Archive of Our Own ^beta

The steady rhythm of Lena's heels against the polished floor of L-Corp's executive level echoed through the otherwise silent corridor. It was well past midnight, the building empty save for security personnel and the occasional cleaning staff. The soft blue glow of her tablet illuminated her face as she reviewed the latest test results from her newest project. Project Non Nocere had progressed beyond her initial expectations, and soon, very soon, she would be ready to implement the first phase.

She paused before the door to her office, swiping her access card with practiced ease. The door slid open silently, revealing the darkened space illuminated only by the city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Lena didn't immediately reach for the light switch. Instead, she moved to the bar cart in the corner, pouring herself two fingers of scotch before finally activating the soft ambient lighting.

The amber liquid burned pleasantly as it slid down her throat. She closed her eyes, savoring the momentary distraction from the constant loop of thoughts that had plagued her for weeks. Kara. Supergirl. The betrayal. The lies. Four years of friendship built on deception.

"Ms. Luthor," Hope's voice emanated from the AI interface on her desk. "I've completed the analysis of the DEO's security protocols as requested."

Lena placed her glass down on the desk. "And?"

"I've identified several potential vulnerabilities. With some modifications to our existing software, we should be able to bypass their firewalls undetected."

A small, bitter smile curved Lena's lips. "Good. Begin preparations for the infiltration. I want to access their database by the end of the week."

"May I inquire as to the specific information you're seeking from the DEO's servers?" Hope asked.

Lena hesitated. What was she looking for exactly? More evidence of Kara's deception? Proof that the entire organization had been laughing behind her back at the foolish Luthor who couldn't recognize her supposed best friend in a cape?

"Everything, Hope. I want to know everything they've been hiding from me."

The next morning, Lena found herself in her private lab, running final diagnostics on the latest iteration of the Non Nocere neural interface. The technology was revolutionary—a means to eliminate humanity's capacity for violence and deception without removing free will. No more lies. No more betrayal. No more pain.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming message. Alex Danvers. Again. The seventh message this week alone. Lena deleted it without reading. Whatever Alex wanted to say, Lena had no interest in hearing it. No doubt another plea on Kara's behalf, another attempt to excuse years of systematic deception.

"Hope, initiate test sequence alpha on the neural interface," Lena instructed, pushing thoughts of the Danvers sisters from her mind.

"Initiating sequence," Hope confirmed. "Ms. Luthor, while running background data collection on DEO personnel as requested, I've encountered something you might find relevant to your current emotional state."

Lena's fingers stilled on the keyboard. "Explain."

"I've located a series of personal logs maintained by Director Danvers. Several entries contain extensive references to both you and Kara Danvers, as well as detailed accounts of events preceding your discovery of Ms. Danvers' dual identity."

A mix of emotions churned in Lena's stomach—vindication, curiosity, and an unwelcome flicker of something that felt dangerously like hope. "Transfer the relevant files to my private server. I'll review them later."

Later came sooner than anticipated. The neural interface test had yielded promising results, but Lena found herself unable to focus on the data. The knowledge that Alex's personal logs—potentially containing insights into Kara's deception—were just a few keystrokes away proved too tempting.

In her penthouse that evening, Lena poured herself another scotch and settled onto her couch, tablet in hand. "Hope, access the Danvers files."

"Accessing now. Would you prefer chronological order or relevance sorting?"

"Relevance," Lena said, taking a long sip of her drink. "Show me what Alex Danvers really thinks about the foolish Luthor who was so easily deceived."

The screen filled with text—Alex's private thoughts organized into meticulous entries dating back years. Lena scrolled through them, skimming until a particular passage caught her eye.

"Kara had another nightmare last night. Found her hovering above her bed at 3 AM, mumbling in Kryptonese. Same one as always—Krypton exploding, the 24 years alone in the Phantom Zone. She says she still remembers every second of it, the cold, the silence. God, how does anyone survive that? She was thirteen. THIRTEEN. And then she lands here, and what do we do? Tell her to hide, to pretend, to be something she's not. Sometimes I wonder if we didn't just trap her in another kind of phantom zone..."

Lena frowned, reading the passage again. Twenty-four years in the Phantom Zone? That couldn't be right. Superman had arrived on Earth as an infant, and Kara was only a few years younger than him. Unless...

She scrolled further, finding another entry from several years earlier.

"Dad's gone, and it's my fault. I was so angry at him for leaving that I took it out on Kara. Told her she shouldn't have come here, that she ruined everything. The look on her face... She didn't say anything, just went to her room. Mom found her later, having a panic attack so bad she cracked the floorboards trying to ground herself. I forget sometimes that she lost EVERYTHING. Her entire planet, her culture, her family. And now she thinks she's lost another father because of me. She apologized to ME. Said she understood why I hated her. I don't hate her. I'm just scared, and she's an easy target because she'll never fight back. She's so afraid of hurting someone with her powers that she just takes whatever we throw at her."

Lena set down her glass with a shaking hand. This wasn't at all what she'd expected to find. She'd anticipated vindication, perhaps evidence of Kara and Alex laughing about how they'd fooled the last Luthor. Instead, she was glimpsing a side of Kara's life she'd never considered.

Hours passed as Lena delved deeper into Alex's logs. The picture that emerged was vastly different from the narrative she'd constructed in her mind. Entry after entry revealed not a calculating deceiver, but a traumatized young woman struggling with the weight of an impossible burden.

"Kara broke down today after we watched that documentary about endangered languages. She realized she's the last person who will ever speak Kryptonese as a native language. The last one who remembers the prayers, the poetry, and the slang teenagers used. She said it feels like Krypton dies again every time she forgets a word. I don't know how to help her with that."

"Another fight about her identity today. She wanted to tell Lena. I shut it down again. Maybe I'm wrong, but every time I think about what would happen if someone connected Kara to us, to Mom... I remember what happened to Dad. I can't lose anyone else. So I remind her of the risks, and I watch her fold herself smaller again. She respects my opinion too much. Sometimes I think I use that against her."

"Caught Kara looking at old star charts again. She was trying to calculate exactly where Krypton would have been. She said sometimes she feels like if she could just find the exact spot in the sky, she could say goodbye properly. I don't think she ever really has."

Lena scrolled through entry after entry, each one chipping away at the armor of righteous anger she'd built around herself. The Kara that emerged from these pages wasn't the confident, self-assured superhero who flew into danger without hesitation. She was fractured, carrying wounds that had never properly healed, constantly torn between her Kryptonian heritage and the human facade she'd been forced to adopt.

One entry in particular stopped Lena cold:

"Kara asked me today if I thought Lena would hate her if she knew the truth. Not about being Supergirl—she's asked that before—but about being an alien. She said, 'What if she looks at me differently when she realizes I'm not human?' I told her Lena wouldn't care, but the fear in her eyes... I forget sometimes that before she was Supergirl, before she was even Kara Danvers, she was just a terrified alien child being told that discovery meant death. We did that to her. Me, Mom, Dad—we meant to protect her, but we taught her to fear herself."

Lena set the tablet down, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. The scotch in her glass looked unappetizing now. She'd been so consumed by her own pain, her own sense of betrayal, that she'd never stopped to consider Kara's perspective beyond the most superficial level. She'd accused Kara of seeing her only as a Luthor, but hadn't she done the same thing in reverse? Seeing only Supergirl, the powerful, invulnerable alien, rather than Kara Zor-El, the last daughter of a dead world?

The realization didn't erase the hurt. Kara had still lied to her for years. But the context of those lies had shifted, becoming something more complex than simple malice or distrust.

"Hope," Lena said, her voice slightly hoarse. "Access any DEO files relating to Kara's arrival on Earth and her adjustment period."

"Accessing," Hope replied. "Be advised that these files are classified at the highest level. Our intrusion may be detected if we linger too long in this section of their database."

"I understand. Just give me what you can."

The information that appeared on her screen was clinical in its assessment but devastating in its implications. Medical reports detailing severe sensory processing disorders resulting from Kara's hypersensitive abilities. Psychological evaluations noting symptoms consistent with profound PTSD, survivor's guilt, and cultural displacement trauma. Training logs documenting how a teenage girl had to learn to suppress her every instinct, to move more slowly, to speak more softly, to essentially deny her own physical nature every moment of every day.

One report, authored by Jeremiah Danvers himself before his disappearance, was particularly illuminating:

"Subject exhibits extreme reluctance to discuss Kryptonian cultural practices or personal history. When prompted, displays physiological signs of anxiety. Has expressed concern that maintaining Kryptonian identity will endanger her new family. Recommendation: While cultural assimilation is necessary for security, complete suppression of Kryptonian identity may lead to psychological fragmentation. Suggest a controlled environment for the expression of heritage."

Attached to the report was security footage from what appeared to be a DEO training room. A teenage Kara sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, reciting something in a language Lena didn't understand. Kryptonese, presumably. The girl in the video looked nothing like the confident woman Lena knew. Her shoulders were hunched, her entire body tense as though expecting punishment for the simple act of speaking her native tongue.

Lena closed the files, a strange hollowness spreading through her chest. She'd been so certain of her moral high ground, so convinced that she was the wronged party in a simple narrative of betrayal. The reality was proving to be far more complicated.

The next day found Lena distracted, her thoughts repeatedly drifting from her work to the revelations of the previous night. She'd instructed Hope to continue gathering information about Kara's early years on Earth, but part of her wondered if she really wanted to know more. Each new piece of information made it harder to maintain the righteous anger that had been fueling her for weeks.

"Ms. Luthor," Hope interrupted her thoughts. "There's been an incident downtown. Supergirl is engaged with what appears to be a hostile alien entity. Local news stations are reporting significant property damage and potential civilian casualties."

Lena's head snapped up. "Show me."

The laboratory wall screen flickered to life, displaying a live news feed. The camera shook as it captured footage of Supergirl trading blows with a massive, grotesque creature that seemed to be composed of shifting stone and magma. Even through the distorted footage, Lena could see that something was wrong. Kara's movements lacked their usual precision. She was taking hits she would normally avoid, responding with attacks that seemed designed to provoke rather than subdue.

"She's being reckless," Lena murmured, watching as Kara took a direct hit that sent her crashing through the side of an office building.

"Based on analysis of her recent combat encounters, Supergirl is demonstrating a 47% increase in risk-taking behavior and a 38% decrease in defensive maneuvers," Hope confirmed. "This pattern suggests either tactical adaptation to a specific threat or significant psychological distress affecting judgment."

Lena watched as Kara emerged from the rubble, her face set in a grimace of determination—or was it something else? The camera zoomed in briefly, and Lena caught a glimpse of an expression she recognized all too well. It was the same look she'd seen in her own mirror during her darkest moments: the face of someone who wasn't sure they deserved to survive the fight.

"Hope, where is the DEO response team? Why is she fighting alone?"

"DEO tactical units are engaged with a secondary threat across the city. Director Danvers appears to be coordinating from headquarters rather than providing on-site support."

On screen, Kara charged directly into the creature's core, a move so obviously dangerous that Lena found herself rising from her chair. The resulting explosion knocked out the news camera temporarily. When the feed resumed, Supergirl was down, the creature advancing on her prone form.

Before Lena could process what she was doing, she had grabbed her coat and was heading for the door. "Hope, prepare the prototype defensive suit. And contact my driver. Now."

"Ms. Luthor, I must advise against direct intervention. Your current technological capabilities are not optimized for this specific threat."

"I'm not intervening," Lena snapped, though she wasn't entirely convinced of that herself. "I just need to... observe the situation more directly."

By the time Lena's car reached downtown, the battle had moved several blocks. She instructed her driver to stay back at a safe distance, then exited the vehicle, the prototype defensive suit activated beneath her clothing. It wasn't designed for combat, merely protection, but it would have to do.

The sound of impact led her down a debris-strewn street to what had once been a public park. Now it was a crater, at the center of which Supergirl and the creature continued their brutal exchange. Lena took cover behind a toppled concrete planter, watching with mounting concern.

Kara was bleeding from a gash on her forehead, her suit torn in several places. Despite this, she was laughing—a harsh, bitter sound that sent a chill down Lena's spine.

"Is that all you've got?" Kara taunted the creature, hovering just out of its reach. "Come on! I've been hit harder by training drones!"

The creature roared, its molten core flaring brighter as it lunged for her. Instead of evading, Kara met it head-on, driving her fist into its chest with such force that the shockwave cracked the pavement beneath them. The creature staggered back, but not before its clawed hand raked across Kara's shoulder, leaving angry red welts.

Kara barely seemed to notice the injury. She pressed her attack, relentless and reckless, each blow carrying more force than necessary. This wasn't the measured response of a hero trying to minimize damage and protect civilians. This was something else entirely.

"You know what's funny?" Kara shouted at the creature, which probably couldn't even understand her. "Everyone thinks I'm invulnerable. The Girl of Steel. But you know the truth, don't you? You can smell it." She launched herself at the creature again, taking another hit in the process. "I bleed just like everyone else. I break just like everyone else. I'm just better at hiding it."

Lena's breath caught in her throat. This wasn't just recklessness—it was self-destruction playing out in real time. The Kara she was watching wasn't fighting to win; she was fighting to punish herself.

The creature suddenly changed tactics, abandoning its attack on Kara to lunge toward a group of civilians who had unwisely gathered to watch the battle from what they thought was a safe distance. Kara's reaction was instantaneous, her body blurring with speed as she positioned herself between the threat and the innocents. The creature's full weight crashed into her, driving her to the ground with enough force to crater the asphalt.

"Run!" Kara shouted at the civilians, her arms straining as she held the creature at bay. "Get out of here!"

The people scattered, but the momentary distraction cost Kara. The creature's molten core flared, and a burst of intense heat erupted from its body. Kara screamed, a sound of pure agony that cut through the chaos of the battlefield.

Before Lena could think better of it, she was moving, activating the defensive suit's offensive capabilities—limited as they were. A focused energy pulse shot from her palm, striking the creature's side. It wasn't enough to do serious damage, but it distracted the beast, giving Kara the opening she needed.

With a surge of strength, Kara heaved the creature off her and into the air. Her heat vision activated, twin beams of intense energy striking the monster's core. The creature writhed, its body beginning to destabilize. With one final, desperate effort, Kara accelerated upward, carrying the deteriorating creature high above the city. There was a blinding flash of light, followed by a concussive wave that shattered windows for blocks around.

Lena shielded her eyes, her heart pounding in her chest. When she looked up again, there was no sign of either Kara or the creature.

"No," she whispered, scanning the sky frantically. "No, no, no..."

For several agonizing seconds, the sky remained empty. Then, a small figure appeared, plummeting toward the ground at alarming speed. Kara wasn't flying—she was falling.

Lena activated the suit's propulsion system, knowing even as she did so that she would never reach Kara in time. But before she could launch herself upward, a black DEO helicopter appeared, intercepting Kara's fall. Alex Danvers, secured by a harness, leaned out of the open door to catch her sister.

The helicopter descended rapidly, touching down in the center of the devastated park. Lena approached cautiously, the suit's helmet retracting to reveal her face. Alex looked up from where she was kneeling beside Kara, her expression shifting from concern to surprise to wariness in rapid succession.

"Lena? What are you doing here?"

"I was nearby," Lena said, the lie falling from her lips automatically. "I saw the fight."

Alex's eyes narrowed slightly, taking in the high-tech suit Lena wore. "Right. Well, as you can see, we have the situation under control now."

Lena's gaze shifted to Kara, who lay unconscious on the ground. Her suit was in tatters, burns and cuts visible on the exposed skin. The sight sent a pang through Lena's chest that she wasn't prepared for.

"She's hurt," Lena said, taking a step forward.

Alex moved slightly, positioning herself more directly between Lena and Kara. "She'll heal. Solar radiation will take care of most of it."

"That's not what I meant," Lena said quietly.

Something in her tone must have registered with Alex, whose posture shifted subtly. "What are you talking about?"

"She was being reckless. Deliberately putting herself in harm's way. Taking hits she didn't need to take." Lena met Alex's gaze directly. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

A flicker of recognition passed over Alex's face, quickly replaced by a guarded expression. "This isn't the place for this conversation."

"Then where is the place, Alex? Because from what I've seen today, and what I've... learned recently, someone needs to have this conversation before she gets herself killed."

Alex studied her for a long moment, conflict evident in her eyes. Finally, she sighed. "DEO headquarters. One hour. I'll clear you for entry." She glanced down at Kara's unconscious form. "She needs medical attention first."

Lena nodded, stepping back as DEO agents approached with a specialized stretcher. She watched as they loaded Kara carefully into the helicopter, noting the gentleness with which Alex arranged her sister's limbs, the way she brushed a strand of blood-matted hair from Kara's forehead. There was a tenderness there that reminded Lena painfully of her own complicated feelings for the Kryptonian.

As the helicopter lifted off, Lena was left alone in the devastated park, the weight of everything she'd discovered in the past twenty-four hours settling over her like a shroud. The anger that had sustained her for weeks was still there, but it was now tangled with something else—a growing awareness that the story she'd been telling herself was incomplete at best, willfully blind at worst.

One hour later, Lena stood in the elevator of the DEO headquarters, a building she'd visited only a handful of times before. The security checkpoint had been surprisingly straightforward; her name was on a list, and she'd been escorted directly to Alex's office without question. The defensive suit had been left behind—a show of good faith, though Lena wasn't entirely sure why she felt the need to make such a gesture.

Alex was waiting for her, looking tired and drawn, a cup of coffee clutched in her hand like a lifeline.

"How is she?" Lena asked without preamble.

"Physically? She'll recover. The burns were more severe than usual—something about that creature's core generated heat similar to Krypton's red sun. It weakened her. But she's under the solar lamps now. Her body is already healing." Alex took a sip of her coffee. "As for the rest... that's a more complicated question."

Lena moved to the window that looked out over the DEO's main floor. From this vantage point, she could see into the medical bay where Kara lay beneath the specialized lamps, her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling steadily.

"I accessed your personal logs," Lena said, deciding that directness was the only approach that made sense now. "And some of the DEO's files on Kara's early years on Earth."

She expected anger, perhaps outrage at the invasion of privacy. Instead, Alex just looked resigned.

"I figured it was something like that. You've never been one to show up somewhere without doing your homework first." Alex set down her coffee cup. "So now you know."

"I know pieces," Lena corrected. "Fragments. Enough to realize there's a whole history I was never aware of."

Alex nodded slowly. "There's a lot that Kara doesn't talk about. Not to anyone, really. Not even to me, and I was there for a good portion of it."

"The Phantom Zone," Lena said. "Twenty-four years?"

"Yes. Her pod got knocked off course when Krypton exploded. She was stuck in a place where time doesn't pass, fully conscious, for over two decades. She was thirteen when she left Krypton. By the time she landed on Earth, her baby cousin had grown up to be Superman."

Lena tried to imagine it—the isolation, the terror, the absolute powerlessness. "How does someone survive that?"

"I don't know that she has, entirely," Alex said quietly. "She has nightmares. Panic attacks. Episodes where she loses time. We thought it was getting better, but lately..." She trailed off, glancing toward the medical bay. "Lately I'm not so sure."

"What happened?" Lena asked. "The past few weeks, she's been different. Even as Supergirl, she's taking unnecessary risks. Today she was practically trying to get herself killed."

Alex's expression darkened. "You happened, Lena."

The words hit with the force of a physical blow. "What?"

"You found out her identity. You rejected her. You've been avoiding her, shutting her out. And she's convinced herself that she deserves it. That she deserves to lose you because she lied." Alex ran a hand through her hair, frustration evident in the gesture. "I'm not saying it's your fault. You have every right to be angry. But you asked what changed, and that's it. You're what changed."

Lena turned back to the window, unable to meet Alex's gaze. "I didn't know."

"How could you? You only ever saw one side of her. The confident, sunny side. The mask she's perfected over years of being told that her real self is too alien, too dangerous, too much." Alex moved to stand beside her. "Do you know what the cruelest part is? We did that to her. Me, my parents, Superman—we're the ones who taught her to hide, to be ashamed of who she really is. And now she's paying the price for our fear."

Lena watched as a medical technician adjusted one of the solar lamps, the golden light casting Kara's face in sharp relief. Even unconscious, there was a tension to her features, a furrow between her brows that spoke of pain beyond the physical.

"Why are you telling me this?" Lena asked. "Why not just have security escort me out? I broke into your personal files. I violated your privacy. I've been... I haven't been kind to Kara since I found out."

"Because she loves you," Alex said simply. "And I think, despite everything, you love her too. Otherwise you wouldn't be here. You wouldn't have intervened today."

Lena didn't deny it. What would be the point? "Love isn't always enough, Alex. Trust has to go both ways."

"I know. And I'm not saying you should forgive her, or that what she did wasn't wrong. I'm just asking you to understand that the choice to hide her identity wasn't made in a vacuum. It wasn't even really a choice at first. It was survival." Alex glanced at her sister again. "She spent her formative years being told that revealing herself meant death—for her, for us, for anyone she cared about. That kind of fear doesn't just disappear because you put on a cape."

Lena was silent for a long moment, processing. Finally, she asked, "Can I see her?"

Alex hesitated. "She's still unconscious."

"I know. I just... I need to see her. Properly."

After a moment's consideration, Alex nodded. "Follow me."

The medical bay was quiet save for the soft hum of the solar lamps and the steady beep of monitoring equipment. Kara looked smaller somehow, vulnerable in a way that Supergirl never did. The tattered remains of her suit had been replaced with a simple medical gown, leaving her arms exposed. Lena could see the burns already beginning to heal, angry red marks fading slowly to pink.

"The lamps are doing their job," Alex said, checking one of the monitors. "Her cells are regenerating at nearly optimal levels. She should regain consciousness within the hour."

Lena approached the bed cautiously, as though afraid Kara might suddenly wake and find her there. Up close, the evidence of recent strain was even more apparent—dark circles beneath her eyes, a thinness to her face that hadn't been there before.

"Has she been sleeping?" Lena asked.

"Not much," Alex admitted. "Working too hard, both as Kara Danvers and as Supergirl. Taking extra shifts, volunteering for the most dangerous missions." She adjusted one of the IV lines connected to Kara's arm. "It's a pattern with her. When she's in pain, she pushes herself until she collapses. I think it's easier for her to deal with physical pain than emotional pain."

Lena reached out hesitantly, her fingers hovering just above Kara's hand. "I never wanted this. I was angry, yes. Hurt. Betrayed. But I never wanted her to suffer."

"I know," Alex said softly. "And so does she, deep down. But Kara... she takes responsibility for everything. The weight of a dead world rests on her shoulders, Lena. The last daughter of Krypton, carrying the legacy of an entire civilization. And then add to that the pressure of being Supergirl, of saving everyone, of never showing weakness..." She shook her head. "Sometimes I'm amazed she's held it together as well as she has."

Lena finally allowed her fingers to brush against Kara's, a touch so light it was barely there. "When I found out, all I could think about was how she'd lied to me. How everyone had lied to me. It felt like my entire world had been turned upside down." She looked up at Alex. "But I never stopped to consider what her world is like. What it must have been like for her, coming here, losing everything."

"It's not a competition of who's suffered more," Alex said. "Your pain is valid. What I'm trying to say is that her decision to keep her identity from you wasn't about you, not really. It was about her, and her fear, and years of conditioning."

Kara stirred slightly, a small frown crossing her features as though she was having an unpleasant dream. Without thinking, Lena placed her hand fully over Kara's, squeezing gently.

"I should go," she said, withdrawing her hand. "Before she wakes up. This isn't... I'm not ready to have this conversation with her yet."

Alex nodded. "I understand. But Lena..." She hesitated. "Whatever you decide, please don't leave her in limbo too long. The not knowing is killing her."

Lena nodded, taking one last look at Kara's sleeping form before turning to leave. "Take care of her, Alex."

"Always," Alex promised. "But she needs more than just me."

The unspoken implication hung in the air between them as Lena left the medical bay, her thoughts a tumultuous whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

The next few days passed in a blur of activity as Lena threw herself into her work with renewed vigor, though the focus of her efforts had shifted subtly. Project Non Nocere continued, but its parameters were being reevaluated. The idea of eliminating humanity's capacity for deception now seemed more complex than she'd initially conceived. After all, wasn't deception sometimes an act of protection rather than malice?

Her access to the DEO database remained undetected, and she found herself returning to it repeatedly, delving deeper into the history of Krypton and Kara's adjustment to Earth. The picture that emerged was heartbreaking in its complexity—a child of privilege and scientific achievement thrust into a primitive world (by Kryptonian standards), forced to hide her superior abilities, to pretend weakness where there was strength, to mask intelligence behind awkwardness.

One particular file caught her attention—a recording of teenage Kara, speaking with a DEO psychologist shortly after her arrival.

"Can you tell me about Krypton?" the psychologist asked gently.

The young Kara on screen looked uncomfortable, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her too-large sweater. "What do you want to know?"

"Whatever you'd like to share. Your home, your family, your daily life."

Kara was silent for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "I lived in Argo City. My father was a scientist. My mother was a judicator—like a judge. Our house overlooked the Fire Falls. They... they were beautiful at sunset."

"That sounds lovely," the psychologist encouraged. "What else?"

"I had a room with a window that faced east. I could see the red sun rise every morning." Kara's voice cracked slightly. "I had a pet called Streaky. Not like Earth cats, but similar. More... intelligent. She could solve simple puzzles."

"You must miss them very much."

Kara's face hardened suddenly, her posture straightening. "It doesn't matter. They're gone. Krypton is gone. I have to be Kara Danvers now."

"You can be both, Kara. Kara Zor-El and Kara Danvers."

"No." The young girl's voice was firm. "I can't. Jeremiah said it's too dangerous. If people know I'm... different, they'll take me away. They'll hurt Eliza and Alex. I have to be normal. I have to be human."

The psychologist attempted to press further, but Kara shut down, refusing to engage. The recording ended shortly after, the final frame capturing the look of determined resignation on young Kara's face—a child forcing herself to abandon her identity for the sake of survival.

Lena closed the file, a heaviness settling in her chest. She'd never considered what it cost Kara to maintain a secret identity. The constant vigilance, the perpetual self-denial, the loneliness of being the last keeper of a dead world's memory.

Her phone buzzed with a news alert. Supergirl had been spotted downtown, intervening in a hostage situation. Lena activated the wall screen, switching to a live news feed. Kara looked physically recovered from the battle earlier in the week, but there was still something off about her movements, a hesitancy that hadn't been there before.

Lena watched as Kara successfully resolved the situation, freeing the hostages and apprehending the perpetrators with minimal property damage. But when the cameras zoomed in on her face as she spoke briefly to the press afterward, Lena could see the strain behind the smile, the effort it took to maintain the facade of the confident, untroubled hero.

"Hope," Lena said, making a sudden decision. "Cancel my appointments for the rest of the day. And contact my driver."

"May I inquire as to your destination?" Hope asked.

Lena gathered her coat and purse. "Kara Danvers' apartment."

The drive across the city gave Lena time to second-guess her decision, but not enough time to change her mind. She still wasn't sure what she would say when she saw Kara, only that they needed to talk—really talk, not just exchange accusations and defenses.

Kara's building looked the same as it always had, a modest structure in a middle-class neighborhood. Lena had spent countless evenings here, sharing takeout and wine and laughter. The familiarity of it struck her anew as she climbed the stairs to Kara's floor, her heart pounding an uncomfortable rhythm in her chest.

She hesitated outside the door, her hand raised to knock. What if Kara wasn't home? What if she was still out as Supergirl? What if she didn't want to see Lena at all?

Before she could talk herself out of it, Lena knocked firmly on the door. There was a moment of silence, then the sound of movement inside. The door opened to reveal Kara, still dressed in casual clothes—jeans and a simple blue sweater—her hair damp as though she'd recently showered.

The surprise on Kara's face quickly gave way to wariness, then a careful neutrality. "Lena. Hi."

"Hi," Lena said, suddenly feeling awkward. "I... Can we talk?"

Kara hesitated, then stepped back, opening the door wider. "Of course. Come in."

The apartment was exactly as Lena remembered it, warm and inviting, with personal touches everywhere—photos of friends and family, colorful throw pillows, the soft blanket Lena had always claimed during movie nights draped over the arm of the couch. It felt like stepping back in time, to before everything had fallen apart.

"Can I get you anything?" Kara asked, her politeness a thin veneer over obvious tension. "Water? Tea?"

"No, thank you." Lena set her purse down on the counter. "I saw you on the news earlier. The hostage situation."

Kara nodded, crossing her arms over her chest in what Lena now recognized as a defensive posture. "Yeah. It worked out okay. No one was hurt."

"You look better. Than the last time I saw you, I mean."

Kara's brow furrowed in confusion. "The last time you saw me?"

"At the DEO. After the fight with that creature downtown." Lena watched as comprehension dawned on Kara's face. "You were unconscious. Alex let me see you."

"Oh." Kara shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't know that."

An awkward silence fell between them. Lena took a deep breath, deciding to dive straight into the reason for her visit.

"I know about the Phantom Zone," she said. "And about your early years on Earth. The adjustments you had to make, the things you were told to hide."

Kara's posture stiffened, her eyes widening slightly. "How?"

"It doesn't matter how," Lena said, then reconsidered. "No, that's not true. It does matter. I accessed the DEO's files and Alex's personal logs. I know that was wrong, and invasive, but I... I needed to understand."

Kara's gaze dropped to the floor, a flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "So you know everything. About how pathetic I was. How afraid?"

"Pathetic?" Lena repeated, stunned. "Kara, no. That's not what I saw at all. I saw a child who had lost everything, who was thrust into an impossible situation and did the best she could to survive it."

Kara looked up, confusion evident in her eyes. "I don't understand. I thought you were angry with me. For lying to you."

"I was. I am." Lena moved closer, stopping just short of reaching out to touch Kara. "But I've been so focused on my own hurt that I never stopped to consider yours. I never asked myself why you kept this secret, beyond the obvious reasons. I never thought about what it cost you to maintain that deception."

Kara's arms tightened around herself, a gesture of self-protection that made Lena's heart ache. "It doesn't excuse what I did. I should have told you years ago. You deserved to know."

"Yes, I did," Lena agreed. "But I understand better now why you didn't. The fear that was instilled in you from the moment you arrived here. The way you were taught to hide, to be ashamed of who you really are."

"I was never ashamed of being Kryptonian," Kara protested, though the slight waver in her voice suggested otherwise.

"Weren't you?" Lena asked gently. "I saw the recordings, Kara. I saw how quickly you learned to suppress any mention of Krypton, how you forced yourself to become someone else entirely. Not because you wanted to, but because you were told it was the only way to keep yourself and your new family safe."

Kara's composure began to crack, her eyes filling with tears. "What do you want from me, Lena? An apology? I've given you that. Explanations? I've tried. What else is there?"

"I want you to stop punishing yourself," Lena said, her own voice thick with emotion. "I saw you during that fight downtown. You weren't just being reckless; you were being self-destructive. You were taking hits you didn't need to take, putting yourself in harm's way unnecessarily."

"I was doing my job," Kara insisted, but the defense sounded hollow even to her own ears.

"No. You were trying to atone for something you think is unforgivable. You were punishing yourself because you believe you deserve it." Lena finally gave in to the impulse to reach out, her hand coming to rest on Kara's arm. "And that scares me, Kara. Because no matter how angry I've been, I never wanted to see you hurt."

The touch seemed to break something in Kara. A sob escaped her, quickly muffled by her hand. She turned away, moving to the window, her back to Lena as she struggled to regain control.

"I lost you," she said, her voice barely audible. "After everything else—my planet, my family, twenty-four years in that endless void—I finally had something good, something real. And I ruined it because I was too afraid to trust you with the truth."

Lena moved to stand behind her, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from Kara's body but not touching her. "You haven't lost me, Kara. I'm right here."

"But for how long?" Kara turned to face her, eyes red-rimmed but dry now, her expression one of resigned sadness. "You know the truth now, about all of it. About how broken I am, how damaged. I'm not the person you thought I was, Lena. I never have been."

"You're right," Lena said. "You're not who I thought you were. You're more complex, more flawed, more real than I gave you credit for. I put you on a pedestal, Kara. I made you into this perfect, incorruptible figure. And when you turned out to be human—or, well, Kryptonian—with human failings, I couldn't reconcile that with the image I'd constructed."

Kara shook her head. "I'm the one who created that image. The perfect friend, the reliable reporter, the infallible hero. It was all a facade."

"Not all of it," Lena countered. "The kindness, the compassion, the fundamental goodness that draws people to you—those are real. I know that now more than ever." She paused, gathering her courage. "And the way you feel about me... is that real, too?"

Kara's breath caught, her eyes widening in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Alex said..." Lena hesitated, suddenly uncertain. "She said you love me. That that's why this has been so hard for you. Because it wasn't just about losing a friend; it was about losing someone you love."

The vulnerability that flashed across Kara's face was answer enough, but she spoke anyway, her voice soft but steady. "Yes. I love you, Lena. I have for... a long time. But I never said anything because I was afraid. Afraid of rejection, afraid of ruining our friendship, afraid of what would happen if you knew who I really was."

"And now I know," Lena said. "I know who you really are, Kara Zor-El. Not just Kara Danvers, not just Supergirl, but all of you. The last daughter of Krypton. The girl who spent twenty-four years in the void of space. The woman who carries the weight of two worlds on her shoulders."

Kara looked at her with a mixture of hope and fear, as though afraid to believe what she was hearing. "And?"

"And I love you too," Lena said simply. "All of you. The parts I've always known, and the parts I'm just beginning to understand."

A tremor ran through Kara's body, her hands clenching at her sides as though she was physically restraining herself from reaching out. "How can you? After everything I've done, everything you've learned..."

"Because that's how love works, Kara. It's not conditional on perfection. It's not withdrawn at the first sign of failure. It endures, it adapts, it grows deeper with understanding." Lena took a step closer, eliminating the space between them. "I was hurt, yes. I felt betrayed. But beneath all that anger was this undeniable truth: I never stopped loving you. Not for a single moment."

Tears spilled down Kara's cheeks unchecked now. "I don't deserve your forgiveness. I don't deserve your love."

"It's not about deserving," Lena said, reaching up to wipe away Kara's tears with gentle fingers. "It's about choosing. And I choose you, Kara. All of you. The light and the dark, the strength and the vulnerability, the human and the alien."

Kara's resolve finally broke. With a sound that was half sob, half laugh, she pulled Lena into a fierce embrace, burying her face in the crook of Lena's neck. Lena held her just as tightly, one hand coming up to cradle the back of Kara's head, fingers threading through blonde hair.

"I'm so sorry," Kara murmured against Lena's skin. "For lying, for hurting you, for everything."

"I know," Lena soothed. "And I'm sorry too. For how I reacted, for the things I said, for not trying to understand sooner."

They stayed like that for a long moment, holding each other as years of unspoken feelings and hidden truths flowed between them. When they finally pulled back, just far enough to look at each other, Kara's eyes were bright with emotion.

"What happens now?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lena's hand moved to cup Kara's cheek, thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone. "Now we start again. Not from the beginning—we've come too far for that—but from here, from this moment of truth between us."

Kara leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering closed briefly. "I want that. More than anything."

"So do I," Lena said, and then, because words suddenly seemed insufficient, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to Kara's.

The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, both of them cautious in this new territory. But then Kara made a soft sound of need, her arms tightening around Lena's waist, and the kiss deepened, years of longing and restraint giving way to a passion that left them both breathless.

When they finally broke apart, Kara was looking at her with a sense of wonder, as though she couldn't quite believe what was happening. "I've wanted to do that for so long," she admitted.

"So have I," Lena said, a smile curving her lips. "We've wasted so much time, haven't we?"

"Not wasted," Kara corrected, her own smile hesitant but genuine. "Just... took the scenic route."

Lena laughed, the sound light and free in a way it hadn't been in weeks. "I like that. The scenic route." Her expression sobered slightly. "We still have a lot to talk about, you know. A lot to work through."

"I know," Kara agreed, her hands settling at Lena's waist as though afraid to let go. "And we will. All of it. No more secrets, no more hiding." She paused, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her features. "But not tonight? Can tonight just be... this?"

Lena understood what Kara was asking for—a moment of peace, a respite from the heavy conversations that would need to happen, a chance to simply be together without the weight of the past pressing down on them.

"Yes," she said, leaning in to brush her lips against Kara's again. "Tonight can just be this."

Later, as they lay tangled together on Kara's couch, a half-eaten pizza forgotten on the coffee table, Lena watched the play of emotions across Kara's face as she spoke hesitantly about Krypton. Small memories at first—the color of the sky at dusk, the taste of a fruit that had no Earth equivalent, the sound of the language that now existed only in her memory.

"I miss it," Kara confessed, her head resting on Lena's shoulder. "Even after all this time, there are days when I wake up and for just a second, I forget that it's gone. And then I remember, and it's like losing it all over again."

Lena's fingers traced patterns on Kara's arm, offering silent comfort. "Tell me more," she encouraged. "Tell me everything you remember. Everything you want to share."

And Kara did, her voice growing stronger as she spoke of her home, of her parents, of the life she had lived before Earth. It wasn't all sadness—there was joy in the memories too, pride in her heritage, a sense of connection to something greater than herself.

As the night deepened around them, Lena realized that she was being given a precious gift: the chance to know Kara Zor-El, not just the person she had become on Earth, but the person she had always been beneath the disguises and the compromises. It was a trust she hadn't earned, perhaps, but one she vowed to honor.

"Thank you," she said softly, when Kara finally fell silent, her eyes heavy with sleep and memory. "For sharing that with me."

Kara looked up at her, a small smile touching her lips. "Thank you for wanting to know. For seeing all of me and not looking away."

"I will never look away from you again," Lena promised, pressing a kiss to Kara's forehead. "Never."

As Kara drifted off to sleep in her arms, Lena reflected on the journey that had brought them to this point. It had been painful, fraught with misunderstandings and hurt feelings, with secrets and lies and the weight of unspoken truths. But here, in this quiet moment of connection, she felt a sense of rightness that had been missing for too long.

They were not the same people they had been before—both of them changed by the revelations and confrontations of the past weeks. But perhaps that was as it should be. Perhaps they needed to break apart to come back together stronger, more honest, more complete in their understanding of each other.

Kara stirred slightly in her sleep, murmuring something in Kryptonese, her arm tightening around Lena's waist. Lena smiled, her heart full with a love that had weathered its first real storm and emerged deeper, truer, more resilient than before.

There would be challenges ahead, she knew. Trust once broken was not easily mended, and both of them carried scars that would take time to heal. But for now, in this moment, there was just this: two women who had found their way back to each other through the darkness, holding on with the quiet certainty that whatever came next, they would face it together.