Lili

Her head lolls to the side when she observes a few birds walking near her before perching themselves on the cement ledge nearby. One of the birds flew up before dropping down on the cement ledge gracefully.

“Show off,” she mutters to herself. “I can do that, too, you know.”

The birds continue on disregarding her comments and her muttering. She is then interrupted by a buzz of her phone in the plastic cup holder section of her foldable chair. She considers not answering, Alex probably pestering her to get some rest like she’s not already doing that. But the idea of getting yelled at just doesn’t interest her, not when she's already feeling herself at her lowest, so she decides to pluck her phone out of the cup holder.

Her back straightens and eyes widening in unabashed surprise when she glances down at the message displayed on her phone screen.

Lena: Are you home?

She sucks her lips between her teeth, her thumbs hovering above the glass. She moves her finger and presses the call button.

It rings just once when Lena picks up.

“Uh, hi,” Kara offers lamely, cringing at herself.

“Hi.”

“I’m—did you need something?”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line.

“Alex told me what happened. I…I thought to bring you some food since I heard you’re not well. But if you’re not at home or don’t want company, I can leave the bag by your door.”

“Uh…no! I mean—you didn't need to do that,” she starts, scrambling out of her chair and rushing to the rooftop door before jumping down, taking the stairs two at a time and almost colliding with the stairwell wall. “You’re—that’s very nice, Lena…”

When her apartment door comes to view, she freezes mid-step. Kara’s gaze drops down to the bottom landing of the third floor and finds Lena, still dressed in her work clothes and hair done up in a loose bun, holding a plastic bag in one hand and her phone by her ear in the other.

“You're at my door,” she comments, stating the obvious, hearing her voice echo through the open phone line between them.

Lena smiles, the motion slight and lopsided.

“It would appear so.”

Gingerly, she steps down one step at a time, her eyes never once leaving Lena. Long seconds pass between them until she arrives by her front door, a measly two feet away from her visitor. 

Lena pulls the phone away from her ears with a smile before pocketing it. Kara mirrors her when she realizes she hadn’t hung up yet. Lena’s smile drops and her now empty hand reaches up but stops mid-air between them. 

Oh, right. 

“Looks a little gnarly, huh?” she jokes, an awkward grin on her face. Truth be told, she feels better than she looks. By tomorrow’s time, her injuries will disappear and fade, her face returning to its unblemished state. She remembers that very few people see her like this, and it’s with an ache in her chest she realizes that this is the first time that Lena has seen her in this state. “I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt.” 

Lena slowly closes her hand into a fist and eventually drops it. She does her best not to feel disappointment at that. 

“Um, you—you had food?” 

It’s then that Lena lifts the bag she’s been holding, extending her arm out. “I got your favorites.” 

She accepts the bag, their fingers grazing with each other until she grabs hold of the bag, welcoming the weight of the food that’s inside. 

“Would you like to join me?” 

*

The rooftop door opens to a fresh breeze and the waning sun. 

She leads the two of them to her makeshift sitting area by the far end where a couple of birds have taken to loitering. They flap their wings and get away from the commotion of their presence and she sets the bag down by the table. 

Her eyes are drawn to Lena crouching down slightly and brushing the back of her skirt so she can sit on the lawn chair properly, sinking down until her knees are higher than her hips. 

Kara outwardly grimaces. “Sorry, I forgot that’s the saggy one. We can trade place—” 

“I’m fine. I don’t mind.” 

Kara watches her but silently nods and resumes taking out food from the bag and spreads them out on the table, filling every space on it. Unsure what to say or even how to speak to Lena, Kara then decides to take her time serving them their food. She passes a pair of paper-wrapped chopsticks to Lena who accepts it quietly before she peels her own, separating the wood with a snap. 

She senses Lena’s eyes trained on her, but she doesn’t flick her gaze up not once, instead focusing on taking the plastic lids off and turning it into a makeshift plate. She then serves up a portion of lo mein and a few pieces of sesame chicken before putting three healthy pieces of golden brown potstickers to finish out the plate. 

Kara finally looks up to Lena studying her. She offers a crooked smile and offers the lid-turned-plate towards the other woman who accepts it quietly, their fingers once again grazing against each other. She hurries and picks up the lid of the lo mein and serves herself her own plate, the portion smaller than what she normally eats when her powers are fully intact. 

For the next few moments, they eat in silence, the soundtrack to their early evening but the crowing of the nearby birds and the sound of distant traffic down on the streets. Every now and again, her eyes cast up to watch Lena as she digs into her own plate. The silence between them settles comfortably, like before. 

Before the distance between them, before her lies and betrayal, before Lena’s revenge. Before all the hurt she inflicted, they inflicted on each other. Before, before, before. 

Except they can’t ever go back to that world, to that life. 

As she catches sight of Lena chewing on a potsticker and eyes staring out onto the view from her rooftop, she thinks there are worse places to be and she’s fine exactly where she is. 

*

“Thanks for the food,” she says, breaking the silence between them, her lid-plate completely empty. “I appreciate you coming by.”

“Well,” Lena starts, leaning back on the chair, sinking further, her legs crossed at the knee. She looks comfortable this way despite the sharpness of her work attire. “I was promised a ‘something’ and I’m here to collect.” 

“I meant to come back.” 

“You were busy.” 

She chuckles at that. “A rogue missile can do that to you.” 

Lena tilts her head, as if studying her, and Kara does her best not to squirm under her watchful gaze. Then, Lena silently leans forward and stands from her seat, wiping away any minuscule dust or crumbs from her lap. Just as quietly, Kara tilts her head as she follows Lena’s every move. 

A gasp escapes her mouth, her brows jumping to her hairline when Lena extends a hand forward. 

“Let’s dance, Kara.” 

Her eyes drop to the offered hand in front of her. She looks back up again to an unreadable expression on Lena’s face. She gets on her feet, her legs slightly wobbly until she’s standing to her full height. 

Careful in her movements, as if Lena might take her offered hand back, Kara clasps their hands together and steps forward just as Lena steps back. 

“There’s no music,” she says. Lena simply quirks her brow before she reveals her phone in her other hand. Kara blinks, wonders how she could have missed that. 

“There’s always music.” 

Lena then presses play on her phone, the first few notes playing. Her brows crease together, her eyes quietly asking, but Lena just shrugs. They then get into position, Kara’s other hand on Lena’s waist just as Lena’s rests on her shoulder, her finger almost tracing the scabbing gash lines on the side of her face. Kara barely resists the shiver that runs down her spine. 

“I was watching Notting Hill last night because my schedule cleared up.”

She cocks her head slightly as the two of them begin to sway. “Didn’t take you much for a romantic comedy kind of viewer.” 

“In this world, I am.” 

She nods. “I like it.” 

The cool evening air breezes past them as they entangle themselves as they sway on beat to the song, their gazes stretching past each other’s heads. 

“What’s it like, not having powers?” 

She shrugs a little. “Like things are muffled, almost muted. I feel weighed down, like gravity’s working twice as hard to keep me down. It’s not unpleasant or anything, but it’s not a feeling I’m used to.” 

Lena nods, almost to herself, as she seems to take the information in. 

“I got worried when you never showed last night,” Lena says as she stares right up at her, her voice soft. 

She shakes her head, though, and pulls Lena closer, wants the other woman to make sure she’s looking when she says, “I wanted to be there, but I was out cold, apparently. I woke up this morning and panicked when I found out I’d missed it. Then when you didn’t contact me, I just thought you were mad at me.” 

“I thought you changed your mind.” 

Kara tilts her head up to find the blues of the afternoon sky having been traded in for the oranges and pinks. “As part of our pact of starting over, I think we should really improve our communication skills.” 

She then releases Lena so she can twirl her. 

“You’re not a fan of us assuming the worst of a situation or each other and internalizing it as a moral failing of ourselves?” Lena teases, exhaling a breathy laugh. 

“Lena, please,” she grumbles, a half-hearted attempt at suppressing her laugh. “Be serious.” 

She spins Lena twice until they come back together again, their fronts now pressed to each other, their faces inches from one another. 

Lena she turns her head until her chin rests on Kara’s shoulder. “We can stand to be better, I agree.” 

They move gently and loosely on the rooftop, Elvis Costello’s crooning voice filling the space around them and the National City city skyline just off to the distance. Finally, the last notes of the song play until Lena separates their hands and stops the next song from playing on her phone. Kara watches on as Lena walks towards the ledge of the rooftop towards the city’s skyline. 

It takes her a few drawn out moments to follow suit and stand beside Lena, her eyes trained on the twinkling lights of the city she saved just yesterday. 

“Kara.” 

She glances sideways, watching and waiting. Lena pivots her body so she’s facing Kara, green eyes bright and alive even in the blanketing darkness of the evening. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she breathes out, her warm hand on Kara’s forearm where a large gash sits. “I’m glad you asked me to stay for dinner. I’m glad…you let me in.” 

She places her own hand atop Lena’s. “Can I tell you that ‘something’ I promised?” 

Lena gestures with a nod, curling long, elegant fingers around Kara’s arm, like she’s trying to anchor herself to Kara, or maybe it’s the other way around. She’s not sure, but she doesn’t care either way, just that they are. 

“I want to rebuild our friendship first and foremost, and that’s what I’ll be focusing on. But I also…” she pauses, chewing on her bottom lip. When Lena looks on encouragingly, she takes a deep breath. “But I also hope that if you’re open to it, that it could someday lead to something…more.” 

“Something…more,” Lena repeats. 

“Yeah.” 

“What are you really saying?” 

Kara scratches her temple, adjusting her glasses on her face. “I’m saying that there are feelings that I’ve denied myself about you because I’d hurt you and then you’d hurt me. But they’ve never gone away, Lena. Not once. And if it’s alright with you, I don’t want them to.” 

When Lena doesn’t say anything, Kara’s confidence wanes and her mouth goes rogue. “But if you don’t feel the same way, if you don’t or c-can’t love me as more than a friend, then that’s fine, too. I’d never—that’ll never stop me being your friend or wanting to protect you.” 

“You love me?” 

“Without question,” she says, pressing forward as she tightens her grip on Lena’s hand. 

“What if you change your mind?” 

Kara’s heart tries not to bruise at the fear and apprehension in Lena’s eyes. 

“I won’t.” 

“How do you know?”

“I don’t,” she says with a helpless shrug. “But I know you.” 

Lena doesn’t say anything more, her eyes searching Kara’s face—for what, she’s not sure, but Kara won’t look away. Wordlessly, Lena twists her head to gaze out to the darkened horizon for a moment, and Kara prepares herself for the worst. She’s not prepared for the shine of tears in Lena’s eyes when she turns back to look at Kara. She thinks if she looked closely, she would find her reflection and the threat of her own tears. 

“I thought we’d missed our chance. After everything, I just thought—” 

It’s then she shakes her head, inches closer, her heart rapidly beating when she thinks about what Lena’s saying. “It’s still here, Lena. I’m here.” 

Lena lunges forward and Kara receives her in her arms, winding them around Lena’s middle, tightening her grip when Lena buries herself in the crook of her neck. They rock side to side in place as they simply hold one another, the city’s night sounds of National City buzzing around them. 

After a short while, they break apart, eyes searching for each other under the dim rooftop lights that Kara just now notices have turned on. 

“Okay,” Lena finally says, her voice watery, but strong. 

“Yeah?” Her heart sings and swoops when Lena bobs her head. “Okay, then. Um, do you wanna go downstairs and watch a movie or something?” 

Kara doesn’t move or breathe or do anything but watch as Lena brings the back of her hand and gently caresses cheek. “I’d love to, but I should head back home.” 

She resists the disappointment to wash over her and offers a genuine smile. 

“Let me walk you down.” 

They untangle from each other, Kara’s body practically vibrating as they clean up and march down the steps hand in hand. When they reach the front of her building, Kara isn’t surprised to find Lena’s driver already waiting. 

“When’s your next dance lesson?” Lena asks when she turns to face Kara once again. 

“Thursday at the Y. 7pm.” 

“Mind if I tag along?” 

Her face splits into a wide smile that she doesn’t bother hiding. “Never.” 

“Goodnight, Kara,” Lena says, leaning forward and pressing a small, chaste kiss on her cheek before squeezing Kara’s hand and letting go. “See you Thursday.”

Her response is to carefully dip down and place a mirroring kiss on Lena’s cheek. When she draws back, it’s to the image of Lena’s face soft and gentle, smiling up at her. 

The smile never disappears from her face as she watches Lena stride towards the backseat of her car, as she rolls the windows down and gives Kara a parting wave, as she rolls the window back up only after they’ve turned the corner.

The air around her swirls with hope, crackles with possibility, and she clings onto it all while she ascends the stairs two at a time to her apartment, humming the song of their earlier dance. This is just the beginning, a chance to make it count. 

Despite all of these thoughts, the dance had been more than she anticipated. For a brief moment in time, her world narrowed to the size of the dance floor when she and her former best friend twirled and glided across the space, held close to one another, swaying to the beat of the song.

Until Supergirl called out to her, the tenor of her voice bringing up a world long gone, the time together but a distant memory. Only to then ask her, “what’s your plan here, Lena?” 

The illusion broke through and shattered all around them, and her eyes darkened, her heart hardened. 

“You will never trust me,” she announced finally when she looked at Kara’s beautiful face, her equally beautiful blue eyes. Now, an enemy. “I can see it in your eyes.” 

She pulled away and turned, not sure she could look at that face again, anymore. Still, she would admit that it was enough consolation to see Supergirl on edge, to put her on her red-booted back foot.

She recalled turning her head slightly and caught enough of Supergirl's departure from the middle of the dance floor and into the evening sky. It gave her some satisfaction, but not nearly enough to placate the ache in her chest. 

Lena stared at her reflection; her makeup remained impeccably applied, impeccably in place despite the exertion of their dancing. The heat of Kara’s hands lingered all over her body, the warmth of those hands pressed into her, holding her in the illusion of safety as the song notes progressed. Her former best friend was clumsy in her movements, at least at first. It would have delighted Lena plenty to see Supergirl stumble her way through her movements. Yet, she held her own and led the two of them throughout the dance floor in an acceptable tango. On any other day, any other moment, she would have been charmed by it, let herself be led around so long as they stayed in each other's arms.

But those moments were no longer accessible to them. 

She returned to her guests and maneuvered through the compliments and conversations, but every now and again, she glanced up into the open sky. Just in case.

—

In the end, Lex was defeated and rid of once and for all. The details of it were fuzzy to her now, but none of it mattered. Simply that he was gone from her life for good, that he would no longer be a terror to anyone and everyone, to those she loved. 

Once again, however, she was left to pick up what remained of his ruinous rampage, if only to be surrounded by something beyond her isolation. 

It was just a few scant weeks ago that she’d reached a truce with Kara and her Superfriends (nevermind that she’d once thought of them as her own friends, as well). Now here she stood weeks later: alone. 

Lena had run out of options or excuses and finally sought out help from Kara without hope or expectation for true reconciliation or forgiveness, from either of them. They’d drawn their lines from one another so long ago, she’d considered them carved in stone. 

Now she stood on her empty balcony overlooking the city just after the sun had set and the sky was now engulfed in dark blue. 

Without a brother, a mother, a father. An orphan, twice over. It seemed that she was destined to live in solitude. They say no man was an island, yet perhaps Luthors were. 

She gazed at the last remnants of the setting sun across the horizon, not giving away that she heard the sound of a cape billowing at the far end of the balcony. She made no move to say or do anything, simply took a sip of the amber liquid in her glass. If Supergirl had anything to say, then Lena was not going to stop her. 

“How are you?” Kara finally said, after minutes trickled past them. 

She scoffed, unable to help herself. She glanced over her shoulder and watched as Kara hovered outside of the balcony. She simply took another sip of her drink. 

Kara, never one to leave well enough alone, moved so that her feet touched the ground and she stood somewhere behind her. Lena closed her eyes and took a swig of all of her remaining drink. 

“You’re trespassing.” 

“I know.” 

“I can have you arrested.” 

“That’s fine.” 

“What do you want from me?” 

“A dance.” 

Lena quickly turned around, Kara standing only a few feet away, her arm outstretched. She glanced up and met blue eyes, an ocean of patience. 

Resigned, Lena unfurled the fist by her side and placed it in the offered hand. She took a step forward until their bodies were almost flush with one another, Kara’s other hand placed on the small of her back. An easy fit between them. A thought that Lena shoved into a box for rumination and reflection later on. 

“There’s no music,” she commented needlessly even as she put her free hand on Kara’s shoulder, her nerves manifesting in lightly scratching the fabric of the supersuit under her fingertips. 

“There’s always music.” Just then, Kara pulled her phone from a hidden compartment behind her and pressed the screen until soft music started playing. It was the final duet in Moulin Rouge between the two leads, where she and Kara shed a tear or two when they watched it in the past—a distant lifetime ago. They were now extraordinarily different people from those versions of themselves. 

“This musical was a tragedy.” 

The superhero shrugged, her eyes focused past Lena’s head. “I know.” 

“Are you trying to tell me something?” 

Kara eventually returned her attention until their eyes met and Lena waited. She watched as Kara took a deep breath and offered Lena a cautious smile, resignation plastered on her own face. “I’m trying to tell you a lot of somethings.”

She studied Kara’s face, wanted to glean any kind of information from her features alone, but Kara betrayed nothing. “Start with one.” 

“I’ve been practicing.” When she furrowed her brows in confusion, Kara clarified by twirling Lena out of her embrace only to pull her back into her orbit once again. This time without bumbling through any of the movements nor without a stutter in her steps.  

The move surprised Lena enough to take her breath away, her senses suddenly alight as she considered what any of it meant. When? How? Why?

“Tell me another,” she whispered, her hands grasping tighter onto Kara just as the song started to swell. 

“I want to start over.” 

Lena stopped in her tracks so Kara did, too. Distantly, Lena observed that neither released their holds of one another.

“Why? We’ll only hurt each other.” 

“Maybe. Probably,” Kara supplied before tugging Lena back closer to her and swayed side to side to encourage Lena to do the same. “But life without you in it is infinitely worse, I think. So if it’s all the same to you, I’ll take my chances.” 

Lena’s heart felt like it was getting catapulted across time and space. And maybe it was actually getting catapulted along with every sway she took with Kara. Still, she couldn’t help but push. “Even with a villain?” 

Kara grimaced slightly before flashing an apologetic smile. “Sure, Lena. Even with a villain.” 

“I was one, you know,” she offered, watching for Kara’s response. She was complicit, had gotten her own hands dirty. She owned up to that. 

“I know.” But Kara simply shrugged and brought them closer. “Believe it or not, I’ve been one, too. You’re not exactly very special in that department, Lena.” 

A small laugh that bubbled out of her caught her off guard, and Kara smiled at her before spinning her away and back together again until Lena hid her face against the crook of Kara’s neck until the song finally ended. 

They parted from each other, Kara taking a step back until she was a few feet away, her hands clasped in front of her. 

“Thanks for the dance,” Kara said. 

“You’ve gotten better.” 

“I appreciate that. It means the practice has been paying off.” As if nodding to herself, Kara gave her a smile and began to turn so as to take off into the night sky, but Lena stopped her. 

“Tell me one more,” she urged, realizing she didn’t want their interaction to end quite yet. 

Kara then looked over her shoulder. “Can I come back tomorrow?” 

“If you’d like.” 

“I’ll tell you tomorrow.” 

“I’ll hold you to it.” 

Kara’s body twisted so she was looking at Lena more fully. “Goodnight, Lena.” 

“Goodnight, Kara.” 

Lena watched as she took off into the sky, disappearing into the night. She’d stayed out there for a little while longer, the heat of her drink coursing through her veins while the moment between them warmed her against the cool breeze that passed through. 

Lena waves her hand in the air before the soft jazz screeches to a halt, giving way to a few charged beats of silence, before the sound of the cello plays. She recognizes it immediately as one of the songs from the opera they’d once watched in Lena’s penthouse for movie night, when it was Lena’s turn to pick. She’d chosen Carmen, because if you’re into musicals, Kara, then you’ll love this. And she loved it so much, she skipped her normal playlists and listened to the soundtrack for two weeks straight.

Shaking her mind out of her memories, she’s now faced with an approaching Lena—those hips swaying with every step forward. She tries to swallow the dryness in her mouth. The crowd naturally parts as Lena walks towards her, the dance floor seemingly clearing for only the two of them. 

“Supergirl, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Lena asks, her head tilted to the side, though venom drips from her tight smile, her eyes darkening with something Kara can’t quite discern. Not yet, at least. 

She clears her throat, standing to her full height. “Just in the neighborhood, Miss Luthor. But I should get going.” 

Lena’s left brow arches slightly. “Nonsense, Supergirl. Stay for a bit. I don’t hear any sirens.” 

Kara bites her bottom lip. Her body and mind tingle with the warnings for her to leave, yet she stays rooted in her spot. Her gaze scanning Lena’s features up close—her hair pulled up in a ponytail that emphasizes her sharp features, the pink blush kissing Lena’s cheeks, the red shine of her lips, and the pearl necklace that wrapped itself beautifully around Lena’s neck, just below where Lena’s prominent freckle sits. 

“Let’s dance, Supergirl.”

Lena does not wait for her, instead walks to the center of the dance floor, on beat with the song currently playing. For someone who maintained that she never danced and wasn’t a dancer at all, the sway of Lena’s hips leads Kara to believe otherwise. 

The arch of Lena’s brow returns, this time in challenge, and Kara has no choice but to participate. So she strides towards Lena, her cape softly billowing behind her. 

Lena closes her eyes and sways to the music as Kara stands in place, too enraptured to set her sights elsewhere. Finally, Lena opens her eyes and, without warning, propels herself forward for Kara to catch her (because Kara will always catch her, and that’s the problem). 

“I said dance, Supergirl,” Lena enunciates, each syllable dripping with vitriol. Frowning, Kara follows suit, her body tensing as she holds her arms out for Lena until their hands have clasped into each other. She doesn’t think about how perfectly they fit, because she lost that chance when their friendship imploded because of her secret. 

And now, what had once been a fun activity spent learning how to ballroom dance with her best friend is now getting weaponized against her. Figures. 

Her feet are clumsy, though her grip on Lena is strong, and in another life this would have been something they got to do for fun, to create memories with one another. Instead, it’s a reminder of what she gets to miss out on now that they’ve drawn lines. 

“You’ve gotten better,” she comments, despite herself. Lena simply scoffs. 

“You’ve gotten worse.” 

She spins Lena into her before pushing her out, perhaps with a little bit more force than she intended, Lena finding herself further out on the dance floor. Lena smiles, catches herself, but her eyes tell Kara that they aim for the kill. 

Kara uses some of her superspeed to get back in Lena’s orbit, the front of their bodies pressed up against each other. 

“What’s your plan here, Lena?” 

They glide across the dance floor, Kara holding Lena as she leads them, her muscle memory catching up with her. 

“The plan?” Lena asks innocently, though her eyes show anything but. “Oh, that’s right. You would think I was up to something despite everything I’ve shown and proved to be the contrary. Classic Supergirl behavior to consider me a villain. Probably from the start of our friendship, no?” 

“Lena—” 

But Lena pulls away, dancing around Kara, her arms moving in sensual motions as they wrap around her body. Kara can only watch, transfixed at Lena under the spotlight. She forgets that there are guests around them, that this is a work function for Lena, that she’s not Kara Danvers here but Supergirl. 

Knowing that the song is drawing to a close, Kara grabs hold of Lena’s hand and pulls Lena towards her, catching the woman in time just as Lena lifts her leg and leans her weight on Kara. 

Kara watches from the corner of her eye as Lena’s fingers run through her hair. 

“You will never trust me.” Lena finally looks up at Kara, their faces so close to one another, green eyes meeting blue. Distantly, Kara feels Lena’s hand gripping her by the nape. Finally, a twitch of a sad smile appears on Lena’s pristine features. “I can see it in your eyes.” 

The singer’s high note rings in their ears and then the song ends. Lena parts from her, and makes a show of bowing to the guests who fill the rooftop with their applause. Kara can only watch as Lena retreats and disappears into the crowd.