After her near miss at the Laundromat, Kara decided to start taking the longer route to Alfassi & Sons on a regular basis from now on. She somehow doubted Lena would show up at Andrey's again, but there was no need to risk it.

She tried her best to avoid thinking about Lena. She didn't google her. The Luthors killed by strapping bombs to people, exposing them to Geneva-banned gases, injecting them with genetically engineered bacteria; actual real life supervillain shit. The last thing Kara wanted was to actively seek out more of that kind of horror.

She'd almost kissed a murderer. A murderer's accomplice, at the very least. She knew Lena was never charged with anything, but how could anyone live in a home with three serial killers and remain unaware? She must have known something. She must have been protecting them, protecting the interests of her family's industry and wealth, while they were going around butchering people.

And anyway, why would someone like Lena Luthor, raised in the lap of luxury, probably slated for a top position at LuthorCorp from infancy—why would someone like that work as a fucking debugger for Edge Global? Why would she need to wash her bloody laundry at a shitty 24 hour laundromat, if she didn't have something to hide?

Kara tried her best to avoid thinking about Lena. But her best wasn't… great.

Lena had been interesting, and funny, and provocative, and so clearly interested in women, and so clearly interested in Kara

"You should have told me the first time you saw her," Alex told her, poking her with the spoon she'd stolen while Kara was busy ruminating. "Come on, Kara, bloody clothes at a sketchy laundromat in the middle of the night? You know I would've run a background check on her like that." She snapped her fingers.

"What would you even have searched? 'Bloody Laundry Woman real name'?"

Alex shrugged, wearing her invincible civil servant expression. "I would've found a way. Anything to save my little sister from developing a sad crush on a serial killer."

"You're so comforting," Kara grumbled.

"Aw." Alex pulled her into a quick and bruising hug. "I'm glad you weren't hurt."

Kara made a face. "My feelings were hurt."

"That's what the vegan ice cream and trashy lesbian movies are for," Alex replied cheerfully, handing her back the spoon.

Kara took a big, resigned bite of the less-than-creamy banana and walnut ice cream while Alex queued up the next mindblowingly bad film.

.

.

"Look at this," James said to her one day on their lunch break at work, placing a tablet and a sandwich under Kara's nose.

"Brought a bribe, smart." Kara promptly set about unwrapping the sandwich.

"I know you don't like to waste any designated eating periods."

"What's this then?" Kara mumbled around a large bite of pastrami, picking up the tablet.

"Experimental HIV treatment research," James told her. "Really avante-garde stuff."

The tablet displayed page 73 of a presumably academic paper, extremely densely written. With college pre-med, a physical therapy degree and some independent research in her free time, Kara could barely get a vague idea of what she was looking at. As James had said, though, it seemed to be some rather daring, unconventional theory.

"How did you come by this?"

"Your laundry girlfriend," James said, tapping to the top of the paper.

'Jack A. Spheer, MD; Samantha E. Arias, PhD; Lena K. Luthor, PhD; 2012', it read.

A year before the first body was found.

"I don't know what to think about this," Kara admitted quietly.

James shared the link with Kara and put the tablet away. "She was doing some good work, once upon a time."

Kara nodded vaguely. This didn't necessarily mean anything. She could still have shielded her family. She could still have hurt people.

But in 2012, Lena Luthor was trying to do something good.

.

.

Kara read the entirety of Lena's (and Arias and Spheer's) research throughout the following work week. It had to do with the printing of proteins onto sheets of paper and measuring of infected macrophage cells and genetic modification of CD4 cells. They proposed theoretical technologies focused on cost reduction and wide availability. Kara didn't exactly have the tools to assess the viability of any of this, of course.

But she couldn't stop thinking of Lena at the laundromat, bold and flirtatious to an outrageous degree; Lena at university, before the fall, working on printing proteins onto paper to lower the expenses of antiviral research; Lena, a Luthor, sister and daughter to three of the most brutal killers in recent memory.

She had to google her, obviously. There was no way she could avoid it anymore. She almost felt silly for waiting weeks to do it, and probably moping about it all the while.

So she settled on the couch, Sunday evening, with her laptop and a bag of cocoa puffs, and set to googling.

.

One of the first results that came up was a video interview from 2016.

"A complete nuclear family of murderers is something we've never seen before," the interviewer was saying.

"Not a complete one, no," Lena interjected.

"Right, of course. But some are wondering how it would be possible for a white sheep, as it were, to live in a house full of wolves and never notice anything suspicious?"

"I attended boarding school between 2002 and 2008," Lena said, as if reciting an old refrain. "Then I was off to college. I spent only four summers at home, ages nine to twelve. I don't recall serving as accessory to murder at those times."

"What was it like, being raised by sadistic killers?"

A muscle jumped in Lena's cheek. She'd probably been clenching her teeth, but for a moment she appeared almost to smile. "A mixed bag," she said finally.

"Are you worried there might be a genetic component?"

Lena scoffed softly. "There's no gene for hurting people," she said. "But I am worried, yes. I'm worried about a lot of things. Wouldn't you be?"

"I suppose I would," the interviewer allowed. "I understand you've lost your positions at Met U and the Green Metropolis Initiative. With all of your family's assets seized or frozen, would you say employment is one of your worries?"

Lena openly laughed at that. "Yeah," she said, looking kind of tickled. "It is. It really is. What a normal worry to have, right?"

"With everything going on in your life, it must seem refreshing," the interviewer said kindly.

Kara clicked out of the video halfway through Lena's breathy answering laugh.

.

The full transcripts of the Luthor trials were publically available online. But Kara definitely didn't have the time or patience to go through over two years' worth of legal nonsense.

So she only read Lex's.

Of course, Lex Luthor, head of a multibillion dollar corporation at the time of his arrest, had hired the best attorneys money could buy. His team's strategy focused on throwing out all DNA evidence by questioning the chain of custody. They supplied sixteen different eyewitness accounts placing Lex in a different state during five of the alleged murders. They apparently showed videos of Lex in medical school to prove his scalpel technique didn't match that of the killer's.

And then Lena was sworn in, and she came with a binder. She introduced exhibit after exhibit, printouts of emails and recorded phone conversations and receipts from purchases dating back to her early adolescence. She refuted dozens of the defense's statements, big and small, from alibis to false claims of charitable donations. She made the cross examination seem like a joke.

Slowly, methodically, painstakingly, she broke down Lex's defense.

There was undoubtedly something kind of scary about that. But it certainly wasn't the testimony of someone who was trying to protect her murderous family.

.

There was one last thing Kara just had to look up. Steeling herself, she typed in 'Lena Luthor assassination attempt'.

She clicked the first link without much consideration, and a fullscreen image of Lena greeted her. Drenched in blood from chest to mid thigh, hands dripping with it, her posture uneven and her eyes brimming with tears.

Kara almost physically flung her laptop aside in her haste to click away from the image.

She was much more careful with her next choices, blocking images and picking more reputable sources. She gathered the story of that day piecemeal.

Lena had gone to visit her brother in prison the day before. Obviously there were no details about whatever went on between them, but journalists stationed outside the prison reported Lena looking upset and refusing to comment.

The next day, a mercenary infiltrated Edge Global, observed Lena's movement throughout the day, isolated her in an underground parking lot around 10 p.m., and attacked her.

Lena had taken a baton swing to the side and temple before somehow managing to escape to an open area, draw a pocket knife, and stab her assailant in the neck. According to reports, she then called 911, administered basic emergency aid to the man, and a response team was able to stabilize him.

At this point Kara was just about ready to burst out crying. Dawn was starting to break, she was exhausted and wound tight enough to snap, and Lena, the fucking idiot, had tried to save her would-be killer's life harder than Kara had ever tried to keep track of her damn laundry schedule.

Apparently there was some video footage available from a nearby security camera, but Kara had no interest whatsoever in watching that. She shut her laptop screen with slightly more force than necessary, set her alarm to ring in an hour and fifteen minutes, and went angrily to sleep.

.

.

.

Kara called Alex on her way to work that morning.

"Hey, Kara, what's up?" Alex answered within two rings.

"I think Lena Luthor is innocent," Kara immediately blurted out. "No, I think Lena Luthor is a good person."

Alex laughed. "Of course you do. I'm shocked this wasn't your starting position, actually. She must have really scared you."

She had. But Kara wasn't about to concede that now. "Alex, I'm not just saying this. I did my research. She's not guilty."

"'Not guilty' and 'good person' are two different things."

"She testified against them. They tried to kill her. She was trying to, like, cure HIV!"

"You can be evil and still have a job and fight with your family," Alex pointed out. "And if she didn't know anything, how could she testify against them anyway?"

Alex's arguments were frustratingly similar to the ones that had gone on in Kara's head. "I'm sending you some links," she said, rifling through the bookmarks on her phone. "Just look at them, okay?"

Alex hummed affirmatively. "Just keep in mind that I'm not in love with her, and adjust your expectations accordingly."

Kara terminated the call without saying goodbye, a heartbeat away from flipping off her own phone.

.

.

James was predictably much more sympathetic.

"I told you I had a feeling it was more nuanced than it seemed," he said, self-satisfied.

"It's not nuanced at all!" Kara protested. "She's just a fucking saint!"

James laughed. "You've certainly gone on a journey. From devil to angel in one googling session."

"She'd told me to google her," Kara said. "She's gonna be so smug."

"She sounds fun," said James. "I'd love to meet her."

"You'd probably like her. You have a high tolerance for bad jokes."

James nodded. "With the boyfriend, that's a given."

Kara pictured a scenario like that, introducing Lena to Alex, James and Winn. Eating a big dinner together, playing one of Alex's overly complicated board games. She wondered if Lena would get invested and become competitive or if she'd be too cool for board games. She never got around to asking Lena what kind of food she liked, such a critical question. A real oversight.

James touched her upper arm. "Kara."

"Hm?"

He pointed at her lunch. "Your chili's getting cold."

James fixed her with a pointed look as she finally started eating.

.

.

"Jonn is on your side," Alex informed her over the phone a couple days later.

Kara perked up. Alex's former boss who'd left his job to become a masseur was one of the few people who could change her mind about anything.

"He interviewed the Luthors at one point, apparently, and had some sort of interaction with Lena," Alex continued. "He just had a gut feeling about her." Kara could practically hear Alex roll her eyes.

"Weren't you the one who always insisted he was a mind reader?"

"Don't gloat," Alex commanded. "Anyway, I'm reserving judgment. I guess. Not that it really matters, you don't have any contact with her anyway."

Kara froze. She hadn't even thought about that.

How had this not occurred to her? Lena had her number, but she was unlikely to call. The last time they saw each other, Kara made it clear she believed Lena was dangerous. Kara was conducting this crusade to absolve her in the eyes of the people in her life for no real reason. Lena wasn't in Kara's life.

"At least I could get some closure, I guess," Kara muttered.

"Hey." Alex's tone immediately softened. "It's not a bad thing to care very strongly. Sorry I made fun of you."

"Yeah," Kara muttered. "Um. Bye."

"Kara—" Alex started saying as she hung up.

.

.

Kara continued her moping streak for several days after that. She was coming close to beating her second best record. Alex was not impressed, though James said he was.

One evening she was lying on her couch, attention split between the game show running on TV and the crossword puzzle she was solving on her phone, when the show was interrupted by a local news update.

"A parked car in National City has been blown up this evening outside an Edge Global corporate building," the news anchor reported somberly. "The apparent target: Lena Luthor, daughter of convicted murderers Lionel and Lillian Luthor. Ms. Luthor, along with two bystanders, Andy Patton and Toni Bailey, have been evacuated to National City General Hospital. All three are in stable condition. We're joined now by Sara Nunez, senior crime correspondent. What can you tell us about this attack, Sara?"

Kara was off the couch and pulling her shoes on over bare feet before the reporter had finished saying the word hospital. She'd grabbed her keys and had her hand on the door handle when her phone rang, and she answered instinctively.

"Kara," Alex's voice said, serious but attempting to soothe preemptively. Her delivering bad news voice.

Kara clutched the keys in her hand, the urge to start running making her buzz. "I know."

"Right. Where are you? Go back to your apartment," Alex commanded. "Don't go giving yourself a stress ulcer, okay? She's stable, so the worst shit's behind her, whatever the case. Visiting hours are over right now, and she's probably sleeping anyway. And none of this is in any way even vaguely your fault. Get some sleep, go to work, buy a potted plant or something and go see her tomorrow, all right?"

Kara rubbed her face and jumped up and down twice, trying to release some pent up tension. "Yeah," she forced out. "You're right. Thanks, Alex."

"Hey, Kara," Alex said gently.

"What?"

"Don't hang up. I'm hanging up."

Their connection terminated in the middle of Kara's startled laugh.

Kara put down her keys and took off her shoes. Her sister was often infuriatingly efficient in ways that Kara found genuinely stressful, but when it really counted, she gave good advice. Kara fully intended to follow it.

She couldn't fall asleep, though. So she plugged in her earphones and listened to six of her favorite workout/cheering up playlists in a row, instead.

6

The short period of time between Kara giving her name at the hospital's front desk the next day and being told she can go through seemed interminable. Once she was physically standing outside Lena's room, though, holding her stupid potted plant, it suddenly seemed way too soon. She hadn't prepared any grand speeches. She didn't even bring a nice personalized card. All she had was a fucking cactus.

But she thought of Lena, flushed and topless, touching her hand nervously in preparation for confessing something truly frightening, and stepped through.

Lena didn't look all that bad for getting almost blown up. She looked pale and miserable and some bandages peeked out from under her blanket and gown, but her eyes were sharp and she was reclining on the bed with three pillows under her head and one bent leg propped on the opposite knee, like some sort of grumpy, slightly injured emperor.

When she noticed Kara, she lowered her leg and drew herself up, putting the phone she'd been fiddling with aside.

"Hi," she said, hoarse and hesitant.

"Hey," Kara replied, cracking a smile and raising the potted succulent in her hands.

Lena indicated the bedside cabinet and Kara placed the plant there. There was only one other get-well trinket on it, a heart shaped lollipop with a note attached.

"So…" Kara said as she claimed one of the stools in the room, a safe distance from the bed. "I googled you."

"I figured," Lena croaked, her lips twitching. "The washing machines here are for staff use only."

Kara dipped her head. "I liked your thesis," she said.

"Yeah?" Lena practically lit up at that. A ball of warmth bloomed in Kara's stomach.

"I understood about… a hundredth of it, give or take," Kara admitted.

"I appreciate you reading it," Lena said earnestly. "No one would touch any of my work with a ten foot pole, nowadays. I couldn't get a paper titled 'How to Get Rich Quick in Academia' peer reviewed."

"Is that a very popular field of study?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

Kara grinned. It was remarkable how easy it was to get sucked into the rhythm of conversation with Lena, even now. It was a pointed reminder of the connection she'd thought they'd had. The connection she'd kind of broken.

Kara tilted her body forward, leaning on her knees. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"Don't apologize," Lena replied instantly, almost talking over her. "You were just being smart."

"I made assumptions," Kara said.

Lena shook her head. "I'm glad you were cautious. I'm kind of tired of reckless people, to tell you the truth."

Kara rubbed her palms over her thighs uneasily. "Well, I don't want you to forgive me so easily, though," she told Lena.

Lena's lips quirked again. "Should I make an unreasonable demand of you, then?"

Kara nodded solemnly. "Please."

Lena lifted herself onto her elbows, shifted her head so she was almost looking down her nose at Kara, and said imperiously: "Kiss me."

Kara's breath caught. Lena's face, bare and bruised, held a challenge and a promise all at once. Here was the culmination of so many open-ended feelings, stretched and stalled over several disorienting months.

But then Kara dragged her stool toward the bed, and it made an awful screeching sound the entire way there, and by the time she was within smooching distance the whole ambiance was gone.

Lena sighed. "Well, whatever," she said, and grabbed Kara by the front of her shirt.

It was a bit awkward, making out with an injured person. The position was weird and there were tubes in some places and the smells weren't great, not to mention the plastic curtain that was the only barrier between them and the patient in the next bed over. Not exactly the most typical first kiss. But then, none of this thing between them had ever been exactly typical.

And Lena kissed like prayer. With eyes closed and her brow scrunched up, and a single-minded intensity that hit Kara right between the thighs. There was none of that flippancy, none of the endless teasing that Kara had come to associate with her so strongly. Lena kissed her like she was making love to her mouth.

When Kara broke away, it was not to breathe but to pant. Everything felt elevated. And Lena was now staring at her with the kind of rapt focus that certainly appeared to be potentially lethal.

"I have a very important question to ask you," Kara told her breathlessly. Lena looked at her, and looked, and nodded. "Do you have any bloody laundry that needs taking care of?"

Lena's laugh was a rough, strange, stupidly attractive sound, to match a rough, strange, stupidly attractive woman. Before she could make some sort of terrible answering quip, Kara leaned in and kissed her again.