four months and lena couldn’t remember the last time she slept. passing out happened regularly when she couldn’t keep her eyes opened anymore. alex showed up with food and a look of understanding. lena was fairly sure the only reason she hadn’t given up was because she couldn’t let down kara’s sister too. not when in rare moment’s the deo director would smile and she caught glimpses of her girlfriend. enough that she swore kara would come flying in with too much food and a horrible movie recommendation for a girls’ night. if she gave up, then alex would have to look after her too and whatever semblance of sanity lena had wouldn’t allow that – it was a tribute to the only woman she’d ever loved.
    she spent most of her time in the lab below l-corp. noting made sense. she was one of the smartest people on the planet, but she couldn’t do this one thing for kara (no, herself). on the good days, jess could coax food into her. on the bad days, she barricaded her door, unwilling to head home and be reminded of kara. the first few weeks, she didn’t leave their bed. not until she couldn’t smell her anymore. the thought of permanence scared lena more than anything else.Â
    lena sat at her chair, balcony door open. a call to kara or reign or whatever other being wanted to visit her. it was a pipe dream – kara coming back to her or ending reign’s life in retaliation. deep down, she was a luthor. the anger and rage still burned bright within her. the soft thud on the balcony called her attention and she didn’t move. she sat still, back ramrod straight as she stared straight ahead. and then her name coming from the doorway. “no, no, no.” she brought hands up and covered her ears. she didn’t dare look over her shoulder. it wasn’t real. she was so close to some sort of break in her research. she couldn’t lose her sanity now. “it’s not real. it’s not real. it’s not real.” the repetition made it easier for her as she curled into herself.Â
Lena didn’t move, didn’t even turn around but Kara could see the tension in her back, could hear the uptick in her heart beat. Still familiar, still Lena. She could remember the night she fought Reign, could remember trying to hear Lena’s heartbeat then, how it kept her going, how it was the last thing she heard because Lena was close -- too close. And now she was here. It was like a blink. Kara didn’t remember dying. But she imagined it felt something like this. Her mouth went dry, the words stopped in the air, her bones stiff and stuck and statue still and all she could feel was something wringing her heart like they wanted it to stop beating. Kara could only watch as Lena went nearly fetal at her desk, the tone of her voice something intimate and personal and fractured. Â
Kara wanted to reach for her. This must be what death felt like -- far away, stuck, unreachable. But she wasn’t dead. She was alive. Kara didn’t even remember dying, even if Lena remembered it, even if Lena was living with it, every day, reminded of it in moments just like this. Kara was alive. That thought sprung her to action and she took a few more steps into the office. “It’s real, Lena.” She said it gently, soft and cautious but earnest and sure. “I swear it is. Lena, look at me.” The last words came out in Kryptonian, a language that had become somewhat of a code for them both -- something Lena had learned and Kara always knew. “Look at me.”