#veronica sinclair

A wave of nausea hits, and, distantly, Lena remembers to tear her eyes from the door. No one should follow her gaze and find that room. Find her.

Kara is going to die, Lena realizes. Kara is going to die. She’s going to be caught and Roulette is going to dump her body in the reservoir like so much loose garbage. What was she thinking? What was she even trying to— No. No, Lena doesn’t have time for questions. Lena doesn’t have time for why. Lena takes a breath, letting her heart slow. The why is irrelevant. The only things that matter are that door, Kara, and the placement of guards in this room. If she moves quietly, she’ll be able to get to the door before someone else notices. The keypad lock looks simple enough, but she would still prefer a distraction before she tries to break in. Lena doubts she will have Kara’s luck with timing. What was that key fob? How— No. Focus. It shouldn’t take more than a minute to open and short-circuit the lock, assuming there isn’t a built in alarm.

Lena glances back at the door and her stomach drops. A guard has walked over to stand by the door.

That complicates matters.

New objective: Lure guard away from office.

What does she have? A burner phone she’d brought in case she needed to call 911— not ideal. All that would do is alert Roulette and company that there is an issue— a few bobby pins, a mini-screwdriver, and about two hundred dollars cash. Not nearly enough for a bribe in this crowd. One of those guards is wearing a genuine Rolex. She could short the cage? Lena tables that idea with a glance at the fight that’s begun in the center of the room. A man who looks to be half-porcupine fires quills at a bald, green alien. What had Roulette called her? Miss Martian? She certainly fit the image. The audience roars as one of his quills slips past and slashes her across the face. Green blood darkens the floor of the arena.

Lena is not unleashing that on a crowd, no matter how vile the audience.

She goes back to her inventory. With the phone, maybe she could… A taser? She’d only get one shot before it burned out. Too obvious, in any case. She lingers on the phone speakers. It would be rudimentary… but perhaps functional. Lena looks over at the city councilman. His eyes are bright with excitement as blood sprays across the near wall. He’ll do.

Lena pauses by a table, assembling her tool beneath the red tablecloth. The fight drags on— men shout and jeer as their bets get the upper hand. Lena snags a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and meanders as quickly as she can over to the councilman. She takes a sip, makes a calculated misstep, and dumps her glass of champagne down the front of his tailored suit.

“Oh my god. I am so sorry,” she cries, patting at the alcohol soaking through his shirt.

“Watch it!” He snarls, pulling his eyes away from the arena with obvious reticence.

“I’ll get some towels,” Lena says.

He spits something else after her, probably about the cost of his silk tie, but Lena is already making her way back through the crowd. Better not to be nearby when it triggers. She can hear more disgruntled complaints behind her— a woman murmuring about how ‘these things used to be exclusive’. What she cannot hear is the faint, pulsing ringing emanating from the councilman’s left breast pocket— but, then again, neither can he. Not consciously, anyway.

It’s a simple enough trick if you know what you’re doing. Set a speaker to click at the right pitch, the right frequency… Lena had learned how in order to get revenge on Sarah Liebowitz in the 10th grade, after she spread a rumor that Lena had kissed Lucy Bakran. She had, of course, but that was none of Sarah’s business. The councilman groans behind her, rubbing his head. Then he turns and vomits down the front of his companion’s dress.

Lena turns to the guard. She can run up, play the spoiled rich girl, demand he do something about that drunk, disruptive man over there— And if her heart had sunk before, now it falls straight through into the pit of her stomach. Roulette is walking to the office. She glances only once at the still-vomiting councilman, gesturing at the staff to deal with it.

Lena’s feet are rooted to the ground. What does she do? It may have been a few years since they’ve have met face to face, but she is under no misapprehension that Veronica Sinclair would not recognize her in a heartbeat, mask or no. Two hundred dollars, a few bobby pins, a screwdriver. It’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. Lena should have gone to the police and triggered a raid the minute she realized Kara was coming here. She should have confronted her there, refused to let her leave without answers. She should have ripped those shreds out of Kara’s hands and burned them. He eyes catch on the power box on the near wall. She could do it. Those electrified cage panels have to be a massive energy sink. With the damage the power grid has already taken today, it wouldn’t even be hard.

Lena looks back at the cage. The green woman has won the advantage. Her eyes glow red with fury as she pummels her opponent. What else does Roulette have back there? How many creatures just waiting for those walls to drop?

Roulette takes another step toward the office. Lena goes to the box.

It’s even easier than she expects. The arena walls crackle a warning, and then the humming that has filled the room since the fight began quiets. The fighters pause. The spiked alien reaches out a shaking hand to tap the wall. His skin makes contact. He lays a hand flat against it. The crowd goes still. Then he tears through.

All at once sound seems to rush back in. The chain link squeals as it twists and the crowd screams. Roulette turns back and her eyes widen, a moment’s surprise before her face hardens.

“The backup generator!” She shouts.

A guard moves toward the cage, cattle prod raised, then falls to the ground choking as quills catch him in the throat. The spiked alien lands on the floor on all fours. He throws out a hand and Lena ducks behind a pillar as a quill whizzes past her head.

Nobody is looking at the office door now.

Lena crawls on all fours past a man screaming and clutching his leg. The lights flicker, each moment of blackness another second Lena cannot see the quills flying overhead. Flee, she thinks at Roulette. Your gladiators are loose. Flee!

Something green rockets over Lena’s head. Miss Martian lands between a man and the spiked alien, shielding him from the quills. She slams the spiked alien to the floor, roaring as quills take her in the shoulder. Roulette’s guards are hesitating now— hovering at the edge of the spectacle. Lena crawls forward, the sounds of fists striking flesh echoing behind her.

“Please!” The alien screams. “I just want to go home! Let me go!”

Lena glances back only once. His face is pressed into the floor. He sobs, tears mixing with blood to drip pink onto the cement below. The path he has carved through the crowd is obvious from here— not a mindless rampage at all. He was clearing the way to the door. Guards run past Lena to dispose of the mess.

“What a spectacle!” Roulette calls. “Everyone, a round of applause for Miss Martian!”

The room shudders— and then breaks out into raucous applause. The man Miss Martian had saved pulls her to her feet and tugs her fist into the air. Hands reach for her from all around, Roulette’s audience, each wanting a piece of their victor.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the night is far from over!’ Roulette calls, her winning smile back firmly in place. “Eat, drink, the staff can see to any mishaps, and be ready for our next fight in a few minutes. For this one, you won’t want to be distracted. Tonight, we welcome Draaga the undefeated, and a fresh, untested champion… from the planet Mars.”

The names must be familiar to them because the crowd roars it’s approval, all their fear forgotten. Or maybe the fear is only heightening their excitement. But Roulette seems to share none of their passion. She continues toward the office, two guards at her back, waving off a waiter who comes running with a tablecloth soaked with blood. No, Lena thinks. No! Tend to your wounded audience, go check the breakers, do something! What could possibly be so important in that office that… Fear coils around Lena’s throat like a vice. She pushes up onto her feet and walks to the office, forgoing stealth for speed. She knows. Roulette already knows.

“Thanks for babysitting,” Lena hears Roulette say to her guard as she approaches. The man grunts and reaches for the door.

“Excuse me,” Lena calls, “but I think you have something that belongs to me.”

The delight on Roulette’s face is more unsettling than the cattle prod Lena suddenly finds placed against her chest. The door guard was faster than she’d anticipated.

“Tonight is full of surprises,” she says, “It’s alright, Oscar. An old friend doesn’t need that kind of motivation.” He lowers the prod, but doesn’t sheath it.

Roulette opens the door, and Lena is shoved roughly through it.

The office is a small, spartan room— obviously built to be disassembled and reassembled at a moment’s notice. A few containers of files stand by an interior door. A computer desktop and hard-drive. A high-backed leather chair. And Kara, standing by the computer, with burly guard’s hand wrapped around her injured arm, his fingers digging white marks into her skin. She has her mask off, and it occurs to Lena that this is the first time she’s ever seen Kara without her glasses. There’s a niggling feeling at the back of her mind, something about that... And then Kara’s eyes widen at the sight of her and Kara stomps on the foot of her guard, throwing herself toward Lena.

“Ms. Luthor!” She cries, as large hands grab her around the shoulders and haul her back. Roulette rolls her eyes and makes an offhand gesture. One of the guards walks up to Kara and throws a fist into her face. Lena swallows a cry as Kara grunts, doubling over, but somehow staying upright. Roulette approaches, snagging a prod from one of her goons, and places it under Kara’s jaw, tilting her head up. Kara stares up at her, blood pouring from her nose, and a hatred in her eyes that makes Lena’s skin crawl.

“Is this how you treat guests, Ronnie? I thought you had better manners,” Lena says, watching the blood drip off Kara’s chin.

“I do try to be courteous with my guests,” Roulette says, rolling the prod up Kara’s cheek. “But intruders? I’m not so kind to them. Tell me, Lena,” she asks, resting the prod a inch from Kara’s eye, “which are you?”

“Both.”

“Bold.” Roulette says, appreciatively. “Now tell me why I shouldn’t kill you and your friend.”

“Bad for business,” Lena answers easily. “A murder like that will draw attention.”

“With all the other assassination attempts I hear about on the news, I doubt it would be that hard to disguise.”

“Maybe,” Lena admits, “but it would be expensive. Much cheaper to see us out and stop badgering my office with unwanted invitations.”

Behind the hand she’s using to try and pinch her nose, Kara gapes at her. Roulette blinks, and then she begins to laugh.

“Oh, Lena. You were never this much fun in school.”

“And you’re exactly the same. Worst earthquakes in California in 80 years and you’re hosting a fight club.”

Roulette spreads her hands. “People long for distractions in times of chaos. Who am I to deny them?” She leans on the desk, letting her voice drop. “I’m hurt. My invitations are quite exclusive, you know.”

“They’re bad for the brand. L-Corp is supposed to be a new direction— I don’t need a scarlet letter on my desk twice a month.”

“Plenty of people here have reputations to ruin. It’s why we value discretion so highly.”

“Most of those people aren’t directly related to the man who blew the globe off the top of the daily planet. They can afford a little discretion. I have too many eyes for that.”

“And yet here you are.”

“And yet,” Lena agrees.

Roulette stares at her appraisingly. “Alright, I’ll play. What’s dragged you down to my filthy corner of the world? I thought these ‘revolting self-fellating exercises in material waste’ weren’t to your taste?”

“Research,” Lena says. “You have the largest collection of alien species on Earth. I hoped there might be some useful technology to be found. Although,” Lena adds, with a practiced sneer, “after tonight’s electrical issues, I’m not sure I should have bothered. I prefer my research opportunities absent a near death experience.”

Roulette’s jaw twitches. “The issue is being resolved. The earthquake did more damage than we thought. Not,” she continues, steadying, “that that should concern you. Really, Lena, your grand plan was to march into my office and announce that you tried to steal from me?” She tuts. “A pity. At least one of you could have walked out of here alive."

“Not steal,” Lena says, as levelly as she can as one of the guards reaches for his pistol. “Observe. I instructed my assistant to scope out possible integrations of alien tech. I had no idea she would take such...” Lena grinds her teeth over the word, “...initiative.”

Kara flushes. Good. Fool.

“If all you’re here to do is observe,” Roulette asks, “why did she have this?”

She holds up the black key fob. Now that Lena’s this close, she recognizes it. Lena whips around to look at Kara so fast her neck creaks.

Where had she gotten her hands on that?

“You didn’t know,” Roulette says in amazement. “Haven’t you gotten sloppy.”

Roulette turns the device over in her hands, settling lazily in the high backed chair.

“You know,” she says, “I’ve never actually see one of these in person.”

That’s not shocking. Lena herself has only held one or two, and those had been highly illegal. It’s not everyday one accidentally comes across a Baird lock-breaker. As far as Lena knows, they were originally and exclusively produced by the United States military for espionage, and are tightly controlled. They don’t exactly want to flood the streets with a device small enough to fit in your pocket that can open almost any basic electronic lock on the market.

“As I said,” Lena says, mouth dry, “she took unexpected initiative.”

Roulette eyes her. Lena stares back, a picture of Luthor reserve.

“Be that as it may,” Roulette says, “examples will have to be made. You’re expensive and an old friend. Her, not so much.”

Roulette flicks her head, and a guard puts a gun to the back of Kara’s head. Kara inhales sharply, her eyes locking onto the wall next to Lena, stiff and unmoving.

“Make an example of my assistant,” Lena snaps, “and all you’ll do is reveal exactly how lax your security has become.” Her voice is low and cold when she continues, “that is not a mistake you want to make the same night you make an enemy of the Luthors.”

Roulette turns to look at her. “An enemy of the Luthors?” she says, the edge of a laugh in her voice. “The Luthors are fractured. You stand alone, Lena. You’ve made quite a show of disowning your brother since the trial. Are you going to stand there and claim to be protected? Now?”

“Lex played the game. He lost. I wasn’t going to let his failures drag the entire family with him. You knew Lex,” Lena says. Knew is a bit of an understatement. “Do you really think he would endorse that kind of sentimental bullshit?”

“He tried to kill you,” Roulette says drily.

Lena shrugs. It’s easy slipping back into it. Too easy. The identity, the poisoned words and viper’s smile clings to Lena like an oily film. She feels filthy. She feels powerful. And if Kara would stop staring at her with such open confusion, she might be able to get them both out of this alive.

“Warning shots,” Lena says. “He wanted me to know he didn’t like the new direction of the company.” She leans forward, as far as the guard at her shoulder will allow. “We handle our own business, our own examples. My insult came from inside the house. From an equal. Can you say the same?”

Roulette’s smile flickers. Anger, old resentement, and just a hint of fear boils just past the red lipstick. The Sinclairs were an old money family, yes, but not Luthor old. There was a difference. And Ronnie had always known it.

Roulette leans back in her chair, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“I want five portable black body field generators— the kind that you used on the gang that raided your gala a few weeks ago.”

“Done.”

Roulette waves a hand and the gun is pulled from Kara’s head. Kara opens her mouth to protest and Lena hisses, “I will deal with you later.”

Kara shuts her mouth.

Roulette stands, handing the Baird device to one of her guards. She’ll be keeping that, too, it seems.

“Security will see you out,” she says. “Try not to get lost.”

Lena walks to the desk, picking up Kara’s mask and handing it to her. Kara’s fingers are trembling when she takes it.

“Oh, and Lena?” Roulette calls as they reach the door. “If you think I’ve got the biggest collection of aliens in town, you really haven’t been paying attention.”

The next fight has already begun when they walk out of the office, a security guard hovering a few feet behind every step. A massive, hulking gray creature with horn like ridges across his face battles a bald, green alien similar to Miss Martian, but somehow taller. Kara’s breath catches. The green man’s ruby eyes flick across the room— straight at Kara. Lena turns, and for a terrifying moment she thinks Kara is going to charge the stage. This is why Kara is here, why she had risked her life breaking into that office. Kara looks at him with relief and anger and a desperate, cloying terror. The man pulls his eyes away, trying to disguise his look as just scanning the crowd, and Lena tugs Kara onward.

“Don’t let them see,” she whispers. Slowly, Kara lets herself be pulled back toward the door. Tears glint in her eyes, and her lips twist in a fury the mask can’t quite hide. The other guests don’t glance twice at them. They take Kara for another victim of the spiked alien’s rampage being escorted by staff.

Escorted. They are tossed unceremoniously into the cold night air, the bouncer fingering his baton behind them. Lena grabs Kara by the arm and tows her along, trying to put distance between themselves and the club. They round a corner, and Lena stops, breathing hard. Kara comes to a stop beside her, and Lena can feel Kara’s silent eyes on the back of her head. She closes her eyes and leans against the wall of the alley, trying to slow her racing heart. It isn’t working. She rubs her face. She can taste bile in the back of her throat. What now? What the fuck now? First thing’s first. What’s first?

Lena opens her eyes. Kara stands a foot or so away, still covering her nose with her left hand.

“Show me,” Lena says.

Kara just stares at her.

“Your nose, Kara. Let me see.”

Kara shuffles. “It’s really not—”

“If you tell me it’s not a big deal, so help me god—”

Kara lowers her hand. The font of blood has slowed to a trickle, but it isn’t pretty. Lena wonders if Kara’s sister would make her go to the emergency room for this one. Lena wonders if Kara’s sister knows about her arm at all.

“I’m an easy bleeder,” Kara says, after a moment. “I’m sure it will be better by tomorrow.”

It decidedly will not, but Lena doesn’t have the energy to argue.

“Explain.” She orders. “Now.”

Kara opens her mouth, then shuts it again. She rubs her arm again, wincing, not seeming to notice the smear of blood she leaves just above her elbow. “Ms. Luthor,” she says, quietly, “what are you doing here?”

Whatever thread of patience Lena has been clinging to snaps.

“What am I doing here?” She hisses, advancing. “What are you doing here? What the hell was that? I had realized you were coming here to break in—”

Kara’s brow furrows. “You— You knew I was— Lena, did you follow me?”

Lena scoffs. “I wasn’t coming here for the company and drinks, Kara. I thought if you’d gone to the trouble of fishing the invitation out of the trash, I might find you in attendance.”

“So you decided to show up?” Kara asks, incredulous.

“You are lucky I did!” Lena snaps. “If I hadn’t been here, you would have been shot— or tossed into the ring with Roulette’s pet monsters.” Kara’s nostrils flare. “Have you lost your mind? What kind of plan was that— walking into the office and hoping you wouldn’t be caught. And where—” Lena asks, with deadly fury, “did you get get a Baird device?”

Kara raises her chin. “I borrowed it.”

“If I walked through the circuitry lab at L-Corp, half the researchers wouldn’t even know what it was. And you just know someone who would let you borrow it?”

Kara purses her lips. Her cheeks are pink even under the faint moonlight.

“They don’t even know you took it, do they?” Lena asks in horror. All of this, and Kara’s going to go to jail for treason.

“I was going to give it back!”

Lena turns away, looking at the wall. Anywhere but Kara’s face.

“The green man in the cage. You knew him.” It isn’t a question.

“They took him last night. I was told this morning.” There’s an edge to Kara’s voice. As though she thinks she should have been told when it happened.

“And you didn’t think that was a job for the police?”

“Are you kidding?”

Fair point. Lena leans back against the wall. Kara looks down the alley, towards the club. 

“There were so many people,” she says, hardly over a whisper. “I mean, I figured she had to have a good audience for these things if she’s resorted to kidnapping people for them, but… How can they not care? How can none of them care? Aliens hide and fight like rats, and they drink and laugh and watch. The cops won’t do anything about it— I’m pretty sure I saw the DA in there chatting with Morgan Edge. And I can do nothing.” Tears slip past Kara’s mask, and she wipes them away with a furious hand. “I just wanted to find him,” she says, turning to Lena. “I thought if I could just find him, maybe I could figure out the rest. But I tripped the alarm going in and some guy with neck tattoos came in from the other side and threatened to break my other arm if I moved and all I could do was stand there and wait. And now she’ll pack up and disappear and take J’onn with her and I’ll have burned my only way in.”

Lena’s anger slips. She clings to it, but it melts away at the helpless frustration on Kara’s face.

“Going in alone was stupid, Kara,” she says softly. “Brave. Maybe even noble. But stupid.”

Kara sniffs, then winces, grabbing her nose. “I know,” she says, “but I couldn’t think of what else to do. My sister is… tied up right now. And this feels like a lot to ask of Winn, and you…” Kara trails off, smiling at her. And me? “You would have tried to stop me.”

Despite everything— or maybe because of it— Lena begins to laugh. After a moment, Kara joins her, still holding her nose. Trailing fading giggles, they make their way out of the alley.

“Lena, do you think Roulette’s going to have us killed?”

“Ehh. She’d be stupid not to try.” 

Kara leads them through the maze of brick-walled buildings, doubling back every so often, eyebrows creasing. Lena is just about to ask if Kara actually remembers where she’s going when Kara lets out a squeak of triumph, darting forward to the end of another alley. Lena follows, confused. There aren’t any other cars here, there’s only— No.

“It’s my sister’s,” Kara explains, slapping the seat of the black motorcycle. “I’m just borrowing it for tonight.”

Lena comes to a halt, trying to pretend her entire understanding of her assistant hasn’t just been rewritten. That proves to be as difficult as forming a single corherent thought that isn’t just the image of Kara Danvers on the back of a motorcycle. With a titanic effort, Lena closes her mouth.

“You… rode that here?” She asks.

Kara nods.

“Where… Where did you leave your helmet? And… other shoes?”

Kara blinks. “What helmet?”

Lena makes a noise that could generously be described as a groan.

“I’m driving you home.”

Kara looks between her and the motorcycle. “What?”

“I’m not letting you drive a motorcycle at night with no helmet and only one arm.”

“It’s not that… bad…” Kara trails off, grimacing. “I can’t just leave it here.”

It’s one of God’s greatest miracles that Kara has managed to survive to adulthood.

“I can send someone to pick it up once you’re home,” Lena says.

Kara bites her lip. Lena stares at her. How is this even a question?

“Okay,” Kara says, “but I need to call my sister, first. It’s been a while since I checked in.”

Lena gestures her assent, and Kara steps a bit down the alley, dialing. Lena begins to wonder why Kara is walking down the street as though ascending the gallows, and then Alex Danvers picks up the phone and Kara gets in a ‘Heyyyy—“ before Alex starts shouting so loudly, Lena hears snatches from all the way down the alley.

Kara cringes, pulling the phone away from her ear as phrases like “Unbelievable!”, “Did you leave your brain in the last galaxy?”, and “I’m going to lock you in your apartment— and you know I can!” drift down the alley. Kara steps a bit further down, raising the phone back to her face as the shouting calms. She whispers into the phone, scuffing the ground with her heels. She glances back at Lena before saying, loud enough for Lena to hear, “Actually, Ms. Luthor offered me a ride home.”

There’s a pause.

Then the voice starts up again, even louder.

“Um, I’m gonna havetogobye!”

Kara hangs up. Well, that answers that question.

“If your sister is uncomfortable with me driving you—” Lena begins.

“Where’d you park?”

“This way,” Lena says, leading her back toward the car.

“This is yours?” Kara asks, as the approach the car that is still, blessedly, where Lena left it. “I thought I’d seen all your cars.”

“I break this one out for special occasions,” Lena says drily, unlocking the passenger door from the inside. She had meant to fix that, once upon a time.

Kara flops down into the seat next to her, grinning. “I think Eliza had this exact car when I arrived.” Her fingers brush over the radio. “We used to steal all her Dido CDs and replace them with ours on roadtrips. She’d get so mad when she opened up the console and only found the Backstreet Boys and Britney Spears.”

“There are a few disks in there,” Lena says. “Put your seat-belt on and I might let let you pick one out.”

Kara blinks, grabbing her seat-belt as though she’d forgotten it exists. Maybe Lena should check her for a concussion. She can do that, probably. After an awkward, one handed battle with the seat-belt, Kara turns back to the console, popping it open. She runs a finger over the CD book fondly, flipping open the yellowed plastic pages.

“These were Jack’s,” Kara says, softly.

Lena’s hand stiffens on the key. “They were,” she says. She hadn’t realized Kara remembered his name.

Kara continues flipping through, her smile widening. “I’m guessing the ones the in back organized by year of release are yours?” She says, amusement in her voice.

“You mean the ones organized reasonably? Yes.”

“No, I mean the ones that were put in here by some OCD psychopath,” Kara teases. “This is terrible, Lena. What, if you’re looking for Rock your Body you have to remember the exact year the album came out?”

“It’s a single, and 2002.”

Kara gasps in delight. “Ms. Luthor!” She says, staring at Lena with wonder.

“Just pick a song Kara.”

Kara grins and goes back to perusing the pages. Lena is just pressing the break to start the car, when Kara says, “Oh, wait! I haven’t told you my address!” Kara pauses. Then turns to stare at her. “…Ms. Luthor, do you know my address?”

Lena keys the ignition. 

Kara groans as she looks into the pitch-dark lobby. The power is out across half of town— including at Kara’s apartment.

“I hoped it would be back by now,” Kara says, pulling out her phone flashlight.

“The major damage won’t be taken care of until tomorrow,” Lena says. Longer, for this part of town. Kara’s neighborhood isn’t in the right tax bracket to be a primary concern of local officials. Although, Lena could probably encourage them to take it a bit more quickly. 

Kara rests her forehead against the door. “More stairs.”

“Already gotten in your cardio for the day?”

Kara just groans again. Lena can sympathize. The front of her shins have ached since she left the office this morning.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Lena says.

Kara pulls her head from the door. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Lena nods. “Goodnight, Kara.” She turns to go.

“Or—” Kara says hurriedly, “Or you could come up.”

Lena pauses.

“You saved my life,” Kara continues, with a weak smile. “The least I could do if make you some hot chocolate.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Kara.” If Lena’s keeping score, she’s pretty sure today actually repaid a debt. As if Lena could ever repay what Kara has done for her.

“Still, I’m pretty sure it’s customary to offer a friend something to drink when they drive you home.”

Kara smiles at her. There’s no demand in it. No bargain. There never is. Lena knows, if she refuses, Kara would tell her she understands in a disappointed but not offended tone, and wish her a good night. There’s blood drying on her chin, and it looks a ghastly crimson in the stark light of Kara’s phone. Lena should go up, right? Just to make sure Kara takes care of that?

“Okay,” Lena says. 

Kara puffs her way up the last few steps, grumbling unintelligibly about exercise and the cruel punishment of gravity. Lena opts to open the door for her— she’s already thinking about the uncomfortable process of getting the blood cleaned out of her car.

As she does, she asks, “So, how exactly do you plan to make hot chocolate with no power?”

“Oh, well, I’ll just—” Kara stops, staring at the wall as though considering the problem for the first time. She turns to Lena. “…will the stove work?”

“Is it gas?”

“Maybe?”

Lena swallows back a smile. “Let’s just see what we can find,” she says.

The stove is gas, but apparently, in her entire apartment, Kara doesn’t keep a single match. Or lighter. Or candle.

“I need to go shopping?” Kara says with a guilty spread of her hands.

“You need to keep a few things stocked,” Lena chides. The matches aren’t that much of an issue— Lena can whip up a sparker from just about anything— but what Kara is going to do over the next few days after Lena leaves is becoming a more pressing concern by the minute. Kara washes her face in the sink and gets her glasses while Lena starts up the stove. She ends up lighting all four burners just for the extra light. Kara pulls out a pan and milk from the fridge, and Lena suggests she get an ice pack for her nose.

Kara stares intently at the milk in her pot.

“Do you seriously—” Lena pinches her nose. She’s going to give herself a bruise at this rate. “Why am I even asking.” Lena casts her mind about. “What about frozen vegetables or fruit?”

Kara just keeps stirring the milk, avoiding Lena’s eye.

“Do you have anything in your freezer?” Lena asks incredulously.

“Popsicles?”

That— Okay.

After some additional probing, Kara directs Lena to some ziplock bags and a box of popsicles. It’s a kindness Lena thinks Kara might be regretting as Lena drops a few into the bag and begins beating them against the counter. Kara gasps as though Lena is beating a favorite relative, snatching up the box as if to defend the rest of them from Lena’s rampage. Lena wraps the ziplock in a spare hand towel and holds it out.

“For your nose.”

Kara takes the bag hesitantly, pressing it to her face. She sighs in relief as it makes contact.

“Would you…” she gestures at the milk with her elbow, not taking the popsicle bag off her nose. Lena looks at the milk. Oh. Okay. She takes the spoon and stirs.

“A little slower,” Kara says, “we don’t need to whip it.”

Lena looks back at her. Kara leans against the counter, her right arm pressed into her stomach in a way she’s sure is supposed to look casual.

“You need to get that checked,” Lena says, pointing at Kara’s arm with the spoon.

Kara ignores her, humming and closing her eyes into the popsicle bag.

“How will I know this is ready?” Lena asks, stirring at the pace Kara had recommended. A slight foam has appeared across the top of the milk.

Kara cracks one eye, squinting at Lena. “Don’t tell me you’ve never made hot cocoa.”

Lena flushes. “Would that really be the most surprising thing you’ve ever heard from me?”

Kara shakes her head, staring at Lena. “What kind of house did you grow up in?” she asks, aghast.

“One with cooks.”

Kara frowns, as though that’s no excuse, and looks over at the milk. “You want it to be bubbling, just a little bit. Too much and it burns. We’re close now.”

Reluctantly, Kara sets the popsicle bag down and reaches up to the counter to get cocoa powder. “Do you want regular or raspberry?” 

Kara drags them to the couch with their heaping mugs. Kara’s mug is at least half marshmallow by volume, and it had taken some convincing for her to only give Lena only a small layer. It’s soft couch, covered in old fuzzy pillows and throw blankets that Kara pulls around them without a second’s thought. Lena takes a sip of cocoa, looking around the apartment and ignoring the heat of Kara’s knee against the side of her leg. There are paintings in the corner of the room. They’re almost obscured by a sheet, but Lena can see the edges of them, bright swirls of color, stars and planets. She recognizes one of the pictures— she’s seen Kara doodling it at her desk. It’s strange, to be here. Kara is so attached to L-Corp in her mind, so inseparable from that white desk she livens up with photos and plants and nick-knacks. Kara’s apartment is a perfect extension of that. It’s full of things— an old surfboard souvenir from Pier 48, postcards with her sister’s name, a small set of legos on the windowsill Lena’s certain came from Winn. With a warm rush, Lena recognizes something of her own— a pressed plumeria on the wall she’d recognizes from a gift bouquet she’d given Kara to welcome her to the new office in National City. Kara’s apartment is a reflection of all the people in her life— and Lena is here too.

She looks back at Kara and laughs as she licks a marshmallow foam mustache off her face. Kara beams. Her nose is swollen and red, her glasses crooked, and she’s without a doubt the most beautiful woman Lena has ever seen. And Lena— Lena won’t throw this away. She won’t destroy this over a pointless little crush. She’s already in too deep. She knows that by the relief when Kara appeared in the office on Thanksgiving, by the sweet taste of pancakes in her kitchen the first day Lex had tried to kill her, and the way she can still see the gun against Kara’s head when she closes her eyes. Truthfully, she’s known from the first time Kara missed a major meeting and told her it was because her neighbor lost his TV remote. She can’t let go of Kara now. She won’t.  

So Lena laughs and jokes and nods along as Kara tells her a story about her brief stint on her high school show choir and crushes the hunger that rises with each stray brush of Kara’s knee against her skin.

“I ran into him today,” Kara says, as Lena wraps up the story of how she’d first met Maxwell Lord at one of her brother’s functions.

“Oh?” Lena says, intrigued. “I don’t have to worry about you getting poached, do I?”

Kara laughs, shuddering. “Ugh. Can you imagine? No, he was handing out blankets downtown,” Kara says, and Lena vaguely recalls the televised interview she’d seen. God, had that only been this afternoon? “He said some …interesting things.”

“How vaguely ominous.”

Kara rolls her eyes, but her expression quickly returns to being serious. “I asked him about the things he was saying on the news. About Supergirl.”

Ah. That.

Kara watches her intently. “You heard?”

“I saw the interview he gave,” Lena says. “He gave you more details?”

Kara nods. “He said that he was being kind. He said that Supergirl was taking too long to reappear. That… That she might not get her powers back at all.”

He had said some interesting things.

“You don’t think he’s right, do you?”

It’s Lena’s turn to roll her eyes. “I’m not sure when we started trusting Maxwell Lord as our preeminant source of information on Kryptonians. What exactly are his qualifications? Have they even met?”

“Yes,” Kara says. “There was that bomb on his train.”

Lena sighs. “I saw Superman fight my brother in Metropolis. He was…” Lena remembers the way he’d looked that night. The green cracks across his skin and his face half-swollen beyond recognition and the way he’d reached for her, still trying to get her to run. “If he could recover his powers after that,” she says, firmly, “I’m not concerned about Supergirl. Besides, didn’t she intervene in that bodega robbery this afternoon? She might be weakened right now, but I doubt she’d just walk in front of a loaded gun without her powers. She’s a superhero, not suicidal.”

“Right,” Kara laughs. “That would be… really stupid.” She looks into her mug and her smile dims. “How am I gonna find him?” She whispers, not looking at Lena.

Lena sets down her mug. “I don’t know,” she says, honestly. “But everyone makes mistakes, even Roulette.” Lena sits forward, thinking. “Does he have friends? Other aliens you could talk to who might know fighters at Roulette’s club?”

Kara shakes her head. “I didn’t even know he was an alien until this week,” she says, voice tight with frustration.

“The— The seven foot tall man with green skin?”

Kara waves a hand. “He’s a shapeshifter. That’s not the face I knew.”

Lena swallows back a wave of horror. That’s real? “That’s— that must have been quite a shock,” she says lightly.

“It was,” Kara says. “I just don’t know why he didn’t think he could tell me. I mean, I do know, but it still stings a bit.”

“You’ve known him a long time?”

“Sort of. He’s… a family friend. My adoptive dad knew him.” Kara shakes her head. “You should hear how Alex talks about him. He practically is her dad.”

“I can’t imagine,” Lena says. “Trusting someone like that, knowing them so long, and finding out you never knew them at all.”

“Yeah,” Kara says, after a moment, her face hidden in the shadows of the fire. “It’s a lot.”

Kara clears her throat, sitting forward. “But there is one thing,” she says. “The other Martian fighter at Roulette’s club. J’onn— there aren’t any other Martians. They were all killed— but he mentioned that he thought he might have found one, recently. He was investigating a lead.”

“You’re thinking he found her.”

Kara’s mouth sets in a hard line. “I’m thinking she didn’t want to be found.”

“The lead, did he say what it was?” Lena asks.

“Not to me,” Kara says, shaking her head. She grips her injured arm so tightly, Lena knows it must be painful. “It doesn’t matter anyway, I guess. What would I even do if I found her? I’m useless.”

“Kara,” Lena says, brushing her fingers over Kara’s shoulder. “You need help. That doesn’t make you useless, it makes you human.”

Kara scowls. “And where am I supposed to find help tracking down an alien shapeshifter who’s just as likely to turn us in to Roulette as help us?”

Lena raises her eyebrows.

Kara looks at her. “Ms. Luthor, you— Really?”

“Well, I’m not giving Roulette a black body field generator, so I’ll need some way to back out of our agreement. Shutting down her club seems an effective way to do that,” Lena says.

And if it keeps Kara from going along, it’s hardly a choice at all.