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The Things We Do for our Sisters

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It’s when Lena and Kara ask her to be their joint Maid of Honor that Alex decides a visit to prison is in order.


Alex walks quickly behind the prison guard. She keeps her face under a mask of stone indifference as prisoners leer and catcall at her from behind bars. Alex feels a phantom ache in her hip, where her gun should be. She’d been forced to surrender it when the name of the prisoner she is here to see flashed up onscreen. DEO carrier or not, no one was going to have their name on the log that gave clearance for a gun to enter Cell Block X.

She is lead into a concrete room, bare, save for the metal table that is open on both all sides, and two metal chairs. All three pieces of furniture are bolted to the floor. There are cameras in all four corners of the room, each blinking green. There are no blindspots here.

She takes a seat, and waits. The sound of metal clanking precedes his arrival. Lex Luthor enters the room with a guard in front of him and a guard behind. They sit him roughly in the chair across from her and Alex controls her instinct to wince at the screech of metal on metal.

The guards leave and then it’s just her and Lex Luthor, alone.

Alex takes ten seconds to catalogue his appearance. He looks gaunt, and the orange jumpsuit gives him a sickly complexion. The manic light she’d seen in his eyes when she’d watched his sentencing via live stream television is still there. It is slightly dimmer though. Like the battery is running low. She supposes batteries are hard to come by in maximum security prisons.

Lex steeples his fingers on the table and leans forward. “Miss Danvers”, he acknowledges. “Or do you prefer Agent Danvers?” He asks with a slight smirk.
It’s a control tactic Alex knows. Seem like you know more then they think you do. She’s used it herself. She will be using it right now.
“Lena sometimes calls me Lex. Is that what you’d prefer to call me?” She asks. She keeps her face neutral and her posture relaxed, friendly almost. She lays a piece of engraved cardstock on the table while watching him closely. The vein beside his left temple pulses once, a Luthor tell, and Alex knows she has him right where she wants him.

(Lena had traded her bottle of Glenfiddich Janet Sheed Reserve 1955 for the secret of how Alex kept reading her poker face. She maintains it to be one of her most painfully negotiated business deals to date. Alex is close to topping this deal with permanent rights to the Boardwalk property in exchange for Lena’s bottle of Nun’s Island. Kara thinks they’re insane. Winn, James, Lucy and Maggie are all in silent partnership with Alex for a cut of one shot each.)

Lex leans back slightly and takes the cardstock off the table. It’s a wedding invitation. It’s made of thick, expensive, ivory colored cardstock and lettered with engraved gold ink with a black shadow accent. It screams of money and power, like a Luthor and a Super. It's perfumed with the scent of plumerias. Kara had cried when she'd first caught a whiff. Lena had smiled sadly at Kara, whispered, “She’d be so proud of you, darling.” And Alex had used the tender moment between them to slip this particular invitation into her jacket’s breast pocket.

Lex looks up from his perusal of the invite. “Does she know you are here?”he asks her. He seems to want, and yet not want the answer at the same time.

Alex gives him one. “She does not know I’m here.” She says.

“Ah,” Lex leans back in his seat. The tiniest of trace of disappointment is evident in his posture. “Then judging by the date of the wedding and the notches on my bedpost, you seem to have left me a very short time to tender my response to this uncleared invitation you are extending. By my calculations the bachelorette party is tonight.” He raises an eyebrow expectantly.

Alex nods – “Did anyone ever tell you that traditional Maid of Honor duties like planning the bachelorette party and dealing with Momzilla requires a fount of creativity for brides who do not appreciate strippers and have moms who are wanted fugitives?”- and slides the RSVP card to him, along with a pen. “I’ll be proofreading.” She tells him.

Lex nods in acknowledgement and addresses her first observation. “I imagine that you chose Paris as the venue. Lena always wanted to get drunk on the observation deck of the Eiffel Tower and yell obscenities into the wind. I told her we’d save that dream for a celebratory occasion. Impending nuptials would qualify.”

Alex lets him keep his fantasy and watches as his pen hovers over the two boxes on the card.

Finally, a neat blue ‘x’ marks the ‘declines with regret’ box, and Lex turns the card over to the blank side to inscribe a personal message.

“To my dearest little sister, Lena,” he writes, and Alex wonders how much is left of the Lex that Lena knew for him to truly regret not being there for his younger sister’s wedding.

“How I wish I could be there to give you away, as you journey down the aisle towards your chosen one. I wish it was not she who would be waiting at the end, but my prejudice should not waylay your happiness. And I do, dearest sister, wish you all the happiness this world has to offer. If I never lay eyes on you again, know that my memory of you at your happiest was the night we went joyriding in Dad’s brand new Maserati. What were we thinking, Lena, dearest? We weren't. We crashed into a lamp pole at 91 mph. It was a miracle we made it out alive…and that Dad did not press charges. You told me down at the station that the rush you felt at being wild, daring, and chosen to share in something that could go up in fireworks, or down in flames with me was the happiest you’d felt. You never repeated the words ‘I’m happy’ to me again, so I have treasured this memory of the last time I made you happy. I hope you live that way every day-wild and daring in the knowledge you are cherished and beloved, by me and by others.
Your loving brother,

Lex Luthor

PS: Lillian has crashed with the cat’s old bat.”

Lex puts down the pen and slides it, and the card over to Alex. Alex notes how his hands shake. “The postscript is an incentive to ensure she receives the message.” He offers quietly. “Only Lena will be able to understand the reference to Lillian’s current location.”

Alex collects the pen and the card, “Rather presumptuous for you to think that Lena would turn her own Mother in a second time with no threat of genocide, xenocide, or homicide, don't you think?” She asks him while sliding the items back into her breast pocket.

Lex meets her gaze evenly. “Should Lena wish to use it, her mother’s intended wedding band is hidden beneath the fourth flagstone of the family crypt. As a child, I never quite understood why Lillian hated a child she agreed to take in.” His manacled hands drop to his lap giving him a hunched appearance. “I found the love notes Lionel wrote at age 14. I understood then. Those are buried beneath the rose bush in the back garden. Clark Kent helped me bury them, if you have trouble finding them.”

His face remains steady but his eyes betray him. “It’s painful, isn't it? Finding out your parents aren't everything you thought they were?” Alex can't help needling a little. 

“And how is Jeremiah?” Lex returns. His hands are steepled on the table again. He’s scored a point and he knows it.

“You can ask Lillian when you see her.” She replies through gritted teeth. That had been a foolish opening to give him. She knows better.

It's a struggle to hold her relaxed posture, but she manages it. “Any final words you have for me to pass on?” She asks while signaling the guards outside.

Lex takes a breath. “Tell Lois –“
“For Lena.” Alex nearly snarls. “You have no claim to Lois.”

Lex looks like he wants to argue. Alex knows, because his right neck tendon is pulsing. Blatantly. The manic gleam is back in his eyes.

“No.” He says, shortly. “The letter says everything I have to say.” Alex nods and stands as the guards enter the room and grab Lex roughly by the shoulders, pulling him up.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Danvers.” Lex says as he’s lead towards the door. Alex thinks of the cold, concrete cell he is headed to and wonders how much of his statement is the truth. How long does it take for loneliness to get its hooks into magalomaniacs?

“The things I do for my sisters.” Alex says to his retreating form She sees his head bob.

“The things we do.” He agrees. The door slams behind him with a boom and Alex is left alone with four cameras recording her stuttered, silent breaths.


The day after her prison visit, Alex intercepts a package at Kara and Lena’s chosen wedding venue. It’s marked as ‘placecards’ and has a perfectly legitimate vendor of the things as it’s return address. Alex opens it, diffuses the kryptonite bomb inside and reads the silver engraved plaque screwed to the bomb’s sleek exterior.

‘I couldn’t let you do this to yourself. I’m sorry.’
The statement is signed by a lone, golden ‘L’.

Alex tosses the plaque into her apartment building incinerator. A cream and gold, wrongfully dated wedding invitation follows it into the chute. She’ll use the bomb as apartment décor. It’ll fit right in with her used grenade sconces.

Alex pours herself a shot, downs it, and leaves her apartment with her gun on her hip.

Maid of Honor duties include providing ‘something old’. While Kara may agree to walk down the aisle holding her Mr. Snuggles that Alex has stolen from her old bedroom, Alex isn’t sure Lena actually has sentimental stuffed animals lying around her apartment. A visit to an old, creepy crypt is in order.

“The things I do for my sisters,” Alex mutters as she gets on her Ducati and swings out into oncoming traffic.