Lena doesn't get the luxury to feel her pain. She doesn't even get the luxury to take one breath after Kara's flown away. There's work to do. Alex makes her way to her with a blanket and an unreadable expression and Lena shrugs her off, stashes all her emotions in a tiny, tiny box that she throws at the back of her mind, and gets to work.

Under Brainy's care, Jack's insides have started to spill outside and she's running out of ideas to keep her friend in one piece. This nasty side effect has been a problem since nanite-fabric was first developed by Rogers Engineering and she feels stupid for thinking she could crack it when so many people have worked on the problem and failed. If even Jack couldn't figure it out, Jack who's been working on nanotechnology forever, Jack the literal prodigy who once took a sabbatical to try and cure cancer, then Lena really was fooling herself thinking she could.

"Walk me through this," Brainy says when she settles in next to him, snapping new goggles to her face, ones that aren't covered in blood and bits of flesh. "There is a 93,3% chance your friend will die in the next ten minutes if we cannot find a solution."

Lena shudders. "I-"

"I thought he- he loved me," Beth whines from the ground where she's curled up into a ball, mutilated limb clutched tightly to her chest.

"Don't be daft Miss Breen," Lena snaps, "Lex only loves himself and xenophobia."

Beth produces a gurgled sob, chokes on her snot. "Who's- Who's Xenophobia ?"

"Can someone knock her out ?" Lena asks, her harsh request a mere whistle through her gritted teeth. "I can't think."

"Come on," Alex mumbles, sparing a glance towards Lena before she bodily lifts Beth off the ground and starts hauling her out of the ruined laboratory, "let's get you sorted out."

"I tried re-coding them," Lena says, "I scraped the whole project and started again from scratch twice. I had a breakthrough with Kara's suit so I really thought it would work this time but I..." She lets her sentence trail off, her heart pounding after she's had to say Kara's name. "Lex would have been able to figure it out."

"I do not think your genocidal brother would be of any help right now," Brainy says calmly, peering down in Jack's body with a thoughtful expression.

"He was there when Russell Rogers died. He did go after him with the intent of stealing his work and he did plant a bomb in his office but how surprising as it sounds the blast isn't what killed him."

"He was eaten by his own creation," Brainy concludes blankly.

"But he did have a good idea and when Beth brought the project to me I thought it'd be worth looking into. And it was ! The suit saved..."

"The suit saved Kara," Sam says gently, coming on her other side.

"Why does the suit works with Kara ?" Brainy asks.

"Easy. Her skin's impervious."

"So if there was a protective layer between the nanites and the skin," Brainy says, "it would be viable ?"

"Theoretically yes I suppose, but I've never been able to find a ratio that works and it's too late for Jack."

As if they respond to her defeated words, the nanites ripple under what's left of Jack's skin and the sight of flesh bubbling and blood spilling turns Lena's stomach. It's a good thing she didn't have time for lunch.

Brainy closes his eyes ; on the table, Jack continues dying, his oxygen mask, slowly burying into the sunken flesh of his face.

"We need to stabilise the nanites," Brainy says opening his eyes quite brutally. "A contained continuous pulse would work..."

"So an EMP ?" Lena interrupts, frantically looking around for the box in which she keeps most of her spare parts. Lex really did a number on her lab. "The nanites should be able to to contain it so it's not disruptive."

"There is still the slight problem of energy..." Brainy continues, mostly to himself as he presses his fingers to the sides of his head.

"Kinetic battery !" Sam exclaims, making Lena jump back in surprise but not scaring Brainy one bit. "Like the one you put in Kara's arm."

"That would work yes," Brainy says with a sharp nod, "but we have little time."

"I can do it," Lena mumbles to herself. "I can do it."

In fact, she's not so sure that she can, but she doesn't really have a choice ; and the more time she wastes, the less likely it is that there will be any Jack left to save.

The kinetic battery is easy to find. She's got a bunch of spare ones from the last time she tinkered with Kara and finds them under her desk, abandoning all dignity to crawl on all four and get to them. The EMP is a bit harder. She hasn't really worked on anything like that since she built a bomb in the basement of her manor and Kara died ; she's not exactly eager to repeat the experience, and also has less than five minutes.

"What can I do to help ?" Andrea, who she'd forgotten was here in the first place, asks. "What do you need ?"

For you to get out of my way, is what Lena wants to say but that's too many words and she doesn't have the time. Instead, she bypasses her, throws the battery Brainy's way, and starts prying her cordless phone out of the wall. Her security team required it, since cell phones don't work in her bunker, and she begrudgingly accepted ; now, she would kiss her past self for doing so.

"What are you doing ?" Sam asks, eyeing her like she's lost her mind. To be fair, Lena is trying to pry open a phone with a hairpin, but she knows what she's doing and that's all that matters. "Do you need help ?"

With a loud swear and the sweet sound of plastic cracking, Lena manages to rip the base open and after ruffling inside and cutting her thumb in two separate places, she retrieves the radio components, snapping the circuit in two.

"Cordless phone emits low radio wave," she explains, hoping that Sam and Andrea will stop breathing down her neck if she does so. "If I can supercharge this with my kinetic battery, it should be enough to stabilise the nanites until we can get Jack to the DEO."

"And if it doesn't work ?" Sam asks slowly. She sounds hesitant, like she wishes she didn't have to ask. Someone has to do it though.

"What's one more funeral ?" Lena mumbles bitterly.

Brainy hands her the battery. He opened and rewired it without being told and after considering the chances that Sam will fry the whole thing if she asks her to solder it with her heat vision, Lena does it herself, cauterising her bleeding thumb in the process when she slips. The resulting device looks terrible, and her pride takes a hit that it's the best she can do, but her pride will have to take the backseat for now. With little other options, she duct-tapes the flyaway parts and shoves the remaining mayhem in Jack's chest.

She expects to be disappointed, for Jack to draw his final breath or for the device to explode ; instead, she's barely fast enough to remove her hand from his insides before he starts rippling back together, the nanites arranging themselves in a human shape that, for whatever it's worth, does look like Jack.

She holds her breath, legs shaking uncontrollably, and has to catch herself on the side of the work bench, hands slipping in the blood, lest she collapses and crumples like an old sock. Jack opens his eyes, and they are so black, darker than Lena remembers them ever being, almost bottomless. He shifts to look at her, flexes his fingers and removes his oxygen masks.

"I have no fucking idea what just happened," he says, his voice lilting huskily, "but I need a bloody drink."

Lena is left alone. By her own device sure, because she asked, because it's dangerous to be around her right now ; but the speed at which everyone scuttled away is still disheartening. Even Andrea has left, but Lena really should have seen this one coming. She knows Andy is in love with her, that's why she asked for her help in the first place, because she knew she wouldn't say no and she used it to her full advantage. She regrets it now ; how could she not ? Alone in the ruins of her empire, abandoned by all of her own volition, and the last person she kissed is her ex-girlfriend.

There's a gaping hole in the middle of her empty building and she's sitting on its edge on the top floor, legs dangling in the air, empty tumbler at her side. She's switched to the bottle after one glass and it's more than half empty by now though the amber liquid doesn't do much to warm her up. She's shivering dangerously, entertaining the idea of her nervous tremors tipping her over the edge. With a bit of luck, she'd pass out before hitting the bottom, but luck's never been her forte and she thinks she exhausted her meagre resources the day she met Kara. It all went downhill after that.

Kara.

This ultimately is what hurts the most ; the look on her face when Lena told her to go. The fact that she left when Lena has never wanted her to stay more. It's for the best. Lex and her already came too close and who knows what might have happened if he'd gotten his dirty hands on her. It's for the best, but she can't help but think about what would have happened if she'd taken any other route. If she'd whisked Kara away from harm instead, or even if she'd told her more often how much she loves her. If she'd told her again and again and again, then maybe Kara wouldn't have believed her when she'd broken up with her and they both would have known in their hearts, that they still had a chance. It's almost funny in a twisted sort of way how strong Kara is and how easy it was for Lena to break her. It will haunt her her whole life, and she fully deserves it.

She goes to take another swig of her whiskey when her phone start ringing in her pocket and she almost falls over in her hast to answer it and tell Lex off. She's got a few choice words on her tongue, brought up by the alcohol in her stomach and the pain in her chest, that she wants to try and hurl at him.

She squints at the screen, the letters a little blurry, and in the time it takes her to remember how to answer her phone, it stops ringing, only to startles her again with a voicemail. If there's a voicemail, it can't be Lex ; Lex doesn't leave voicemails. Maybe because deep down she's a masochist, maybe because she fucking deserves the pain, she listens to it.

"Hey. It's Alex. I don't know if you blocked my number or anything but- Anyway. We found Kara. I don't know if you knew Kara was missing but we found her. Thought you might want to know that. If you want to talk or anything just- I don't know call me. Fuck, Lena. What are you doing ?"

The message cuts off after that and Lena can picture perfectly Alex rubbing a weary hand down her face. Her hair is probably a bit messy, she might be wearing her glasses ; it hurts to think about.

Lena gathers what she can pick up of herself, which is not much really, she's not sure she's a full human being anymore, dusts her trousers, finishes her bottle and flings it in the hole, and starts the long descent down to ground level. The elevators are down, but the service stairs are still in one miraculous piece so there's that. She abandons her heeled boots halfway through, calls her driver a little further down, and emerges in the late afternoon to a literal wall of reporters.

The flashes are blinding and she brings a hand up to cover her eyes, noticing just then a tear down the length of her sleeve. She advances dizzily until she's outside, standing in a small circle cleared up by the few members of her security team that are not busy shepherding the lasts of her employees out. She can't make sense of the questions thrown her way, her hearing taken up by a loud pitched ringing that won't go away even when she shakes her head vigorously from side to side.

"Everything is under control," is what she thinks she says when someone hauls her into the back of a huge armoured black car. That someone is Andrea, but she doesn't really want to think about it.

She looks terrible, haggard, covered in blood and dust with her hair in disarray and multiple tears on her suit. There's also a gash on her cheek and purple shadows under her eyes ; she looks ghastly, and the sight is sort of upsetting.

If the picture is unflattering, the title is even worse, and when Lena smacks the newspaper back on her desk, she's careful to fold it so that it's not visible anymore. "WHEN WILL L-CORP FACE ITS DARK PAST ? LAST LUTHOR RUNNING OUT OF TIME AFTER ALLEGED 'LAB INCIDENT' LEAVES HUNDREDS OF WORKERS TRAUMATISED," by William Dey.

Fucker.

It's too early to drink, she's aware of it, though with the relentless rain that threatens to flood what's left of her building, it might as well be the dead of night ; but the one remaining bottle in her mini bar seems to be calling her name. She's seriously considering it, eyeing the bottle on the other side of the hastily patched hole in her floor, when someone knocks on the frame that used to house her door. Krypto perks up at the sound.

Jess makes her way in, a coffee tray in her hand and a copy of the same newspaper Lena was just reading tucked under her arm. She walks around the hole, steps over a puddle, avoids the steady dripping coming from the plastic cover thrown on the roof and comes to a stop in front of Lena's desk. Her make-up covers admirably the bruise on her cheek and if Lena didn't know it's there, if she weren't looking for it, she wouldn't have caught the slight shadow on her cheekbone.

"Good morning Miss Luthor. I've got your coffee, today's paper, and I took the liberty of getting you a lemon danish."

Somewhat bewildered, Lena eyes the goods on her desk. Her coffee is just how she likes it, and Jess carefully removed half the pages of the Tribune to bring her only the science column and the book review.

"What are you doing here ?" she asks, her voice a little husky from disuse.

Jess nudges the pastry closer to her. "Just doing my job Miss Luthor."

Lena takes the coffee cup in her hands, if only to keep them occupied. She knows she doesn't need to keep a facade in front of Jess, her old assistant has seen her through hell and high water, but she still feels the need to appear composed and in charge.

"This is not your job," she says softly, not by design but because her voice can't rise much higher.

"This is the job you need me to do right now," Jess replies immediately. Out of nowhere, she procures her tablet and Lena wants to laugh at this way her former assistant has of always having everything on hand at any given time. It's reassuring, makes her feel, strangely, like things are going to be okay.

"Miss Arias is handling today's emergency board meeting," Jess says, briefly looking at her schedule. "I took the liberty of renting the convention centre for this purpose and to relocate all essential departments. All employees who requested it have been put on paid leave and psychological support will be available to all by no later than noon today. You might yourself want to take the afternoon off as the construction team will start working on your office and roof at 1:30pm."

Lena blinks, trying to digest the onslaught of information.

"Your therapist left a message," Jess continues. "She requests that you let her know in advance next time you have to miss an appointment. I elected not to tell her you'd been abducted and couldn't exactly foresee it. And your mother called, twice, she wants to know if you'll be coming to her chemotherapy session today. It's at 3." She pauses to take a breath and Lena thinks this might be a good time to gather herself and interrupt but Jess is unsurprisingly not done talking. "Agent Danvers dropped by last night, she wanted me to give you this."

Jess lays a small rectangular packet in front of her and Lena eyes it warily. She trusts Alex, but the regular inconspicuous shape doesn't bode well. It could be anything from a book she forgot at her house to each and every photo Lena's on and that she doesn't want to look at anymore.

"It's a gun," Jess says. "I took the liberty of opening it to check for threats."

Lena takes the package in her hands, turns it over slowly without opening it. It's heavy, the weight reassuring when she feels so frail she fears she might be blown by the wind.

"Thank you Jess," she says with some difficulty. "I'll- I'll be taking the day off. You can call my mother and tell her I'll be here."

She rises from her chair, dusts her impeccable slacks and starts putting her things away. The neatly packed gun in her pocket, the newspaper in her briefcase, the coffee cup held between her teeth while she wraps a napkin around the danish. She struggles for a second, almost drops the cup before Jess takes it from her and holds it carefully in her free hand. Her shirt sleeves don't fit her, they're larger than the pristine starched clothes she usually wears and when she moves to give back the cup, Lena can't help but notice the angry lines on her wrists from where Lex tied her to the chair.

Lena averts her eyes quickly, feeling shameful warmth blossom on her cheeks. "Give yourself a raise," she says softly. "And I'll let the psychological team know you should get first pick for an appointment."

"I'm already seeing a therapist, Miss Luthor," Jess replies, opening the way out of the office.

"Send me the bill then."

Jess stops at the door, leans over to scratch between Krypto's ears. "I will Miss Luthor, thank you." She starts walking away, limping minutely, but whirls around so suddenly that Lena startles back and bumps into the doorframe. "I hope you won't mind me asking Miss Luthor, but are you okay ?"

Lena's heart stutters. "No Jess," she whispers, her voice barely discernible from the loud pattering of the rain, "I don't think I am."

Finding a car that hasn't been completely destroyed and also belongs to her in the underground parking lot isn't easy, but when she finally slips inside a slick sport car, one that she doesn't think she's used before because it might have been a gift for Veronica, the smell of brand new leather and the smooth electronics ridiculously make her feel like she's regaining some form of control on her life. She doesn't even like driving that much.

She doesn't know where she's going until she reaches her destination, putting the car in park in a dream-like state a street away from her old apartment. The rain is still falling in sheets, and she trudges in the mud, climbing over barricades and ducking under police tape until she's standing under the fallen shape of what used to be her home. She doesn't know how she's going to get up there, but now that she's here, she thinks that it's always been what she intended to do.

The perpetually stuck door isn't stuck anymore. Granted it's because it's been blown off but it's nice that Lena doesn't have to shoulder her way in. The elevator is definitely out of commission, for a good reason this time, and the stairs are impractical, hanging sideways with the building and slick with rain. Lena makes her way to the back, the courtyard now extending well into the building and covered in trash and debris. Kara's bike is still there, though the force of the explosion pushed it on its side and it's now missing most of its engine.

Lena crouches to run her hand on the molten metal. In the grand scheme of things, in the face of dozens of people having lost their homes and her friend being turned into something yet to be named, it's nothing ; but it's one more thing that's been taken from Kara and her and it fills her with rage, the fire settling high in her chest and up her throat, and she releases a long overdue scream, the sound echoing endlessly against the brick walls.

She screams until her throat is raw, then screams some more, releasing one long desperate shout, a rumbling coming from so deep within herself that it causes her knees to give out from under her, landing her on all four in the mud. Drenched from head to toe, sticky and gross, she gets up, sheds her jacket, rolls her sleeves, and starts climbing up the slanted fire escape.

And well, Lena is by no mean an athlete, she hasn't run a mile since boarding school, definitely stopped going to the gym after Andrea left her, and considers her various assassination attempts as a good workout ; but the fury that fuels her is enough to haul her up to the top of the fallen building, arms burning from the effort, limbs cut and bruised, but victorious nonetheless. She slips inside through a missing window, not caring one bit for the fact her shirt gets caught on a shard of glass, tearing all the way up her left sleeve and staining the fabric with vivid red droplets. She tries to get a good look at the room, searching for anything that could be remotely red and vaguely rusted like Kara's souvenir box, but just when she thinks she sees it, laying in a mess of wet papers and wood chips a few meters on her right, she loses her grip on the window sill.

The angle at which the building lays prevents her from staying upright, and before she can stop it in any way, she's sent rolling pitifully all the way to the other side, body bumping painfully on the few pieces of furniture left standing. She crashed inches from a busted window, too close to a certain death for it to be comfortable, and, disoriented, body screaming from everything it's been submitted to in the past 24 hours, she lays there for a moment, rain trickling down on her from cracks in the ceiling, chest aching from each expansion. She probably cracked a rib or two, but that's not the most pressing matter.

Scrambling on all four to get mostly upright, she leans on the slanted wall, breathes in deeply, and jumps. She lands right back where she started, ankle bending at a worrying angle, and tries again. She misses again a couple of times, and only by the fifth attempt does she manage to take hold of the ruined kitchen counter, body slamming against the cracked marble countertop with a disgusting wet sound. She clambers on top of it carefully, moving slowly until she can climb down on the other side and tuck her body safely against the once pristine wood. It hurts when she breathes, she definitely busted a rib this time, but she can't stop now, even if she wants to. Krypto is waiting for her in the car and her mother is waiting for her at the hospital and she needs to move along and not die of hypothermia so she can safely get back to them if not for any other reason.

Sliding with the grace of a newborn puppy, she gets to the edge of the counter and, bracing herself for impact, jumps on the fridge. She catches herself on its open door which, of course, slams close under her weight, almost ridding her of three of her fingers on her left hand in the process. Huffing and puffing, she hauls herself on the side of the appliance, her eyes blurry from rain and what might be blood oozing from a cut on her forehead. If only Kara could see her now.

From this point on, the trek up to the corner that used to house Kara's office is easier. Not less dangerous, but easier. Lena gets around the busted doorframe easily enough, takes support on a bookshelf mercifully drilled into the wall, reaches the other door, the one they sealed shut after uniting hers and Kara's apartment and there, tucked in a mass of debris, she finds the box. She slips when she tries to grab it and only dumb luck saves her from what this time would have been a fatal fall. She lands back on the side of the bookshelf, breath rushing out of her, box tucked safely in her arms, its edge digging in her chest.

It's no wonder Kara didn't find it. It's more orange than red now, having been battered by the elements for weeks, and retained little of its prior rectangular shape, a hole having been pierced inward on its side from the explosion. With trembling fingers, she pries it open, praying that its content won't have been definitely lost, that Kara won't have lost yet another piece of her world on top of everything else.

It's all still there. By the grace of some sort of miracle, it's all still there. The drawings and maps of Krypton are a little charred on one side and wet, but nothing that isn't unsalvageable, and the rock like pendant with the seal of the House of El is there too. There's something new too, something that wasn't there the last time Lena opened this box without permission, when there was no hope for anything and her heart had been shattered inside her chest.

It's another, smaller, box, covered in deep green velvet and with a silver shamrock etched on top. Lena knows she shouldn't open this one, that it's going to ruin her definitely. She does it anyway and finds inside exactly what she expected ; a ring. A Claddagh ring to be exact, two joined hands and a crowned heart in a smooth white gold, that Kara must have gotten on one of her numerous trips to Lena's homeland. And it doesn't come as a surprise, she's known they were going to get married for a long time now, knows it's been Kara's intention from the very moment she opened her eyes again back on the spaceship, but seeing it in person is different. Seeing it in person reminds her of everything she's lost, everything she's given away. Seeing it in person hurts, adds another layer to the pain that has been burning her insides for days, adds power to the flames licking at her soul with the intention of reducing her to ash.

Lena cries, ring clutched to her chest, for what feels like hours until her phone starts ringing in her pocket and, shaking herself, she slips the ring on her right hand, heart pointing inward, and she starts her journey out. She hasn't taken her Kryptonian bracelet off either, couldn't bring herself to, but putting the ring on is different. It's a promise. A silent one sure, one that Kara doesn't even know she's making, but a promise nonetheless to make it right.

Lena gets the good idea of changing from her ruined clothes before meeting her mother at the hospital. There's not much she can do for her cuts and bruises without seeing a doctor herself but the slacks and loose sweater she puts on help a little. She hugs Krypto, triple checks that the apartment is locked, and jumps back in her too fancy sports car, probably garnering a few speeding tickets on her way to Lillian. She's not late though, which she'll take as a small victory.

Her mother is sitting in her medicalised chair when Lena enters the room, eyes closed, body relaxed against the horrendous blue pleather ; and only the minute rise and fall of her silk clad torso indicates that she's not already dead.

"Ah, Lena," she says without opening her eyes, "come join me."

Lena pads closer, her boots squeaking on the floor, and lets herself drop carefully in the armchair closest to Lillian. She hisses when the new position puts weight on her bruises and at the sound, her mother opens her eyes, brow furrowed in concern.

"Hello Mother," Lena says. She doesn't need to fake the small smile on her face when she looks at the older woman, but she does need to deflect her interrogations. "How did you know it was me ?"

Lillian waves her hand around like it's supposed to mean something. "You've always had this funny walk," she explains, "I recognised it. Plus, you're never late."

"I have a funny walk ?" Lena echoes in disbelief, eyebrows shooting high on her forehead.

Lillian hums quietly, smiles with the distinctive way of remembrance. "You've always walked extremely fast," she says softly. "With purpose. Even when you were just a child." She pauses, blinks and looks away then repeats, to herself, "you were just a child."

After a second, she turns back to Lena rather abruptly, raises a hand to lay it on her cheek, where Lena knows there is an angry bruise, and a cut slathered in foul smelling lotion. "Who did this to you ?"

Lena is reticent to answer, but like often with Lillian, she doesn't get much choice. Her mother stares at her inquisitively, her light eyes piercing easily through the web of lies Lena has built around herself. "Was it Lex ?"

Lena deflates on her chair, aching shoulders folding into herself, and after letting out a deep long sigh says, "yes. Yes it was Lex."

"Bastard," Lillian mumbles uncharacteristically. "He escaped, didn't he ?"

Lena nods at that, can't bring herself to say much more.

"I should have listened to myself," Lillian whispers, pressing a weary hand to her chest, "a mother always knows."

Lena scoffs, suddenly eager to pick a fight, to externalise a little bit of the rage that burns inside of her, to throw her fire at somebody else so that they too will hurt like she hurts. "A mother always knows ?" she repeats with a snarl.

"Yes," Lillian says, infuriatingly calm, "a mother always knows. That doesn't mean I acted accordingly, but I've always known, and I'm done playing favourites now."

"Oh don't kid yourself," Lena cuts, laughing sadly, "you're still playing favourite, you just had to pick a different kid because the other one's a maniac."

Lillian at least as the decency to hang her head in shame. "I know none of my apologies will ever be enough but-"

"What an astute observation," Lena mumbles.

"-but I want to try if you let me. I know I should have stepped in then, but I won't let you fall into his claws now."

"It's a little too late for that," Lena remarks, tone deliberately light, "I've already fallen into his game. I gave up everything so he wouldn't take it away from me." She glances down at her ring, the weight already familiar on her finger. "I'm not sure there's anything left of me to salvage."

Lillian opens her mouth to refute her but before her words can travel from her brain to her tongue, the journey likely slowed down by the chemical frying her body, two nurses come into the room ; they can't exactly talk about Lex in public.

They lapse into silence for the duration of the chemo session, Lena retreating on herself and Lillian overly careful of not pushing her. There's a small screen hooked to the ceiling in the far left corner of the room and they pass the hour by watching mind boggling daytime television. Lena can't believe they're still filming this kind of crap, but she can appreciate the numbing quality. She expects to go home straight away, but when Lillian is done gathering her things, putting on her long wool coat, slipping on her kitten heels, she's surprised to find her awkward and hovering.

"Would you like a cup of tea ?" she offers.

And again, Lena can do little more than nod.

It takes five minutes inside of Lillian apartment for Lena to realise she doesn't know what her mother is like in private. She wasn't allowed in her room at the manor, and she's never visited after she moved here. The penthouse is spacious, a little too much for a single widow, but surprisingly cozy, with furniture of rich dark wood, a multitude of plaid throws, and enough books to fill an entire library. There are paintings on the walls, all originals, and a couple of pictures strewn around the living room. She spots one of herself and Kara taken at the gala what feels like millennia ago, and on the mantelpiece a stiff portrait of her five years old self sitting on her mother's knees. She doesn't remember this last one being taken.

"You were a beautiful little girl," Lillian says, coming up behind her with a mug of dark tea in her trembling hands. Lena relieves her of it and takes a sip ; it's exactly how she likes it and she wonders how long exactly her mother has been paying attention to her. Maybe always.

She stares at a picture, takes in her round face, her forcefully straightened hair, the vacant stare in her eyes. "Was I ?"

"Yes," Lillian replies, taking a sip out of her own cup and moving to settle on the plush burgundy couch, "you really were. And I remember, God," she laughs, "I remember being so jealous."

"Jealous ?"

"I'd only ever seen pictures of your mother, but when I saw you for the first time, I realised she must have been beyond breathtaking. And you were so strange and fragile and lively, and I never stopped regretting not being a better mother to you. I should never have let Lex break you."

She pauses there, and Lena jumps on the occasion to unload some more of her pain, digging deep within herself to unearth this particular nugget of grief. "You broke me first," she says in a calm, even voice. "All I wanted then was a family. Someone to hug me when I'd had a bad day at school and to tuck me in at night in my big bed, in this big house, in this big fucking country. If you'd explained, if you'd only said why you hated me, I think I would have understood but-"

"I never hated you," Lillian interrupts gently.

Lena lets out a big angry laugh. She sounds crass, uncouth, so un-Luthor-like, but she can't help it. "I don't know how you expect me to believe that when your hand was the first one to leave an imprint on my body. Do you even remember it ? I came home from school crying and you slapped me so hard I had a bruise for two weeks. I started wearing make-up at five years old to hide this kind of thing."

"I never forgot about that."

"To your credit," Lena continues, casually walking to grab a biscuit on the coffee table before she settles in an armchair a good distance away from Lillian, "you stopped beating me when I was eleven. Lex never did."

Lillian visibly cringes but doesn't avert her eyes. She looks sheepish, saddened, but Lena needs her to bear witness to the damage she's done.

"I don't know if I can ever forgive you," Lena continues, "I don't know if this is forgivable, but I'm willing to at least give a shot to our relationship. Just-" she sighs, runs a hand through her hair, "just stop fucking grovelling. Please."

Lena half expects to be berated for her language, not that she would fucking care, but instead Lillian's mouth stretches into a thin smile, sorrow dripping from her lips. "Alright," she concedes, "I may have been trying a little too hard."

Lena smiles too, softly, though she doesn't mean to. "Just a little."

"I'll do better from now on," Lillian promises. "I'll do better for the time we have left."

Lena shivers. With Jack out of commission, L-Corp's cancer research is on pause and though she refuses to believe there's no hope for Lillian, the reminder of her looming death, of her outright acceptance of it makes her feel sick and useless.

"That's all I ask for."

They fall into silence afterward, drinking their tea in a peaceful companionship so alien to Lena when it comes to her mother that it takes her a while to fully relax. She melts into her plump armchair, the seat more comfortable than anything she remembers from the manor and after a while, she even starts dozing off, eyes periodically closing for a few seconds at a time, then for a few minutes. A part of her remains on edge, fully expecting for everything to derail again ; but another more potent part, the part that's tired and sad and lonely, thinks maybe she's allowed to feel safe for an hour or two.

/"Miss Luthor ! Miss Luthor ! Over here Miss Luthor !"

The lights are blinding, they make her feel nauseous, weak.

"Miss Luthor ! Any comment on testifying against your brother ?"

Sam's arm wraps protectively against her shoulders, her hand shoots in front of her face, middle finger raised to protect her from the cameras.

"Miss Luthor ! Miss Luthor ! How much did your pro-alien views impact your relationship with your brother ?"

Sam's hold tightens. A few feet away, the car pulls up to the curb.

"Miss Luthor ! Are you going to take over Luthor Corp ?"

Sam yanks the door open with a little too much strength, the metal creaking dangerously. She helps Lena in, carrying her into the confined space to the best of her abilities. Above her shoulder, Lena catches sight of Lex getting dragged out of the tribunal. He's got a manic look, and when their eyes meet, they both know this is only the beginning./

When Lena startles awake from her nap, Lillian is busy stoking flames in what she thought was only a decorative fireplace. She's humming quietly to the radio, a hot water bottle tied to her middle with an old scarf.

"I ordered Chinese. Are you staying for dinner ?"

Lena's vision blurs with futile tears, and before she can wipe them off, pretend they're not there, her mother has crouched down before her, a warm hand pressed to her knee.

"Oh Lena. I'll kill him for you."