[Supercorp] Desolate Stars

Ghost

Sorry I didn't post I had to get prepared for the mile so I was jogging those days I didn't post and just working out in general cause I bitch don't wanna get a bad score sorry for the long ranting ENJOY☺️❤️

"Ms. Luthor?"

Lena pushed the button down on her intercom, "Yes, Jess?"

"A CatCo reporter is here, she wants to conduct an interview with you."

A pause.

"Send her up."

"Right away, Ms. Luthor."

Lena sighed and poured herself another glass of red wine, swirling it around before swiveling her chair to face her wall of windows overlooking National City.

She took a sip, relishing the bitter taste of ridiculously expensive centuries-old foreign grapes.

It had not even been a week into her stay and she was already suspected - or more accused - of the first object that blew up since her move.

For a moment Lena wondered what Kara thought about everything. Even after her own brother took Clark's life, would the blonde still have faith in her?

She suddenly chuckled to herself, taking a large gulp.

Of course not.

The last she heard from Kara was before Clark died, and she had taken up an internship somewhere.

She heard the familiar sound of the double doors to her office creak open and tentative steps approach her desk.

Lena turned around, "Let's get this over with. Did I have anything to do with the explosion of the Ven-"

She stiffened.

The blonde reporter smiled softly, tender, but cautious, nervously fiddling with her glasses.

Guess the habit still stuck.

"Kara..." the Luthor whispered.

Her lips formed a hesitant smile, "Lena."

They stood there, after almost a decade, just to take in each other's appearance, to note any changes.

Kara was ever the same as her high school years: awkward, endearing, friendly... Her physical image had not changed, unless she was in her Supergirl attire. The hero, who was sure and certain, who was helpful and genuine in her care and actions.

Who was Kara.

With the Luthor, she seemed more professional, poised and graceful she was, wearing such elegant business attire with her hair down, not a single strand out of place perhaps controlled by Lena's will herself.

It was not terribly different, but the way she held her ground, her place, it oozed charisma and leadership and endurance...confidence in her own abilities with no ounce of weakness or an urge to back down.

Kara found herself feeling proud for the woman.

The C.E.O.'s knuckles were white as she tightened her grip around her wine glass.

Her friend noticed, despair etched across her features when she saw the quarter full bottle of wine on the otherwise colorless state of the desk.

Lena quickly diverted her attention from the alcohol, "A reporter?"

Kara only smiled, though it did not quite reach her eyes, "Funny, right? It's almost ironic. You were always the one that had a gift with words."

"How would you know?" Lena arched a brow, "I've never shown you anything."