#nd arrowverse

Lena had always been… different.

At first, she thought it was because her mother had died. Then, because she lived with the Luthors. But when she saw an encyclopedia entry on autism spectrum disorder in the Mount Helena library, something clicked.

"I've suspected since I met you," Andrea said when Lena confided in her. "I have ADHD, so I recognized a lot of traits. But I didn't want to assume anything."

Andrea tried to help her be herself, but at a stuffy boarding school like Mount Helena, people weren't too accepting of kids who were different, and Lena was already enough of a social pariah as it is. At home, it was even worse. Lillian and Lex nitpicked her every movement, stray expression, and slip of phrase. "This kind of behavior isn't befitting of a Luthor," Lillian would say, gesturing for Lena to stand up straight. "Smile. Project confidence. It's not difficult."

So Lena learned how to keep her hands still with pens and glasses of water; to stare into people's eyes without really looking at them; to hide her discomfort behind crossed arms and prickly comments. She practiced controlling her tone of voice until it was almost second nature, and she could read the beats of a conversation and pull an appropriate response from the list in her head. Still, too often, it felt like nothing she did would ever be enough. Lillian still criticized her; Lex still dismissed her. She still felt different.

She thought that college might be better, but she was a fool to have hoped. Not only was she younger than everyone else in her class, but she already had more accolades than all of them combined, which ostracized her almost as much as her last name. She graduated as quickly as she could. Thankfully, if life didn't come naturally to her, at least science did, and she threw all her attention to plowing ahead of her peers and making sure she didn't completely dishonor the Luthor name.

Lena met Jack Spheer between the 610s and 620s of the Metropolis Public Library, sitting between two bookshelves with her head tucked between her knees. He jumped back a little when he saw her. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't know anyone was in here."

"Oh, don't be sorry," Lena said, making sure to intone correctly (updowndownup) and getting to her feet. "I didn't know anyone else in Metropolis was interested in engineering."

"Really?" Jack said. "Then you must not come here often." He held out a hand. "Jack Spheer, resident geek of Metropolis."

Lena shook (downupdownupdown). Jack's hand was softer than it looked, but his grip was oddly self-assured.

"I suppose I don't have to ask your name," he continued.

Lena caught herself twisting her fingers together—the one nervous behavior she'd never been able to quell—and casually crossed her arms instead. "Suppose not."

But as far as she could tell, Jack didn't look unnerved. He just glanced at the shelves full of thick textbooks and asked, "Here for a bit of light reading, then, are we?"

"Not at all. I'm trying to research biomedical technology, but the organization in this place is abysmal. I don't suppose you have any recommendations?"

Without looking, Jack drew out a book, wrote something inside the cover, and held it out to her. "Start with this one. My number's in there; call me when you're done with it." And that was that.

When she kissed Jack for the first time, it felt like a dream. She'd only ever dated one person before, her boyfriend in fifth grade, whom she was pretty sure Lillian had threatened into dating her. She and Andrea had gotten close, but neither of them had ever made the first move, both preoccupied with trying to get through a boarding school that seemed to be actively working against them. But being with Jack was like honey, easy and sweet and safe, and when the time came, it just felt right. And he seemed to think so, too.

That was, until Lex turned the sun red.

Suddenly, there were press conferences and court appearances and the world's attention all on her. Lena was the one remaining Luthor, the unexpected heir to the family company and name. Suddenly, Lillian was treating her like she was twelve again. Keep your poise. Look the reporters in the eye. Don't disappoint me, Lena. The streets of Metropolis turned concave, and all Lena could do was keep herself together, until finally she couldn't, and she fled to National City.

And then she met Kara.

Kara, who didn't seem to know where to look or what to do with her hands. Who raised her voice without realizing it, who hugged hard and blushed easily. Who cringed at loud noises and didn't mind when Lena couldn't act the way most people wanted her to.

She met Alex, who had grown up with Kara and still loved her fiercely. Lena hadn't known that was possible, but to Alex it was second nature—letting her sister ramble on and on about her interests, maintaining a stable volume with her voice, walking behind Kara so she could keep an eye on her. The more time they spent together, the more Alex adjusted instinctively to Lena's sensitivities, until Lena felt more comfortable around her than around most of the people she'd met in her life.

During Lena's first days in National City, Kara had told her that a hacker had broken into her private emails. "There are some potentially embarrassing things in there," she'd said. Lena hadn't known which of her secrets Kara was referring to—her relationships with women, her connections to Lex's off-record dealings, the secret projects she was running in L-Corp's underground lab—but Kara had surprised her, handing over the hacked emails without asking for anything in return. Months later, Kara told her what the emails had contained. Among other things, there was a confirmation email from National City Hospital linking to Lena's diagnosis of ASD. She'd set up the appointment on a whim—she did own the hospital, after all—and even though she'd never followed up, she was embarrassed to say she'd felt relieved, just like all those years ago in boarding school. Like solving a puzzle for the first time. Or rather, like realizing the puzzle had all the pieces it needed, even if they didn't quite match the picture on the box.

"I didn't think it was worth mentioning," Kara said. "I mean, I'm from—well, I never fit in growing up in Midvale. It would have been a lot worse without Eliza and Alex to help me cope. No one should ever be judged on something like that."

Lena spoke slowly so Kara would know she was being genuine. "Thank you, Kara. Truly."

"No problem." Kara smiled. "Just doing the right thing. And if you ever want to talk to someone about it, just give me a call. I've dealt with my share of sensory overload."

It wasn't until much later that she did finally ask Kara for help. But she gradually started to come out of her shell. First, just around Kara. Then around Kara's friends and family. Winn indulged her obsession with technology; Eliza mothered her more than Lillian ever had; James shared her passion for helping people. And Brainy. Oh, she liked Kara's friends, even if they were loud and disorganized and occasionally idiotic, but Brainy understood her in a way few others did. If Jack had been honey, Brainy was water, speaking without connotation, always jumping from one scientific conclusion to the next, his mind and Lena's working in perfect synchrony. If something required communication, they said it out loud. If it didn't, they stayed silent, secure in knowing that each of them would respond at the other's request.

She quickly figured out that Brainy, like Lena herself, was often overcome by emotion. "Little boxes," she'd told him. It was the same lesson Lillian had taught her over and over again in elementary school—lock away your discomfort, find some way to behave yourself. It had worked, or it hadn't, but either way, little boxes had led her here, and she figured Brainy could benefit from doing the same.

But then Brainy had evolved. And suddenly he was the one who understood emotions, and he was the one who knew how to be human, and Lena was left trying to figure out what she'd gotten wrong. Until one day, Brainy told her that little boxes had prevented him from connecting with others, and Lena decided to give the other way a try.

She let herself fidget. She stopped pouring drinks whenever she felt restless and started tapping her pen, checking her phone, or swiveling in her office chair instead. She broke eye contact when she felt like it and showed the expressions that came most naturally to her, rather than the ones she'd matched to situations based on careful cataloguing of the people around her. Perhaps more importantly, she allowed herself to have fun. The ins and outs of business interested her, but she had entered this industry because she wanted to invent new technology—to help people, to change the world. With Supergirl's team, she finally got the chance to do that.

And so, even though Kara was gone, Lena felt lighter than ever before.