Chapter Text
There was something about Kara that Lena couldn’t quite decipher.
She didn’t know exactly what it was. It wasn’t as if their relationship had changed in the slightest. Kara—sweet, ever-kind Kara—still invited her to game nights with her friends every Friday. Every Tuesday afternoon, the busiest day on her schedule, she would bring takeout to Lena’s office so they could have dinner together. Every endless morning when Lena would forget to eat lunch, Kara would conspire with her assistant to drag her off to the nearest place to eat. In every break between meetings, she would take the time to send her a silly message (probably a pun or a picture of a baby animal) just to distract her.
And yet, something felt off.
Again, she couldn’t quite name it. She was only aware of the way her insides twisted in warning whenever the silence between them stretched too long. The way certain moments felt like déjà vu from another life, from another version of herself who had lived through something similar. Something in her mind seemed to set off warning bells she couldn’t quite remember the purpose of whenever their closeness turned too intimate. Almost as if her body were trying to send her a message in a language she didn’t understand.
She tried to ignore it for a long time, but like everything that had to do with Kara Danvers, it was impossible. Kara seemed to possess an almost superhuman awareness when it came to noticing whenever something was going on in Lena’s head. As if they were soulmates (platonically—Lena would never cross that line), able to read every thought in the green-eyed woman’s mind before it even fully formed. It was exasperating.
“What’s wrong?” she asked one night in a sleepy murmur.
Lena’s heart had started racing the moment Kara insisted she stay the night because their dinner had run so late. Her downfall turned out to be the fact that, for obvious reasons, the innocent blonde would insist that sharing a bed was simply what best friends did at sleepovers (Lena had put together a convincing argument about the age of the people who had invented that childish rule, but Kara had dismantled it in seconds with her deadliest weapon: her eyes). Of course, in giving in to that hopeful smile, she hadn’t recognized the danger she was putting herself in.
“Nothing,” she lied, her voice unsteady.
Kara’s face was so close Lena could almost feel her curled lashes brushing against her cheek. With every word, her minty breath ghosted over Lena’s skin. Her warmth—the one Lena loved to compare to a heater in the middle of winter—sent electric shivers through her body. Those clear blue eyes never looked away, searching for any sign of discomfort. When they weren’t hidden behind a pair of outdated glasses, they were as striking as the universe itself.
Lena waited for a response that never came.
Maybe it was because she was used to everyone around her questioning her every move, every word, because of her last name. Maybe it was because Kara had heard the worry in her voice. Still, Kara—sweet, ever-kind Kara—seemed to understand that Lena herself didn’t know what was causing those reactions in her body. Maybe she chose to give her some space, knowing how constantly stressed Lena was.
“Okay,” she yawned clumsily, hiding her face in the curve of Lena’s clavicle as she tightened the crushing hug she had her in. “Get some rest.”
Her heart seemed to slip into arrhythmia, jolting the moment her best friend’s arm trapped her with no escape. Their bodies became one, a tangle of limbs in a bed far too small for two fully grown women. Lena took a deep breath, ignoring Kara’s soft snores and the way her skin prickled, and tried to push away the thought that consumed her for the rest of the night.
Despite her best efforts, nothing improved after that.
Kara chose not to bring it up—if she had noticed anything at all. Every time she saw Lena stressed, she assumed it was because of the work at L-Corp, which never seemed to have a single peaceful day. She offered her understanding smiles and treated her with such care it began to irritate her. She was perfect, with her gentle gaze and her ability to give Lena the space she needed. She was, in short, infuriating.
Lena didn’t know what was happening, but for her own sake—and for the sake of their friendship—she hoped it would end soon.
Little did she know, everything would go downhill from there.
(...)
The week had started off great, Lena thought, as she felt the cold press of a weapon (probably a gun, though she couldn’t be entirely sure) against the back of her neck, exposed by her tight ponytail. Someone held her with enough force to leave marks on her porcelain skin, reducing her chances of escape to almost nothing. She could smell cigarettes and bad decisions clinging to her captor as he forced her to input the code that would grant him access to the blueprints of her latest projects.
She hadn’t seen it coming—hadn’t even managed to catch a glimpse of him. The man had taken her by surprise, covering her mouth from behind while she was doing paperwork at her desk after a long meeting in the boardroom.
“Stay quiet and cooperate if you don’t want to die, pretty face,” he growled in her ear, his voice rough and demanding.
Despite the situation, Lena wasn’t particularly afraid. She was a Luthor, after all. Assassination attempts were practically dessert after dinner with her beloved mother or dear brother. She kept her composure as she was dragged toward her safe, barely masking her disgust at the way the man insisted on brushing his body against hers.
She didn’t believe in God—if there had ever been a deity with the power to do good in the world, it had abandoned her the moment her biological mother died. So she prayed, mentally, to the closest thing to a god she knew. Her impeccably manicured fingers moved slowly over the keypad, hoping Supergirl would appear to save the day.
She glanced discreetly at the balcony she kept open for emergencies, again and again, waiting for National City’s heroine to show up and beat the criminal senseless. Her heart raced despite her outward calm, counting every second that the woman in red and blue failed to appear.
“Oops, I got it wrong,” she pretended to mistype the code, knowing it would alert the police that something was wrong.
The man tightened his grip, forcing a pained grunt out of her. Lena felt the weapon press harder, forcing her to tilt her head so it wouldn’t pierce her.
“Don’t make me slip and shoot that pretty little head of yours. I’d hate to see such a clean floor stained with blood.”
Lena shuddered at the hot breath mixed with threats and swallowed hard before starting again. Her eyes flicked back to the balcony.
Nothing.
Supergirl didn’t come.
Once the man got what he wanted, he struck Lena across the head with the weapon and fled the scene before the sound of police sirens could reach them. Her body fell to the ground from the impact of the metal, unable to withstand the force, like an alien might. The pain was like burning fire, and the confusion was fleeting.
Unconsciousness took her, and her last thought was how familiar that feeling of betrayal was.
(...)
It didn’t take long for the world to find out what had happened.
Every headline carried her name.
“Break-in at the company of the moment—Lena Luthor assaulted.”
“Lena Luthor: a woman with more enemies than friends?”
“L-Corp and a robbery that leaves Lena Luthor in trouble.”
Lena was used to being on the front page, so she dismissed the situation, perfectly familiar with the procedure after a scandal: keep a low profile until the press moved on to the next sensational story. It wasn’t the first time—and it wouldn’t be the last—that her name was wrapped up in controversy.
Kara didn’t take long to find out either.
It wasn’t as if Lena could have hidden it from her anyway—the blonde was a reporter and knew how to use the internet. Still, it surprised her when Kara showed up at her door that very night with a bag full of food and an expression that gave away her concern.
“Kara, what a surprise,” Lena blinked, startled, when she opened the door and found those blue eyes in front of her. “I wasn’t expecting you… was I?”
The blonde pushed her glasses up in a nervous gesture and gave her a shy smile. She was still dressed in her shirt and slacks, which made it clear she hadn’t changed after work. Her hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, as if she hadn’t had time to fix it. Lena nearly melted on the spot at the sight.
“No, no,” she stammered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “But I wanted to stop by and make sure you’re okay. I saw the news—I came as soon as I could. Andrea didn’t want me to leave early, so I snuck out. I really shouldn’t be here, but you know, I couldn’t just not come and leave you alone, so I asked William to cover for me and I stopped by that place you mentioned and—”
Lena noticed Kara beginning to ramble, so she cut her off before her thoughts could derail too far.
“You’re very sweet, but I’m fine, darling,” she returned the smile, far too exhausted from the day’s events to dwell on the fact that she had been acting strange around her best friend. “Do you want to come in? I don’t think I can finish all that food by myself.”
A shaky sigh escaped the blonde’s lips, and she smiled at her gratefully.
“Of course.”
Kara stepped into the apartment, and when the door closed behind her, the room seemed to grow warmer. Lena took the bag of food (which turned out to be a small portion of potstickers and salad) and plated it so they could both enjoy dinner. If she prolonged the time before returning to the blonde waiting on her couch, that was her problem and no one else’s.
Once the plates were ready and they were both seated on the couch (Lena had chosen the farthest end, but Kara—who missed the hint—sat right beside her), the tension Lena had felt days earlier hit her like a truck the moment she met those blue eyes. Those lakes she could so easily lose herself in threatened to drown her—more dangerous than any weapon in the world. But that something, once again, kept her from falling under the spell she might have otherwise succumbed to.
Kara reached out suddenly, slowly, almost asking for permission, barely brushing but not quite touching the businesswoman’s eyebrow. Her hand hovered there for what felt like an eternity, in a trance Lena hadn’t realized she’d fallen into.
“You’re hurt,” Kara murmured, her brow furrowing slightly on instinct.
Her tone sounded melodic; Lena imagined that, from the outside, the moment would look like something out of a movie. A bubble seemed to wrap around them, shutting out the rest of the world.
“It was nothing. I’m fine. It looks worse than it is,” Lena replied, her voice dropping unconsciously to match Kara’s.
Then Kara’s fingertips brushed against the wound in a touch so light Lena might have imagined it. Her insides twisted uneasily. A sensation she couldn’t quite put into words settled in her chest.
“If Supergirl had gotten there—” the blonde began, a bitterness in her voice that was anything but typical.
“The world doesn’t run on what-ifs,” Lena swallowed the strange disappointment that had lingered since the robbery (she had no reason to feel that way—Supergirl owed her nothing), and turned her head to switch on the TV, avoiding being burned by how charged the moment felt. She could feel Kara’s gaze fixed on her profile. “Do you want to watch a movie?”
For once, Kara caught the hint and decided to go along with it.
“If that’s what you want, of course.”
The emptiness in Lena’s chest expanded inexplicably. Ignoring her emotional state and trying to compose herself, she cleared her throat and browsed through a random platform. Her thoughts rushed like a waterfall, tripping over one another. She could still feel Kara’s gaze when she pointed at the screen to redirect her attention.
“Look, The Wizard of Oz, your favorite. How about I finally give in and watch it with you, since you went through the trouble of coming all the way here?”
Lena dared to look at her, trying to appear normal. What she found were confused eyes and furrowed brows. She wondered what she had done wrong before Kara gave her the answer.
“The Wizard of Oz isn’t my favorite movie. Who told you that?”
Lena’s mouth opened and closed without a sound. She blinked, confused by the source of the information she held—information that now seemed to be wrong. The memory of Kara explaining why that movie was her favorite was somewhere in her mind, distant and slipping through her grasp. That something took hold of her thoughts again—that something telling her that something was wrong. She chose to ignore it for now, aware that it had been a long, stressful day. It was likely she had misremembered because of the trauma or the blow to her head, she told herself, as the logical person she was.
“Oh, maybe it was Alex. Probably a joke. I don’t know why I thought that.”
Sensing the downward spiral Lena was slipping into, Kara draped an arm over her shoulders and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. The green-eyed woman didn’t pull away, even though something felt off. Her best friend’s lips were an effective distraction.
“It’s okay. Since you want to spoil me, how about we watch a Disney musical?”
Lena smiled at her, though the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Alright.”
The musical soon filled the large screen in Lena’s apartment with sound and color, though her mind was never fully on it. Kara’s arm over her shoulders felt heavy; her heart felt heavy. Questions gnawed at her, irritated by the lack of answers.
She decided to ignore that part of her mind that questioned everything and sank into the embrace of her favorite person in the world.
As long as Kara held her like that, she didn’t need anything else.
(...)
Days passed. Lena forgot that lingering sense of unease, the L-Corp scandal faded from memory, and Supergirl caught the man who had robbed her after Lena explained to the DEO just how dangerous it would be if those projects fell into the wrong hands.
“It seems like it’s getting harder and harder to reach you. I thought I’d have to kill someone or threaten to destroy the city just to get a chance to speak with you,” Lena said when she heard something hum before landing softly on the balcony of her office.
Supergirl stepped forward with her usual heroic posture: shoulders straight, chest lifted, hands on her hips. Her blonde hair fell in immaculate waves, framing a face far too perfect to be human. Her pink lips pressed into a firm line, her clear eyes locking onto Lena with unmistakable seriousness.
There was something about her that didn’t inspire trust in Lena. Maybe it was her suit, so foreign to human customs. Maybe it was that symbol she wore so proudly, just like her cousin—the one who had driven her brother mad. Or maybe it had to do with the simple fact that a Super and a Luthor could never truly get along, and both of them knew it all too well. Any intention Lena had once had of forming a good friendship with the Kryptonian when she decided to move to National City had long since disappeared.
“The only reason I’m here is to inform you that we’ve apprehended the man who robbed L-Corp,” the Kryptonian explained professionally. “Don’t misunderstand me, Miss Luthor. You can’t expect the DEO—or me—to cater to your whims. If we complied this time, it’s because we deemed it necessary. It won’t always be this way.”
Green eyes flashed, wild at being challenged. Lena, far from intimidated, lifted her chin and slipped her business mask into place. She crossed her legs beneath her desk and leaned back in her chair. Every trace of irritation vanished. In its place, Supergirl found herself face-to-face with the youngest and most successful CEO in the world—someone who could make wealthy men twice her age break down with a snap of her fingers.
“If you, Supergirl, had done your job in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”
The heroine didn’t flinch, nor did she seem affected.
“I can’t be everywhere, Miss Luthor. You, of all people, should know that. And as surprising as it may be to you, you’re not the only person in National City who needs me. If I wasn’t there to save you, it wasn’t personal. I don’t have priorities.”
Lena’s ego took a hit, her jaw tightening. She had to force herself to breathe so she wouldn’t lash out at National City’s shining symbol. She wasn’t a fool—she knew there was truth in the alien’s words. That didn’t mean she had to like them. The memory of the weapon striking her head still made her flinch.
“Then do your job better.”
“I’ll do what I can,” the Kryptonian replied, setting the blueprints down on the desk without breaking eye contact.
Then she turned and left the way she had come, a streak of color disappearing into the sky. Lena let out a long breath, frustrated with how the encounter had gone. She reached for a glass from her cabinet and poured herself some vodka.
The headache would follow her for the rest of the day.
(...)
Sometimes, Lena dreamed in red, blue, and plaid shirts. A symbol—and outdated glasses. She would wake up gasping, her mind flooded with confusion.
She wouldn’t fall asleep again for the rest of the night.
(...)
The blow hadn’t made things easier—quite the opposite. Lena’s confusion, that persistent feeling that something wasn’t right, only grew after that. At first, she tried to ignore it, but as the trauma began to seep into her daily life, it became impossible to keep sweeping it under the rug.
The headaches came and went, the hollow feeling in her chest lingering. Her memories blurred into lines she couldn’t quite make sense of, blending with scenes she had never lived through yet felt just as real as her own recollections. Sometimes she would get lost in her thoughts for what felt like hours; other times, it was impossible to focus on anything but the pain.
The hospital wasn’t an option, so she had been getting by on self-medication and sheer pride. She didn’t want to bother Kara with her problems, knowing how much she would worry, so in her desperation, she turned to her second-best option: Samantha Arias.
“Why don’t you let Alex take a look at you? She didn’t get that medical degree for nothing,” Sam replied, taking a long sip of wine from a refined glass at the restaurant where they were sitting.
Lena frowned at her words, blinking in confusion.
“Alex doesn’t have a medical degree. She has a degree in bioengineering.”
Sam clicked her tongue and shook her head, letting out an amused little laugh. She pointed at Lena with a conspiratorial smile. Lena felt like screaming.
“You’re not going to convince me with that amnesia act. You’re a terrible actress, Lena.”
“Sam, since when do I make jokes? You’re the one joking with me.”
“You’re not going to convince me,” she said again, taking another sip, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol.
“Sam,” Lena’s voice turned so serious it could have silenced the entire room. That seemed to catch her attention.
“Wait, are you being serious?” Sam straightened up, blinking as she realized her friend seemed genuinely distressed.
“Are you serious? Alex has a medical degree?”
Sam nodded with unusual seriousness and let out a low whistle.
“Wow… that hit really did a number on you. You should go see her as soon as possible.”
Lena’s hand flew to her temple, rubbing the spot when a sharp pang made her curse under her breath. The clinking of cutlery, the low murmur of conversation, was replaced by a ringing that grew louder and louder. The lights became unbearably bright, forcing her to close her eyes. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, and let out a pained groan.
She could remember conversations with Alex about the lab, about projects that had nothing to do with medicine. She could remember the framed diploma hanging in her living room—the one that displayed her degree. And yet, she could also remember Alex taking care of Kara after a particularly bad illness. She remembered that Maggie and Alex had met because the police officer had been injured on the job, and Alex had been the one to treat her at the hospital.
But were those really memories? Or was her damned mind starting to make things up just to confuse her? The answers slipped through her fingers like sand.
That night, Lena didn’t order dessert.
(...)
Red.
Blue.
Plaid shirts.
Blue eyes.
Blonde hair.
Something still unnamed.
Confusion.
Betrayal.
(...)
After a long night of turning the matter over in her head, she decided it was time to set her pride aside and pay the hospital a visit.
Her visit to Alex only confirmed what she had already begun to suspect: being a Luthor meant eventually descending into madness. As Sam had said, Alex Danvers worked in a hospital, with white coats, latex gloves, and a stethoscope hanging around her neck. Lena had to mask her surprise upon seeing her, half-expecting that Sam had played some elaborate prank. Surprisingly, that wasn’t the case.
“Everything looks perfect,” the doctor sighed, turning after checking a set of monitors. She looked at Lena with genuine concern. “It might be stress. You know, I don’t mean to offend you, but you should see a psychologist. Your work—and being a Luthor—must take a toll on your mental health.”
A heavy silence filled the room.
It was public knowledge that Lena Luthor would rather die of a brain malfunction than pay to be judged for an hour straight.
“Since when do neurologists use stethoscopes?”
Alex ignored the question and grabbed a pen, scribbling quickly across a sheet of paper as white as milk. She tore it off and handed it to her patient. Her handwriting was messy, almost illegible. At the top, it read: “Dr. Alex Danvers, Neurologist,” in Times New Roman. Lena thought it was fitting—it suited her personality.
“This is Kelly Olsen’s number—a great professional in the field. Call her, alright? And don’t just tell me you will and then not do it. Call her. If not for you, not for me—do it for Kara.”
The green-eyed woman huffed, but she took the paper anyway and slipped it into her designer bag with reluctance.
Alex knew exactly how to play her cards.
(..:)
Lena didn’t call Kelly Olsen—whoever she was.
She decided she didn’t need her. She was Lena Luthor, a certified genius with more degrees than years bearing the Luthor name. Of course, something as trivial as a mere headache wouldn’t defeat her. If medicine couldn’t find a solution to her problems, she would. It had always been that way—nothing had changed.
If something didn’t exist, Lena would invent it.
If something was missing, Lena would find it.
If something lay in ruins, Lena would fix it.
It was as simple as that.
She began to rationalize each of her headaches, building an Excel spreadsheet with times and dates. She barely made progress on her L-Corp projects while chasing an answer. It became her new priority. When Lena fixated on something, she didn’t stop until she solved it. Still, she made little headway—until one day, at a celebratory party hosted by the mayor, she stumbled upon a piece of information she hadn’t considered before.
The party was held in an enormous hall, with crystal chandeliers and famous sculptures. There were tables filled with hors d’oeuvres so small they could fit in the pocket of any pair of pants, and non-alcoholic drinks with fruity flavors. People wore formal gowns and suits, dancing to the rhythm of a live orchestra while engaging in polite conversation. Most of the guests were notable figures in National City that Lena recognized, along with politicians and journalists. The place glittered to the point of being almost blinding.
Lena hated those events, so she decided to invite Kara—who didn’t hesitate to accept, as long as she could wear a shirt and pants (not that Lena had objected; the blonde was undeniably attractive when she dressed like that). Lena picked her up in a limousine (no, she wasn’t trying to impress her at all), they drank imported champagne (again, not trying to impress her, alright?), and they danced, earning a few disapproving looks thanks to the journalist’s extravagant moves. By the time the night was winding down, with a clumsy smile and a contagious happiness (partly from the alcohol, partly from Lena’s mere presence), Kara insisted on going to get their coats before they left.
“I’ll be right back,” she murmured into Lena’s ear, sending a shiver down her spine.
“How chivalrous. Some might call you old-fashioned,” Lena teased, mirroring her smile.
The blonde winked at her from behind her glasses in that way that made Lena feel like her legs might give out, then slipped into the crowd. Lena couldn’t suppress the sigh that escaped her as she watched her favorite person disappear.
Curiously, she hadn’t had a headache all night (though she attributed that to the pill she had taken as a precaution).
She hadn’t—until a sharp stab of pain made her double over, bracing herself against a nearby table. Nausea hit her, her stomach churning as the world seemed to spin.
Then, as if by magic, people began to applaud. Smiles spread across every face, admiration lighting their eyes. She didn’t need to look up to know what was happening—nor did she need the murmurs announcing a new arrival.
“That’s Supergirl!”
“It’s the city’s hero!”
“I’m so glad Supergirl could make it!”
When she finally lifted her gaze, she found the alien standing several feet away, greeting the mayor with a handshake. Her professional smile—the one she probably practiced—dazzled the crowd. Her presence was magnetic, photographers capturing the moment from every angle.
The headache became unbearable.
Lena staggered a few steps, searching for the exit, when a hand settled against her lower back. Green eyes lifted to meet blue ones, watching her with concern. Lena’s favorite coat rested over Kara’s forearm.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice soft as velvet.
The obvious answer was no—but the moment Kara’s presence filled Lena’s senses, the pain vanished as quickly as it had come.
“Yes. Let’s go.”
She cast one last glance at National City’s heroine—the one who loved to ignore her, to make her feel insignificant—and accepted the arm Kara offered her. Questions swirled in her waking mind.
Later, alone in her room, replaying every moment of the night, she would notice something crucial—something her scientific mind could not ignore.
Supergirl caused the pain.
Kara drove it away.
(...)
With more questions than answers, the logical thing was to test her theory. And so, Lena began spending more and more time with Kara under all kinds of excuses (though, in truth, she didn’t need any—the blonde loved spending time with her). They were together day and night—sometimes at Lena’s building, sometimes at Kara’s apartment, sometimes wherever they felt like going. Elegant restaurants, fast food places, plazas, amusement parks.
Despite the apparent improvement in her headaches, there were side effects she hadn’t accounted for at first: the arrhythmia in her heart every time their proximity increased, the way her voice faltered when those blue eyes grew too intense, the constant need to touch the blonde (grasping her forearm while they walked, resting her head on her shoulder, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear). Every small detail was driving her mad—slowly, but surely.
“Do I have something on my face… again?”
Kara’s pout made it impossible for Lena to look away from her pink lips, though her words were what finally made her clear her throat and look elsewhere. She leaned over the table in her living room and picked up her wine glass, taking a long sip while being careful not to stain her new blouse. Then she set it down and shook her head.
“No, darling. It’s just… I haven’t been feeling very well lately. That’s all,” she said, forcing a smile under Kara’s worried gaze.
“Is it about that headache Alex mentioned?” the blonde tilted her head.
Well, Lena supposed Alex would have told her sister anyway. She was grateful to have alcohol nearby for that conversation. She sighed, trying to ease some of the weight pressing down on her tired shoulders.
She was a Luthor. She could have lied, like her brother or her mother would have—revealing the truth only when it was advantageous. She could have, just like when she was six and lied in the library to be allowed to take home more mature books. She could have done it with anyone else.
She could.
But she didn’t.
Because she simply couldn’t lie to Kara. Not to Kara. Never to Kara.
“Actually… yes.”
“Oh,” the blonde blinked, frowning. “Did you go see Kelly?”
“I didn’t call her,” she admitted after a pause that stretched too long.
Lena braced herself for the inevitable confrontation—she knew her behavior was stubborn. But it never came. Kara studied her for a moment, then shrugged and turned her attention back to the glowing screen, where some trashy Friday-night show played.
“That’s okay.”
Lena’s brows furrowed in indignation. She might have been spared the headaches when she was with Kara, but something was definitely still wrong.
“Why do I feel like you’re avoiding any kind of confrontation with me?” she asked, daring to voice it.
The blonde frowned at that, lips pressing together.
“I’m not avoiding anything. If you don’t want to call Kelly, I won’t insist. You know what’s best for you. You’re smart.”
Lena scoffed, running a hand through her hair.
“It’s not just that. Last week I made you watch horror movies—you hate horror movies—and for some reason you decided that was fine! We always eat healthy, and you love junk food—you hate kale! So can you tell me what the hell is going on with you?”
A moment of silence.
Kara opened and closed her mouth, but when she finally seemed about to speak, her words came out wrong—mechanical. Her movements turned stiff, and when Lena blinked in shock, it was like watching a glitched video.
She stood abruptly and took a step back, utterly horrified.
“L-Lena,” Kara said, her voice laced with both relief and concern.
“What the hell!?”
“I-I’m K-Kara,” she spoke, distorted by the glitch.
“What is happening?” Lena sobbed, eyes wide, pulse racing.
“I d-don’t h-have m-much time,” she continued, unmoving on the couch. “B-Brainy is h-helping m-me t-transmit t-this m-message. Y-You’re t-trapped i-in a v-virtual r-reality d-developed by O-Obsidian. Y-You h-have to—”
Then, as if nothing had happened, Kara shook her head and smiled as though she had hung the sun in the sky.
“I just want to make you happy.”
Lena’s insides twisted, her throat going dry. Fear paralyzed some people—others, it gave them a strength they never knew they had.
Lena Luthor was the latter.
She ran as far as she could from her own apartment.
(...)
Red. Blue. Red. Blue. Red. Blue.
Betrayal.