Archive of Our Own ^beta

When they wheel her out of the hospital, Lena braces herself for paparazzi and protesters—the usual anti-Luthor hate thrown at her.

Instead—people…cheering?

It has to be a hundred of them.

They hold signs, their hands are full of colorful flowers. Children are on their parents’ shoulders.

“Thank you, Ms. Luthor!”
“You saved my family!”
“You’re our hero!”

“Wh-what is this?” Lena blinks hard. “They’re… here for me?”

Kara kisses her temple. “You saved them.”

Sam smiles and squeezes her shoulder gently.

Alex looks on proudly, even though she wishes with every bit of her that Lena’s sacrifice had never been necessary.

One particular glassy-eyed little girl, long ebony hair flowing in the breeze, stands in front of an equally glassy-eyed adult holding a sign too big for her tiny frame.
“Thank you for saving my Mommy!”

The weight of that hits Lena like a wave. The thought of being able to save someone else’s mom is not lost on the young brunette, and she doesn’t stop crying long after her girlfriends gently load her into the back seat of Alex’s SUV.

It’s a short drive.

Normally, Lena would spend it listing all the reasons she doesn’t deserve the accolades in her head but her healing body steals that choice. Her head slumps softly onto Sam’s shoulder.

It isn’t long before Alex parks at their building, and Kara carries Lena bridal-style into the elevator, holding her close to her neck, mindful of the stitches, bruises, and healing bones that mark her body.

Awake now, Lena is excited to finally be home.

Soon, the elevator chimes with a soft ding as the doors slide open onto the rooftop of their apartment building.

Alex steps out first, a big duffle bag adorned with a yellow ‘+’ balancing on her shoulder, scanning their surroundings like her instincts haven’t quite caught up to the fact that the danger has passed.

Sam follows with a tote full of snacks and drinks to set on the nearby table already secretly arranged earlier by the rest of their friends.

Bringing up the rear, Kara cradles Lena in her arms like a precious gem she never wants to let go of.

Lena freezes when Kara turns and she sees what awaits her.
“Oh…”

The rooftop has been transformed. A giant bed is laid out against a brick wall, topped with heaps of pillows and layers of cozy blankets in a flourish of color and texture.

A soft breeze flutters the fabric of hanging silks, vining plants, and a projector screen nearby.

It’s an oasis.

“What is all this?” Lena asks, her voice scratchy from healing lungs and sleepless nights as she realizes this isn’t their cozy apartment.

“Well, you said you didn’t want to go straight to bed when we got home,” Kara says softly, looking down at her with twinkling eyes. “So we improvised—movie night with a sunset view.”

That twinkle—string lights crisscross overhead. Or maybe it’s Kara eyeing the table groaning under the weight of snacks Sam is setting out: Lena’s favorite sour candies, buttered popcorn, chamomile tea, and apple cider in cute Halloween mugs.

Together they settle Lena gently into the bed, propping her up with pillows and bundling her into a blanket burrito.

The scent of fresh cotton and sunshine dances around them.

The sun is beginning its descent.

Kara slides in beside her first, spooning close but not enough to aggravate Lena’s injuries.

After laying out the snacks, Sam curls up on the other side but not before swiping the bowl of popcorn off the table with a mischievous smirk, popping a kernel into her mouth.

Kara opens her mouth in waiting. They had been dating long enough Sam knows what to do and sets a popcorn kernel on Kara’s tongue. Her heart swells as Kara chews with a smile.

“Yum. Thanks, babe.”

Alex sits at the foot of the bed for now, one leg pulled up, her hand resting gently over Lena’s lower leg, rubbing softly knowing she’ll need to set up Lena’s infusion soon.

She scans Lena with quiet, knowing eyes. Like clockwork, Lena shifts with a little grimace.

“You okay?” Alex asks softly.

“Mmhmm,” Lena murmurs. “Just… sore.”

Alex moves, standing after briefly checking her watch. “You’re about due for your antibiotics. I can give you your pain meds too.”

Lena’s brow knits. “No pain meds. Not yet.”

“Lena…” Sam frowns, reaching for her hand. “You don’t have to sit here in pain…”

Lena cuts in, not wanting to have this conversation, “What movie are we watching—Ferngully maybe? I’ve been feeling—” But she stops when she sees Sam’s face.

“I’ll be fine. I just—” Lena sighs in defeat, closing her eyes briefly. “I just got home. I want to feel it. I don’t want to miss this with you guys.”

Alex crouches beside the bed, brushing Lena’s hair gently back from her forehead. “How about half a dose? Enough to take the edge off, but not enough to knock you out. Just enough to let you enjoy the movie and the sunset. Deal?”

Lena knows teh further she gets from her last dose, the more the pain will take over. In the hospital, she tried to rely on her Luthor upbringing instead of pain control, regretting it every time.

Tonight, every breath feels like needles. She can feel her heartbeat in her kidney—the only one she has left.
So half a dose? That’s a mercy.

She also knows: if she doesn’t take it now, she won’t be able to hide it from them. They always know—sometimes before she does—unnervingly so.

Lena hesitates, looking at them—her girlfriends, her home—and finally nods.
“Okay. Half.”

Alex stands, but Lena catches her hand.
“Could I have some of the anti-nausea medicine too? I just—the antibiotics make—”

Alex kisses the hand Lena stops her with.
“Good girl. Thank you for asking for what you need.”

Lena blushes as she watches Alex walk toward the duffle bag.

She shifts her feet under the soft sheets, savoring the feeling of fabric against her skin.
“I can’t believe you all dragged our bed up here.”

“Technically, I flew it,” Kara says with a proud little shrug.

“You also almost broke it in half trying to turn it sideways through the stairwell,” Sam adds, popping another kernel into her mouth.

“Tomato tomato,” Kara laughs.

Lena smiles tiredly, relaxing deeper into the cocoon of warmth.
“You’re all ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” Kara says, brushing Lena’s arm.

“I do,” Lena admits, unable to come up with the words to say just how much right now.

She winces again slightly, just as Alex returns with a portable IV pole and an armful of supplies.

“I’m fine,” Lena says quickly, trying to reassure everyone.

“Well, this should help soon.” Alex drags the IV pole closer.

She double-checks each bag’s label and hangs them—one antibiotic, one bag of fluids.

It isn’t long before Alex’s practiced hands have everything spiked, primed, and running. The faint medicinal smell drifts into the cooling air.

“Okay, let me get you hooked up.” Alex kneels on the bed, halfway straddling Sam’s legs.

Sam, ever the opportunist, reaches out and gives Alex’s ass a firm squeeze.

“Hey, watch it—important cargo here!” Alex laughs.

“What? I’m helping,” Sam says with a sly grin, while Kara and Lena giggle.

If it were a time before all this, things might have escalated in a more intimate direction but Lena is too fragile—for now.

Still, the moment is good. Light.

“Uh huh, sure,” Alex smiles, shaking her head.

She reaches for Lena’s arm, but Lena is ready—her arm already outstretched. The infusions are a routine she never wanted.

Kara quickly slides a pillow under Lena’s trembling arm.

“Thanks,” Lena whispers.

Alex looks over the PICC line in Lena’s upper bicep. Even after years of medical school, seeing this plastic tube feeding directly into her partner’s heart—it makes her own clench wanting to take all this from the woman she loves.

But for now it’s a cruel necessity.

She swabs the connector in slow, circular motions, then takes another to wipe around the weeping stitches, the alcohol stinging Lena’s irritated skin.

Then comes the heparin and saline flushes—cold in her veins making Lena flinch.

“Almost done,” Alex murmurs, thumb gently brushing Lena’s arm. Doing what she can to sooth her.

Next comes the anti-nausea medication.

Then she draws the preloaded syringe of Dilaudid from her kit and presses the plunger with steady hands, watching as the meds disappear into the line.

Lena’s breath begins to slow.
Her jaw slowly unclenches.

It’s hard to tell how badly the pain is affecting her until the meds turn down their volume.

Lena exhales softly, the relief rolling through her limbs.

Finally.

“There we go. All done. I’ll unhook you in an hour.” Alex starts the pump with a soft beep and slides the duffel under the table.

“Thank you, darling,” Lena sighs, sinking deeper into the bed. “So sunset first, then movie?”

“Sounds perfect,” Kara says, the others nodding.

They lie tangled in the bed, limbs woven under mounds of blankets, shoulders pressed as close as they could.

Everyone always touching like they don’t believe it’s real. Or maybe that it isn’t going to be pulled from their grasp.

Lena is cocooned, her body still fragile but grounded by their presence and their touch.

Kara lies behind her, chin on her shoulder. Arm around her but not in a way that’s constrictive.

Sam sits at Lena’s side opposite the IV line, popcorn bowl nestled between her legs, fingers laced with Lena’s, her own head leaning on Kara’s shoulder.

Alex lies on her other side, careful with the line feeding Lena her life-saving medicine, hand resting on her thigh, steady and grounding.

They all press close like a shield around the woman they almost lost.

Above them, the sun dips lower behind the skyline, casting the rooftop in soft gold. It feels like the sun is painting a new National City just for them—windows glinting like scattered embers, clouds streaked long and birds flying across the sky to their homes for the night.

It casts them all in a warm glow and shadow, softening the scars, the fear… the ache they’re feeling.

This is everything they want.
And everything that almost slipped through their fingers a week ago.

Lena exhales slowly, eyes on the sky.
They don’t speak.They don’t need to.
They have this moment.
Together.
Alive.