Thinking About How Cat Grants Company Was Casually Passed Around Between Billionaires As A Token Of Love:

Thinking about how Cat Grant’s company was casually passed around between billionaires as a token of love:

Lena —> Kara

Andrea —> Lena (with a dollop of guilt cause that’s their dynamic)

Cat —> Kara

The Christmas when Reign attacks:

From the sidelines of a small crowd, Lena watches as Supergirl is beaten down. Never before has she seen the Kryptonian bleed, but she’s bleeding now. There's a gash on her scalp as a black clad woman strikes her face viciously, with car parts: an engine, a door. It’s dark but the two dueling figures are visible between the harsh glow of skyscrapers and twinkling Christmas lights, and the sound of metal bending against bone can clearly be heard. The assailant has Supergirl on her back. A black boot crashes into her chest, causing the concrete to pool around her body, and releasing a ripple that shakes through the ground.

Lena’s breaths come too quickly. They’re harsh and ragged, her shoulders are rigid, her hands are fumbling for…something as the black figure launches Supergirl’s limp body into the sky with a concentrated laser blast from her attacker’s eyes. When Lena’s fingers slip again, she half wonders if her hands are still attached to her.

The pair become pinpricks on a balcony, and a part of Lena vaguely registers that her body is in psychological shock. Her throat burns, indicating that she’s likely been screaming. And she is currently being restrained. She glances down briefly to see that James has her in a loose hold. She shrugs him off, violently, and he releases. She needs to regain some control of her senses. Her nails grip into her palms, forcing clarity, and she counts the length of her breaths in and out ‘til they are somewhat even, and when a figure rains down, she’s ready to move.

Usually by necessity, Lena Luthor always has a plan. Her days are clogged by a webbing of carefully constructed endeavors, from the investments she backs, to the board members whose palms she greases to push forward the prototypes she has developed, right down to her pre-written speeches at every charity event. Even the way she moves through a room is an exercise of its own debutante design. The behaviors that come so easily are the result of years of being molded and shaped by others. Her body’s tightened gears will work to exhaustion in order to maintain composure, friendliness, power, and poise. Always fitfully measured and readjusting based on the nature of the space she is in and the people who surround her. After all, she has stockholders to answer to, an image to uphold, and an unfortunate legacy to dismantle. Even when the unexpected comes up, as it often does, that’s what failsafes are for. The unexpected then becomes expected. Easy.

Though for all of her training — programming — Lena Luthor can admit that when it comes to matters of life or death, she has the tendency to counteract it by leaning heavily on impulsivity. Morgan Edge can attest to that. And when it comes to Kara’s safety, well, plans be damned. Because this body whistling down, fluttering cape barely clinging to it, head leaning at an indecent angle, that’s Kara.

From her left coat pocket, Lena produces a prototype she’s been working on. The small sphere has the ability — under the right circumstances — to temporarily manipulate the force of gravity towards any moving thing it targets within a five hundred foot radius. In what feels like a split second, Lena tracks the trajectory of Kara’s body, gets herself into position, plants her feet, and lets the prototype drop. The device sizzles, and Kara’s sailing body jerks and cracks before it finally slows. The sound pulls at Lena, a word falling from her lips before she fully comprehends the thought: “No.” But the body’s speed, while still falling steadily, has decreased by at least 10 fold.

Lena resists the urge to hold out her arms in an attempt to catch Kara — recognizing that the fall of her iron friend at almost any speed would break Lena’s bones. And then she’s there on the ground, and Lena’s knees buckle to the concrete to meet her. She feels along her neck and checks for a pulse: it’s there. Barely. A wave of relief crashes through her, joining the fear and the fury and the affection that all threaten to overwhelm her, except that she can’t let them. Lena tilts her cheek so that it’s inches from Kara’s nose and releases an exhale of her own at the warm breath against her. Kara’s alive.

Lena lips quiver but she forces herself to take on a steady, soothing voice. “I’m here,” Lena gently pushes back the tangle of gold hair that’s matted with blood, from Kara’s face. At the sight of the splitting head wound, Lena undoes her scarf and tries to slow the bleeding. She feels Alex at her elbow and lets her take over, but has eyes only for Kara. Her hand is in her friends’, stroking at the raw, split knuckles.

When Kara is placed onto a gurney, Lena follows, still cradling her hand. Alex makes no attempt to stop her, busying herself with checking vitals and an oxygen mask as they sprint through the crowd. When two men in black restrain Lena by the shoulders and the warmth of Kara’s fingers is wrenched from her grasp, only then does Lena cry out. Her composure is spent. Kara needs her.

“Ma’am, please step back.”

The swift movement of DEO agents raising their weapons to her face allows her to finally register that she has just threatened them, and she knows she’s lost herself. She does not care, she will harm them if she has to…somehow. A clawing doubt at that forces some clarity to take hold. Kara is almost out of sight and Lena inhales, placing a mask of calm back over herself. She needs to care, if for no other purpose than to get her way.

She holds up her hands palms out, aware suddenly, belatedly, that she is a Luthor who has just threatened government agents. “Okay,” Lena begins again. “Contact Director Henshaw. He will tell you that I specialize in xenobiology and that Supergirl needs me. I am an ally — a friend.”

“We know who you are, Miss Luthor,” says the agent to her right, with a tinge of disdain. “Please place your hands behind your back.”

Okay, she does not have time for this. Lena combs through her options and sees James is running toward a line of black vans, shoulder to shoulder with DEO agents, their backs to her. She nearly calls him over, when the Director himself is at her side and orders his men down.

Lena barely allows herself to feel relief, much less take in the Director’s permission forward. She’s already racing toward the vans at breakneck speed. Those agents had held her up by at least 45 seconds. She uses the tangled rows of dangling Christmas lights to guide her through the blackness. Her coat billows and flaps behind her, her shoes get wedged, twice, in uprooted concrete. Even as her head pounds and her lungs ache from the effort to catch up to Kara, a part of her worries over the fact that the vehicles have not yet moved.

And then she’s at Alex’s side crouched in one of the vans, sees that Alex is pressing down with gauze in a struggle to control the fountain of blood that’s now streaming from Kara’s temple, and Lena begins to panic. “I need the lamps on now!” Alex demands of the agent fiddling with a box of switches on the passenger’s side. Lena elbows through armored bodies, toward the switches, but all at once the van is flooded with artificial sunlight. The river of blood decreases almost immediately, until it is no more than a trickle. Within a minute the wound has clotted and Alex releases a shaky exhale, but continues to press down.

Lena is about ready to snap at someone, anyone to start driving when J’onn practically materializes behind them and Lena realizes why they haven’t bothered. He gently lifts Kara in his arms, and when Alex says, “She’s stable,” he launches himself and Kara into the air.

Lena settles into the back of the dimly lit van, almost hunches in on herself, when she remembers herself and her propriety and sits instead with her spine erect, legs folded. Lena peels off her winter gloves at the same time as Alex slips off her medical ones, both soaked and better discarded on the van floor. She wipes at the beads of perspiration on her forehead that have been steadily trickling into her eyes.

The van moves and Alex makes no acknowledgment of her, her head in her hands, and elbows resting on her knees. Her sister’s blood has smattered her front and Lena has just begun to remove her coat, when the agent from the passenger’s side hands Alex clean smocks. When Alex doesn’t take them he sets them at her feet.

Lena is in no shape to comfort anyone, even Kara’s sister and she sincerely doubts Alex would want it anyway. So Lena takes stock of her own emotions and boundaries and keeps to herself.

She feels helpless, but pushes the useless emotion fervently away. Instead she tells herself to focus on what she can fix. So Lena mulls over adapting human synthetic blood for a Kryptonian. And anti-kryptonite possibilities: armor, edibles, force fields that can immediately be attached to Catco. Inevitably this leads to thoughts of Lex — his transmitter portal watch, and she begins to tick through the pros and cons of dredging up old specs versus making her own — because a watch her brain reasons, means that Kara could have been at the DEO instantaneously, and next time if she had it, when she had it, she could make use of it. There would be a next time. Kara would be okay.

Alex is mobile now. She has her uniform over her head and the proffered shirt on in seconds. No one cares about it, least of all Lena, her eyes focused on the windshield. Toward Kara. They’re headed to the DEO, Lena’s knows exactly where because she’s made it a point to. She estimates that they’re already on Irving St. That at this speed they’ll be at the base in three minutes.

It seems incomprehensible how only 24 hours ago, Lena was celebrating Christmas Eve with her friends at Kara’s — when she was safe. It is the first real family invitation Lena has had in twenty years.

Lena recalls seeing Kara under the twinkling lights, buzzing from loved one to loved one, her eyes a little sad but still gleaming. Lena has spent most of her night in a corner, near the bourbon, while stealing glances of her friend, trying to appear simultaneously as unobtrusive and nonchalant as possible while she waits for Sam and Ruby to arrive.

When she glances back over, Kara is no longer at Winn’s shoulder, whispering in his ear. Lena only has a moment of confusion, when arms circle her from behind. Into warmth. Kara’s chin clips onto her shoulder.

“Hi,” Kara says with a grin.

“Hi,” Lena tries really hard to keep her shoulders rigid. To not melt into the touch. Their faces are close, nearly nose to nose. Lena angles her head just so, away from the close proximity, making a show of it being for the sake of another sip of her wine.

“So I’ve been meaning to ask, what’s more of your jam—”

Lena raises an eyebrow. “My jam?”

“—Yes —‘Merry Christmas,’ or ‘Happy Christmas?’” Lena knows what her friend is doing. Offering up light conversation for Lena to get only as involved in as she feels like. Kara never pushes, never expects for Lena to be cheery to make others more comfortable. She just lets Lena exist. And Kara knows better than anyone what it is like to lose people, to feel how that loss hangs particularly heavily over a day like Christmas Eve.

Lena frowns, and shakes her head at Kara. She can’t recall anyone she cares about ever saying either phrase, really. Except for Lex. And he isn’t a conversation starter. “Mm, well I grew up in the States, so.” Kara releases her, head cocked and hand still on Lena’s shoulder, knowing somehow that Lena has more to say. “But my Mum used to say ‘happy.’ Really she said “Nollaig shona dhuit,” but that’s the literal translation.”

Alex joins the pair at the liquor table and is brushing shoulder to shoulder with Kara when she repeats “Nollaig shona dhuit,” in perfect Irish. Lena bites back a laugh at the sight of Alex stiffening.

“You have a good ear. Do you speak Irish?” Lena places her chin in her hands and grins when Kara’s face goes through several stages of alarm, reddening at the ears, before she sputters. Whenever Kara slips up now, Lena either shrugs it off or attempts playfulness. At least that is her intention.

“I’m just really good at languages,” says Kara, fiddling with her glasses.

Alex's eyes stare at the ground a little too casually. “Exactly she’s great at—,” then dart up in worry when Kara begins to list off Happy Christmas in eleven languages. That’s the number she’s gotten to when Alex cuts her off. “You still remember all of those from our school play? Wow. So,” Alex places a steadying arm around her sister's shoulders. “I came over because James wants to chat, Kara. Could you?”

Lena feels a little guilty at how flustered she’s made Kara and reaches out to clasp her elbow. “I like both, Kara. Thank you. Really.” And whether she feels warmer from the wine, or the affection towards her friends for stopping over, is hard to say.

“Merry-happy Christmas it is then,” Kara says with a new found spring in her step and bounces away.

The feeling of Alex’s eyes settling on her, through the dimly lit van, pulls Lena from her thoughts. “How long have you known?” Alex asks. Her voice is tired rather than accusatory.

Lena looks Alex over. Her hair is disheveled, her face is slack. Dejected. Lena has never seen her like this. She considers them to be friends, at the very least hopes that to be true. But close friends they definitely are not. Still, Lena would be the first person to argue that Alex is one of the most put together people she knows. Even when her sister is hurt, especially then really, is when Alex’s fiery hope beams through, willing to burn the world down with it to make a path for her sister. Lena almost wants that Alex to be sitting across from her, shaking her down.

Lena answers with a half shrug. “My first day at Catco, she broke an elevator,” She can feel an amused smile tugging at her lips. “Destroyed it, really when she flew through it. I went through my security footage to find the source of what caused thousands of dollars in damages and,” Lena chuckles wetly, wipes a tear at her cheek. “There she was.”

When Alex shakes her head almost imperceptibly, Lena is quick to reassure her. “I was the only one in the room and I cleared the evidence, Alex.” Lena longs to reach out, she offers her hand, and to her surprise, Alex takes it.

Still, Alex’s eyes narrow. “And you’re not upset?”

“Why should I be?” Lena begins to cross her arms, looks down at her hand still in Alex’s and lets the idea drop. In truth Lena had been hurt, is still hurt and feels more than a little foolish over the terrible disguise. But, she has reasoned to herself that she and Kara have only known each other for little more than a year. Even if it does feel like longer…even if it does feel like there is something more between them— of that, Lena is most probably projecting. And while continuing to be lied to gnaws at her, she mostly understands. Kara cares about her. Lena’s thoughts trail back over Kara grasping Lena in one hand, half a plane in the other, refusing to let go.

“Now, when I didn’t know where she was and why she wasn’t doing her job, I was a little upset.” Lena saya teasingly. Hoping that she covers up how really she was mostly upset because she thought Kara was avoiding her over what had happened to Mon-El. That would hardly be professional to feel, much less to voice. “But then I saw the panic attack and I…I wanted her to come to me whenever she felt ready.”

Alex sighs, and begins to pull away. Lena lets her.

“She’s going to be okay,” Lena tries, experimenting the sentence out for herself as much as for Alex. She feels fairly confident, she decides. Between her and Alex's expertise, and Kara’s super healing, Kara will likely pull through.

Alex’s smile is small. But appreciative. It’s enough.

When they arrive at the base, several large pieces of information are hefted at Lena. The first is that Mon-El is alive, and okay now she is irritated. The second is that he and several others have come from the future, and one of them — an alien named Brainy — has declared that Kara is already stable.

Stable. The only information that really matters. The simple fact is like a balm which soothes the sharp ache in her chest. It makes her feel content enough to not immediately follow after Alex into the sunroom.

With the small release of relief comes the nagging worry that she is no longer needed here. Kara appears to have little use for her medical expertise, and emotionally she has Alex and… Mon-El. Lena eyes him skeptically now as his fingers thread through an unknown woman’s on the opposite side of the room.

Agents flutter past her, typing furiously at their keyboards, and she glides over and plucks a tablet from the nearest desk to begin her own search. This — tracking down the piece of shit who hurt Kara, is something she can do. Agent Vasquez is immediately tapping at her shoulder and Lena, bracing for the disagreement, makes sure to keep her voice level. Cordial. “Truly I understand that you’re just trying to do your job, but I can hel—“

“Would you like some water?” Vasquez asks.

Confusion and relief settle in in equal measure. Her throat is quite dry and her chest cleaves at this simple act of kindness. “Alright.” Vasquez turns to leave. “Thank you,” Lena says genuinely and that earns her a nod.

After that, she’s left largely to her own devices. Instead of sitting down with the agents, Lena chooses to lean her hip along the wall. She becomes so singularly focused in her task that she doesn’t even notice Winn until he is practically on top of her. She opts to sidestep him over twisting his arm.

“What is it, Winn?” A touch of worry has crept into her voice. “Is it Kara?” Already she’s pushing off the wall and striding toward the sunroom, with Winn barely keeping pace.

“No, she’s okay.” He moves his body to partially cut her off and his hands nervously flutter at her.

Lena pauses, calms herself. She recognizes that even after all the times they’ve worked together he still seems intimidated by her. At the moment though it’s the least of her concerns.

“Lena, that device of yours helped a lot.” Winn shakes his head, runs his fingers through his hair. “I don’t wanna think about what would have happened if she’d fallen like that.”

Before Lena can reply, Brainy has wedged himself in the wide expanse between them. “Likely internal bleeding,” says Brainy. “We do have the healing tanks on the ship, but thankfully she does not require one.”

Lena notices Winn stiffen at the mention of internal bleeding. She admires Brainy’s candor. And the mention of healing tanks piques her interest. In the morning, when she isn’t as tired as she is now, she plans to reach out to Brainy. She allows an inkling of hope to form over the idea that they may have things in common.

“Yeah, well anyway,” Winn turns from Brainy, back to Lena. “Thank you.”

Lena shakes her head “She’s my best friend too.” The words come out softer than she intends them to. Winn nods in reply. She hands him the tablet. “This is the information I’ve been able to gather so far.”

He doesn’t glance down. Lena can see the gears in Winn’s brain shift, his brow furrows in the beginnings of an apology and Lena cuts him off before he can begin.

“It wasn’t your secret to tell. Let’s let it be, okay?”

As soon as he nods, Lena gives Winn’s a nod in return and walks away, toward the sunroom. She had wanted Alex to have her time with Kara, and hopes that she’s given the sisters long enough.

Lena is mere steps from the door when a familiar broad chest blocks her path. “Christ, what?” She snaps, expecting for this to be yet another agent trying to deny her access. She looks up. It’s James. “James, I’m sorry I—“

He places his hands out in front of himself in a soothing motion. “It’s fine. We’re all a little on edge.” His smile is tired at the creases, but it’s wide and reassuring, and she suddenly feels much less tightly wound.

She looks into his dark brown eyes and thinks, briefly, that there could be something. If she wanted there to be. He’s kind and there are small embers of feelings that she’d first allowed tonight when she had kissed him. It was a good kiss, she admits that Kara had been halfway right about the chemistry. Lena peers over his shoulder at the room where Kara is and feels her chest clench. And alright, maybe a large part of why she had kissed him had to do with Kara’s urgings because if she didn’t feel the same way as Lena did, then —

Lena shakes the thought away. “Can we talk later, James? I have to go.” Her eyes are still lasered on the door and he follows her line of vision.

“Okay, I hear you. I just wanted to say that I get it.” He scratches behind his ear nervously. “and we don’t have to talk.”

Her eyes widen in warning, because talking is exactly what they are still doing and he is physically blocking her path. Again. Or he was, because she’s just shouldered past him. “We can discuss whatever that means later — "

“It just means I saw you tonight. With her and —"

A blush creeps onto her cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She halts when his hand presses gently at her shoulder.

Slowly she turns to meet his gaze. It’s soft. Supportive. “Yeah, you do,” he says.

He had held her back, Lena remembers. All Lena could think when she saw Kara was that she needed the attacker to stop. She needed Kara to be okay. She hadn’t been thinking, and James had most likely saved her life. Again. Not that she plans to thank him for it.

Instead she reaches up and squeezes his shoulder back in reply, and then taps at the door. James has already walked away when Alex opens it.

“Oh good, she’s been asking for you,” says Alex. That surprises Lena, but she just nods. Alex’s eyes are rimmed red, her face puffy.

When Lena first sees Kara, her first impulse is to run to her for the third time that night. Cuts and bruises litter her face, though most deeply at her eye and temple which are both partially sunken in. The same is probably true for the rest of Kara’s body but Lena has zeroed in on Kara's face. The one blue eye that isn’t swollen shut stares at the ground, to Lena’s left.

“Kara?” Her tone is warm and hopeful. More hesitant than she wishes. When Kara doesn’t look up, Lena glances at Alex, before quickly darting back to her friend. “I hope it’s okay if I sit with you.”

The room is shaped like a cylinder, with beams of light coming from all angles, glowing down on her friend. From a hospital bed, Kara wears a light blue robe. Her nod is almost imperceptible. Wires and a saline drip jut out from Kara’s right arm. So Lena gravitates toward the left. Lena sits with her hands in her lap, and while she is so thankful to see Kara up and alert, she can tell that she’s in a lot of pain, and Lena aches to alleviate it.

“I’ll be back,” says Alex and Lena hears the soft click of the door shut.

A minute drags past before Kara’s eye focuses on her, searching. When she opens her mouth, it’s clear that speech is difficult. “Lena,” The throaty rasp alarms her.

“Darling, shh.” The term of endearment slips from her mouth practically of its own accord. Lena tries not to dwell on it. Instead Lena’s hands reach out, taking one of Kara’s, feather light into both of hers. “Does this hurt?”

Kara’s fingers tangle into hers and squeeze in response. Kara releases a laugh that’s clipped and odd sounding, but Lena tilts her head and smiles back in fond curiosity.

“Alex says my throat’s healed enough… to talk. If you don’t mind me sounding like the Telly Monster.”

Lena chuckles. “Actually, I might prefer it.” She trails one of her hands up the heel of Kara’s hand to the wrist and back again.

Kara bites her lip. “Was it the glasses?”

“The elevator.”

Kara inhales noisily and Lena fully believes if she weren’t in so much pain, she would have facepalmed.

“I don’t think it’s a larger issue,” Lena reassures. “You’re just terrible at hiding things from me,” she deadpans and Kara’s mouth twitches at the words mirrored from the night of Morgan’s plane crash.

Just as suddenly, Kara’s amusement disappears, her face lost somewhere in thought. Lena doesn’t rush her. She does run a thumb along the knuckles of Kara’s hand the moment it curls into a fist.

That seems to pull Kara out of her thoughts. “You’re not…mad at me?”

Lena ducks her head down to Kara’s, until that deep blue eye focuses back on her. “No.” Her voice is firm, leaving no room for argument. “Please trust me.” Trust that Lena’s being honest, trust that she’ll keep Kara’s secret safe.

Kara smiles, and winces from the effort of it. “I do.”

Lena sighs. That’s settled then. She realizes that she’s been stroking along Kara’s hand throughout their conversation, and is suddenly self-conscious. She hopes Kara will attribute her being especially tactile as anyone would after almost losing a friend.

Kara wrinkles her swollen nose at what Lena guesses is an itch that she’s attempting to scratch and Lena bursts into tearful laughter. Like a pressure valve, the night’s mounting pang of worry that is like nothing Lena has ever experienced before, releases at the sight. She opens her hands for Kara’s hand to swipe at her face, before burrowing back under both of Lena’s.

Kara’s eye slowly flutters closed. “Hey, Lena?”

“Mm?”

Kara’s voice is thick with sleep. “Merry-happy Christmas.”

Lena beams at her friend, and relaxes her tired and aching shoulders more comfortably into her chair. “Merry-happy Christmas, Kara.”

"Ever since I got back from the Phantom Zone it feels like I've been one step behind." Kara that's called unresolved trauma.

Alex can and should seek out other aliens’ experiences for Esme’s sake.

So for everyone else’s sake I ignored canon with this fic. Sixty-one Days:

Esme shifts and mumbles into Kara’s shoulder “It’s not real.” But it was.

“It was a dream.” Kara says carefully, neither agreeing or disagreeing. Esme feels the tilt of Kara’s chin turn upward, toward a shadow in the doorway.

“Sometimes I get nightmares too,” Kara says. Her voice is steady and inviting and Esme knows a bit about the nightmares that make up her aunt’s world.

OR: The one where Esme and her Aunties bond while navigating trauma.

More: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34919104

Don’t get me wrong, the Supercorp dialogue that’s said and the domesticity and parallels from the writers are super romantic, but it’s like the Directors and editors are having none of it. I can almost see the blocking like “Say ‘you’re my family,’ but say it five feet apart. And say “you all” instead of you. And editors, editors they just held hands and we don’t have time to reshoot it. Please cut that off. And get rid of half of the wide shots, yes I don’t care if it makes it look like they’re in separate rooms. Thank God the writers at least kept them apart an extra five episodes of the season so we only have to do this for a handful of episodes.”

That is what I am getting from all of this season, and it’s sad. This amount of course correcting indicates that you’re forcing against an already established narrative.

Best character development on television.