The snap

She doesn’t remember Lena’s place being so massive. Don’t get her wrong: she loves how spacious her assigned room is and the view is downright breathtaking. But she hasn’t once managed to make it back to “her” room without first ending up in one of the many walk-in wardrobes or another bedroom by mistake. Even the art on the walls – black and white photographs mostly, with a touch of colour here and there; one signed by James, a few from Leibovitz, Mapplethorpe, Salgado and Muholi, along with a couple of paintings (she spots two Hockneys and a Picasso) – is no help. 

She keeps on getting lost. 

And keeps on running into people: Lena’s chef, Lena’s masseuse and… Lena. Which is fine, nothing out of the ordinary, considering they’ve been living under the same roof for months now. Except Lena’s usually wearing a lab coat or a three piece suit. What she’s trying to say is: Lena’s usually wearing clothes, period – not a bikini. (Because of course Lena’s penthouse has a pool.) And although Alex belongs to the rare breed that finds glasses and a lab coat incredibly sexy, a bikini — not to mention: Lena in a bikini – is a whole other story. (One no one could possibly feel indifferent about. And Alex’s only human.)

Which is a problem. Being smitten by her sister’s best friend is already out of the question, but lusting after a co-worker – currently hosting her, no less – is… not an option. (She just hasn’t been with anyone in a long time. Yes, that would explain it. Nothing Lucy hasn’t been painfully teasing her about.)

Thankfully, she’s got a full programme, preventing her from spending too much time in too close quarters with said host.

Oscar and Maria – Vasquez’ parents – are lovely. Curious, uncomplicated to the point of being self-effacing, and just as content traipsing through National City as going through one of the many photo albums of Vasquez they brought along (said photo albums make up an entire suitcase of theirs). Case in point: it’s the third time they’re looking at this one. She’s happy to let them set the pace, takes them to the major touristy spots and tries not to think of the last time she visited some of them, in the company of Sam and Ruby. She weaves in stories of the many ops Vasquez was involved in along the way. Both tear up at the memorial, when she shows them Vasquez’ engraved name. It makes for an odd tour, but they seem happy and proud of their daughter’s achievements, which is the only thing that matters. 

National City’s changed since she last lived there. It’s the same city, yet altogether different. The mark the Snap’s left on it is still raw and undeniable: the harbour’s practically a ghost town and downtown’s been hit particularly hard. The city’s biggest stadium and state opera are both closed indefinitely. There’s a visible lack of maintenance of public infrastructure and shabby tent villages taking over every vacant lot. A reminder of how much state priorities have shifted in the aftermath, with public funding pulled from social programmes to support an unprecedented craze towards even more militarisation. Yet here and there, life seems to be blossoming once more. 

They pass by L-Corp’s new headquarters, covered in plants, with a museum on the ground floor. They walk by CatCo. She tries not to think of Kara too much, which is setting herself up for failure, for Kara is everywhere: every single street, restaurant, café, brings up a memory. Except Noonan’s now replaced by a swanky co-working space, Kara’s occasional yoga studio is not there anymore and so are her favourite pizza delivery place and donut place. It’s as if the city itself is trying to erase her from the books. The memorial of course hits a nerve. She avoids looking too fixedly at the statue of her sister in full Supergirl regalia. Something’s wrong with her face. It’s not right, it’s not… It’s not Kara. Not her Kara. 

She takes them to the DEO. It wasn’t part of her initial plan, but the more she thought about it, the more it felt impossible not to: this is after all where Vasquez spent most of her days and many weekends. She had to pull (more than) a few strings for them to get in, even roped Lucy and Colonel Rhodes in, but it paid off: she gives them a tour of the facility. It feels strange being here, so many faces she recognises (and so many she does not), a few who even call her “Director.” Vasquez, J’onn, Kara are everywhere here, in every corridor, in every room. She powers through the nausea. Oscar and Maria have stars in their eyes, when she explains their daughter was a close collaborator of Supergirl’s. She even organises a small afterwork get together with some of Vasquez’ old colleagues, grateful so many show up. Everyone’s awkward, at first, but then Maria opens one of the photo albums (because of course they brought those along) and the tension evaporates. One guy Alex vaguely remembers from their bar nights shows Oscar pictures of Vasquez with his kids, another of Vasquez on a camping weekend. Alex drinks.

She insists on driving with Maria and Oscar to the airport, to see them off. They say goodbye with tears in their eyes and an unnecessarily long hug during which she awkwardly pats a sniffling Oscar on the back. She promises to stay in touch and is surprised to realise she means it: she’s reluctant to close this chapter, end this connection. 

She dries her eyes, refusing to let the tears fall and takes her time on the way back into town, a deep sadness threatening to overwhelm her.

Lena breaks her front crawl upon spotting her. She remains submerged up to her neck: “Alex, Hey.”

“Don’t stop on my account.”

“You found my favourite refuge.”

“Yeah.” Somehow, without thinking about it, she’d found her way to the penthouse’s lap pool. She watches her feet swirling in the pool, water coming up to her calves.

Lena must sense her mood, for she stands and slides her goggles up: “Everything alright?”

(There it is again, that reaction to Lena in a bikini. What is wrong with her?)

Her feet continue their mindless pattern, she sidesteps the question: “How was your day?”

“Long. Productive.”

“How did the…uhh…negotiations go?”

Lena disappears, before resurfacing. “Get in and I’ll tell you” she answers coyly, blinking the water out of her eyes and drawing closer to splash her lightly.

Alex laughs, leaning away from the spray. “Oh, is that how this is going to go?” She shakes her head: “I didn’t bring a swimsuit.” 

“That’s a flimsy excuse if I ever heard one.”

“What, you want me to jump in in my underwear?”

“If you must. Come on, chop chop.”

She must admit the warm water looks tempting after the past three days spent on her feet playing tour guide. Fine. She stands and strips, laughing at Lena’s attempt at a wolf whistle (Lena! whistling!) and pretending for a second she’s putting on a show (because yeah, that’s happening).

She wades in: “You’re way too chipper, my money’s on a successful meeting.”

“Andrea accepted to act as temporary placeholder in addition to her official role as COO. So yes, all in all a success.”

“Wow, amazing! Congratulations!”

“Thank you.” 

She lies back in the water, lost in the shimmering shapes on the room’s ceiling. “Fuck this is nice.”

“It is, isn’t it? Want to know when I’m at my most relaxed?”

“I’m listening.”

“I turn the lights out. The room, the pool, the water, everything plunged into nothingness.”

“Seriously? And what, you swim in the darkness?”

“Want to try?”

“Sure.”

One verbal command and all the lights in the room go dark. It’s disorienting, being unable to make out Lena’s shape, to see where the pool begins and where it ends. All she has to orientate herself are light sloshes and delicate ripples. 

“What do you think?”

She’s overcome with a foreign urge at the sound of Lena’s voice, so close. “It’s a little bit like sensory deprivation? The good kind, though.”

Lena hums. “I did that once. An isolation tank. I found the experience rather unpleasant at the time.” 

She remembers some of the DEO’s interrogation techniques to break a particularly difficult suspect, feels a cold shiver at the memory of breaking out of Rick Malverne’s water tank.

Thankfully, Lena interrupts her darker thoughts: “I didn’t always like swimming.”

“Why not?”

“My mother drowned when I was four.”

Right. She remembers reading about that. She had felt ill at ease, like a voyeur, delving into the Avengers’ file on Lena. The first time, with the DEO, she didn’t know her: all Lena was to her then was a potential threat to Kara. But that was not the case anymore. The only reason she did, in truth, is to find the best strategy to convince Natasha and Cap to bring her on board.

“I was there.”

She stills. That was definitely not in the file. Not in the DEO’s and not in the Avengers’. Lena was there? As in there when it happened? As in…

“I don’t… remember, not really, it was all so long ago. But for a few years after – many years – I just couldn’t… I was scared of the water. I think the isolation tank brought that memory back.”

“Shit, Lena” she draws closer to where she imagines Lena to be, until her hand bumps into skin. “I’m so so sorry.” It brings her back to their conversation on the plane. Another one of those perceived weaknesses the Luthors must have worked hard to stamp out, no doubt. She feels a surge of rage towards Lena’s adoptive family. “What helped?”

Lena scoffs, “Not much of a choice: Lilian was relentless. But I’m almost grateful. Now swimming makes me feel closer to my mother. I have this image of her, laughing and splashing in the lake.” Their hands touch. “I… I haven’t told many people.” A pause. “I haven’t told anybody, actually. Lex, the Luthors, already knew, I didn’t have to.”

How come this is the first time she hears any of this? A mix of emotions bubbles up, her throat suddenly dry: “I’m sorry.” 

“Whatever for?”

“For not replying, when you reached out. Your text about Kara, those first days. I… You were all… And I… I just couldn’t…”

She can feel Lena slow her movements: “Alex…”

She lifts a hand to interrupt her: “No, I need to say this. It’s been long overdue.” She swallows, looking for the right words. “We haven’t talked about the snap. I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your text then.” Lena had reached out and Alex had ignored her, a douchey move. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“We both had a lot on our plate, Alex” Lena protests, measured.

She shakes her head: “Still, that’s no excuse. Not really. You were trying to be nice. And I just… ghosted you.” 

“It was one text, I’d hardly call that ghosting.”

“Lena…”

“You didn’t owe me anything, Alex. We didn’t owe anything to each other.” It sounds harder than the delivery and leaves a bitter aftertaste.

She winces, chases Lena’s retreating hand. “We were friends. I failed you. You deserved a better friend. I hope you can forgive me.”

Even though she can’t see her, she feels Lena’s intense stare. “Thank you”, whispered in the dark.

“And… if you ever want to talk about it, about your mother, I’m here.”

Lena replies with a short press of her hand. 

She gets drunk. 

(Let’s face it, she was always going to get smashed. How else is she supposed to make it through tonight?

Except she gets drunk too fast, mixes her drinks, loses track of what she’s been drinking altogether, all on an otherwise empty stomach.) 

It’s not pretty.

Reconnecting with Lucy is as fun as she’d expected and doesn’t call for too much effort on her part. She sits back and listens to her rant and bitch, her hilarious stories supplanting the evening’s heaviness. She lets Lucy feel her up (her appreciative and way too loud: “Danvers, you’re jacked!” gets them a couple of judgemental stares), refuses to speculate about Cap’s virginity, ignores her threats to play matchmaker (“What do you mean, you’re not on Tinder?”) and pretends she doesn’t see her flirting across the room with a particularly handsome guest. If anything, Lucy’s maybe a little bit too eager to fill the silences (probably her own way of coping, these days). There’s a moment there, buzzed and laughing at Lucy’s antics, where she feels warm, almost… joyful. They agree not to let as much time pass before seeing each other again and Alex surprises herself by inviting her to visit the Avengers HQ.

She’s well past her fifth drink when she finds the evening’s host. For a second there, it feels like she’s drowning in recollections of moments spent in Kelly and James’ company. She pushes against it and for once, they manage to venture beyond small talk. She talks about Natasha and Steve, about Sun and Mun, finds herself opening up like she hasn’t in… forever. She offers glimpses of those first days and weeks after the Snap, even though this entire time’s shrouded in the fog of memory. Kelly talks about dating, about her practice in Metropolis, talks about the old wounds losing James reopened: the loss of her father and that of her fiancée. She compares post-Snap Metropolis to her experiences in Iraq and Afghanistan. And Alex is captivated.

There’s something there. She’s sure of it. A genuine connection. The other people in the room, the noise around them, tonight’s theme or where the hell Lucy’s disappeared to, it all fades away. Were Kelly’s eyes always this entrancing? Kelly places her hand on Alex’s, leans in and she can’t possibly be imagining it: she’s about to kiss her. She panics, shuts her eyes, and… 

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this, Alex…” Kelly whispers, so close. “You could look into talking to someone?” She gives her hand a squeeze. “You may find it useful. I know it’s helped me tremendously these past years. I wouldn’t suggest myself, obviously, but there’re a few colleagues I know who’ve helped law enforcement and supers in the past. I understand if it’s not your cup of tea, but you may well be surprised.”

What… Did Kelly just…?

Oh. Wow.

This is… She did not see that coming. At all.

Fuck. Is she that delusional she misread concern for a come-on? How embarrassing, how fucking pathetic.

And sure, that ship with Kelly – if there ever was any – sailed a long time ago. But it felt nice, to think that she was maybe relating to someone. 

Kelly grabs a notepad lying nearby, scribbles something down: “Here: her name is Dr Christina Raynor. This is her contact number”, she rips the page out and wraps Alex’s fist around it. “You can tell her you and I spoke.”

She shrinks back: “I… I don’t know why… I don’t…” Why would she say that? “I’m fine. I’m completely fine.”

Kelly doesn’t look too surprised at her reaction (which makes it somehow so much worse). “Then I’m glad. But it’s ok if you’re not, you know. None of us are fine, Alex. We saw people vanish in front of us. We lost family members, friends and colleagues, all at once, in the blink of an eye. You’re allowed to want – to need – to talk about it. You’re allowed to seek support. Think about it.”

That pretty much seals the deal and confirms there’s truly nothing salvageable about this evening. What was she even thinking, coming here? There’s a reason she avoids these events like the plague. 

The air in the room is suffocating. She makes a hasty exit, fights a couple of stubborn tears – where the fuck did those come from? – and retreats to the rooftop.

“There you are.”

She’s a little bit confused as to how much time’s passed. The air’s grown chillier, the sounds of the city quieter. She thinks she might have been crying. Then again, maybe not. 

She looks up. Lena’s bathed in soft pinks, backlit by the day’s waning light. And if she were in a less melancholy mood, if this weren’t Lena and she weren’t Alex, she might describe the sight as impossibly beautiful. Fuck, Lena’s gorgeous. (She truly is all over the place tonight.)

“Lena?”

It doesn’t sound like she’s slurring her words, so there’s that at least. 

“Mind if I join you?”

She scoots over with difficulty on the hard surface. Lena settles down next to her with a groan, their shoulders touching. 

“Looks like you found quite the coveted spot.”

Alex leans back against the wall, her head slightly spinning. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply. “The view’s not nearly as breathtaking as from your penthouse.”

See, she can even utter full, coherent, sentences. Not drunk at all.

“If it’s a panorama you’re after, then you should come to L-Corp’s headquarters. We’ve got the best view of National City. 360 and all.”

“Mhh.” She believes her. She wants to tell her she saw them, wants to compliment the building’s architecture, but doesn’t have the energy for it.

“How’s your evening going?”

Ha. She lifts her phone, the screen briefly lighting up their faces: “You tell me: I scored the hot number of a therapist, from a concerned friend.” 

She felt mortified earlier, but now, in this low buzz, she can almost see the comedy in it. (Almost.)

“Ouch. That bad.”

Oh and then some! “Yup.” 

“Kelly?”

“Bingo.”

“She means well.”

Lena’s response doesn’t sit well with her. It feels like she’s taking Kelly’s side, when she should be in Alex’s corner. 

“I just… I don’t understand why she’d…” She shakes her head. “I’m fine. Why do people keep on bringing up shrinks and… and… and psychological fitness screenings… and counselling groups? I’m fucking fine!”

Lena shrugs: “Then don’t reach out to Kelly’s contact.”

“That’s it? You’re not going to…? I thought… I don’t know… I thought you’d be the first one to scoff at all this.”

“At one seeking help if they need it?”

She’s got a feeling Lena knows exactly what she meant and is being difficult on purpose.

“No… Not if you put it like that. But… Come on… You know…”

Lena sighs. “I do. And you’re right. Bringing up mental health would have been a sure way to be ridiculed mercilessly in my family. But I’ve come to see the value in taking it into consideration more, caring for it better and breaking the taboos around it.”

Is she saying what she thinks she’s saying? “Wait… You’re not saying… You’re seeing someone?”

“I was. Before the Snap. My therapist was unfortunately among the disappeared. I haven’t felt like starting over with someone new since.”

This new piece of information leaves Alex utterly speechless.

“It helped, you know. One has to find the right person, the right fit, establish a rapport. It’s a lot of time and energy, a lot of work on oneself. And it’s certainly not for everyone. But it did help me.”

She mulls it over. She finds it hard to picture Lena baring it all on a therapist’s couch. If Lena weren’t showing this vulnerable side of hers right now, she’d probably think she’s messing with her.

“Is that what you were hoping for tonight? To – as you so delicately put it – score?”

Alex chuckles. “No. No.  I wouldn’t… Definitely not at… You know: such an event.” Reality, never too far away, catches up with her: “Not on such a day.” She pauses before continuing: “It’d just… It’d be nice, I guess. To feel… Maybe I’d just like to feel wanted.” She shrugs. “Fuck that sounded pathetic. What about you?”

“Who did I score?” Lena answers with mirth colouring her tone. She pushes against Alex’s side: “Well I was under the impression that I was bringing a certain very fit ex–agent home… But now I hear they may have other plans…”

Alex blushes. It’s not often she gets to see Lena’s more playful side. “I mean how’s your… How was your day? Did you just get here?”

She nods to Alex’s hand: “Should I be worried you’re recording our conversation?”

Oh, right. She’s completely forgotten about her phone. “What? Oh, yeah, no. I was just trying to call Maggie when you arrived.”

“Maggie?”

“Yeah.” 

She doesn’t know why Lena’d sound so surprised. It’s not that outlandish an idea. In another life, Maggie’d have become her wife.

“Maggie Sawyer? Your ex, the detective, that Maggie?”

“Yeah.” She squints down at the screen: “I’m on my third miss call.”

“Have the two of you stayed in touch?”

“Yeah. I mean: kind of. Sporadically. She’s in Gotham now.”

“And she hasn’t picked up?”

“No.”

“Did you leave a message?”

What’s with all the questions? “Not yet.” 

“Good. I think we can all agree a fourth call is unnecessary at this point. How about this: you give me your phone and I’ll return it once morning comes and drunk calls to exes appear as bad an idea as they actually are?”

She extends her hand in a move reminiscent of Alex, that day she came to collect Lena’s electronic devices. (How the tables have turned.) Alex hands her phone over, but holds on to it, feeling belligerent. Lena’s hand is cold against hers, yet the touch warms something in her.

“Alex…”

She lets go of her phone and blurts out: “I really thought she was the one.”

Lena shifts to face her more fully: “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, you two made a very cute couple.”

“We just… It just worked, you know? She was it for me.”  The tears are making a comeback. Fuck. She wipes at them angrily. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where this is coming from.” She thought she’d put the Maggie thing well behind her.

“Please, don’t apologise.”

Lena’s hand comes to rest on her thigh, soothing some of her growing agitation.

“It’s just so… What if she was the one, you know? What if I fucked it all up. Just because… because of this stupid wanting to have kids question?”

Lena frowns: “You knowing what you want is not stupid, Alex.”

“But where did it get me? Honestly! It’s been how many years? I’m single. Definitely not a mom. In fact, I literally have no family left. None! My father? Dead. My mom: gone. And Kara, the one I did all of this for, the one I built my entire world around: gone.” The end comes out strangled in a half sob, half chuckle. 

“I miss her too, Alex.” Lena’s hands reach up to her shoulders tentatively. “Come here.” She pulls her towards her, gently. And once she feels Alex come willingly, she guides her, her hands cradling Alex’s cheeks. She brings Alex’s forehead against her own, looking straight into her eyes. Alex could be wrong, but she’s pretty sure there’re unshed tears there. “I miss her too” Lena repeats in the same soft hush ghosting over Alex’s mouth. 

“I miss her so fucking much” she sobs. 

“I know, baby. I know. We’re going to bring her back.” 

She closes her eyes and tries to match Lena’s breathing. 

Alex ends up on her side, curled on the cold floor, with her face in Lena’s lap. Lena’s hands are in her hair, one hand brushing the baby hairs around her ear. 

They could leave it at that, but no, Alex’s drunken brain has other plans.

She blurts out: “Why did you come find me that day, in Tokyo?”

She feels Lena go rigid, the muscles underneath her tensing. The silence stretches between them, suddenly heavy.

Finally, Lena offers: “One of my board members was killed.”

She doesn’t say: you killed one of my board members. Alex doesn’t know if it’s out of kindness or denial.

“I had to know if L-Corp was the intended target” she continues.

Sure, but: “That’s how or why you found me, not why you came.”

Lena sighs: “You forget I lost my adoptive father and my brother, Alex. Long before either of them died. Some would argue my adoptive mother is well on her way there as well.”

She’s confused… What does Tokyo have to do with Lionel and Lex Luthor?

“I know first hand how destructive it can be for someone to… to retreat into their own mind. I wouldn’t wish that path on anyone.”

Oh. That… No. She’s not comfortable with such a comparison.

“I can see you bristling: I’m not drawing a parallel between you. I’d like to think that you and I were friends before… or if not, getting there at least. I might not have known you that well, but… That… That personae. Ronin or however you call them. I’d like to think that that isn’t who you want to be.”

Want to be. Interesting choice of words. 

“You’re not going to tell me that that wasn’t me?”

“I think that as a Luthor I’d be hard pressed to deny the darkness that’s in most – if not all – of us.”

“So you came to my rescue?”

Lena sounds upset when she replies: “Is it that outlandish to you that someone’d care enough to want to help?”

She closes her eyes, focuses on the soothing pattern of Lena’s fingers against her scalp: “Maybe I’m not used to someone else doing the saving. Apart from Kara, I mean.”

“Didn’t we establish I already did?”

They did. Alex lifts her hand and tugs one of Lena’s down to her chest. Lena’s other hand stops its motion. She whispers: “Thank you.”

She doesn’t elaborate: Thank you for coming that day. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being here with me. She's tired, oh so very tired.

“You’re welcome. Now let’s get you home.”

“Actually,” she keeps her hold on Lena’s hand, holds it close to her heart, “could we just… stay here. For a moment? Not long, just for a little bit.”