I'M KARA DANVERS

16: almighty silence

Kara didn't have to say anything for Alex to know she was upset when she walked into the DEO. When Kara hadn't called her after seeing Lena, Alex had figured it had either gone extremely well or extremely poorly. Kara's face was enough to give her an answer: there was practically a little storm cloud over her head.

"Sparring room?" Alex asked her sister, eyebrows arched inquisitively.

"Sparring room."

Kara cranked the kryptonite levels up as high as Alex would allow it. Every punch felt like her limbs were filled with lead; like she was pushing mountains with her fists.

"Again," she gasped every time Alex took her down, sweat dripping from her face onto the canvas floor.

Alex gave her a pained look, but she knew Kara's limits, and she respected her too much to go easy. Kara's punches were undisciplined and unrestrained. The few that connected with Alex set the older Danvers back a few steps with a grunt. But Kara left herself open to all of Alex's swift and effective takedowns. Sheer strength and force wasn't always enough. Kara knew that—Alex had taught her that long ago.

Alex swept Kara's feet out from under her and pushed her shoulder down to the ground, pinning her there with a firm forearm.

"Again," Kara sputtered, but Alex shook her head.

Kara was at the end of her rope, her face turning a sickly green colour from the kryptonite exposure. "That's enough," Alex said firmly. She released Kara and dialled the kryptonite levels back to zero.

Kara sighed in exasperation and pushed herself up from the matt, circling her arms around her knees as she slowly felt her strength return, like every one of her cells was regenerating. Alex sat down next to her sister, who leaned into her side, breathing hard and staring straight ahead. She wrapped her arms around Kara, wishing with all her being that she could make this fractured woman whole.

"Feeling any better?" Alex asked quietly after they had sat there for a while.

"No," Kara croaked. "But thanks anyway, Al."

"Any time."

//

Lena Luthor prided herself on the knowledge that she was a strong person. She was a steel beam, forged in the fires of the Luthor Mansion, where Lionel was distant, and a good day with Lillian was a day when she went completely ignored. On a bad day, Lillian did her worst to break her down, using subtle criticisms from her sharp tongue as weapons with which to pierce Lena's armour. But she never cracked, and she was proud of that.

Lena had watched helplessly as her beloved brother lost his mind, despite her every effort to keep him in the light. The media had hounded her relentlessly in the months leading up to and after Lex's trial, but every malicious headline only served to strengthen her armour, which by now was nigh impenetrable. Nothing touched her anymore.

But she would be lying if she tried to convince herself that finding out she was truly a Luthor hadn't struck a weak spot in her defences—a hairline fracture that threatened to splinter everything she had built into thousands of pieces. Everything she had ever believed about herself was called into question with this one revelation.

Was Lionel the good man she had always believed him to be? Was Lillian truly the monster she had imagined her as her whole life? Knowing the truth, Lena almost sympathised with the woman. Living with her, a constant and undeniable reminder of Lionel's betrayal, couldn't have been easy. Lena could feel the same sour taste in her mouth Lillian must have felt looking at her, all those years since she entered their lives.

Most of all, Lena questioned if she, too, was meant for the Luthor destiny; if her future was to be coloured by hate, by evil, by madness. Believing she was not of Luthor blood had kept her safe for all these years, or so she thought. But now that defence was gone, leaving Lena completely exposed.