Pyrrhic Victory


Notes: Find me on Tumblr at spoopercorp and on AO3 as Local_Asshole.

YAY! NOT AS LONG A WAIT THIS TIME! WOOHOO! I HOPE YOU FUCKERS SUFFER! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!


"I need to put you on psychiatric hold."

Kara watched Lena blink from afar, her eyelids moving owlishly before her head tilted upwards to the doctor.

Her voice was tiny, quiet, the sound almost pitiful—just as defeated as the day she succumbed to the black mercy.

"No."

Dr. Hamilton paused, her stare firm and her stance grounded, "You need to commit, Miss Luthor."

"You can't forcefully institutionalize me," Lena protested, her tone aggravated, throat vibrating uncomfortably from disuse.

"On the contrary," the doctor started, "Under section fifty-one-fifty of the California Welfare and Institutions Code, the Lanterman-Petris-Short Act allows any qualified clinician to involuntarily confine patients deemed a threat to themselves. And last I checked, I'm a qualified clinician," her gaze softened significantly, and she lowered her voice. "You're unwell. Let me help you. I'd rather have this be voluntary, but I'll take any action necessary to seek the help you need."

Lena's jaw grinded and her hands clenched into fists, her lips tightening into a grimace as she turned away.

"Let me talk to her," Kara requested, looking at Dr. Hamilton with pleading eyes.

The woman nodded, "Of course, Supergirl," her attention momentarily focused onto her patient. "I'll be back to discuss the terms."

The door shut with a click, echoing through the tension of the room, and Kara felt her chest tighten when Lena did not even look up to acknowledge her presence. But she sighed anyway, clearing her throat to prepare.

"If you really don't want to be an inpatient, maybe we could compromise?" she suggested, her cadence a gentle and smooth velvet, "You could receive outpatient care instead—like a psychologist—and..." she coughed awkwardly, "...and stay with me."

The proposition had Lena finally angle her body towards her friend, her voice raspy, coarse as sandpaper, "What's in it for you?"

Everyone always wants something.

The mumble was near silent, even Kara almost missed it. But her ears perked up when she finally registered the sentence, and her expression fell.

"Nothing. I don't want anything from you, Lena," she insisted, voice firmer yet still managing to keep it soft, "You'll have more freedom than in the hold. You'll be able to work and maybe go out or...I mean, personally I think it beats staying here. I-I...I want you to be happy, but it's all up to you and what you need."

Silence.

Then, "You know what I need," Lena choked out, imploring eyes squinting in a failed struggle to hold back tears.

Kara's expression darkened and she felt a growl low in her throat. She bitterly recalled the psychic link, recalled Lena's utterly misplaced joy when she finally captured a black mercy.

Kara's voice was angry and broken, almost snappish, "You're not going anywhere near a black mercy. Not if I can help it." She could feel her stomach hiss and recoil at the notion.

But something inside her twisted, contorted uncomfortably when the woman's only reply was in a reaction, as subtle as it was.

Lena shed more tears—the dam leaking—and she released a quiet whimper, both mourning for herself and beseeching for understanding, for sympathy.

For mercy.

"Please," she begged, so feeble and so weak, so starved for deliverance it left her very soul emaciated and atrophied.

Still atrophying.

And only Supergirl could grant her salvation.

"We're friends," Kara whispered, pouring every ounce of love she could into her voice, "You're my best friend," she enveloped a cold and frail hand into her warm palms, nearly wincing at the sudden contrast of temperature. "I'm worried. I want to help y—"

Lena flinched belatedly at the contact, as if her nerves were still fallen behind and lagging, and she jerked away violently, the pale hand that was once held clenching the sweat damp sheets into a trembling fist. Her lips quivered with the slight tremors throughout her body—the trauma was still there, still raw, and maybe it would remain fresh forever.

Lena's response came in short gasps, choppy and disconnected as her emotions overflowed, "D-don't...don't want h-help. Need...I need..."

She cried out a sob, soft and pitiful as she unclenched her white-knuckles fists and buried her wet face into her palms—she stroked the tears away with her fingers in vain, but they were all quickly replaced. It was a fruitless endeavor.

Kara could not help the flash of hurt that sparked across her face, mangling her features into a regretful frown. She tilted her head up to meet Lena's eyes, a jaded forest fogged over with endless gray clouds. But there was something there, a haggard desperation; an unstoppable force against an immovable object—Supergirl.

Kara gave her friend a small, timid smile for reassurance, but it quickly faltered when the pair of dull green eyes snapped away with a shaky sigh.

"Fine..."

Kara's brows arched up, crinkling in confusion, "'Fine' what?"

"I'll...I'll stay with you," she swallowed, the audible gulp of hesitation and uncertainty quelled temporarily.


"You can be discharged now," Dr. Hamilton grumbled, clearly not quite happy with the outcome, "Your electromyography and nerve conduction velocity test results are overall good, but your somatosensory evoked potential is a bit..." she glanced at the electroencephalogram with a wrinkle between her brows, taking in the spikes and peaks.

"Slow," she finished.

"Why?" Kara further inquired when Lena showed no interest in learning more about her results.

"She experienced a grand amount of mental and emotional trauma. Her brain could be delaying responses to stimuli as protection for her mind."

Kara nodded slowly, eyes darting to Lena on the hospital bed; she was indifferent and disinterested—numb to her own well being.

Dr. Hamilton coughed, clearing her throat through the silence, "A word, Supergirl?"

Her expression was serious, giving no time for reply as she exited the room, Kara following with tentative steps.

Dr. Hamilton turned sharply just as the door clicked shut, her voice low, "I wanted to speak to you in private to discuss Miss Luthor's discharge; she has dysphoria, she's unhappy with her life, that's what led her to the black mercy—that much is clear. I mandate that when she moves in that you remove all sharp objects and bleach and other disinfectant products—lock them up so that only you can access it; lock anything possibly hazardous up, even long cords."

Kara inhaled sharply, folding her arms against her torso at all the implications, shoulders drooping as the doctor continued.

"Miss Luthor could be desperate enough to hurt herself or end her life by whatever means. You can never be too careful," she sighed, "And with the amount of alcohol consumption she's had the past few days, I recommend you keep her drinking to a minimum if not completely absent."

Kara gulped audibly, nodding, "I understand."

Dr. Hamilton straightened her posture, "I'm glad. She can be discharged now, please be careful."

"Of course."


"Is there anything here that you'd like to move back to my—" Kara turned away from the living room, her heart picking up when she caught sight of Lena in her monotonous bedroom—even more so in the night. She was still in the medical gown—she had stated her business clothes that she had worn before were uncomfortable. But it was cold out, and she was draped over with a heated blanket from the DEO's hospital bay.

Lena was sliding her finger, frail and ghostly, along the frame of a photo on her nightstand.

Kara quickly recognized it to be a memorable shot of them at a gala. A tiny smile played at the corners of her lips when she recalled the fond moment.

She grew concerned the more time silence had passed.

"Lena?" she called out softly, voice gentle but prodding enough to coax the woman back to the present.

Kara could see the jump in Lena's shoulders as she startled from her thoughts, and the Luthor quickly flipped the photo down a bit too roughly. Kara winced, found her chest tightening at the small crack she heard from the glass due to the force. Clearly it was a painful memory now for Lena, judging by the way her frame was shaking subtly—weak and feeble.

"Sorry," she apologized quietly, shifting her position so that Kara was able to see her profile as she looked at the photo of her and Jack. "What'd you ask?"

"Is there anything in particular you want to take home besides your clothes?" Kara repeated.

"My work; I have papers in my office. I'll get them."

"No, no," the Kryptonian insisted, "I'll get them. Anything else?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The pain in Kara's chest increased tenfold at the fact that Lena did not even mention her only two personal possessions; she seemed keen on forgetting and on building her walls back up.

Kara prayed she would be able to tear that wall down again, brick by brick.

"Everything else is..." Lena paused in the midst of her explanation, "...unnecessary."

The Kryptonian set several boxes down and sped into the closet back and forth, stacking articles after articles of clothing. She successfully emptied the room out and packed three boxes within five seconds.

There was another wave of pain that settled deep in Kara's chest when she realized she had been expecting a comment; Lena tended to mutter a slightly amused quip or a sarcastic "impressive" when the superhuman abilities were displayed.

Instead there was silence, and Kara noticed her friend's head dipped down, her eyes focused anywhere but on her.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Lena seemed to startle again, "What?"

Kara's brows furrowed, she was patient and gentle, no frustration at her friend's frequent mental absence. "What's on your mind?"

She eyed the human's still trembling form. "Are you cold?"

Lena shook her head, "I have documents filled with important research, I..."

She trailed off, and when it seemed as if she was unable to continue, Kara spoke, grabbing the bed sheets and stuffing them into another box, "I'm pretty sure I got all of your papers and books from your office, but I can look again if you'd like. Would it make you feel better?"

Another moment of silence.

"The papers. They're..." Lena started with a weak breath, her vocals slightly fried and tremulous, "...they're in my lab."

Kara bristled, she could feel the temperature shift and drop her surroundings into the cold of uncertainty—the ambience had darkened. She finally registered the torn fabric of the duvet in her hands, she had not even heard or felt it rip.

"O-Oh, s-sorry," she finally managed to squeak, stumbling over her words, "But I...I'm not sure if..."

Kara's eyes softened at the way Lena's body language tensed and curled in on itself; she crossed her arms tightly, her lips were pursed into a flat line, and her sharp jaw was clenched.

Kara sighed at her rigidity, "What's the research on the papers?"

She could hear the pearly molars grind together in irritation, but there was no reply.

That was answer enough.

"I can't," Kara whispered, "I can't give them to you. You can't have them. I...we have to go," she shook her head. "Let's go. C'mon." She lifted the boxes in an arm without so much as a huff and with the other handed the lightest one to her friend. They headed out to the vehicle and the Kryptonian opened the trunk and set the items inside.

"You can just stack it here, on the—Lena?"

Kara turned around, glancing side to side, and noticed her companion was missing. She ambled back to the entrance to see the last box overturned, fabric spilling out, as if the holder was in a haste and dropped it regardless of what was inside. Her head snapped up when she heard the hurried tap-tap of footsteps from the bedroom.

The hidden door was unlocked.

And Kara felt her heart constrict.

"Lena!"

She flew down and sprinted through the lab in a panic, instantly enveloping the woman into her arms.

"Get the fuck out of my way, Kara!" she cried, struggling feverishly.

The Kryptonian grimaced, "Stop! You can't have them! Lena, please! You have to let them go!" When the attempts at escape never ceased their intensity, she felt a familiar heat building around her temples, and Lena screamed at the sight of glowing blue eyes. "No! No, please don't! I'm begging you!"

"You're giving me no choice," Kara grunted, removing her glasses to turn around and unleash hell; terminals exploded, tools were charred to dust, papers burned as the laboratory was set alight.

Kara felt the ache in her heart shatter at the sound of a wretched scream, the wail mourning against the blaze of flames.

"How could you?" Lena sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks. She lifted her fists and swung them down hard, releasing a barrage of strikes against the Kryptonian's chest, one after another even though she knew it would be of no use.

"How could you!" she weeped, trying to push against broad shoulders with more fervor.

Kara frowned and could not stop the tears pouring from her own eyes, taking in the sight of reddened hands that kept pounding and shoving against her chest repeatedly.

Red.

A jolt of panic shot through Kara and she quickly restrained Lena's wrists, slick and warm from the sanguine fluid. "Stop! You're hurting yourself! Please!"

The words did not pierce through the woman's haze of fury and grief, and if she could not use her arms she would use her legs.

Kara felt her heart break over and over after every unforgivable keen that reached her ears. She finally managed to subdue Lena, pushing her towards the floor and cradling her, making sure she could not move and hurt herself any further.

Kara's throat throbbed from the urge to whimper, Lena embraced in her arms, but she remained strong and swallowed the bile of guilt. Her attempts to calm her friend's hysteria was met with resistance.

"Lena," she cooed, "Shhh. Hey, it's okay. You're okay." She failed to hold in a quiet sob, but mumbled a quiet prayer of thanks to Rao when she saw that there were no broken bones in Lena's knuckles. However, they were still purple and blue and green—severe bruising. They were surrounded by irritated swelling and cracks in the skin, dripping blood down to the elbows.

"I know it hurts," she uttered, "I know. But you can get through this. It's okay."

After a minute or two Lena stilled in Kara's arms, tired and defeated, her fragile body still shaking with whimpers here and there from witnessing the destruction of her only path to happiness.

Lena turned her head away, exhausted dark-ringed eyes half closed in distress, her face a mess of tears.

"Stop hurting me..."

It was barely a whisper, so very muted and cracked, providing a tragic glimpse into a broken soul—such crippling despair.

And Kara heard, her perception so attuned—so narrowed—to Lena that she felt her heart stop for a split second when she processed it. Kara knew she was gentle, always soft with her touches, especially with humans. Although, she could not help but think that the statement was not about Lena's beaten hands, dripping blood onto the floor with endless splatters that echoed in Kara's ears.

She opted to wallow in sadness about it later. Right now her priority was Lena's safety, and she hastily jogged back up the stairs, careful not to let the woman look back at the blackened laboratory. She continued to coo gently, whisper sweet nothings into a vacant ear to overshadow the crackling licks of the fire behind them.

Kara stepped foot outside and realized how cold it was for a human to be out in such Thin medical garbs. She quickly opened the passenger door and slid Lena into the seat. Kara buckled her up and draped a cotton blanket over her lap, wrapping the bloody hands in napkins. Kara wiped her palms of the blood before moving to the driver's side and turning the headlights on. The engine sputtered and roared, vibrating its engine to life.

Kara side-eyed Lena, taking careful note of her behavior. The green eyes seemed to revert back to when they first opened at the DEO—detached and disconnected from everything; she had recalled Dr. Hamilton's information on Lena's dissociation, fluttering in and out of her state of awareness within reality.

Kara could only hope that it would fade by the time she got to her apartment.


It did, temporarily.

But the way Kara figured it out was not pleasant.

She parked her car in the lot and unbuckled, clicking the button for the seatbelt on the other side as well.

"Hey?" she questioned.

No answer.

Kara reached out, but the moment she touched the pale hand Lena flinched her whole body away.

"Don't touch me," she rasped. It was cold and menacing, and Kara felt the cruelty carve and twist all the way into her bones.

It seemed the dissociation did abate after the first half of the car ride, but for the last half Lena had simply been ignoring her, brewing in her dark thoughts.

It curled Kara's stomach in an unexpected way—it was a nauseating feeling. She could see the negative emotions circulating in those pitiful green eyes, darkening and hollowing them around the edges, pulling the skin down to form sleepless bags.

Rest was a luxury Lena could no longer afford.

Kara swallowed her hurt down and nodded tearfully, "Uh...ahem," she forced her voice not to crack, "Just come in whenever you feel ready. I'm going to bring the stuff in." She turned away and exited the vehicle, opening the trunk and retrieving the boxes, balancing the tower in one arm with her keys in the other hand. She clicked the lock button and the car beeped once Lena trudged out of the passenger side, following far behind.

Kara sighed and they both made their way up the stairs to her apartment. She unlocked the door and swung it open, setting the boxes down onto the floor next to the coffee table. Plopping heavily on the couch, she began to ease the tension in her muscles, but the relaxation did not last as Lena silently stormed into the bathroom.

A traitorous tear spilled over Kara's cheek, then another, but her pain was soundless as she ruminated over the agony Lena was in.

All because of her.

She did not mean to of course, she would never directly hurt her best friend. Never.

But unintentional actions that had those very consequences...those were unaccounted for, and now she was facing those repercussions.

Kara never meant to cause such irreparable suffering.

After what seemed like an hour of nothing, her worry finally culminated at last. She rose from her couch with a soft grunt and made her way to the front of the bathroom door. She gave three knocks, tentative yet firm.

"Lena?" she called gently.

Nothing.

Kara tugged the knob and it would not budge—it was locked, just as she expected. Guilt pooled in her stomach as she blinked, tilting her glasses downward and utilizing her x-ray vision—she would rather give her friend privacy, but the situation called for more invasive maneuvers.

Lena was curled into a ball in the farthest corner of the bathroom, her tears halted, but the dried tracks still gave evidence of her despair. It seemed her hands were no longer spilling, the blood crusted onto her skin. Kara also noted that she stopped shaking, all the tremors within her body in a standstill as she blankly stared ahead to nothing, her expression vacant and devoid of all emotion.

"Please come out."

Lena did not so much as twitch at the plea.

When it became clear that she was not in a state of awareness, Kara left, but told her she was going to unpack—just in case.

She made sure to check in with her vision often, every five minutes as she used her speed to quickly hang up the fancy clothes in the other half of her closet. Then Kara eyed the cutlery in her kitchen with suspicion; she had faith in Lena that she would not hurt herself, but she was skeptical after the woman's desperate display twenty minutes ago. So she sighed and gathered all the sharp objects she could possibly find: knives, forks, scissors...even pens and pencils, and she hid them away—out of sight out of mind.

A sniffle in the distance caught her ear and she sped outside the bathroom as fast as possible, activating her x-ray vision in a panic. Overall, Lena's position had not changed, she was still curled up, knees to her chest in the corner. But her hands were clenched into fists and pressed against her ears, her eyes squeezed tight as tears ran down her face.

"Lena!"

Kara's apprehension skyrocketed when she heard the sobs gradually become more audible and uncontrolled. And Lena was bleeding again, the liquid slowly dribbling down with all the white-knuckled tension in her hands.

"Lena!"

Kara's brows furrowed with determination and she ripped off the handle of the knob and pushed the door in. She slid next to Lena on her knees, the human's racing heartbeat pounding in her ears coupled with the uneven gasps. Her quivering came back full force, chilled sweat beading on the surface of her skin.

Kara cupped her face with her palms, eyes wide with worry.

"You're okay. I'm right here. It's okay."

Her soft murmurs went ignored, Lena's eyes glazed over with dizziness and an almost-present haze. She was going to faint if the hyperventilating kept up. So Kara grabbed the bloody fists and dragged them away from Lena's ears, gently forcing the muscles to unclench and open up. Once she did, she interlaced their fingers together and squeezed tenderly.

The woman's chest and lungs still contracted, and from what Kara could see it was an unpleasant feeling—the wrinkles on Lena's forehead increased in depth and her rapid breaths had intervals of heartbreaking whimpers.

"Hey. Look at me," Kara begged, "Please."

The woman still could not escape from her panic, so the Kryptonian took her into her arms and cradled her, making sure Lena's face was pressed against her shoulder to obscure her vision. Kara's thumb moved of its own accord, rubbing soothing and feathery circles around pointed, bruised knuckles.

"Breathe with me. Slow, deep breaths," she instructed, just barely managing to be calm and collected, "Just like this."

Lena struggled with complying, so Kara brought the woman's hand up to the center of her chest, her thumb never ceasing its ministrations.

"Inhale and exhale. To the sound of my heartbeat. Feel it."

Kara controlled her breathing to a slower pace, for Lena's sake—it would do no good if they were both in a volatile state. But eventually, the excitement of the situation diminished, dwindling into a melancholic tranquility.

Kara slowly rose from the floor with Lena in her arms and brought her to the bedroom, laying her down carefully on the sheets and covering her body with a thick blanket. As she attempted to straighten her body, she felt resistance, and she glanced down to see a red hand clutching her button-up for dear life.

"You can let go..." Kara whispered, half-smile pulling one end of her lips up. She pried the grip off, finger by finger, and rested the trembling arm down before taking out the first-aid kit from the bathroom.

She wetted a towelette with water and wrung it out in the bathroom sink, then she brought it out along with gauze, ointment, and disinfecting alcohol.

The first contact with the hand towel had Lena wincing, the fibers cleaning off the fresh and dried blood. But there was a hiss of pain when Kara swiped the disinfectant over the open wounds, then a partially relieved sigh from the ointment that was rubbed on her tender flesh. Bandages were finally wrapped around Lena's hands.

The skin would be raw for awhile, the pain cumbersome though manageable, and the Luthors knew how to tolerate hardship well.

Kara gave the injuries a twice over and nodded to herself in approval, going back into the bathroom to place the supplies back.

The mirror above her sink gave her pause.

Her appearance was disheveled, blonde strands wisping out of the loose hair tie, thick black-framed glasses skewed...

Her favorite shirt, she saw, had a handprint on it—painted with crimson—from the bloody fingers that clamped down on the fabric so hard the cloth wrinkled. Kara frowned, raising her hands up higher, observing the sort-of-wet blood that had already begun its crusting process, several dried parts flaking off onto the porcelain sink. A tremulous breath escaped her lungs, her chest shaking.

Kara furiously scrubbed the blood off with water and soap, spending five minutes washing even if her skin was already perfectly spotless. She had not even noticed the tears slipping past her cheeks until she patted her hands with a towel.

She took one last long look at the mirror and strode out to retrieve her pajamas and slipped into the comfy cotton, throwing her other clothes into the laundry.

Kara flicked off all the lights and settled into the covers, gazing sadly at her best friend; she could feel the guilt and regret weighing on her chest and shoulders get heavier.

Lena was in the same unmoving position, though closer to the edge, as when she was placed down; she was on her back, staring up at the ceiling, her expression unreadable with restless creases—perhaps it was empty as usual, barren of emotion.

Maybe permanently so.

Kara shook her head aggressively, as if to force the arduous thought out of her mind. She could not bear to keep her eyes on the figure any longer and scooted to the far end on her side, back facing Lena as she waited to succumb to sleep.

Slumber came later into the night, but it was harder to find that salvation.

And the grave realization that the losses severely eclipsed Kara's victory—her success—in saving Lena only served to make the burden upon her shoulders even more cumbersome; maybe this miserable torment was not worth it.


Notes: Constructive criticism appreciated.

Also, don't worry, I've decided on a happy ending. :)

Eventually. :)