Chapter Text
Lena spent the night at the hospital, keeping vigil by her daughter’s bedside as nurses and doctors occasionally crept in to check up on Laurel. Sam stopped by to leave Lena a spare change of clothes she kept in her locker and set a cup of coffee down on the nightstand before she finally went home for the night. It was from a vending machine and barely qualified as coffee, but in her stupor, Lena didn’t care. She was just grateful for something to warm the cold knot in her stomach, and she mumbled and unintelligible thanks to Sam before her friend left. Lena wasn’t even aware of when she left, only that she became aware of her absence at some point during the night.
Under the effects of the strong drugs, Laurel was out cold for most of the time Lena sat by her bedside, thinking of Kara as she watched over her daughter, and Lena was left to her own thoughts. She couldn't recall any vivid memories from that night, her whole body sagging with exhaustion as she slumped in the seat, the empty coffee cup clutched in her hand and night dragging on into day without little fuss. A nurse came to change Laurel’s dressings and an intern checked her vitals, and Lena was dimly aware of their presence and her mind managed to latch onto their optimistic words, but she was too numb and detached to think much of it.
Her eyes were itching with burning tiredness by the time the window was outlined in the grey light of dawn, narrow beams falling through the cracks in the blinds, and Lena was grey-faced and hollow-eyed in her chair. Her eyes were latched onto the thin body beneath the hospital blankets with no sign that she was even seeing her daughter laying there, as her mind replayed snapshots of the series of events from the day before.
It wasn’t until Laurel stirred, a small moan slipping past her lips as she feebly stretched and pulled at the stitches, that a spark of life sprung to her eyes. Straightening up, she became suddenly alert as her daughter shifted on the bed, the monitors whirring and beeping beside her, and Lena half-rose to her feet, leaning forward to brush dark curls off of Laurel’s forehead. Slowly, her daughter came to consciousness, her eyes glassy and cheeks flushed from the drugs, an unfocused look about her, and she didn’t speak as she slowly blinked.
Lena mumbled nonsense as she tenderly stroked Laurel’s hair, her eyes stinging with tears and the tension in her chest loosening as she sat with her daughter. A doctor came around for morning rounds in colourful scrubs, and Lena gently coaxed food into her daughter when breakfast was brought before she was ushered out of the room and given orders to leave for a couple of hours while they took care of her daughter. Lena was loathed to leave, but she knew that she needed some air before the timeless stuffiness of the hospital room drove her mad. Changing into Sam’s clothes before she left, Lena wandered the hallways of the hospital until she found Kara’s ward, deciding to visit her before she left, even though her stomach lurched nervously at the thought of seeing her again.
She knocked on the doorframe and smiled slightly as Kara turned away from the window to see who was there. Some of the tension inside Lena receded as she watched Kara’s expression lift, and she took a tentative step inside. Kara tried to hide a wince as she shifted up in bed.
“Hi,” Lena softly said, lingering just inside the door.
Golden sunlight spilt in through the half-drawn blinds, and Kara’s face was washed yellow, giving her a healthier glow than her somewhat pallid skin had up close. Her eyes were lively though, deep blue and alert, although the corners were faintly creased with pain. She gave Lena a smile.
“Hi. How’s Laurel?”
Giving her a tired shrug, Lena ran a hand through her hair. Her eyelids felt leaden and she knew she looked awful, but she was comforted by Kara’s presence. “She’s … okay. Stable. The transplant went well.”
“Good,” Kara nodded, a look of relief washing over her, “they wouldn’t tell me anything.”
“Sorry, I should’ve come and told you. I just- I haven’t even gone home yet … as you can probably see.”
“It’s okay.”
Lena swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. Feeling a little uncomfortable, as if she wasn’t sure whether or not she should be there, she shifted awkwardly, trying to brush out the wrinkles in her borrowed clothes, favouring her good leg as she avoided meeting Kara’s doe-eyed stare. There were flowers on the nightstand, and Lena felt sheepish, the thought of getting Kara flowers having not even crossed her mind.
“Are you going to come over here or just hover in the doorway?” Kara asked, her voice coloured with amusement.
Opening her mouth for a moment, Lena found herself speechless. Mouth closing and lips pressed into a thin line, she turned around and stepped back out of the room, her cheeks burning red as she shut the door behind her, listening to Kara’s spluttered protests through the wood. Pausing for a moment, Lena felt guilt well up inside her, and she set off through the hospital hallways.
With no money on her, she had to walk back home to her apartment, her thigh burning as the stitches were pulled taut from the fast pace she set. As she walked, with the brisk city air chasing the smell of antiseptic and death from her memory, her stupidity crept up on her and she walked with her head ducked down, shamefaced and limping. Block after block passed by, and it took her over an hour to get back to the familiar building, punching the button for the elevator and making her way up to her apartment.
It was the first time she’d been home since Lex had come and ushered her out at gunpoint, and the place felt eerie as she stepped inside. The wooden floorboards felt cold, the plants outside were wilting from a lack of water, the place smelt of stale coffee from the pot that had never finished brewing, and Lena found herself reluctant to go inside. It just didn’t feel like home. Home was where she’d just come from, the place that made her feel calm and safe, with Kara and with Laurel.
Still, she forced herself to take a wary step inside and shut the door behind her. She didn’t bolt it, or draw the chain or even lock it, and it was with almost numbing surprise that she realised she wouldn’t have to lock it again. Her brother was dead. She’d shot him in the chest and now he was dead. After the events of the day before, Lena had almost forgotten that fact, too sick with worry about her daughter finding a liver, and then about the surgery, and as she’d sat by Laurel’s bedside through the night, she’d been so tired that she hadn’t even been fully conscious. This was the first time that it hit her hard, and her chest felt constricted as she fell back against the door.
Clumsily sliding down it, she drew in ragged breaths as she clenched fistfuls of dark hair at her hairline, hunching forward as a sickening feeling unsettled her stomach. With each ragged breath, her nausea grew stronger, until she had to scramble to her feet, hand clamped down over her mouth as she lurched towards the kitchen sink. Bile burned its way up her throat as she tightly gripped the edge of the counter, and a cold sweat broke out all over her body, an involuntary shiver wracking her as she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to suppress the series of images that flashed behind closed eyelids.
She stood in the kitchen like a statue until her stomach settled and her leg started to ache. Tired eyes burning, throat scratchy from the bile, and her whole body bruised and aching in the borrowed clothes that Sam had lent her, Lena forced herself down the hallway and into the bathroom. The tiled room radiated a soothing coldness that felt good against Lena’s clammy skin as she shed her clothes, and she stepped under the sputtering showerhead before the water even had time to warm up.
Her leg was faintly stained red from the blood that had seeped through her bloody jeans and the dressing over her stitches had a long, dark stain from where the wound had been bleeding. Looking down at herself, she took in the bruises and felt each individual ache, gingerly lathering soap over herself as she probed the dappled bruises and tender spots that were the price of grappling with her brother on the hard, leafy floor of the park.
While not exactly soothing, the shower was refreshing, and she felt more awake as she splashed cold water in her face from the faucet, staring at her pasty complexion in the bathroom sink. Her skin prickled from the cold as she dripped onto the tiled floor, mechanically brushing her teeth and ridding her mouth of the sour taste of bile. Her dark hair was plastered to her face in knotty tendrils, and Lena let go of her toothbrush to pluck a sliver of a rotting leaf from her hair, before dropping it in the sink and spitting out a mouthful of foam.
Half an hour later, she was dressed in an expensive navy silk shirt, a pair of tailored beige pants and kitten heels, her hair was sleekly pulled back into a knot and she looked far from the woman that had stumbled into the apartment. A handbag slung over one shoulder and her purse in hand, she made her way downstairs and hailed down a cab on the street corner.
The return trip back to the hospital was quick and she was full of remorse as she knocked on Kara’s door again, cracking it open to peer inside. At the sound of the disturbance, Kara groggily looked towards her, perking up at the familiar sight of Lena, and she gave her a wry smile as she pushed herself upright.
“Are you staying this time?” Kara asked, her voice hoarse from sleep.
Two spots of colour blossomed high on Lena’s cheekbones and she pushed the door open further to reveal the bouquet of pink peonies, creamy roses and lavender, a begging look in her eyes as she silently tried to convey her apology and hope that Kara could understand. Stepping inside, Lena resolutely shut the door behind her and crossed over to Kara’s beside to set the flowers down on the nightstand. The mattress sank beneath her weight as she perched down on the edge of the bed, a morose look on her face as she stared down at her hands in her lap.
“They’re beautiful,” Kara murmured, reaching out to gently caress a delicate flower.
Glancing up, Lena met her gaze and gave her a grim smile. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“I just … I didn’t know what to say to you.”
Letting out a snort of laughter, Kara raised her eyebrows slightly. “You don’t have to say anything.”
“I do,” Lena said, a wave of emotions washing over her as she perched on the edge of the bed. Drawing in a shaky breath she sniffed and gently cleared her throat. “I just … I don’t know how to explain.”
“You don’t need to, Lena. She’s your daughter.”
Wiping at her eyes before tears could even think about spilling over, Lena’s face crumpled into a confused frown and she felt that confusion echoed inside her. There was a hollow feeling inside, and a lump formed in her throat.
“I know,” Lena mumbled, “but I- it feels … wrong.”
“Wrong? What’s wrong?”
“This. Being here. We’re supposed to be having space, and time, and now you’re in the hospital because you donated part of your liver to my daughter, who’s biologically my niece and was given to me by her mother before she killed herself. My brother’s dead because I shot him, my daughter’s in a different wing because he had her shot. And I’ve been lying to you about who her parents are for nearly seven years. So I’d say just about everything’s wrong, Kara.”
Tears welled up as she spoke, and Lena let out a shaky breath as she closed her eyes, turning her head away from Kara. A knot of worry sat heavily inside her heart, and she was stricken with guilt as she sat on the edge of Kara’s bed, exhausted to the point where she could barely think straight, and she felt like everything was coming out wrong.
“Hey, look at me,” Kara gently urged her, reaching out to take one of her cold, clammy hands in her own. Lena opened her eyes and turned her head to stare down at their entwined fingers. Hers were grazed from scrabbling in the dirt, and Kara’s fingernails still held crescents of blood from where she’d put pressure against Laurel’s wound. The sight made Lena feel sick. “Lena.”
At the sound of her name, she couldn’t help but let her gaze flicker upwards, intending to meet Kara’s eyes for a brief moment, but getting stuck at the love swimming in her blue eyes. Finding herself feeling very inadequate at that moment, Lena’s face crumpled and she tightened her grip on Kara’s hand, afraid that she’d pull away.
“When has it ever felt wrong for us to be around each other?” Kara asked, one side of her mouth curling up into a small smile. “It’s just you and me; I wouldn’t want you anywhere else. I think surgery is a good enough excuse for us to reconcile, don’t you think?”
Lena choked out a laugh of surprise, giving Kara a watery smile as she wiped her face. “I wish we had a better excuse. Better circumstances.”
“Of course,” Kara dryly replied, giving her fingers a squeeze, “but I wouldn’t want to be here without you. It doesn’t feel right when you’re not around. That’s the only time it’s ever felt wrong to me.”
“It didn’t feel wrong to you that first night you took me home? You didn’t think for a second that it might not be my baby?”
Making a choked sound of amusement, making her wince, Kara shrugged half-heartedly. “I think I told you that night about my first time assisting in an ambulance. The fourteen-year-old who-”
“Didn’t know she was pregnant and gave birth in the back. I remember,” Lena softly finished.
“I think maybe I was too easily taken in because I knew it could happen. And besides, it wasn’t my place to ask. I think … I should’ve known though. Maybe some part of me did. I don’t know. You wouldn’t breastfeed. You wouldn’t go to the hospital for yourself. You didn’t even wince at walking. I just knew you needed help.”
“I should’ve told you though, but I didn’t trust you. Not at the beginning. And then by the time I did trust you, it was too late.”
Giving her a soft smile full of understanding, Kara shook her head. “You don’t owe me any explanations, Lena. She’s your daughter. She’s always been yours, and you’re the only one that can make these decisions for her. You thought you were protecting her by keeping him a secret, I get it. That doesn’t need explaining.”
“You said it yourself; she’s always been a bit yours too,” Lena said, her voice cracking as she gave Kara a wavering smile, “I think … I just didn’t want him to have any claim over her. That even speaking it would give him some kind of monopoly on who she was. A name can be a powerful thing, and I’ve lived with mine long enough to know that there are only bad things associated with it. I wanted it to be different for her. I don’t think … I’ll ever be able to tell her, and maybe that’s cruel, but she does not belong to him. Not a single bit of her.”
She grit her teeth together as she spoke, a slow, simmering anger colouring her voice as irrational fear crept up on her. No one knew that Laurel wasn’t hers, no one except Kara and Laurel’s doctor, and now Lex was dead. There was no threat, no reason to be afraid. In a few months, Laurel would be turning seven, and Lena would bake her a clumsy cake fashioned after her daughter’s latest obsession, and all of their friends would be there, and no one would ever know that Lena had taken her from the shaking hands of another woman on a rainy August night. No one would take her away from her.
“And no one will ever think anything else,” Kara gently assured her. Her words held the promise of secrecy, that she’d never tell anyone the truth, that she’d keep Lena’s words to herself, because to Kara, it made little difference. In her mind, Lena was her mother, just like Eliza was hers. Blood held little relevance in the matter. “She is your daughter, through and through. She’s kind and smart, and God she’s stubborn.”
Lena laughed along with Kara, a warmth kindling in her chest, and she met her sparkling blue eyes, giving her a small smile as she found the tension bleeding out of her. Of course, Kara would be able to smooth it all out for her. She’d always had a way of making things seem easy, and Lena had been envious of her for it, watching her naturally mother Laurel in a way that had come difficultly to her in the beginning. Lena had come to realise that she made other things easier though. They balanced each other in a way that was almost effortlessly easy. Kara was right; things could never be wrong between them. There was too much about them being together that just felt right. The three of them were a family, as much as any three people could be a family.
“She is stubborn, isn’t she?” Lena chuckled, her face softening with a tender look before it crumpled as she felt tears prick her eyes again. “I just- I couldn’t leave her there. I couldn’t let him have her. I couldn’t knowingly let her live the same life I did.”
“Do you think he knew?” Kara quietly asked, rubbing soothing circles onto the back of Lena’s hand.
Shaking her head, Lena pressed her lips into a hard line, a look of fear flickering in her eyes. “No. No, if he knew he wouldn’t have played his games. He would’ve taken her, without a shadow of a doubt. He would’ve had a paternity test at the trial if he’d even suspected. Everything he did … he was toying with me. If he’d thought for a second that she was his, he would’ve had her, no matter how hard I tried to stop him.”
“I wouldn’t have let him-”
“You don’t underst-”
“I know,” Kara said, giving her a solemn look and giving her hand an almost painfully hard squeeze, “but I wouldn’t have let him.”
Nodding, Lena swallowed the lump in her throat and ducked her head down, feeling tired as her worry drained out of her and left her consumed by the comforting presence of Kara beside her on the bed. Her eyebrows drew together in a frown, and Lena opened and closed her mouth a few times as silence hung heavily over them. She stared down at the cheap fabric of the bedsheets, feeling the coarse fibres of the blue blanket beneath her free hand as she held onto Kara’s other one, trying to find the words she was looking for.
Tipping her head back, she drew in a slow breath and exhaled in a long sigh, deflating as she looked up at the fluorescent tube light flickering overhead as it hummed with electricity. It felt oddly removed in the hospital room, as if the two of them were far away from the activity of the busy hospital, a world away from the blood and death, fatigue and injuries and tears of the hundreds of people crammed inside the cinderblock building. It felt like it was just her and Kara, and she didn’t know what to say, because she couldn’t properly convey the strong feelings locked up inside her. Words would never do it justice.
Eventually, she just met Kara’s worried gaze, gripped her hand tightly in both of her own and raised it slightly, careful of the wires snaking from her. Bowing her head over their hands, Lena gently let her forehead come to rest against the cool skin and felt her bottom lip wobble slightly.
“I didn’t get a chance to thank you-”
“You did,” Kara softly interrupted.
“No. Not properly. Thank you, Kara. I can’t- there are no words to- you’ll never know how grateful I am to you. I’ll never be able to repay you for saving her life. Never. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Strong fingers gripped her chin and forced her head up, and Lena gave her a teary look as she held Kara’s hand trapped between her own. Looking tired, with faint purple shadows beneath her eyes and a slumped weariness to her shoulders, Kara gave her a slow smile, her eyes sparkling with amusement even as she reclined on the pillows, her face drawn with pain as the effects of her painkillers receded. Shaking with quiet laughter, Kara shook her head as her lips twitched slightly.
“What?” Lena asked, an anxious edge to her voice as she half-rose from the bed.
“Repay me? Lena. Oh God, you make me laugh. I would give that little girl every single piece of me if it meant that she was safe and happy. I love her. I couldn’t love her anymore if she was my own. That’s not something that needs repaying. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I’d do it for you a thousand times over.”
“Then I owe you-”
“Nothing. You owe me nothing,” Kara quickly cut her off, a troubled look in her eyes as a crease formed between her eyebrows.
Letting out a weak laugh, Lena sniffed and blinked back tears. “Perhaps just some more time then. A little bit more space.”
Kara winced as she laughed, a spasm of pain running across her face, making Lena fret, climbing to her feet and glancing around for something, anything, to take her mind off of it. It wasn’t time for more pain medication yet, so she poured Kara a cup of water from the tepid plastic jug sitting on the tray wheeled off to one side. Kara took a grateful sip and gave her a lopsided smile as she gently pushed herself up further on the bed.
“Actually, I was hoping I could move back home, given …” she trailed off as she gestured down at the hospital gown that covered the dressings and the stitched together skin of her abdomen.
“Home?”
With a wry smile, Kara gave her a pointed look, “well seeing as I’m not moving out to the suburbs and Alex is just about sick of me moping around on her sofa, I was thinking I could move back into my old bedroom. If that’s okay with you.”
Feeling as if she’d been punched in the stomach, Lena let out a forceful breath, almost weak with relief as a hesitant smile curled her lips. “Really?”
Looking at her with apprehension, Kara bit her lip for a moment, before slowly nodding. “Yeah, I just- I’m still not ready-”
Holding her hands up in a quick surrender to what Kara was about to say, Lena quickly nodded. “Yes, of course. Absolutely. Space and time.”
Wrinkling her nose slightly, Kara smiled. “Perhaps just a little less space.”
“Whatever you need. How are you by the way? I’m sorry, I’ve just been sitting here getting all teary and making it about me when you’re-”
“Fine. Better than fine,” Kara assured her, rubbing her thumb across Lena’s knuckles in a sweet gesture. “Just tired.”
Grimacing, Lena nodded, slowly climbing to her feet, “I should let you rest.”
“You should get some rest.”
Smiling, Lena suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, although she had to agree. She could barely stand on her own two legs, and there was a dull throb in her thigh from where she’d been stabbed. Having lost quite a bit of blood the day before, it would do her some good to sleep. Assuring her that she’d get some rest, Lena paused for a moment, before cupping Kara’s face in her hand and ducking down to press a lingering kiss on her forehead. Tenderly stroking her cheek with the pad of her thumb as she pulled back, Lena gave her a faint smile as Kara reached up to cover her hand with her own, before stepping back and letting her hand fall.
Without further fuss, Lena left, telling the nurse that Kara needed more pain meds as she walked through the ward and made for the children’s ward. In her bag, she had Laurel’s stuffed duck and baby blanket, and she stopped by to check on her daughter, draping the soft blanket over her small body and tucking the plush toy in beside her. Laurel didn’t stir, and Lena stayed with her for a while, until she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer and her mind was growing fuzzy at the edges. Making her way towards the accommodation on hand for parents, she all but collapsed onto a bed, barely taking the time to kick her heels off, and slept without the looming, ominous threat of something bad happening for the first time in years. Despite the darkness, she slept soundly.