink of tea after Lena does. “Oh, and there’s something equally unrelated that I might be able to help with. I wanted to ask you during dinner, but I forgot.”

“Do tell.”

“The little chest in your bathroom? It wasn’t in your bathroom before you moved here, was it?”

“No. Why?”

“Your long showers and baths don’t agree with it. Humidity’s not good for that kind of wood. It’s not moldy and the hinges aren’t rusty or anything,” she says hurriedly, “but… give it a couple years and they will be.”

“Oh. That won’t do. I’ll move it somewhere else. I hadn’t realized how humid the room was. I should have, I mean, I do spend a lot of time in there, but I thought it was well ventilated.”

“You don’t need to move it out. A good oiling and waxing, and, hm…” Kara considers. “A coat of lacquer or some other sealant over the edges and cross sections. Those tend to attract moisture more. It should do the trick. I could do it for you, it would only take me a few hours. I’ve done it for my shelves, in the bathroom.”

Lena almost says something, but decides against it, drinks some tea instead. “Normally, I’d say no, because I’m not going to take advantage of your skills and kindness, and I’d have a paid cabinetmaker take care of it, but… you like doing that, don’t you?”

“Yes! I love fixing things. I mean, nothing as complicated at the sort of machinery you fix, but… It’s relaxing, and so rewarding. I could come over on a weekend? You can do your usual lazy Sunday thing and I’ll be quietly fixing it in a corner and you won’t even know I’m here. And you’ll have a good as new, Lena And Her One thousand and One Baths proof antique trunk.”

Lena taps her fingers on the island. “Okay. Except for the part where I won’t know you’re here. I won’t pester you, because I know you prefer working by yourself, but I will pay you for your hard work, with…” she scrunches up her nose. “Well, I was going to say dinner somewhere nice, but we kind of already do that now and then, so… name your price.”

Kara tries to think of something they haven’t done. Nothing too outlandish, but— “The opera. You can take me to the opera. I couldn’t make it when you invited me a while ago, and…” Say it. “I was kind of jealous Alex got to go with you instead. I mean, I’m glad she had a great time. Or, well, I imagine she did. Did she? No, don’t answer that, it’s none of my business. But I’d really, really love to go with you, if the offer still stands.”

“Of course it does,” Lena smiles. “I’m on their mailing list and I remember reading something about their upcoming season... There’s going to be a production of Tannhaüser that really caught my eye, and there was something else… damn it, what was it,” she mumbles, biting her thumb.

“You just said it.”

Lena blinks. “I said what?”

“Damn it.”

“I’m not— oh! The Damnation of Faust. Good catch. Wait. How do you know?”

Kara smiles briefly. “I used to book opera tickets for Ms. Grant once in a while and she’s part of their exclusive Circle of Friends membership. Top tier, at that, considering the amounts she donates.” She narrows her eyes. “But I don’t need to explain how that particular membership works, do I?”

Lena scratches the back of her head. “Guilty as charged.”

“Thought so. Anyway, they’d send her… I’m guessing you get them too, those beautiful, detailed online booklets about each upcoming production and special events or exclusive performances for members. Everything got transferred to my work email because she was way too busy to sort through that stuff, but I loved reading them. And they didn’t stop coming after she left CatCo. But obviously, I don’t have a work email anymore, so… no more of that.” Kara shrugs. “I miss it though, so I still keep up with what’s playing. Just, you know, as a regular newsletter subscriber.”

Lena nods, stifling a yawn. “I could set up an automatic transfer so you get a copy of everything I get from National City Ballet, if you want.”

“That’s…” Kara touches her lips. She’s trembling again. “That would actually mean a lot to me. Thank you. Also, you should go to sleep. You’re falling-down tired.”

“I really am,” Lena admits, putting her mug in the sink. “You know where everything is, if you want to watch television, or…”

Kara shakes her head. “No, I’m going to bed, too. I might read for a bit, I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

They turn off the lights in the living room and the kitchen, exchanging a smile when Lena comes back from the entrance with Kara’s wrapped painting under her arm.

“That’s my stop,” Kara says, coming to a halt by the guestroom’s open door.

“Wait a second, I’ll be right back.”

Kara watches her disappear into her own room, and reemerge without the painting, but carrying folded clothes.

“I put the pajamas you left last time in the laundry basket, and… I haven’t had a chance to do laundry.” Lena tells her with a sheepish shrug. “This should fit. And I’ve had that shirt for years, so it should be… soft enough for you.”

Kara take the offered clothes, resisting the urge to run a hand over the shirt. “Thank you. Will you be okay? Once the lights are off and all the thoughts… come back.”

“I don’t know.” Lena smiles. “But I’m pretty sure you’ve managed to shut some of my demons up, and besides, you’re right next door, so… I’m hopeful.”

“Sweet dreams, then. Come bug me if you need anything.”

Lena pushes Kara’s glasses up her nose. “I will. Goodnight, Kara.”

Kara waits until Lena has closed the door to her room to step inside hers. She doesn’t like closing the door, not here. She goes to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face, just to have the faint fragrance of Aleppo soap cling to her skin. She changes into the clothes Lena lent her. Beneath the light smell of the organic laundry detergent she uses, Kara perceives her scent, the scent of her place, of everything she’s come to associate with her.

She sits on the bed, looking out the window, taking in the city lights. It’s not late. Alex and Maggie are probably still at work, night owls that they are. Kara tries to recall their scent, too. It’s hard with Alex, because they’ve lived together for so long. Although, now that they don’t, it’s a little easier to distinguish. And when Kara comes over, Alex’s place doesn’t smell like her own. It’s good that their lives are a little more separate, now, Kara thinks. And Maggie’s scent? Well, that’s a lot easier. She wore one of Kara’s shirts, the one with the caged bird, during that dinner with the others. Kara put it on the next day when she went to bed. It was funny, Kara kept waking up and looking around like Maggie was there, only she wasn’t.

She lowers her head and looks out the window above the rim of her glasses. Gently loosens the mental iron grip she keeps on her vision, and… she sees. Beyond the city lights, beyond the pollution, beyond the atmosphere. The twinkle of Ursa Major. Cassiopeia. Andromeda. And if she pushed, would she see Venus rising, and comets, hundreds of them, big and small? Jupiter’s raging auroras, Pluto’s blades of ice, as tall as skyscrapers?

She closes her eyes. It’s too much. Way, way too much. Way too far. She focuses on the sensation of Lena’s clothes against her skin. Her scent surrounding her. The covers under her palms, the carpet under her feet. All things immediate. That’s better.

She did that on her way to Earth, in her pod, whenever it woke her up from stasis for hours on end. Opening her eyes was… not an option. The vastness of space would have driven her insane, just as making the cockpit opaque would have driven her insane. Everything would have driven her insane, except closing her eyes and focusing on what she felt, visualizing her home, visiting it in her mind. Her bedroom, always sun-kissed. And the hallways, a little darker, airy, dotted with patches of light. The dining room. The taste of water. Kal can’t remember any of it, he was too young. She’d take him in her arms and tell him stories, even though he couldn’t understand them. Maybe her uncle remembers her home, vaguely. The layout, the artworks. But not the way she does. And even she’s starting to forget. When she dies, it will be truly gone. Nobody will know where Kara Zor-El grew up, what her favorite reading spot was.

She opens her eyes. The stars have moved. Well, Earth has. She must have been sitting there, unmoving, for at least an hour. Time is the strangest thing. It doesn’t mark her. Hours go by in the blink of an eye. But when she looks at the people she loves, she feels its passing in the cruelest way.

She sighs, checks her phone. Oh. Picture from Lena. She opens it. It’s a shot of her bed, the black polychrome now above it. Kara chose an unusual format, a long, rectangular canvas. It fits well. There, it will catch the afternoon light, the setting sun. Lena has sent a link along with the picture, to The Rolling Stones’ Paint it Black. Kara smiles, plugs in her headphones and clicks the link. I see a red door and I want it painted black. No colors anymore I want them to turn black. The song’s energy starts seeping into Kara’s mind. If I look hard enough into the setting sun, my love will laugh with me before the morning comes. Do kryptonians secrete dopamine the way humans do? Black as night, black as coal, I wanna see the sun blotted out from the sky. I wanna see it painted, painted, painted, painted black. Kara bites her lip when the song ends.

To Lena Luthor [Today 10:26 PM]: if only I’d known this song during my karaoke days…

From Lena Luthor [Today 10:27 PM]: It’s never too late for the classics. Can I drop by or are you sleepy?

To Lena Luthor [Today 10:27 PM]: not after listening to this, I’m not (and I wasn’t anyway). Door’s literally open, come come.

The lights in the hallway come to life. “I’ll be right here,” Lena says, walking past the guestroom. Kara turns on the lamp on the bedside table as she comes back with two vinyl records under her arm. She sits beside her on the edge of the bed and shows her the cover of the first one. AFTERMATH, the young faces of the five boys, half hidden in stark shadows, half bathed in dusky purple light. Kara’s eyes go from the cover to Lena’s profile. She’s been crying.

“Lex got those for me. First press. April 1966 for this one, it’s the fourteen-track British version. And June 1966, American version, ten tracks, including Paint it Black.”

Kara peers closer. “Can I see?”

“Of course,” Lena nods enthusiastically, handing her the record sleeves.

Crap. She thought Lena would just show her. Kara’s never handled a vinyl record. She might snap it in two. “Um… I hear those are pretty fragile, so it’s probably better if you show me.”

Lena doesn’t seem to understand for a few seconds. “You’ve never touched a vinyl?”

Kara shakes her head. “Maggie has a collection but I haven’t really taken a look or played one.”

“Oh,” Lena says, slipping the April 1966 record out of its sleeve. It’s a beautiful, popping shade of blue. Persian Blue, Kara thinks it’s called. Made in England by the DECCA Record Co. Ltd. London. Full frequency stereophonic sound. Mick, Keith, Charlie, Brian & Bill. “They’re not actually that fragile. Mostly, they just attract dust like magnets. I’ll show you how to use my player, if you want.”

Kara turns the sleeve over, smiling at the goofy black and white pictures of the band next to the track listing. “I’d like that. Lets blast it tomorrow morning, get your blood pumping before work. You’ll breeze through whatever meetings you’re not looking forward to thanks to that Jagger swagger.”

Lena chuckles. “Neighbors be damned?”

“Eh. Blame your uncouth guest, if they complain.”

“Deal. I’ll tell them I occasionally like slumming it with a bespectacled little painter who bribes security with pastries. You hooligan.”

Kara grimaces. “I can’t believe he ratted me out.”

“He didn’t,” Lena smiles. “He just asked me if it was all right for him to accept your offerings the first time you brought him something. And speaking of painting… ”

Kara waits, a little anxious. “Yeah?”

Lena slips the record back into its sleeve and sets it aside. She pulls her legs up on the bed, looks out the window. “So… I haven’t cried once this week. Not when I got the call, not when I booked my flight, not during the ceremony, not after, not when I landed back here, not when I looked at our old pictures from college and our early startup days. And then I unwrapped the painting, propped it up, took a step back. I stared at it for ten minutes and felt absolutely nothing. And then the flood gates opened for half an hour. The more I looked at it, the more I cried.” She glances at Kara. “The only thing I felt when tears stopped falling, was exhaustion, and… immense relief. I don’t know what about, but either way, if one key characteristic of art, in any medium, is to be interactive… then you truly are an artist, Kara.”

Kara takes a deep breath. She isn’t sure she can withstand the intensity of Lena’s gaze right now, so she takes her phone and goes on Wikipedia instead. She clears her throat. “Hm. Catharsis: purification and cleansing of emotions through art or any extreme change in emotion that results in renewal and restoration. It is a metaphor originally used by Aristotle in the Poetics.”

She sees Lena smile in her peripheral vision. “Ditto.”

“Right, uh… about that.” She hesitates. “Feeling things. Or not feeling things. What you said earlier, about your mom tidying Lex’s room, detached, and you feeling the same way?”

“Yeah.”

Kara finally looks at her. “I don’t think it’s proof that you’re like her. I think it’s proof that she’s like you. A person who feels things. Who needs to defend against feeling too much. That’s all it is. You’re two women who have lost a lot, and there’s no… family curse.”

Lena swallows. “Sometimes, I’m not so sure about that. I wouldn’t be so hell bent on not being like them if I didn’t feel like part of me has the potential to be.”

“Lena. I wish… I wish Lillian could have loved you the right way. But she doesn’t know how to do that. Look what it did to Lex, being loved so much by her. She planted bad seeds in his mind, and whatever dangerous ones were already there, she cultivated. As sad as it is, I think that by not loving you like she loved him, she protected you from herself. You weren’t loved the way a child should be, but what little love you got? It was the right kind of love. From your mother when you were very little, from your father until he died, from your brother before he lost his mind. And they’re gone, but that kind of love? It doesn’t go away like people do, it leaves a mark. It protects you, even years later. If anyone knows that for sure, it’s me. Lillian… I don’t know what her life was like, why she turned out the way she did. You’re both strong, but the difference is, she has no choice. She has to be strong. Who will support her in her madness, if not herself? No one else believes in her. But you? You have a choice. You’re just as strong, but unlike her, you can afford to be weak. You have me. You don’t need me, but you have me. Always. I promise.”

“Kara, you can’t promise me that.”

“Yes, I can,” Kara says firmly. “I may not promise you forever but I’m not afraid of always, of every day. I’m not going anywhere. I will always protect you. I will be your friend every day. When you feel things again, I’ll be here. If you don’t know who you are when you do, I’ll be here. To help you remember or to figure it out with you.”

Lena looks at her like she desperately wants to believe her. “I’ll take every day over forever.”

“Here,” Kara says, taking off her necklace and putting it around Lena’s neck delicately. “My mom gave it to me the night my home… you know. She didn’t have time to explain why. All she had time to say was I love you, Kara, and so that’s what it means to me. Something to remind the wearer that they’re loved, and I think knowing this would keep anyone’s mind safe. Even from itself. I gave it to Alex for a little while, when I thought she might need it. Now, you. Return it to me when you’re ready.”

“Won’t you miss it? Don’t you need it?”

Kara clears her throat. “Yes, but… Two years ago, James confided in me about not knowing how to make a name for himself, to be his own man. And I told him something my family taught me,” she glances down at the necklace so Lena will know which family she’s referring to. “That accepting help from people is not a shame, it’s an honor. And part of being your own person, of making a name for yourself, Lena Luthor,” she adds with a wry smile, “is knowing when to accept help.”

Lena wraps her arms around her. And Kara doesn’t what to do. She wasn’t prepared for a hug. The last person she hugged was Alex, and Maggie before that. And as long as it’s not hurtful, they wouldn’t tell her even if it was a little forceful. Because they understand, and they wouldn’t want her to feel bad. But Lena wouldn’t understand. The bizarre notion that she might not get to hug Lena again for a long, long time crosses her mind. She tentatively returns Lena’s embrace, realizes she’s been holding her breath and releases it slowly. She tries to remember what it was like to hug someone close, really close, and not worry about killing them. J’onn, Superman… not Alex, not Maggie, not Lena. Not her human family. No, don’t think about that. Think about now. Don’t think at all.

She hesitantly puts her head on Lena’s shoulder. The chain around Lena’s neck brushes against her nose. She closes her eyes. Lena’s no longer wearing her hoodie, just a tee-shirt. Kara tries to commit the shape of her body to memory. And it becomes too much, to pretend to hug her back, her arms held up as if around thin air, because she’s afraid to hurt her, to reveal her secret. She didn’t have time to prepare for that hug. It took her by surprise. She lets her arms drop, but Lena keeps hers around her. Kara inhales steadily. Lena’s skin smell like her jasmine bubble bath. And underneath, her own indescribable scent.

“You okay?” Lena whispers.

“I’m sorry, I’m just… I don’t mean to be, but I’m just…” Tired. A circus lion.

“Feeling clumsy?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Lena holds her a little while longer, kisses the top of her head.

And just like that, it’s over, they’re not touching anymore. Kara wipes her eyes under her glasses. She may be a circus lion but she’s still a lion. Lions don’t lie down and die. They never give up. She thinks of The Old Man and the Sea. It was the first book she read as part of her school’s curriculum, here on Earth.

When I was your age I was before the mast on a square rigged ship that ran to Africa and I have seen lions on the beaches in the evening.

He no longer dreamed of storms, nor of women, nor of great occurrences, nor of great fish, nor fights, nor contests of strength, nor of his wife. He only dreamed of places now and of the lions on the beach. They played like young cats in the dusk and he loved them as he loved the boy.

I wish he’d sleep and I could sleep and dream about the lions, he thought. Why are the lions the main thing that is left? Don’t think, old man, he said to himself, Rest gently now against the wood and think of nothing.

After that he began to dream of the long yellow beach and he saw the first of the lions come down onto it in the early dark and then the other lions came and he rested his chin on the wood of the bows where the ship lay anchored with the evening off-shore breeze and he waited to see if there would be more lions and he was happy.

“Have you talked to someone about this?” Lena asks gently. “Feeling clumsy, I mean.”

Kara shakes her head no. “In those terms? Just you.”

“Has this happened before?”

“Yes. After I got adopted. Then it got better, overall. It always comes and goes, on some level. And at the moment, it’s coming, not going.”

“And the rest? What we said we’d talk about?”

“You mean, have I told someone else? No. I told you why.”

Lena chews on her lower lip pensively. “Because I’m not alarmed by it, I don’t find it sad, I find ways to relate to it.”

Lena and her perfect memory. Whenever she says she forgot something, Kara always wonders if it’s a game. If she ‘forgot’ about the The Damnation of Faust just so that she could drop a hint in her sentence and let Kara figure it out, if she ‘forgot’ about the myth of the Labyrinth so that Kara would tell her the story. Lena’s like a mischievous kid, sometimes. Lena is many, many things.

“And that’s really important to me,” Kara says. “Not that Alex and Maggie don’t ground me in other ways, but you? You ask the right questions. You keep me accountable.” The way only someone who doesn’t know can.

“To whom?” Kara pats her own chest. Lena seems taken aback. Her eyes flicker down to Kara’s chest and for a horrible second, Kara thinks Lena sees Supergirl. But that’s not even what she meant, she meant as Kara, as— “Oh,” Lena breathes out. “That’s quite something. Accountability to oneself. Okay. If I ask the right questions, then I have one.”

“Go ahead.”

Lena hesitates. “Have you considered talking to someone else? A professional, I mean.”

“Oh, like… a therapist?”

Kara’s tranquil tone of voice seems to set Lena’s mind at ease. “Yeah. Even if it’s just for a few weeks, it might help. You’re not feeling comfortable in your own skin at the moment, you don’t feel as… grounded as you’d like. You’re sad, too,” she says with a brief smile, “and I think you’re…” Another hesitation.

“I’m what?”

“Struggling with a loss of meaning. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing, because you’re looking for it everywhere you can, and that’s actually pretty healthy in my book, but… I think it weighs on you. And you feel out of place. And there’s also a lot of… God, I feel like I’m assuming so much,” Lena sighs, running a hand through her hair.

“No. Please, go on. Even if you’re wrong, I won’t be offended. I want you to talk to me like that. The only other person who did that was Cat Grant, and it was really good for me. Made me feel like my problems were something she could wrap her mind around. Even when she was being mean about it. Which you never are. So please, talk to me…” Kara smiles. “About me.”

Lena looks at her, her eyes clouded. “But it’s a fantasy, you know that, right? Wishing someone else could tell you who you are.”

“I know. And I understand that it’s not what therapy is about. It’s not what this is about, either. I’m not asking you to tell me who I am. I just want to know… who you think I am. What you see.”

This time, Lena is the one smiling, glancing briefly towards her own room and, Kara assumes, the painting. “Okay. So what I meant to say was… you often talk to me about your parents, about the early years after you got adopted, how in some way, it cost Alex her childhood, her friends… and I think there’s a lot of regret there. And grief, still. Which, again, isn’t a bad thing. I mean, I think about my biological mother every day and I barely remember anything about her. But grief, I think… can go from being a necessary outlet, to calcifying into… something you no longer know how to live without. And there are ways to perhaps sublimate that, or elaborate it, without getting rid of it… I don’t know. But a good therapist might. Or rather, they’d figure it out with you and keep the right distance. And, you know… even if it’s less than that, if it’s just one hour a week where you get to say anything you want in a safe, confidential environment, even the negative things you’re not proud of, the things that worry you, that you’re angry about… anything, and explore it all with someone you’re not emotionally involved with? That could still be a good outlet.”

Kara feels like gratefulness has her in a chokehold. For having someone who hears clumsy and thinks you’re uncomfortable in your own skin, who thinks therapy, not alien. Who looks for human solutions to a human problem. Because that’s what it feels like, when she has to be careful. When she breaks a mug Alex made her. It doesn’t feel like super strength. It feels like clumsiness. Basic, stupid, human clumsiness. Like being drunk and uncoordinated. Supergirl? Supergirl is pure power. She’s vibrant energy and unwavering determination, splintered concrete, unburdened brightness and a shattered sound barrier, and all the goodness in the world. But Kara? Kara is clumsy, Kara misses her dad’s cooking, her aunt’s hugs, her strength. She misses everything. Nothing here was made for her. Everything here ages and dies, but she doesn’t. And maybe home can be people, maybe she will be Alex’s home until Alex is no more and Kara remains. But places matter, too. Her beautiful planet mattered.

The cliff matters to Maggie. Kara wanted to throw up when Maggie asked her if she ever thought about it. When she had to decide whether to lie and say, Yes, I think about that cliff too, it’s our special place, or to tell her the truth: It’s the place you went ‘Jesus, Kara!’ on me, and not for the first time. Where I said you didn’t make me want to be a better person. Where I almost killed you by pulling off too hard to save Lena’s life, the place we argued about her innocence. She went for something in between. Something factual. I don’t think about that cliff. Let’s make new memories there. Maybe it was worse. Maybe it was—

Kara rubs her eyes under her glasses, feeling like she just woke up. She doesn’t think about the cliff. She doesn’t like the cliff. But the waterfall was... a blank canvas. And they painted it with the colors of who they are now, separately and together. The colors of change. Even if they never go back, they painted it. Places. People. Do some cultures on Earth believe places have a soul? That places are like people?

Lena hasn’t said anything. She’s watching her. Unknowingly wearing a little piece of Kara’s home, her eyes echoing its color, but clearer. Clearer by an entire world.

“I think… maybe.” Kara contemplates, then shakes her head. Nothing to contemplate, here. “Yeah. I’m gonna give it a try. Thanks for… being honest and suggesting it.”

“You’re welcome. But you know it’s not my way of telling you not to talk to me anymore, that it’s become an inconvenience, right?”

“I do know that. A shrink won’t replace you.” Kara narrows her eyes. “And you won’t replace a shrink.”

Lena smiles. “Music to my ears.”

Kara’s eyes go to Lena’s ears. Wonders if Maggie has kissed her there, if... She hopes Maggie has, she hopes Lena liked it. She hopes they’re generous with each other, that what is offered is wanted, and what is wanted is offered. They both deserve it. Everyone deserves it.

“Do you know any?” She asks.

“Any therapist?” Lena furrows her brow, taps her lips with her index finger. “Not in National City. But I can ask around, come up with a list of trustworthy ones, if you’d like?”

“I’d appreciate it. I don’t really know… I mean, I know who Ms. Grant’s therapist was, but that probably wouldn’t be a good idea to go see that person, ethically speaking. Besides, he prescribed her Lexapro like candy, and…” Kara makes a face. I’m happy to take you to Dr. Shuman for emergency Lexapro. That is, if your alien brain will respond to the SSRIs. “I mean, medication is fine, but not the approach I’m looking for.”

“I hear you. And I’m not sure how to say this, but…” Lena scratches her nose. “I don’t know what your situation is now that you’re no longer at CatCo, if you still have health insurance, but therapy isn’t cheap, so… I’d be more than happy to pitch in, if you need it. It’s not a handout,” she adds quickly, wincing. “I mean, not that I’d want you to pay me back, either… I’m so bad at this. God. What I’m trying to say is, as your friend, I will always help you if I can, and that means financially, too. If that’s what you need.”

“I’m doing okay on that front, but… I know a lot of people have taken advantage of your generosity, so being trusted not to? That means a lot. And if I wasn’t doing okay financially, I would gladly accept your help.” Kara shrugs. “No shame in that, right?”

“No shame in that,” Lena repeats, toying with the pendant around her neck. She seems to realize what she’s doing and chuckles. “Well, that didn’t take long. I’ve been wearing it for twenty minutes and it’s already a stress-relieving, transitional talisman.”

“Talisman. That’s a good word for it.”

“I think so, too. And on that self-congratulatory note...” she stands up. “Do you want me to pull down the blinds, before I leave you to it?”

Kara looks up from the bed. “No, I like to look at the city. I don’t think I can sleep, anyway. I’m just going to listen to some music.”

Lena nods. “Music usually does the trick?”

“As in, helps me fall asleep?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Happy existential crisis, Kara. “Somewhat. It’s something to focus on, at least.”

Lena gathers the records and puts them on the armchair by the closet. “Better than a book or, I don’t know… cat videos?”

“Someone knows me well. But with music, there’s something about the vibrations. I can focus on them and occasionally drift off. Not sleep, exactly, but my mind just… floats.”

“You mean, like binaural beats?”

“Sometimes.” Kara hesitates. Her fingers twitch on the bedspread. “Do you want to stay with me for a little bit? We can share my earphones.”

Lena cocks her head, regarding her curiously. Kara searches her eyes.

“Okay,” Lena finally says, breaking into a smile.

She goes around the bed and Kara tucks the covers and sheets free. Lena slips under them and takes the offered earbud as Kara turns off the bedside lamp, unlocks her phone and hands it to Lena. “Pick something.”

She lies down, watches Lena scroll through her music, absently playing with her mother’s necklace with her free hand. She sees her switch apps, then lock the phone and put it between them. It’s only when Lena turns on her side to face her that Kara realizes there’s sound rising in her ear. Rain. Just rain.

“Symphony in rain major,” she whispers with a grin.

Lena smiles back. “Just go to sleep, Sunshine.”

Of course, Lena is the one in Morpheus’ arms twelve minutes later. Kara shakes her head fondly. She lowers the volume progressively until there’s no more sound, carefully pulls out the earbud and removes Lena’s glasses. Glasses, she can handle. It’s probably the one object she’s so used to manipulating she’s never broken a pair. She folds them on the bedside table, puts her phone there once she’s set her alarm for Lena, then quietly goes to lower the blinds. She slips back into bed and pulls the covers up, making sure Lena’s all tucked in. She looks at her for a while. She remembers what Alex said, a few months before, when Kara exposed Jeremiah’s cybernetic arm and he said Cadmus had damaged his arm so badly they had to replace it. How Alex went off on her. Maybe it means nothing to the girl of steel. What would you know about physical torture? What would you know about breaking? Kara closes her eyes.

Oh. She remembers. The poem that eluded her when she came home after putting out that forest fire. Bits and pieces, at least. She should really start learning poems by heart, instead of relying on her immediate memory. Learning by heart. By one’s heart, rather than through one’s eyes, or ears. How does it go? She only recalls fragments.

You are like nobody since I love you.

Let me spread you out among yellow garlands.

Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?

Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window.

The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish.

Here all the winds let go sooner or later, all of them.

The rain takes off her clothes.

The birds go by, fleeing.

The wind. The wind.

You are here. Oh, you do not run away.

You will answer me to the last cry.

Cling to me as though you were frightened.

Even so, at one time a strange shadow ran through your eyes.

My words rained over you, stroking you.

I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.

I want

To do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

She smiles at Lena’s sleeping form. It’s never too late for the classics. Pablo Neruda. Khalil Gibran. Velasquez. The Rolling Stones. And all the others whose words and sounds and images will speak to her, like she has every right to be here, to find a piece of herself in the humanities. She thinks of all the birds fleeing the fire, terrified and free, of the wind and the rain, she thinks of the koi fish in our happy place, of the lions on the beach. All the goodness in the world. She told Alex, a while ago, that the world needed more love, not less. But there are so many ways to love. To love in the abstract, to love in particular. When you put on that suit, be goodness incarnate, and when you take it off, be a good person. No more anger.