Ii. Secret.

ii. secret.

Lena Luthor dies a villain.

Her death took out half the population in the vicinity. A blinding white light piercing through the National City skyline. A deafening boom heard 5 cities over. An explosion so great, even Supergirl was knocked dead.

And so, Lena Luthor dies a villain.

Alone and young. And so, so bitter. An accomplice and ally to Lex Luthor.

Some would even say she was a greater, far more cunning, far more terrifying force than Lex.

There were rumors that the woman had magic at the end of it all. That no one person could be capable of that much destruction without the help of something inhuman.

But well, rumors were all it can be, especially when all possible witnesses perished along with the Luthors.

******

Weeks later, Andrea Rojas holds a memorial event for Lena Luthor; protesters burn the venue to the ground.

Months later, Supergirl returns to the world. More radiant than ever. More alive than ever. Stronger. Better.

Years later, National City recovers fully from the whole catastrophe.

Supergirl is reported to most frequently be seen in the memorial square for the fallen victims. A dozen paparazzi pictures of the caped heroine quietly walking, sometimes whispering under breath.

Praying, somebody on a CatCo article comments. She’s always praying whenever we see her there.

****** The closet doors burst open and out steps Alex Danvers.

A colorful stream of expletives coming right along with her, “Fuckin’ fur coats, goddamn hangers, fucking hitting me in the face—”

“Took you long enough,” a familiar voice greets her, “where the hell have you been? And why are you so...dirty? If you track mud on my carpet I swear to God, Alex—”

“I was cleaning your grave, okay?” she snaps, setting down a bucket filled with various cleaning supplies, that Lena’s just now noticing, on said carpet.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex huffs about, crossing her arms, “You don’t have to make a big deal about it. I don’t want to do it again, it’s a bitch for my back pain. I was just pissed about the graffiti. You’d think people would have better manners than defacing the grave of a dead woman. If only they—”

“Thank you, Alex,” she cuts her off, a shy smile gracing her face. She really doesn’t want to hear about the rest of it. And if Alex doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it, then no big deal shall be made.

“There’s coffee in the kitchen,” she says then, and Alex just nods, grabs her bucket of supplies again and turns to leave.

Although not before saying, “Remind me again why you let Kara win? With the portal?”

Lena just shrugs, dark hair escaping out of her messy bun at the movement.

“She said she’s always wanted to go to Narnia.”

Alex shakes her head, rolls her eyes, “Whipped.”

And well, that sounds about right.

******

There’s a documentary on Netflix about the Luthors. Lena’s face in black and white, on the preview banner, a big red X drawn over it.

Kara snaps the remote in half.

Lena reaches over the blanket, grabs her hand, flicks the TV off with only a swish of her fingers and a glitter of sparks.

“C’mere,” she says, tugging gently, till she has a lapful of Krytonian draped over her. Lena traces her fingers over the crinkle between Kara’s brow, smooths them out, thumb dragging across lips till it pulls to a soft smile.

“We know the truth,” she tells her, “and that’s enough.”

“It’s not fair.”

Nothing ever is.

******

“How’re the kids?” She asks, one hand whisking eggs, the other holding the bowl steady.

“Oh, you know, asking me a thousand silly questions a day. Driving Alex crazy. Never letting me sleep. They’re perfect, really,” Kelly says, and Lena hums in response. Before she catches Kelly popping a blueberry in her mouth, a crime punishable by Lena Luthor’s death stare.

“Those are for the muffins.” A foam covered whisk points dangerously to Kelly’s chest.

She raises both arms in surrender, palms opening, dropping the remaining three blueberries onto the counter.

“You know, I’ve seen you do it a thousand times, yet it still doesn’t fail to surprise me.”

Lena concludes she’s talking about the baking tray hovering in the air a feet away from them, greasing itself. Or maybe it’s the soup at the stove with a ladle stirring itself.

“What can I say,” Lena quips, smirking, “I’m magical like that.”

******

Andrea finds her on a Tuesday.

One minute Lena is reading quietly on her front porch, the next, there is an explosion of sound in her living room. She throws open her door, magical energy sizzling at her fingertips.

The sight that greets her stops her in her tracks. Acrata pinning Supergirl down, their coffee table destroyed. She sighs internally, she loved that coffee table. It was a wedding gift from Nia and Brainy.

“I knew it,” Andrea whispers, her grip slackens around the hero's throat. She stands up slowly, as if afraid that if she moved too fast Lena would disapper. She leaves Supergirl gasping on the floor; materializes in front of Lena in a cloud of black smoke.

“I knew it. I knew it. I knew it.” She sobs into Lena’s blouse, arms wrapped tightly around her. Lena embraces her on instinct, her eyes closing briefly, before opening up again to check on Kara dusting herself off.

“Andrea,” Lena croaks, “you can’t tell anyone.”

You can’t tell anyone I’m alive. You can’t tell anyone how I tricked Lex, how I saved Supergirl, how I saved National City.

“Nobody will know,” Andrea promises her.

******

There is a cottage by the woods that nobody else sees, where every Sunday a blonde woman rips apart pieces of wood with her bare hands, where a pale woman with even paler hands grows crops from the barren earth within seconds, where the closet hides cities instead of clothes, where a dead woman and a hero spend their lives in bliss.

******

It has been ten years, her hair is more gray than blonde now, her skin more wrinkled than smooth, her hearing though? Her hearing is still better than ever. And it has been ten years since she’s heard that tell-tale whoosh of a cape, it’s been a decade and still, the sound brings her the same thrill, the same adrenaline.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Supergirl? Or should I say, Superwoman, now?”

And oh-

She did not come alone.

Lena Luthor is set gently down on the balcony.

If Cat Grant wasn’t Cat Grant, she’s sure she would’ve already suffered a heart attack from the mere sight of a woman long dead standing breathing and alive in her home. She would’ve shrieked and demanded answers.

“I need a favor,” Kara tells her, stalking closer, hand on her hip. Cat would’ve laughed at that if this were some other time. No need to play the intimidating game with me, Kiera, she would’ve said.

“What is it?”

“I need you to break a story,” she tells her. “You, Cat. I want you, and nobody else to cover this.”

Cat raises her brow at that, she already has an inkling as to what the story might be about.

“A story hmm? This better be good, if I’m to come out of retirement for it.”

This time it’s Lena Luthor who speaks. Cat has been dying to hear what she has to say.

“It’ll be good," she promises her, "It’ll be better than good."

Kara crowds closer to Lena, then; wraps a protective arm on her waist. Cat watches frozen as Lena's index finger lights in flame. What a sight they make.

"You’ll be telling the entire world the last Luthor’s secret.”