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Chapter Text

The aching in her skull ebbs and flows like a cold tidal wave. ‘Oh, this feels like post-Myriad.’ Kara thinks, heavy leaden limbs struggle against the duvet till they find the edge of the mattress. She finds her footing despite her disorientation and in her line of sight, a bright pink box rests on the island counter. She’s one foot out of her bedroom when realization hits and her forehead crinkles. One, she’s not in her pajamas; and two, she catches a whiff of perfume and flowers. But she can’t focus on anything except her rumbling, empty stomach.

Desperate hands clutch the bright pink box, nearly tearing it open in a haste. Canoles. Her favorite. She woofs one down, followed swiftly with three more. She sees Alex leaning against the kitchen countertop, watching her with an undiscernible expression.

“Good morning to you too,” Alex smirks wryly.

Kara groans, “Ugh. Don’t talk so loud. My ears are ringing. Is this what a hangover feels like?”

She sees Alex’s lips move more than she hears it. “Want to tell me what happened last night?”

“Last night was a mistake. It was supposed to be one drink but I guess between Snapper and Mon-El still missing, I just wanted to try what being drunk feels like. You always drown yourself with work and alcohol, and you know human liquor doesn’t work on me. It was a whim. One-time.”

Kara stops dead in her rambling - stares, wide-eyed at Alex who immediately straightens. “What?”

“What time is it?”

Alex frowns but replies, “12:34pm.”

Shit. Her article. “I have to go!”

She speeds back into her bedroom, grabbing a new set of attire, slamming the bathroom door close and zipping out of there in a span of less than two minutes. She grabs her laptop and remembers at the last minute not to crush it in her hands. She takes a breath and exhales. The last thing she wants is a broken laptop to start her day.

“Kara! Where are you go-?”

“I need to go. Catco. Snapper’s going to skin me!,” she rushes, heading towards the door.

“Glasses, Kara!”

She touches her face briefly and zips back into the bedroom for it, missing Alex’s exasperated look. “I knew that and thanks for picking me up from the bar! Love you.“

Snapper plucks her freshly-printed article from her, tossing barely a glance. “You’re four hours past the deadline, Ponytail.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, flipping through the pages, his beady eyes roving critically at the words. “This is going on tomorrow’s cover.” He takes off his glasses and glares up at her. “Since you can’t bother coming in punctually like everyone else, I want a piece on parking violations rising.”

She doesn’t move. Snapper snaps at her, “Why are you still standing here?! Go bake!”

“I thought I was on the Guardian case?”

“Not anymore. Pewter’s earned it,” he snaps brusquely.

She leaves CatCo, head still pounding and still no sign of the internal drums ceasing for a brief respite. She stops a mugging at the jewelry store, tackling him to the pavement, and then punching into the concrete harder than she intended, scaring the burglar so much that he raised his hands in surrender.

She doesn’t have to wait long for the wailing sirens and flashing lights to arrive. Maggie Sawyer swims in her vision as Kara struggles to stand tall and upright, one hand firmly grabbing onto the burglar’s cuffed hands. On any day, she would have basked in the sun but today, she cannot stand being under the yellow sun. Its presence just makes her headache worse.

Sawyer takes the masked man away, handing him off to one of the officers before turning back to Kara. Her dark brow arches and Kara forces her face to a blank expression. “You okay, Supergirl?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Maggie looks at her and then to the fist-like hole in the pavement. “It’s normal to have a bad day. Everyone gets them.”

Kara takes a step back. The NCPD detective stands too close to her. She smells strongly of gunpowder and smoke. The combination assaults her sense of smell, overwhelming her. Kara falters slightly and Maggie catches her, steadying the caped heroine.

Her urgent tone softens. “Hey. Hey. Take it easy.”

Kara can feel the detective discreetly moving her away from the scene. Towards an alley. Her back hits the bricked wall of the alley and she breathes easier. They’re in the shade, Kara realizes, and she’s staring back to a very concerned pair of hazel eyes.

“What do you need, Supergirl?”

“Nothing. It’s- just a headache. I’ve got work to do.”

She forces herself away from the wall and lifts away, back towards the blinding sun.

She locks herself in the office Cat Grant gave to her, and sets off to finish compiling the facts to complete her article. Having ordered in four bags of pot stickers, Kara feels like she’s back to her old self. A soft chime interrupts her and she ignores it, determined to get this article done and over with. He had tortured her to wait in the slowest queue down at the city court’s administrative department.

The low vibration coming from her phone startles her concentration. She hits the button, cradling the delicate device between her shoulder and the side of her head, whilst she types furiously.

“Kara Danvers speaking.”

“Hey Kara, how are you? Are you still up for dinner tonight? There’s a new opening of a Thai restaurant down on Fifth Avenue.”

This is a call she isn’t expecting and she stills her fingers at the sound of her lilting voice echoing through the tiny speakers. “Hello? Kara?”

She breathes in and exhales. Leans back into her swivel chair, ignoring its tiny protests as she puts her full weight.

“Lena, I’m good and yes, dinner is on. I mean, I would love to check out the Thai place with you.”

The tiny scar crinkles as she checks her calendar hurriedly. She doesn’t remember setting an appointment with Lena Luthor.

“Lovely. You can tell me more about this cousin of yours, Kara, during dinner. I’d love to hear more.”

She blinks and tilts her head. “Cousin?” Kal. How did he pop into the conversation?   She has always been so careful about revealing anything about her family to anyone.

“I believe you mentioned his name is Kale L? I’m curious to know what the L stands for.” She can hear Lena’s amusement trickling in.

She’s almost afraid to ask but does anyway. “When- when was this?”

Her heart lurches at the disappointing tone creeping into Lena’s voice. “Last night, after I picked you up from the bar. You sure do keep interesting company, Kara... You don’t remember, do you?”

Interesting company. The alien bar. Shit. How long does she have before Lena - the youngest bright genius CEO - figures it all out? Alex is going to kill her.

“I- I don’t. Sorry.” Did she ask Lena out while she was drunk too?

“That’s alright, sweetheart. I’ll catch you up to speed then. But first, I must say, you tell the silliest stories when you’re drunk. It’s absolutely adorable.”

She ducks her head and blushes, her cheeks reddening and once again, she’s grateful for the privacy Ms. Grant granted her.

“I would love to chat more, but I’ve got a conference call in an hour. I’ll see you later?”

Kara nods, forgetting that Lena is still waiting for an answer. “Yes. Talk to you soon. Bye Lena.”

“Bye Kara.”

All is right as rain. Her article is printed and resting in the top tray of Snapper’s desk. He grunts while checking her work. “Passable. I hope you’ve learnt your lesson.” He tosses it back and continues his work. “Now get out.”

She goes after noting that the red inked pens she has come to hate, has bypassed her article. She exits the lobby with a light bounce to her steps despite the wailing sirens in the distance. A building on fire, Kara notes, hearing the panicked screams of the residents, and the frenzied stomping of those fleeing through the stairwells. She changes into her suit and zips across the city.

She lands on the roof, only to be yanked from behind by her cape and thrown into the concrete wall, denting the rooftop door in the process. A volley of green tinted darts pierce into her suit, injecting kryptonite into her system.

Kara struggles on the ground and blinks confusedly at the perpetrator.

“Hank?”

Chapter Text

Lena checks her phone for the sixth time in four minutes. There’s still no sign of Kara. She takes a sip of water, opting to ignore the curious looks thrown her way. Her last name has always attracted attention everywhere she goes. They’re probably wondering why was she doing here instead of some fancy high-class restaurant. The waiter is heading towards her with a notepad on hand. She waves him away.

She should have chosen a spot closer to the back or the side window, but this spot grants her a clear line of sight of the entrance. It’s strange. It’s not like Kara to stand her up. The front door swings open and a small group walks in. Her back straightens as she scans for the adorable mess of golden blonde hair and a horn-rimmed glasses. It turns out to be a small Asian family trudging inside.

She checks her phone again. No message. It’s almost eight. The TV screen flickers to live news as the waiter changes the channel. Lena hears soft gasps and catches Supergirl’s name being mentioned. She turns her attention and watches in concern at the burning building up in flames. The running caption at the bottom captures her attention. In block caps, it reads: WHERE IS SUPERGIRL?

There’s no sign of a flash of red and blue anywhere near the scene. Lena covers her mouth in horror as the flames ripped their way through the building, tendrils of smoke reaching desperately into the sky as if trying to escape the blazing inferno below.

Something feels wrong. Awfully wrong. Lena can feel it rattling down through her bones. She exits the restaurant and gets into her car. The last time she’d checked in with Kara, was in the afternoon. She had sounded confused, but it was understandable if Kara was terribly drunk that night and out of sorts.

Did something happen after?

It takes her double the time to reach Catco due to the road barrier condoning the public from the fire hazard. She heads to the elevators and punches the button repeatedly in an act of impatience. The doors slide open and Lena immediately hits the button for Kara’s floor.

Agonizing seconds pass before the metal doors slid open once more. She crosses the threshold in quick strides, heels clicking across the smooth surface until she stops at the receptionist desk. Her knuckle knocks against the counter as she gains the attention of a mousy intern looking up at her with wide brown eyes.

“Hello. Miss Luthor. W-What can I… erm… do for you?”

Lena gives her a tight smile as she replies, “I’m looking for Kara Danvers. Is she here?”

The intern stammers and Lena watches the way her hands clutch onto the stack of papers like a shield. “Kara. S-She’s… erm… I’m afraid she has already left. Do- do you want to schedule an appointment w-with… her?”

She takes pity on her, shaking her head. “No need. Do you know what time she left?”

“About two hours ago, Miss Luthor. Are you ss-sure there isn’t anything I-I can help you with?”

Lena declines and heads back towards the elevators, frowning hard in contemplation. If Kara had already left Catco around six, why hadn’t she turned up for the dinner date or assisted the firemen in putting out the fire?

Curiouser and curiouser.

It’s not every night she gets a special visitor to the station. She almost missed Gotham city and then again, sometimes a quiet night is what she needs. Normalcy. However, National City has its own special brand. Aliens. Good aliens, who keep to themselves are her favorite and her not so favorite? Cadmus with high voltage prods jumping out of unidentified vehicles and kidnapping good aliens in the night.

But tonight is the most special highlight. Because a certain Luthor has dropped by to pay her a ‘visit.’

Oh boy.

She can’t help herself with a quip. She just can’t. It’s already on the tip of her tongue and she spills, gripping the coffee mug a little tighter. “Well, I’ll be damned. If it isn’t baby Luthor-”

She receives a pointed glare in return and without any preamble, Luthor straight-up demands a meeting to get in touch with one Alex Danvers.

Danvers. The FBI agent. Fantastic.

She’s also the agent she has been somewhat avoiding lately. This is just peachy.

“If you tell me what this is about, I might be able to set up a meeting,” Maggie ventures slowly.

“I can’t.” The volume of Luthor’s tone drops by a decibel. It’s filled with professional steel and just a hint of panic. “Not here. Look, I just need ten minutes of her time. She knows where to find me.”

Luthor’s walking away now and she’ll be damned if she lets this Luthor walk out without a clue whatsoever. She’s quick on heels. Maggie gives her that as she dodges her colleagues and sharp desk corners as she chases down the youngest Luthor.

“Hey. Wait. What’s this about, really? I need something - anything - if you need me to get in touch with the agent. I mean, that woman is all work and no play.”

Luthor turns her body partially and stares at Maggie for a long moment. She gets this odd feeling that she’s being scrutinized under a microscope.

“Tell her it’s about Supergirl,” she finally says and Maggie watches her go, swallowed by the crowd.

Chapter Text

Science Department, NCPD

How does one get in touch with an offsite governmental agent?

She sure as hell would like to know. Walking into the FBI headquarters would be a logistical nightmare, not to mention she would be stuck waiting in one of those uncomfortable chairs all day long twiddling thumbs while waiting for a bored desk admin to attend to her.

Hell, tracking down the Bat was far easier than finding the one prickly needle in the haystack. She just needed to turn the megawatts bat torch to shine onto the night sky and wait in the shadows for a couple of hours before the gruffed vigilante makes his appearance. No, the real question was ‘how does one get in touch with Supergirl?’  National City may be half the size of Metropolis, however, she’s new to town which makes it a tenfold worse.

Maggie sinks into her crikey office chair with a groan, only to have Carlo Santos swings his chair around with a full blown smirk before resting his feet up on her desk. “Having girl trouble, Sawyer? How can I be of service tonight?” His brows waggle in mischief.

She rolls her eyes and barks, “Feet off my table, Santos.”

“Pobrecito. Someone is snappish tonight. Must be that chick from the bar you were so hungover,” he offhandedly comments as his back stretches languidly in his seat.

Click. Clack.

Maggie sends him a sidelong look and then busies herself with the stack of paperwork waiting for her in the tray on her right. She makes it through halfway before the same train of thought looms closer in the forefront.

Click. Click. Clack.

She hears the steady clicking of his ballpoint pen and looks up in annoyance. He only does this when he has something in mind that she would be opposed to. The last time nearly got her kicked out of her favorite bar, and she liked that cute bartender. The bouncer… not so much.

“What do you want?” She places the stapler down harder than she’d intended. Carlos merely glances at her with an innocent smile.

“Hey, now. I’m just sitting here, minding my own business.”

Click.

Clack. Click.

Click. Clack.

“No, you’re not,” Maggie rebuts with a scowl to his immense blinding smirk. She really wanted to lean over her desk and snatch that pen out from his hand, but with her height versus the distance from him including her desk is doubled. She’d come out short.

His back straightens and his gangly legs swivel his chair fully to face her, his expression fixed with a seriousness as he nods. There is the slightest quirk in the corner of his lips when he leans forward as if to share a whispered discussion or another half-baked theory. Maggie, on the other hand, remains passively seated with folded arms locked onto each side as she stares back.

A pregnant pause later, he caves, “So did you bang the hot chick that walked in earlier?”

A sharp loose hysterical laugh escapes her lips as her body loosens its firm resolve and dissolves into mini-spasms. Some of her colleagues turn their heads around before shaking their heads. Of all the crazy whack ideas he’d had, this was hardly an XM58 she’d thought he throw her a metaphorical one.

Bang little Luthor? Oh, it was more like, the other way round but she isn’t going to tell him that. She laughs so hard that her fist pounds against her chest to get some oxygen in. She fixes him a mock affronted glare instead. “How does one get in touch with Supergirl?”

He turns his back towards her and dismisses her with a wave. Maggie rolls her eyes at his childishness and scoots closer to her desk. She stretches out her leg from beneath her desk and then kicks the bottom of his chair. Hard. He yelps and glares back. Her smile stretches fully like a Cheshire cat. “I asked you a question, Sergeant.”

“What’s up with you tonight, Sawyer? Pulling ranks-”

She shakes her head. “Nuh-uh. Don’t answer a superior with a question. Since you were so eager to assist, I’ll ask again. If I wanted to get in touch with Supergirl, who do I have to call?”

Santos scratches his chin and shrugs. “I don’t know. She has super hearing, right? You could just... call for her.”

Maggie taps her fingers against her desk and leans back in thought. “That’s…”

The screen monitor flickers alive as a cadet officer rushes into the science department and snatches the tv remote from her colleague, earning a disgruntled yell. He bends over gasping for breath, resting his hands on his waist.

“What the fucking hell-”

“Oh my god, look!”

Maggie jolts out of her chair, half-startled when the cadet just points to the screen. “Captain Lupe needs all hands on deck. We have firefighters on the scene but the fires are too out of control. He fears it m-”

“Might be the case of a meta-human arson if the fires are not letting up,” Maggie finishes. She grabs her badge and keys from the drawer. She pulls the NCPD jacket off the back of her chair and says, “Alright. Santos, you’re with me and you kid. Supergirl is not onsite?”

The cadet shakes his head vigorously. “No, mdm. She hasn’t shown up. Reporters are marking her disappearance as MIA.”

Maggie stops in her tracks. Supergirl had seemed a bit off this morning. She had chalked up of the heroine having a bad case of a morning. She isn’t sure now, but duty obliges and if this was a Super-related matter… she’s certain Danvers will be on scene.

Traffic was a buttload of pain, even with flashing lights and screeching wail of sirens that follow. She alights from the cruiser without so much of a warning to her partner, leaving him with the cadet, and then jogs the remaining four blocks to reach the cordoned burning building. She finds the serious agent about one and half hours later, holding her phone to her ear while looking up into the night sky. Maggie follows her gaze and her heart thunders against her ribcage at the ugly sight.

A plume of fire explodes into the blackness, the crimson flames rolling outwards like the smoke of a mushroom cloud. The idea of firefighters rushing into an inferno sounds just ludicrous. Heck, even the heat feels oppressive at two hundred yards away and three stories up. Standing anywhere closer to the yellowed tapes makes Maggie feel as though she has turned into an overcooked tart. The onlookers flinch and stagger back when fiery flames burst from the windows and send horizontal jets out ten feet or more. The louder the flames rebel against the onslaught icy jets of water shooting from all directions, the incessant yelling and shouting have grown at ground level.

All the while Supergirl remains unaccounted for...

Standing mere feet away from the agent, Maggie raises her voice, “I wasn’t aware building fires were under FBI jurisdiction.”

Danvers whips her head around with a quizzical expression. She mutters something into her phone and then stores the device into her back pocket of her pants. Her hand gesture at the scene as she replies, “Oh no, it’s not. I’m not… I- I was just in the neighborhood.”

Maggie doesn’t buy it. Coincidence, it is not. She shoots back, “Looking for Supergirl?”

Danvers seems to be at a loss for words tonight, partially starting a sentence and then halting at midpoint. “Yes. No. Well... everybody else obviously seems to be lending a hand,” the agent finally answers while raising a hand to shield her face from the blinding white source of light coming from the skies. Catco reporters have taken to using their helicopters to scour for the superheroine.

“They’re really going all out,” Maggie comments as she watches the commotion above.

“Yeah, Catco branded her after all,” Danvers replies distractedly as she fishes out the same phone from earlier and looks down at the flashing screen. “I have to take this. Sorry, umm… good luck with that.”

The agent begins to walk away and she realizes her chances of getting the message out turns slimmer by the second. “Wait! Lena Luthor is looking for you,” she finally spills.

Danvers freezes and turns slowly, her eyes growing wider at the mention of Luthor’s name thrown in. “Whoa. What?! Wait, why is Luthor looking for me?”

Maggie shrugs. “Beats me. She stopped by the station and asked me to touch base with you regarding our mutual friend.”

“Supergirl, of course,” Danvers exhales a long sigh before returning a curt nod. “This is just great. Thank you, Detective. I’ll take it from here.”

However, the words once burst forth from her lips continues onward like a fountain. Maggie begins cautiously, “You know, I met Supergirl this morning. She seemed out of sorts.”

Danvers snaps up from her phone and Maggie detects a strangled raised accent in her speech. “Off how?”

“Like the sun was making her sick. She had a momentary lapse of control which scared the burglar half to death that he surrendered on his own. I thought the Supers were like plants, photosynthesis, and all that good stuff.”

Chapter Text

9:30pm, Downtown Area

A lanky redhead dressed in black tactical garb stares long and hard at the menacing thousand window-like eyes skyscraper, before nodding her head in resignation and heads inside the front doors. The lobby is classy and has all the corporate taste for opulent items without the slightest touch of personality. The floor was tiled in fine marble which made her boots echo as she walks up to the front reception desk manned by a lone security detail. Her hand slides into her pants pocket for her badge as her finger brushes against the hidden cache behind the screen id, before bringing it up to flash for the guard.

“FBI. I’m here to talk to Miss Lena Luthor,” she states.

The guard smiles like a photo, his watchful eyes remaining still while he takes down her details and checks her identification. He motions her towards the security screening and the agent nods. He picks up a phone and dials a number, speaking in low tones while she goes through the usual motions.

He escorts the redhead to the elevator and she steps inside the most pristine elevator. It had white marble walls, a blue carpet, a silver handrail, and no buttons. The guard briefly ducks in with one hand preventing the doors from closing while he flicks open a hidden cache and presses his thumb onto a small sensor. She hears a soft chime and the guard leaves her with a brisk nod. The doors slide shut and the elevator rises to the top floor without stopping.

Once the doors slides open silently, she steps out, noting the front desk is unmanned and in front of her lies the open door to Luthor’s lair. Alex squares her shoulders as her hand brushes the handle of the gun sitting snugly in its holster and walks inside. Her office layout is not what she expected from what she has observed from the lobby area. While it maintains the minimalistic approach, Luthor did, however, have an elegant, geometrical taste. She notices the white couch first, the plush carpet surrounding the area with a low glass coffee table. The walls are painted in neutral soft hues and her office desk is shaped in a very modernized version of an art display.

“Agent Danvers, I see you’ve received my message,” Luthor greets as she stands and head towards the side counter. “Would you like a drink?”

She nods and takes the glass of amber liquid swirling as her brain runs endless calculated probabilities. Supergirl’s disappearance has put her on edge and with the addition of Detective Sawyer’s comment, Alex has cemented on an obvious conclusion but there isn't any conclusive evidence that links Lena Luthor to Cadmus.

Yet.

Her back stays ramrod straight against the proffered chair back rest. Alex takes an uncomfortable sip. Her brain replays the incident continuously like a broken tape recorder. She had wanted to surprise her sister but she certainly wasn’t expecting to be the one surprised. By a sleeping Luthor. It gave way to panic and then her brain had jumped to pure instinctive mode.

“Sorry for the gun stunt. It was uncalled for,” Alex affixes Luthor with a look. “You surprised me, Luthor.” She breathes inwardly a sigh of relief when the memory slowly fades away. 

There is a moment of tension hanging between them before Luthor presses a button and Alex turns to watch the large oak doors hiss and swing shut, leaving her with Luthor. Her hand instinctively goes for her holstered weapon. The corner of her cherry red lips tilt upward with silent mirth. “Apology accepted. Shall we move on to a more pressing issue? Now that we both acknowledged the fact that Kara Danvers and Supergirl are one and the same person.”

Luthor produces a small black thumb drive and places it between them. Alex looks at it dubiously. “What is this?”

“I think I might have a lead. One of the old warehouses, which were previously owned by Luthor Corp, did a recent inventory check and perfunctory inspection. The reports mentioned a missing case of vials.” 

Alex waits with bated breath as Luthor pauses before continuing, “It was liquidized kryptonite but the chemical components have been broken down to its basic level and diluted with another stabilizing agent. I haven’t pinpoint its molecular structure but it seems similar to glucose…”

Luthor carries on, oblivious to Alex’s glazed look staring at the night view of glinting skyscrapers and the colorful twinkling lights illuminating the bridge and highways. She pulls the incident back from the recesses of her mind into the forefront. After Luthor had hurriedly left, there was a covered innocent-looking plain pink box sitting on the table. Kara woke up with a hangover which was normal. She was a lightweight; she never built up her tolerance for alcohol like she had, with years of drinking and partying during her schooling years. Kara woke up disoriented and scatterbrained, typical symptoms from a normal hangover. It was Sawyer’s comment that had her spooked.

Kara never lost control - okay, she did when she first crash-landed - but the way Sawyer offhandedly mentioned Supergirl had punched a little too hard and scared a criminal that he’d rather be arrested was something else. Her brain replays the morning again and then she remembers Kara’s greedy fingers reach in and pull-

Her back snaps from its slouched state and the agent suddenly sits with her back ramrod straight. “It’s the canoles.”

Luthor blinks at the sudden interruption and stares at her in confusion. Alex hurries to explain, “T-There was a box of them sitting on the table when I walked in. I had assumed you’d left them for her.”

“No… I picked her straight from the alien bar and we headed to her apartment. Is it still at her place?”

Alex stands immediately and grabs the thumb drive. “Yeah, they should be there.”

Luthor nods and follows suit. “I’m coming with you. Just let me grab my kit and then we’ll go.”

“Uh no, you’re not. This is FBI business but thank you for this,” Alex retorts, holding the thumb drive. She does, however, softens her tone. “I know you want to help. If we find anything, you’ll be the first to know.”

She turns to leave when she hears the steady clicking of Luthor’s heels right behind her heel. The large oak doors swing open soundlessly while Luthor catches up and fixes Alex an appraised look.

“I won’t take a no as an answer, FBI or not, Agent Danvers. Kara Danvers is my only friend and if she’s in trouble and exposed to kryptonite synthesized by either my brother or one of his fanatics. You will need my assistance.”

Alex puts up a hand. “I wish I could but protocol states-”

“Screw your protocols, Danvers. Kara doesn’t have much time. The components used are incompatible and highly unstable.”

Agent Danvers doesn't bother maintaining civility. She kicks down Kara Danvers' door while Lena heads straight for the bright pink pastel box. Pulling her kit out of her purse, she tests them immediately. The screen of her tablet flashes green with sick confirmation. "I'll need to analyze the component further in my lab for an antidote."

"You do that. I'll get my guys on top of this," Danvers snap back to action, already texting orders from her mobile.

Chapter Text

Lena doesn’t wait for Alex’s permission. She isolates an empty vial from her toolkit and starts swabbing at the residue cream. The synthetic sweetness in the air makes her throat tighten. It smells very sugary, which just so happens to be Kara Danvers’ weakness. Whoever designed this had wanted it to look harmless. Her tablet hums softly in her hands. 

Green again. Surface-level data. She needs more. 

“I can reverse engineer the compound,” Lena says confidently. “If it's indeed destabilizing the central nervous system, I need a controlled environment, reagents, and a spectrometer, probably. My lab has what's needed.”

Alex barely glances up from her phone. “Fine. Send me updates. My people will cross-reference distribution points.”

Lena snaps her kit shut. “Then I'll be on my way.” Her voice cuts sharper than intended, but she doesn't apologize. Kara doesn't have time for her to play nice with Danvers’ chain of command. 

On the drive back to L-Corp, her mind races to reach a solution. Pathways of synthesis. Possible antidote. Maybe a contingency if the toxin evolves. She can't stop imagining Kara's pale face, straining under some unseen weight. It won't come to that. 

When she reaches her lab, Lena’s in full motion; she strips off her blazer, donning on her white lab coat. Machines roar to life under her fingers, data cascading across screens. She ignores her phone's notifications from the outside world. None of it matters.

Because Lena isn't just analyzing a toxin. She's dismantling an attack on Kara Danvers and on Supergirl. 

And if Alex doesn't trust her, then Lena will have to earn it. 

And when it works (because it will work), Alex Danvers will have no choice but to ‘thank’ a Luthor for saving the world's strongest woman.

The centrifuge whirl, the sound steady and comforting like a metronome guiding her through chaos. Lena adjusts the dial, eyes darting between the swirling samples and the molecular simulation blooming across her monitor. The compound is vicious, layered like an invisible mask designed to slip past Kryptonian physiology as if its maker had studied it for years. 

She injects a reagent and watches the molecular model splits and destabilizes. A crack of triumph curls through her chest. “Got you,” she whispers. 

The antidote begins to take shape, delicate and precise. Kara's cells will absorb it. Neutralize the poison, stabilize even. If she times it right, Kara will be back to full strength with some time in the sun bed. 

Her phone buzzes with a message from Agent Danvers: Any progress? We've recovered our missing superhero. She looks bad. 

Bad.

The word digs deep. Lena doesn't need to see Kara to visualize it; the forced smile, stubborn insistence that she's fine. Kara always tries to carry more than she should. 

Lena types back: I'm close. Keep her calm. 

Minutes feel like hours, but at last the antidote stabilizes, its crystalline glow shows promise. Lena cradles the vial and calls the agent. “It's ready. I'll bring it to you.”

“You sure it'll work?” Agent Danvers’ voice is all hard edges. 

“Yes,” she declares. Her voice doesn't waver. “It'll work.”

Because failure isn't an option. 

The drive feels endless despite breaking every traffic law between L-Corp and the DEO's supposed black-site. When her chauffeur vehicle finally screeches to a stop outside a nondescript building, the vial in her pocket feels heavier than lead. As she strides towards the elevator, two armed guards step forward in unison, blocking her path. 

“Restricted,” one says flatly. 

“I'm here with the antidote,” Lena snaps back, lifting her case. “You let me through or you explain to your director why Supergirl doesn't survive the night.”

The agent barely flinches. The other shakes his head. Their faces are carved from stone, protocol overriding reason. A sharp voice cuts through the tension. 

“Luthor.”

Agent Danvers steps out from the shadows, her phone still in hand, eyes burning with exhaustion and something else Lena can't quite read. The agents immediately part for her. 

Lena doesn’t waste any time. She opens the case, pulls out the vial, and presses it into the agent's palm. Her voice is steel. “One dose. It binds to the toxin and flushes it from the system.”

Agent Danvers stares at the vial suspiciously, then back at Lena. She nods once. Her fist closes around the vial then she turns away, already striding back into another set of doors. 

Fury burns in her chest as Lena is left standing at the outskirts. She crafted the cure and yet, she isn't allowed to be there when Kara opens her eyes again.

In the dark, Lena waits and clings to one stubborn truth: when Kara wakes, she'll know who saved her. 

The day has been merciless; back-to-back board meetings, calls with investors, and a steady stream of engineers demanding sign-off. Lena is halfway through a salad she doesn't really want, perched at her desk when the doors burst open. Kara stumbles in, hair wind-tossed, glasses slightly askew, clutching two greasy paper bags. 

“Dinner delivery!” She announces breathlessly. 

Lena sets down her pen, schooling her features into warmth. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Kara sets the bags down on the coffee table, almost flustered. “I'm sorry I missed our dinner. Snapper dumped this last-minute article on me, and I completely lost track of time. And Alex said I push myself too hard anyway…” Kara finishes with an embarrassed chuckle. 

Alex again. Always Alex. 

Lena forces her smile, brittle at the edges, and follows Kara to the couch. They eat takeout from cartons, Kara chattering about deadlines and byline, waving her chopsticks in animated arcs. 

She's vibrant and alive, thanks to Lena. But the credit belongs elsewhere. 

Did Alex even tell her? 

The thought gnaws. Maybe Alex claimed the antidote as the DEO work. Maybe Kara never asked. Lena pictures it: Kara waking, Alex's steady hand at her side; Alex saying, You're safe now. I had my people fix it. And Kara, sweet trusting Kara, smiling with relief. Grateful. 

Grateful to Alex. 

The ache sharpens into something uglier. Lena stabs at her noodles, barely hearing Kara's chatter. If Kara looks at Alex with that same warmth she's showing now… If Kara reserves her trust and her gratitude for her sister alone… 

Then what's left for Lena? 

Kara nudges her shoulder, breaking her spiral. “Thanks for being so understanding. I promise I'll make it up to you.” Her eyes crinkle, soft and unguarded. 

Lena’s throat burns. She returns the smile, the one she's mastered for boardrooms and interviews, a smile that hides the sting beneath. 

You don't even know. You'll never know it was me. And maybe you wouldn't believe it if you did. 

Kara launches into another story about Snapper's impossible edits. Lena listens (pretends to) while jealousy coils tighter around her ribs. 

Kara is here, alive, laughing, and Lena should take comfort in that. 

fin.