Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Maxwell Lord sat at the bar of the Opal City Royale Etude sipping his Manhattan dourly. He had come to the conference on quantum mechanics hoping to feel inspired again, but so far, it wasn’t working. He hadn’t been himself now for months, not since he had been working from home and thought he had a breakthrough and he’d called his assistant Brendan to bring him half a dozen tablets of the proto-pink kryptonite. And that had… not been his smartest idea.

Brendan was a good assistant, smart, fit, good looking and all that. But Max just wasn’t gay. He’d felt very gay at the time, but afterwards he felt awful, because he was pretty sure the pink K had only changed reality for him, not for his assistant. And it was his own damn fault.

And then he thought back to the gala in Metropolis, the century celebration of the Daily Planet. He had asked Cat Grant to be his plus-one and she had showed up wearing a tuxedo and four-inch fuck-me heels and then had gone off to dance and afterwards go home with Lillian Luthor. And that also had been his own damn fault.

The whole thing was just all kinds of wrong. He shouldn’t be doing… all that… with his executive assistant. He should be wining and dining and riding starlets like a real man.

What harm had he done the world when he created the pink K to embarrass some red-hat wearing conservatives?

On the other hand…

Back when he had accidentally poisoned Supergirl with the red kryptonite, he had managed to reverse engineer that to bring her back to her real self. It hadn’t even been that difficult, hadn’t even taken all that much time, which was good, given that Alex Danvers had looked the whole time like she was going to throttle him and/or throw him back into his cage at the DEO and leave him to rot.

So if he could reverse engineer the pink K and seed the clouds with it as he had done with the regular pink K the first time…. He could solve the whole thing, fix his mistakes. People would thank him. Huh. And he still had the device he had lifted from the DEO when he had reverse engineered the red K, tossed in the corner of the armory like a broken piece of some weapon. He had thought at the time that they didn’t know what they had. Well then, they weren’t going to miss it.

///

Two years earlier, as hurricane season was gearing up, most major cities had sightings of drones flying through the clouds. When the rain finally stopped, an awful lot of the country was feeling far less fabulous.

And there was a complete and total absence of rainbows.

Chapter Text

Gideon had been monitoring Earth 38’s time stream for, well, time didn’t exactly exist in between missions. But she’d been on thousands of missions, first with the Time Lords, then with Rip and now with the latest group of Legends. And there were a lot of things that could cause an aberration, but human decisions, especially the ones based on strong emotions, tended to cause the biggest aberrations. If you had enough people feeling the same thing strongly enough at the same time, at the start or end of a war, for example, you could easily get a blip. What she had rarely seen was an instance where a massive number of people simultaneously stopped feeling.

At all.

That was going to have consequences, both for those people and the people around them. And then the consequences were going to start cascading. So her job was not only to notice a tear in the timeline, but also to, metaphorically, follow the threads back to see where the tear began and see if it could be mended.

And by where, she basically meant who.

And oh boy, was this one going to be complicated. Because the team had met these people before, and it was a really bad idea to send them back to the same time and place twice, especially since their extended exposure to the timestream’s radioactivity, and just even the radioactivity common to the 21st century environment, would cause them to be more memorable to the people and (in a bad way) luminescent, noticeable, in the times and places they might repeatedly show up in.

They were going to need a pinch hitter, someone from a time before the radioactivity prevalent since the end of World War II.

She projected her voice through the Waverider. “Captain Lance? We have a problem.”

///

Sara Lance knew she looked good in 1940s womenswear. And Zari, of course, though she was from an apocalyptic future, could make the clothes of any era look good. This was all very helpful as they walked into the Metropolis Strategic Scientific Reserve on a spring day in 1946 to winningly convince Chief Dooley to lend them Agent Peggy Carter to aid them in protecting Eleanor Roosevelt at the UN Committee for the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. And although the chief hadn’t explicitly said, “Yes, dear God! Take her off my hands,” the sentiment had been clear enough.

Back on the Waverider, Sara and Zari had explained how in Agent Carter’s future and their past, a historically critical superhero had been maliciously ejected from her timeline, causing cascading misalignments with other superheroes in her Earth’s reality. The Artificial Intelligence/Pilot/Waverider person, Gideon, showed them a visualization of the timeline ripped and rearranged and tied into a Gordian knot. It was a mess.

Agent Carter quietly took in the multiverse, timelords, torn timeline and the rest, nodding as she tapped her pen against the pad where she was taking notes. “So,” she said, “if I understand you, you need me to gently push this hero in the right direction to gradually decrease the seismic shifts in her timeline. Is that correct?”

Sara was impressed. Few people whom she had dealt with over the years had so easily taken in the challenge to their reality that she had given them. “Yes.”

“So how will we know if things are going in the right directions? What can we use as a barometer?”

Sara and Zari stared at each other. “Honestly, we hadn’t gotten quite that far.”

“Mm. I think we’re going to need Angie Martinelli.”

Sara laughed. “Seriously? You want us to bring in your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my—” Agent Carter protested. Then she frowned and thought for a moment, her eyebrows rising. “Oh hell, I suppose she is. Hmph. Regardless. She’s the right woman for this job.”

Chapter Text

Alex Danvers looked at the address she had been given, went up to the door and knocked. From inside the house several probably large dogs started barking. She smiled.

The woman who came to the door followed by three German Shepherds had kind brown eyes. “Yes, can I help you?”

“Are you Mrs. Carter? My name is Alex Danvers. I got an email from my old high school teacher that you might need a walker.”

“Yes, that’s fabulous. Come on in. Tea?”

Alex thought the British woman might get offended if she said no, so she just nodded and sat at the woman’s kitchen table.

The woman fussed with loose-leaf tea and her kettle and then settled down across from her. “I’m going to be out of town for the next three weeks and I’ll need someone to come feed and exercise these lugs. How much do your charge per day?”

Alex mumbled a number.

“Really. Forgive me for saying this, Miss Danvers, but that is far too low. I mean, for chihuahuas, maybe, but my dogs need someone strong, and possibly more than one person—”

“My sister works with me.”

“Then first triple your rate for big dogs and then double it for two people working each day.”

Alex stared at her. Who asks to be charged six times as much?

“Didn’t you take any business classes when you were in school?"

“We both went to community college and got our associate’s degrees. Hers was in art, mine in English.”

“Hm. Have you ever considered going back and finishing a bachelor’s degree? You could major in business and then use what you learn to develop your dog walking company.”

Alex shrugged. “It’s just a service. Cash basis.”

“And why do I suspect that you work all day every day, seven days a week?”

“Dogs need walking every day. They don’t exactly take vacations from eating and pooping. Ma’am.”

The woman chuckled. The kettle went off and she jumped to pour the water over the tea and bring the two cups back to the table. “You’re right, of course. But that doesn’t give you any time for a social life. At your age, I’d think you’d want to be dating.”

Alex shrugged again. “It’s… not my thing, I guess. Kara’s either, although she’s got other reasons.”

The woman frowned, opened her mouth and shut it again.

Alex sighed. “We’re not repressed! I took psych 101. I think I’m just Ace, you know. Asexual.”

The woman nodded. “Fair enough. But wouldn’t you like more time to read? And for your sister to make art, if she does?”

“She paints… Huh.”

“Hire one or two people, create shifts. Take an accounting class. A lot of good colleges do online classes…”

Alex looked thoughtful.

///

Angie Martinelli was a quick learner. It had taken the computer lady, Gideon, only half an hour to teach her how to drive a twenty-first century car. And then they had given her this uniform, like a men’s black suit and tie with a white shirt. Well, there was nothing like a distinctive costume to help an actor get into her role. There was even a hat to go with it.

She drove up to the Luthor mansion to pick up Lena and Lillian Luthor and then she drove them to the Stark Stadium at the center of Metropolis for the world chess championship. When they arrived, Angie quickly got the back door open and handed the women out of the limo.

As she got out of the car, Lillian said, “Is it true that the car service includes bodyguard capabilities.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Excellent. Go park and then come meet us at the back.” She handed her a badge on a lanyard. “Some of those Russian players can be a bit… competitive.”

“Will do, ma’am.”

And that was how Angie found herself standing two feet behind Lena’s chair in the biggest stadium she’d ever seen in her life while thousands of people watched Lena Luthor beat chessmaster after chessmaster. She wiped the floor with them. Angie felt a little odd wearing her uniform hat indoors; back in her day, men didn’t wear hats indoors and she was sorta dressed like a man. Well, it was good acting practice.

At the end of the tournament, Lena walked away with something like $100,000, but she didn’t look particularly happy about it.

Chapter Text

Alex Danvers (BA in business administration, Midvale University) saw the new woman step into the DEO’s Human Resources office and fought not to gape. This Agent Peggy Carter with the big brown eyes and reddish-brown bob had been seconded to the DEO from MI6, British Military Intelligence. Alex had heard from her boss, Pam, what a badass this woman was, but she was careful not to fangirl.

Agent Carter said, “Hello, I was told to talk to a Ms. Danvers in HR about my paperwork?”

Alex waved. “That’s me. Come on in. Would you like some coffee? I’m afraid we don’t have very good tea.”

Carter smiled. “Coffee would be splendid, thanks.” She pulled her passport and other identifying paperwork on Alex’s desk as Alex poured her coffee. “Just cream, if you have it.”

Alex poured two cups, one for each of them and brought them over to her desk. “I just need to get your I-9 sorted out and finalize your contract. Oh, and get you a lanyard and a keycard.” Her phone pinged, but she ignored it, taking Carter’s papers and filling things in on her computer.

“You can get that, if you like, Ms. Danvers. I’m not in a hurry.”

Alex picked up her phone and frowned at it, put it down and went back to typing. It pinged again but she tossed it into a desk drawer. Ten minutes later, muffled from the drawer, it pinged again. And again.

“And you. Are. Done. I can print out a copy for you, if you’d like.” Alex hurried to the printer at the back of the room, where the clock showed it to be 4:54. She brought back the papers in a file folder and handed them to the agent.

Agent Carter slid them into her bag. “Mm. Thanks. Um, so, do you get off at five? It’s just I was hoping I could talk to someone local about how things work at the DEO here and does everybody live in this… bunker or do you have homes and lives outside of the desert?”

Alex laughed. “Sure, I could do that. And the town is closer than you would expect. Most of the people who live there work here. Well, not the agents probably. But people like me and my boss. We have a halfway decent bar that serves food…”

“Perfect.”

Alex drove them in a Subaru that probably had seen three presidential administrations, but it still ran. She drove out of the desert in the other direction from the way Carter had driven in, which was why she hadn’t seen the small village on the edge of the desert with tiny houses and shops, some scrub and a few trees in the park at the center between the two white-clad churches.

The bar was next door to the tiny post office. Alex parked in front and took in Agent Carter’s mild surprise. “Don’t say quaint. Please.”

“Okay. I shan’t. Let me buy you a drink though,” she said as they entered the dimly lit room. On one end was a pool table where some young men in dusty construction boots were having a game.

They sat at a tiny table in the front corner next to the only window, which looked out back on the tiny parking lot. Carter got scotch for herself and a white wine for Alex. In her back pocket, Alex’s phone pinged again.

“You should probably get that,” said Carter. “Persistent people tend to, well, persist.”

Alex pulled the phone out, read the texts and snorted.

“Bad news?”

“Maybe bad. Not news. My boyfriend Rick is saying he’s working this weekend, again, can’t get away. More like he’s in Reno with some floozy gambling his paycheck. He’s done it before.”

“And you put up with that?”

“What choice do I have?” She gestured to the nearly empty bar. “Not a lot of choices out here.”

“So? You could choose to break up with him. If he doesn’t realize what a privilege it is to have you in his life, he doesn’t deserve you.”

Alex stared at her.

Carter said gently, “He’s out there making his choice. But it doesn’t have to be yours.”

Alex looked down at her phone, frowning. Then one eyebrow rose, and she started typing with her thumbs. “He’s not going to like this…”

“Does he ever get violent with you?”

“He never has. He’s got a temper, like most guys. But he usually just yells.”

“I hesitate to say this, Ms. Danvers—”

“Call me Alex.”

“Alex. But most men don’t in fact have tempers. Just the ones who have been socialized to believe it is acceptable.”

“Yeah, I guess. My dad didn’t when I was growing up, but he died when I was kind of young and my mom never married again.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. But, just if, Rick was it? If Rick ever lifts a hand to you, let me know and I will help you sort him out.”

Alex stared at her again. “Why would you do that?”

Agent Carter sniffed. “Because, Ms. Danvers, you and I are members of organizations that save the world on a regular basis. And mediocre men will only hinder us in our work.”

///

Angie Martinelli had not been prepared for a lead apron to be one of the things she would need to temporarily take over for Jess Huang as Lena Luthor’s executive assistant at LuthorCorp while Jess started chemotherapy.

“It’s her kryptonite heart,” explained Jess tiredly. “Carcinogenic.”

“So, um, why do you have cancer and not her?”

“Luck of the draw.” Jess shrugged. She explained the complicated color-coding system she used for Lena’s schedule. “Oh, and here.” She handed Angie a security badge. “You’ll need this for when you’re still here after curfew, which is most days. It’s got a chip that makes the H.O.P.E. security drones ignore you.”

“But curfew is 8 pm.”

“I know. But she works sixty to eighty hours a week, so you will too.”

“Huh, that explains the surprisingly generous benefits package. But that doesn’t exactly leave you time for a fella, or really any social life.”

“Men are over-rated. It was men that got us into this whole mess. Lex and John Corben were aiming for Superman and instead shot Lena’s helicopter out of the sky.” Jess sighed and then said in a low voice very quickly, with a glance at Lena’s office door. “Oh, and never, ever mention helicopters. She gets… testy.”

Angie nodded very seriously. She suspected that, under the same circumstances, she would too.

Chapter Text

Back on the Waverider, Peggy and Angie went to the bridge to report to Sara.

“Please give me good news,” said Sara.

“Define good,” snorted Peggy.

“Did you make a difference? Are things back to normal?”

And Peggy and Angie exchanged glances.

“Normal adjacent,” said Peggy.

“Normal-ish,” said Angie.

Peggy explained. “Alex Danvers did take my advice to go back to college for a business degree, and she apparently gave up her dog-walking service and now works in HR at the Nevada site of the DEO. She’s dating one Rick Malvern, who is apparently stepping out on her.”

(Angie rolled her eyes. “English…”)

Zari walked in just then. “Well, that sounds…better?”

Angie shook her head. “Yeah, and Lena Luthor is back at LuthorCorp but she almost died in a helicopter crash after the Venture disaster and now she apparently has a heart made of kryptonite—”

“Shit!” said Sara.

“Yeah, it gets worse. That heart has given Jess Huang some kind of cancer. She’s taking a medical leave of absence to start a new chemo program, something Lillian Luthor came up with in her paid job at LuthorCorp, as opposed to the heart, which she came up with in her Cadmus side gig. And Lena is single. And kinda scary. I only met her for a few minutes, but I wouldn’t mess with her, and I can’t imagine that anybody—male or female—would be brave enough to date her.”

Gideon said, “Well, I would concur that things with our ladies are… better.” On the computer screen she showed them a visualization that was less like a chaotic mass of Christmas tree lights all bunched up and hopelessly tangled and more like an actual complicated knot of different colored threads.

Zari shook her head. “You’re going to have to go back in and try again.”

And Gideon, the British-sounding AI said, “Oh, bugger!”

And Carter, the British agent-turned-temp Legend, said, “I quite agree.

Chapter Text

DEO rookie Alex Danvers routinely took her instructor, Agent Lucy Lane, down to the mat whenever Agent Lane came to test the rookies (the rest of whom had less-perfect results).

But the new British agent didn’t believe in fighting on mats or even in the DEO’s gym. Instead, she trooped the agents up to HR, where all of the HR staff except the director, Pam something, left the room and presumably took a coffee break. Agent Lane and Pam stood just outside the door watching while Carter took three rookies at a time through their paces.

“Volunteers?” she asked with a sparkle in her eye.

Chen and Jordan immediately volunteered. The other woman, Peters, finally raised her hand. Carter set Chen in front of the file cabinet, Jordan in front of the copier and Peters in front of the coffee pot. Then she had Agent Lane hit the lights.

Yelling, “Thieves! You’re under arrest!” she barreled in, punching Chen, who ducked and blocked but got kicked in the nuts and was down howling.

Jordan blocked her with a ream of copy paper, but she kicked his knee out and he went down, and as she turned to Peters, the woman managed to hit her with an empty coffee pot, duck under her arm and run to the door, pushing past the watchers.

Turning on the lights again, Carter nodded approvingly. “Zero points for Chen, one for Jordan, two for Peters. Reset! Danvers, Schulz and Freeman, you’re up.”

Freeman went to the file cabinet, Danvers to the copier and Schulz to the coffee pot. He touched the side of the full pot and pulled his fingers away quickly. The lights went out.

“Intruder alert!” yelled Carter.

She dashed over to Danvers who picked up the heavy stapler and slammed Carter in the arm with it, stapling her three times before pulling free and throwing herself over a desk to get out the door. Freeman dove for Carter’s legs, knocking her down and Schulz grabbed the heavy coffee pot and said, “I am pouring this on your face. It is quite hot.” Then he put it back on the burner and hurried to the door.

Carter sat up. Freeman said, “I suspect I got hot coffee on my face too, didn’t I?”

Carter nodded appreciatively, wincing as she pulled staples out of her arm. “Ah. Right. Excellent. So three points to Danvers for being proactive and, ow, highly effective. One point for Schulz for getting me down, but it would have been two if you hadn’t taken down your comrade as well. And one point for Freeman for getting me down and understanding that there are downsides to a hot liquid. I would also note that throwing liquid on the floor can backfire if you slip. Excellent work.”

She got up and dismissed them, thanking Pam for use of the room, and walked out with Danvers, who went to drink from her DEO water bottle but found it empty.

Carter said, “There’s a fountain down this hall.” She joined her as Danvers turned in that direction. “Good work with the weapon of opportunity. I have myself used staplers on more than one occasion. Heavy and sharp. Quite versatile.”

“To be honest, I wouldn’t have thought of it if Jordan hadn’t used the paper. I had figured the lesson was fighting among obstacles, not using the obstacles. Ma’am.”

“I actually had thought you would volunteer to go first.”

“Hell, no. I mean. Um. No, ma’am. I wanted to see what the parameters might be before I dove in. Sort of like doing a sitrep for myself, I think that’s what Vasquez calls it.”

“Indeed. Your cohort is coming along nicely. Good work.”

Alex’s phone pinged in her pocket. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Go ahead and take that. You’re off duty.”

Alex pulled out the phone and smiled and then frowned.

“Good news?”

“Hard to say. It’s this guy I met last year during that earthquake, Max Lord. We’ve been dating for the last few months. He’s smart and kinda rich, but then he does things like try to feed me quail eggs off his fork, and I just. No.”

“Money isn’t everything,” said Carter. “Does he respect you?”

“Ha. Only when he knows I’m armed. But he’s the first guy who’s wanted to date me in, like, forever. Mostly they get weirded out as if I was too masculine or something. And anyway, it’s better than being alone.”

“It’s not really. I mean, just speaking for myself, I much prefer my own company to having to laugh at a man’s jokes to soothe his fragile ego."

Alex looked like she’d never considered that. Slowly, she said, “Huh. I mean, I feel that way when I run. Or on the shooting range, when I just sink into myself and put bullet after bullet into the targets. Finishing is like waking up from a dream, a soothing dream. But I never thought about feeling that when I’m not training or when I’m just on my own with nothing to do."

“It’s a state of mind, Danvers. You just have to practice taking it everywhere with you. And when you find someone that you can feel that with, pay attention. It’s a good sign.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

///

Angie Martinelli tried to make heads or tails out of Eve Tessmacher’s handwriting in Lena Luthor’s planner. Eve had quit CatCo in a snit just two weeks previously and Angie was the fourth temp to try to sort out the mess she’d left. It didn’t help that James Olsen kept coming by and asking her to bring things down to layout or get coffee for him and Ms. Luthor, watching the CEO with a strange mix of resentment and desire whenever they were in the office together.

Just that morning, Lena had come in from an event wearing a black off-the-shoulders dress that had a decolletage that offered a lovely view of the woman’s alabaster skin. James had literally walked up to her and put a hand on her bare shoulder and Lena had pulled away, saying, “Consent, Mr. Olsen. And please remember, I’m a gold star.”

And Angie had quickly Googled that.

James said, “That’s exactly my point, Lena. How do you know you don’t like sleeping with men if you never been with one?”

Lena’s perfect eyebrow rose. “Well, I could ask the same of you, Mr. Olsen.”

James’s jaw dropped. Angie looked away, trying not to laugh.

Chapter Text

Back on the Waverider, Gideon greeted the newest Legends. “Good evening, Agent Cartinelli!”

Zari said, “Gideon, they don’t have ships and ship names in 1946.”

And Peggy had frowned with confusion, but Angie just shrugged it off. “It’s the future. It was always gonna be weird.”

Sara sighed. “You’re not wrong, Angie. So. What do we have?”

Peggy said, “We’re… closer. Alex is becoming a talented agent, although she still hasn’t, what’s that phrase, left the closet?”

“Come out,” said Sara.

“Quite. She’s dating one Max Lord. Apparently, he’s rich?”

Gideon said, “Founder and CEO of LordTechnology, known for useful innovations, excellent Personal Protection Equipment, and creating the things he fears by trying to prevent them. Hates alien superheroes.”

“Does Alex know all that about him?” Sara asked.

“I’d say not yet,” said Peggy. “She was more upset about him trying to feed her quail eggs off his fork.”

Zari said, “Yeah, that’s just…” She shook her head. “And Lena?”

Angie grinned. “Apparently, she is sapphic. Never been with a man. And turned that around on James who was trying to get her to date him. Never gonna happen.”

Sara said, “Well, we’ve got one closeted badass and one not-closeted overworking CEO. Looks like you gals are going to have to go back in, but I have to say, I’m impressed.”

Angie grinned. “Yeah, English here is impressive. She’s the real deal. I’m just acting.”

Peggy said, “Angie, you must remember that in covert operations behind enemy lines, having acting skills can prevent you from needing to use your killing or surviving skills.”

“Aw, Peg. You say the sweetest things.”

Chapter Text

Agent Danvers rappelled out of the DEO chopper to land on the roof at CatCo, where Max Lord’s robot chickens had gotten loose and were terrorizing National City. She had shot them out of the sky and now needed to pick up the pieces and bring them back to the DEO. Across the city, Agent Carter was providing backup for Supergirl after that near disaster with the oil tanker. They all got back to the DEO exhausted, but Supergirl was also covered in black ichor from the aliens they had just fought. With a tired wave to her sister, she headed down to Rosie in Decontamination.

Agent Carter sighed. “Ichor. Bloody boring.”

Alex laughed. “And that’s British for extremely annoying?”

“Now you’re getting it.” Carter grinned back. “How are things going? Weren’t you both going down to your mother’s place for Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, we went.”

“And?”

“Well, she’s stopped grouching about Kara taking up super-heroing, but now she’s trying to set me up with her young doctor friend, Kevin something. I’m not sure what’s worse.”

“Well, have you met the man? Is he interesting?”

“Yeah, once. He’s nice enough. Smart. And I think he liked me. But I don’t feel anything for him. I can’t talk about my job because I’m in a black budget organization. He can’t talk about his job because of doctor/patient confidentiality. He talks a lot about wanting kids someday. I’ve always wanted a dog. We’ve got nothing in common except Eliza.”

“Sounds like you need a social life, Danvers. Get out and meet more people.”

“Pfft. Like I have time for that. I still have to protect Kara. I mean, at least these days I get paid for it.”

“You know, Alex, she’s doing much better. All your hours of training her in the Green Octagon of Death are turning her into a quite competent fighter.”

“She’s a quick learner and she never stops trying.”

“Mm. Like you. Danvers family values. Alex, has it never occurred to you to consider applying those skills to your love life?”

Alex just stared.

“Give it some thought.”

///

When the two women’s voices started to get a little loud and heated from inside Lex’s old office at the top of LuthorCorp Metropolis, Jess had gestured for Angie to hurry and join her in the executive break room, where she started a new pot of the very good coffee Lex had always insisted on before going to prison and leaving the company leaderless.

Quietly, Jess said, “You did not just hear any of that. Luthors never fight.”

“Um…”

“Argue, sure. Kill people, occasionally, although not Lena, however tempted. Discuss with scathing tones, absolutely. Use sarcasm and disdain like surgical instruments, definitely. But they don’t fight.”

“Okay… But Lillian wants…”

“And since they don’t fight, you couldn’t have possibly, WE didn’t just hear that conversation.”

“Oh, I see. Got it.”

Jess poured water into the coffee machine and hit the red button. “Power abhors a vacuum. Luckily,” and here her voice got even quieter, “several of the old board members were arrested at the same time as Lex for both separate and related crimes and they are doing time in medium security prisons. And that has left the board with fewer of Senior’s supporters and more of Junior’s.”

Angie blinked. “Oh!”

“And if I’m wrong? I’m pretty sure Junior will cut ties and go. And if she does, I’m going with her, whatever she ends up doing. I’m only here because of her.”

“Wait, you weren’t Lex’s PA?”

“No, I was always Lena’s. We met in grad school, Harvard MBA. She was finishing up her engineering PhD at MIT down the road at the same time.”

“Wait, that’s—”

“Extreme multi-tasking.”

“But since when does an engineer have a personal assistant?”

“When she’s filthy rich and tends to forget her to-do list or, say, how to drive, when she is struck with an idea for an invention. And I did Mech. E. as my minor in undergrad, that’s Mechanical Engineering. I’m not a genius inventor, but I know enough to help her, and she’s taught me a ton. We’ve shared two or three patents. I will be able to retire, unlike my parents who will work until they die.”

“Are they immigrants?”

“No, my grandparents were, all four of them. My parents are just boring and stubborn. They like the work they do and have little imagination about things like travel or vacations.” She said it with great affection and no small amount of frustration.

Well, Angie knew families were complicated. Who better?

Oh, well, maybe the Luthors… “But if…Junior…gets the nod?”

“Could get very messy around here. Okay, I’m going to bring the coffee into the boardroom. You get your laptop so you can take the minutes in the back while things are happening. Keep your head down and don’t make a sound or let yourself get noticed.”

“Jess, you know me. I’m discreet.”

“If you weren’t, you’d have been fired on day one. Here’s hoping this goes right.”

So Angie sat in the back of the boardroom, typing the minutes of the meeting as it happened, board members giving mini-speeches about what LuthorCorp needed to shore up its brand and right-size its employees, blah, blah, blah, what they would need from the new CEO. Finally, when they had run out of things to pontificate about, the temporary chair, Mr. Cox, stood up and told Jess to let the women join them.

The two Luthor women walked in together, both wearing form-fitting black dresses and identical looks of hauteur, their hair in similarly serious updos. They stood at the head of the long table, saying nothing while the board members quieted.

Then Lillian said, “I have more than two decades of experience at LuthorCorp, as an engineer, a member of the family, and a board member. I am the correct person to lead LuthorCorp into the twenty-first century.”

Lena said, “The new century requires a new start, a radical update, and a new, non-world-dominating mission. I can provide the leadership for that, the vision for that.”

The board argued for half an hour before voting 12-2 for Lena. As one of the men said to Lillian, “You have Cadmus, which is going to drain your ability to focus. Lena has nothing to distract her. She can give the company all of her attention.”

And Angie realized that Lena Luthor was still alone, and she was pretty sure that Peggy had implied that Lena was supposed to be dating a reporter in the correct timeline. They still had much more work to do.

Chapter Text

When Angie and Peggy came back that night, the two senior Legends were sleeping, but Gideon woke them and they came to the bridge to listen to Peggy and Angie describe their successes, such as they were.

Sara said, “So let me see if I’ve got this. Alex Danvers is en route to become the DEO badass that she is supposed to be, though still straight, and from what I’ve been able to tell, Eliza is simply being Eliza. Kara Danvers is finally Supergirl, but only at the start of her quest as a superhero. Meanwhile, Lena Luthor is a certified, card-carrying lesbian and now CEO of her family’s company, which is still called LuthorCorp. This sounds like you’ve accomplished most of what we’d hoped.”

Angie turned to Peggy, “Wait, English. Do we get cards?”

Peggy snorted. “Not in our era. In this future, I wouldn’t put it past them.”

Zari said, “We’re all tired, but could you take this seriously, please?”

Sara said, “They don’t have to be serious about it if their work is done.”

Gideon hesitantly said, “Um, Captain. About that…”

Sara sighed. “Show us the timeline, Gideon.”

And the timeline that she showed them looked less like a line and more like yet another complicated knot, except that some of the threads… ended abruptly.

“Wait, Gideon, what am I seeing here?” asked Sara.

Once again, the AI sounded hesitant. “In the other timelines I showed you, the lines were wrong, yes, but there was no evidence suggesting that if we didn’t sort it out these people might die.”

“Ah,” said Sara.

“Oh, shit,” said Zari.

“Um, English…?”

But Peggy just looked the the threads. “Gideon, can you tell—and show us—whose threads are whose here? Which of our ladies is at risk?”

Gideon changed the threads, so that they were all colored differently. “I can tell that fourteen people are in this quantum entanglement, and half of them are in danger of dying if we don’t get this right, but I can’t tell which seven are in danger.”

Slowly, Sara said, “I’m not sure that information would help, even if we had it. Barry and Rip have tried to get specific outcomes before, save specific people. It never worked. I don’t think we would have a hope of pulling it off.”

Peggy looked at Angie and rubbed her eyes. “Sorry, I’ve been on my feet a bit. Could we sit down? Do you have any halfway decent scotch?”

“Glenmorangie, Laphroaig or Islay?” asked Sara.

“Any one of those would be acceptable options.”

“Come to the library.”

Up to that moment, Peggy hadn’t quite realized just how big the Waverider was. Angie’s eyes got big as they ambled through the sterile corridors, only to find the book-lined library and the paper-littered desk. Sara poured drinks for herself and the new girls.

Angie sat in one of the comfortable leather chairs and relaxed for a moment before she said, “So we’re running by the seat of our pants here, but suddenly the stakes just got higher? Do we have any idea why?”

Zari popped a peanut M&M in her mouth from the small bowl on the table. “My guess? We’re getting closer to what whoever caused all this doesn’t want us to see, and certainly not change. We’ve been focusing on the end results. Do we have any idea of the cause?”

Sara said, “Didn’t it start with Alex not joining the DEO?”

Zari flipped through her tablet. “Didn’t even go to med school.”

Carter said, “She had an Associate’s degree in English, said she was asexual, didn’t seem to have any ambition.”

Sara snickered. “There is no way on any Earth that Alex Danvers is asexual.”

Angie asked, “And you know this how?”

“Just trust me.”

Carter sipped her scotch. “Repressed. She said she wasn’t repressed. Could it be that all of your Alex’s driving ambition came from being repressed when she was younger because she knew she was sapphic but was pushing it down?”

Sara nodded slowly. “So she wasn’t ambitious because she wasn’t repressed because she wasn’t gay. But how could anyone take that away from her?”

Gideon said, “Good question, Captain. It’s almost like the opposite of pink kryptonite.”

Angie and Carter stared at each other. “What—"

“So, Max Lord?” asked Sara. “If someone has reverse engineered pink K, it’s got to be him, no?”

Gideon hesitated. “Maybe? It’s still unclear. It could also be Lillian or Lex or another unknown party. I’m also thinking, maybe that odd man with the unpronounceable name?”

“Mixuspitalick?” said Zari helpfully. “The fifth-dimensional imp?”

There was the sound of a chime, from nowhere. Then, an unshaven, apparently middle-aged man, wearing a black t-shirt under a dark plaid wool blazer, appeared also from nowhere. “Hello,” he said. “My name is Mr. Mxyzpitlik. I will be your imp for the evening. How may I help you?”

Chapter Text

The women all stared at the imp. Peggy took a drink of her scotch and shook herself.

Sara put her hands on her hips. “And what are you doing here?”

Mxy said, “I’ve been sent to help you.”

“Sent?”

“Your dimension is out of alignment, and the court is half convinced it’s my fault. To prove myself, I need to help you get your One True Pairings back on track. I’m not allowed to use my magic to actually change anyone, but I can use it to help tangentially.”

Peggy set her glass down, telling herself that this was no stranger than Steve’s super-soldier serum. What Would Steve Do?

“English?”

“Information,” said Peggy. “We need to do some reconnaissance. We’ve been charging in trying to change things without really knowing what’s going on. Can you get us into the rooms where these people are talking to each other without them seeing us?”

“Absolutely. Transportation and camouflage, coming right up.” He snapped his fingers.

///

Angie still felt a bit odd, wearing dungarees and sort of men’s shoes. Naturally, Peggy looked perfectly confident, having often worn trousers during the war. This future had some strange things about it. One thing that Angie really liked about it though was the way all sorts of people could mix in an establishment like this bar: black and white people, blue people. It was refreshing, really. There was a hot Latina playing pool against herself under the light, although she wasn’t doing too well. Angie thought about going over and giving her some tips, but Peggy’s light hand on her back redirected her to the end of the bar where they would be able to watch the door as they sipped their beers. Conveniently, they could also watch the hot struggling pool player.

///

It was five o’clock. Maggie would probably be at the alien bar hopelessly trying to improve her pool game. Alex felt warm imagining her arms around the detective as she improved the line of her shot. Even the wind that whipped against her body as she rode through the city couldn’t cool the warmth in her chest, which only spread as she walked into the dim bar to see Maggie leaning against the pool table aiming. Her white shirt shone under the bar lights. Alex thought she had never seen anything more beautiful. And then Maggie caught sight of her and lit up and Alex had to reconsider that assessment.

“Hey, you!”

“Hey. I told Kara.”

“You did? Good for you, Danvers!” She reached out and gave the taller woman a tight hug that nearly took Alex’s breath away. “I’m buying, all night. What are you having?”

And Alex put her hands on her face and pulled her into a kiss, her heart pounding so hard Maggie must be able to hear it through her fingers. Maggie leaned into the kiss for a moment and then pulled back, looking surprised. “Wow.”

“I have wanted to do that…”

“I can tell. But everything is shiny and new, and you should experience that for yourself, not because you want to be with me. Those relationships never really work out. I’ll be here for you! But as a friend.”

The head tilt. It didn’t mean what Alex had thought it meant.

“Are we good, Danvers?”

Alex forced herself to smile, nod. “Yeah, of course. I have to go.” And she spun around and hurried to the door.

“Alex! Don’t go!”

But Alex was walking away and taking her humiliation with her.

The next morning, Agent Danvers walked back into the DEO, not so much as herself as the person Kara believed her to be, the person J’onn had trained her to be. The person who went out and fought the rogue aliens and restrained them once they were down and brought them in, interrogated them, wrote up those reports, analyzed the substances they collected, wrote more reports. Went home. Slept. Came back and did it again.

Black tactical gear. A thigh holster. A look that threatened a bloody death to anyone who so much as looked at her wrong. Working at the DEO was just so much easier than grad school, undergrad, high school, any of it. She could just manage to be human at the DEO, just manage to keep her internal life separate from everything else.

///

Peggy and Angie marched through the DEO wearing white lab coats and glasses and nobody noticed them as they made their way down to the med bay.

///

After Cyborg Superman’s attack at LCorp, Supergirl landed at the DEO with Maggie Sawyer in her arms and Vasquez, who was doing triage, directed her to deposit the detective in a side lab as they were prepping their two operating rooms for more seriously injured agents.

Maggie thanked Supergirl. "But this isn't bad. The vest caught most of it. You should go. I'm fine."

Supergirl said, "But you're bleeding! And Al-- Agent Danvers would kill me if I let anything happen to you."

Vasquez said, "I've got this, Supergirl. You can go."

She was gone in a flash of red and blue.

"Hello. I am Agent Susan Vasquez. I will be your medic for the evening. Would you like to start with a painkiller?"

"Please!" Maggie fought to smile. "Detective Maggie Sawyer."

Vasquez paused as she flicked the syringe and took a good look at the detective. "Sawyer, eh? Okay, I can see it."

"See what?"

"Why you make our badass Alex Danvers go all soft when she talks about you."

Maggie looked away. "Not anymore."

Getting Maggie out of her vest, cutting away the shirt from the wound in her shoulder, injecting local anesthetic and cleaning the wound gave Vasquez time for thought.

Finally, she asked quietly, "Why not anymore?"

"Because I fucked up. Well, no, I mean, I know I did the right thing, but she kinda hates me now."

"What happened?"

"She told me she came out to her sister, and I hugged her and offered her a beer--"

"Sounds good to me."

"And then she kissed me."

"Did you kiss back?"

"I didn't mean to. I just--"

"I see."

Maggie winced as Vasquez pulled another small piece of metal out of the wound. "Sorry. That's the last bit. Now we stitch you up. Do you not like her like that?"

"How could I-- No. And she's fresh off the boat and those relationships never work out and all my relationships crash and burn anyway. It wouldn't work."

Vasquez thought she had been about to say, how could I not? And privately Vasquez agreed. But the pain in the detective's voice was palpable, as was the sense that she was still trying to convince herself that this was the right thing to do. Not for her sake, but for Alex's.

"Well," she said slowly. "Maybe you're right. Maybe she needs to experiment a little, get out there and meet people. At the very least, she needs to meet more gay people. Two dykes are not enough when you are first out and have all the questions."

"So you..."

Vasquez grinned. "Oh, honey. Do you think I could rock this haircut and this uniform if I were a straight girl? Fat chance."

She focused on making her stitches small and even. "You'll get a scar from this. You can tell the girls you got it in a duel." She tied off the stitches. "And you. Are. Done."

"Thanks, Vasquez."

"Any time. And don't worry about Alex. We'll take care of her. And she is one of the strongest people I know. She'll be all right. And who knows? Maybe once she's gotten used to standing under the rainbow flag for her pledge of allegiance, you two could have a shot at it. Miracles do happen."

"Not in my life, they don't."

"Funny. I thought your life just got saved by Supergirl. You ask me? That counts as a miracle. I mean, that chick is hot."

Maggie laughed, despite herself. "I know, right? And probably super straight, too. Just our luck."

Vasquez had other thoughts on that matter, but she kept them to herself.

///

Back dressed in secretary clothes, Angie led Peggy into the LCorp executive breakroom, from where they could easily hear Jess Huang castigating her boss. Loudly.

///

When Jess realized what Lena had done, what risks she had taken, she went ballistic.

Standing in Lena's pure white office, watching Lena sit behind her pure white desk and her pure white laptop, clutching her pure white smart phone in one perfectly manicured hand, Jess shouted at her boss.

"What were you thinking? Taking on Cadmus by yourself? Taking on HER by yourself? You could have been killed! You could have been arrested! And if you ended up in prison? Lex would have finally succeeded at killing you for sure! And what if your modifications to the isotope hadn't worked? Then you would have been exactly she wanted you to be: to blame for the death of thousands of innocent aliens, hell, maybe even Supergirl herself! How could you even--"

She ran out of words, stood there staring at Lena, who closed her eyes and took the berating.

Finally, Lena replied, "I thought of all those things myself, Jess, but I was pressed for time. I did the best I could, which seems to have been sufficient. I saved Supergirl and the rest of them. I put my mother and the Cadmus goons behind bars. I proved that a Luthor could be good. The fact that it so easily might have gone another way has not escaped me."

Jess paced back and forth over the white carpet. "But if any of those things had happened to you? After Marty and I worked so hard to get you that information? We would never have been able to live with ourselves. And that's cruel, Lena. And don't give me that 'well, I'm a Luthor' bullshit. We care about you, idiot."

"Noted," Lena said quietly.

Jess came over and sat in the client chair in front of the desk. "Did you read the articles?"

Lena picked up the Tribune and CatCo and the other papers and magazines that Jess had gone out to get with the PR director early that morning. "I did."

"Did you see Ms. Danvers' byline? With James Olsen? I thought he was a photographer."

"He took over for Cat Grant while she goes off to eat, pray, love."

Jess snorted. Lena was the only CEO she had the time of day for. "It didn't sound like Danvers' usual style of writing."

"I thought the same thing. Although it did have her usual attention to detail. Not as many quotes from Supergirl, though. Just that fellow from the FBI."

Jess nodded at Lena's phone. "Did she even call you for a quote?"

"No."

“And Supergirl hasn't visited your balcony to thank you for saving the city?"

"No. I'm sure she's busy saving the city for herself." She smiled without humor. "Turns out that can be a little distracting, as I now know."

Jess frowned. "Christ on a crutch, Lena! At least get angry! The least she could do is send you a thank you, maybe through Danvers. Isn't that how you two usually get in touch?"

Lena sighed. "I will admit to being a trifle disappointed, Jess, but it doesn't do to dwell on it."

"Keep calm and carry on? Is that coming from your UK boarding school education?"

"That's the British. The Irish keep calm and keep drinking. Which I may well do tonight after we handle the PR issues. Are you finished, Jess? I really need to prepare for that meeting."

Jess looked at her own hands. "Yeah, I guess so. Um. I'm not fired, am I?"

Lena smiled. "When you add to your already flawless administrative and technical know-how an apparent skill at risk assessment and a mild affection for your boss? Not this time."

Jess nodded. "Right then. Well. Good. I'll just go figure out your day."

///

Back on the Waverider, Angie and Peggy described all the women’s interactions. Mxy was sitting lotus-style, floating above the desk.

“So,” Sara summarized. “Alex is back in the closet, none of the women are pursuing her, Lena was heroic stopping the alien disease, but Kara is giving her the cold shoulder for doing it Luthor-style and scaring her half to death. Does that sound about right?”

Everybody shrugged.

Chapter Text

Across town, Maxwell Lord was answering his door. The lobby security guards had buzzed Lillian Luthor up and Max wasn’t looking forward to this conversation, but it couldn’t be avoided.

He had opened a bottle of Chateau Lafite and was letting it air while he waited for her knock. He slipped his Berluti penny loafers back on and headed to the door as the knock sounded. He took a breath and opened the door. “Lillian, welcome. Thank you for coming.”

She was dressed all in black: trousers, boots, a dress shirt, and a long coat. She let him take her coat and hang it up in the front closet. “Honestly, I’m here more out of curiosity than anything.”

“So I had hoped. I am working on a project that has been having mixed results…” He gestured to the maroon sofa and they sat down. On the coffee table was his open laptop. “Tell me, Lillian. How gay have you been feeling lately?”

Lillian frowned. “I’m not—”

Max grunted. “Let me rephrase. How do you feel these days when you think of Cat Grant?”

The color drained from her face. Her eyes narrowed. “Mr. Lord, what did you do?”

“Tried to fix my mistake. I’m the one who made pink kryptonite, seeded the clouds with it, back when Cadmus kidnapped your daughter and her bestie, along with Cat Grant and Snapper Carr. I imagine you were out in that rainstorm…”

“Indeed. I got drenched.”

“Mm. Out in the storm? Or in cozy little cell with Cat in Lex’s bunker?” He smirked.

“Don’t be vulgar.”

“A thousand pardons, I’m sure. Well, I recently was affected by my own pink K in a… lab accident. It took me a while to figure out how to reverse engineer it, and then, again, I seeded the clouds, and I thought I was cured, that I cured everyone who had been affected by it, but it doesn’t seem to be working as I’d hoped.”

“The feelings come back, in waves, like hot flashes. I’m fine for days and then I see the news—”

Max thought of the difficulty he had had off and on, seeing his assistant Brendan at work. “Well, I’ve never had hot flashes, but yes, that sounds about right. I was reading papers about Lex’s device, that you used to put lead in the atmosphere to scare off the Daxamites. Wasn’t that originally made to use with kryptonite?”

“It was, but after we used it, the DEO destroyed it.”

“You’re sure?”

“It was made of Earth metals. You’ve seen what Supergirl’s eyes can do.”

“Damnit! There has got to be a way to make this permanent. What about that anti-alien disease you tried?”

“That was biological, a virus.”

“Well, what about your daughter’s working notes on Lex’s device? Surely, she wrote down her steps?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. If you recall, we were being bombarded by an alien spaceship, with an army running through our streets. Supergirl was in the process of fighting their queen in a duel for the planet. Lena was running on a bit of a clock, and although normally she talks to herself when she is working, which would have meant I’d have a chance of remembering things, she didn’t this time, because she was working with Winn Schott, Jr., who intuited what she wanted before she could remember the words for any given piece of equipment.”

“What about the security video? You can’t tell me Lena Luthor doesn’t have state of the art security? With her brother? Oh, sorry. But Lex tries to kill her how many times a year?”

Lillian pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, you’re not wrong. My misguided boy. Security video… you may have a point. But I am a surgeon and a soldier, not a hacker. And I doubt that you are either.”

With a small smile, Max picked up his phone. “Your confidence in me, Lillian, is underwhelming. No, I’m not. But I have one on speed-dial.”

Chapter Text

On the Waverider, they decided to call it a night. Sara gave Peggy and Angie Ray’s old room with the queen-sized bed, and everybody crashed, hoping that a few hours of sleep would clear their heads.

Angie brushed out her hair thoughtfully, while Peggy cleaned off her makeup. “So how are we gonna do it, Peg? Make all our girls queer in a more permanent manner? Give ‘em hormones?”

“Apparently in the future they are still figuring out what makes people gay. Brain structures? I believe they’ve ruled out hormones.”

“Well, how does the pink stuff do it?”

“Radiation? Maybe this Maxwell Lord has an idea. I certainly don’t.”

“Well, I know it helped me figure things out when you took me to that jazz club down on Macdougal Street. Like you and me weren’t the only women like us.”

Peggy paused in wiping cold cream over her face. “Hm. That’s an interesting point. I know I started seeing myself differently during the war. There were far fewer women than men, of course. But I’m pretty sure a lot of the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps leaned in our direction. And of course, I had my mind on Steve until his death. But after grieving, and after getting to know you, it was like something shifted in me.”

“Huh. So maybe we find some queer girls in the DEO and try to get them on missions with our girls?”

“It’s worth a try.”

///

Angie and Peggy got lost trying to find the Waverider’s canteen, but Peggy just said, “Gideon, might you direct us toward breakfast?”

“Absolutely, Agent Carter. And remind Zari to show you where the loose-leaf tea is.”

Gideon lit up the lights along the ceiling, guiding them through the ship. When they got to the small white room, they found Zari and Mxy watching something on his laptop. Zari was staring, with her fork half raised, a piece of dripping pancake stranded between her plate and her mouth.

Sara came in behind them, yawning. “Gideon, oatmeal, please.”

“Right away, Captain.”

Zari noticed her fork and ate the piece of pancake. Then she said, “Sara, ladies, I think you should see this. It might be an opening for us.”

“What are we looking at, Mxy?”

“My Mxflx account. Zari asked me to scan the Danvers sisters’ recent lives to see if there were moments or events where you ladies might intervene to better effect.”

Zari said, “I figured if we could spot something that had the potential to get kinda gay, then we could send you ladies in to amplify the vibe.”

Sara and Peggy said together, “And you found one?”

Mxy hit Play.

…

Maggie stood in front of apartment 4A and told Alex that she couldn’t imagine her life without Alex in it and that she hoped they could one day be friends.

Alex stared at her coldly, turned and put her hand on Kara’s door handle.

Then she turned back and looked at Maggie’s sad face as she pushed the door open.

When Maggie met her eyes, Alex said, “Pool. Tomorrow night.”

“I wouldn’t miss it!”

The door closed. Maggie stood there in stunned disbelief, a hopeful smile fighting for custody of her face.

…

“That seems feasible,” said Sara. “So, Mxy, in your professional opinion…?”

“It looks like a good moment to me, but… If you are going in to intervene, make changes to their lives, you’ll have to enter their time normally the way you did in the times before I got here. I’m not allowed to help.”

Peggy and Angie exchanged glances, then nodded at each other.

“That’s acceptable,” said Peggy.

“We can make it work,” said Angie.

“All right, Gideon, let’s get these Legends some lady legend-wear!” said Sara. “Angie, I think you should get out to the bar early, so you can let us know when our subjects come in. Are you okay nursing a beer or cider for an hour at a time?”

“Please, I once drank English over here under the table.”

Peggy’s face went blank. “Just the once. Excuse me. I need to prepare.”

Watching her walk away sadly, Angie said, “It was just the once. A year after Steve died. Captain America, you know? And she said she had to make her mind up about something serious. She never did say what. So we finished a bottle of my schnapps and a half a bottle of her scotch. We were both shit-faced. I had the hangover from hell, but after that, she didn’t seem so torn up about Steve. More at peace. So maybe there’s something to be said for demon alcohol after all.” She sighed.

Sara nodded. “You were there for your friend. And now we have to save our friends.”

“You got it. Twenty-first century, here we come again!”

///

Angie looked at herself in Gideon’s mirror in the costume that would become her personality for the next few hours: short black boots, black “skinny jeans,” a pale blue Henley shirt and a dark green little leather jacket. Gideon recommended just putting her hair up in a ponytail. And suddenly, she was something, someone new. She smiled and nodded at her reflection. “Guess I’m future girl now. Thanks Gideon!”

She went to the bar and got herself a booth not far away from the one Kara Danvers was sharing with a woman Angie had never seen before: dark hair, grey eyes, and a look of fondness for the younger Danvers. Angie ordered a beer and sat with her back to them, frankly eavesdropping.

“…doing in town?”

“J’onn called me in to sort out some legal issues with the infrastructure of the city that gets torn up during ops.”

“It’s not my fault,” insisted Kara. “Some of those guys I go up against are BIG! You ever wrestle a Khund?”

“Not in a while, I am happy to say. My battles these days are more administrative.”

Angie had a small notepad that she’d taken to sticking in her back pocket—her orders pad from the automat, actually—and she tried to spell out kund? Kahund? to look up later with that google.

Chapter Text

The door opened and the Latina who was so bad at pool stepped in, looking around: Detective Maggie Sawyer. She heard Kara’s musical laugh and turned towards Kara and her friend.

There in a booth were Kara in her little pale blue cardigan and white jeans and a lovely grey-eyed brunette with her dark hair just touching her shoulders. She wore black skinny jeans, a cranberry scoop neck shirt, a little leather jacket. The two were giggling. It looked perfectly normal on Kara, but it seemed a little odd on her stunning friend.

As she stood there staring, the woman strolled over to the bar and ordered a scotch and soda and a club soda. She turned to see Maggie admiring her and winked at her. Maggie stared.

The woman said to Maggie. “Hey, can I buy you a drink?”

Maggie stuttered, “I’ll have what you’re having.”

The woman looked a little sly, saying, “So a club soda then? Such a cheap date.”

Maggie laughed. “I’m pretty sure the club soda is for Kara Danvers.”

The woman gestured and Meghan made another scotch and soda, smiling. Maggie took it from her with thanks and followed Kara’s friend back to their booth.

As always, Kara looked more thrilled to see Maggie than she thought she deserved. “I’m so glad you came! Alex said you might. I brought Lucy to meet you. I think you guys would really get along!”

Maggie looked at this Lucy person, wondering what on Earth Kara thought the two of them could possibly have in common. Women had such weird ideas about cops, either fetishizing them or fearing for their safety constantly. She wondered which kind this Lucy was.

Still, she was hot. Throwing caution to the wind, Maggie sat down next to Kara and offered her hand across the table to Lucy. “Detective Maggie Sawyer, NCPD. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Major Lucy Lane, United States Army.”

Oh. Well, that was different. Maggie smiled. “And what are you doing here in National City?”

Lucy didn’t even blink. “I’m on loan as special counsel to the FBI.”

Maggie turned to Kara. “Alex’s branch of the FBI?”

Kara’s voice was small. “Maybe?”

Maggie turned back to Lucy. “As it happens, Major, I routinely liaise with your…branch. I just spoke with Director Henshaw today, as this ray of sunshine is completely aware.”

Lucy smiled. “That simplifies things.” There was a deep ripple in her voice. Maggie flushed. She sipped her drink. It helped, a little. She sipped more.

They talked in general about National City, with Kara easily able to recite whole restaurant menus, and the situation of aliens good and bad, both of which Maggie could comment on. Lucy admired the bar and the Alien Community Orientation and Resource Network.

“Yeah, ACORN,” said Maggie, “blame my boss; he means well. Most cities don’t have anything like it,” Maggie said proudly. “Metropolis copied ours just last year.”

And while they were sipping their second round of drinks, which Maggie had bought, Alex and Vasquez walked in.

When Lucy saw them, she jumped up to greet them and give them hugs. Maggie turned to Kara. “Do you turn everyone around you into a puppy like you, Little Danvers? Because Lane doesn’t seem like the hugging type.”

Kara shrugged. “Well, she always hugs me. But normally, you’re right, I guess. I’m pretty sure her family members don’t hug each other. But those guys, they’ve all saved each other’s lives a bunch of times and I guess that makes you a different kind of family.”

“That it does, Little Danvers.” She watched as Vasquez ordered and paid for two beers, a Dos Equis for herself and a Sam Adams lager for Alex. She handed Alex her beer and gave her a little push to the small of her back in Maggie’s direction.

Alex ambled up with none of the swagger Maggie had seen at the airport when she had first met her, and they had politely disagreed about jurisdiction.

“Sawyer,” she said.

“Danvers.”

“I thought we’d play the first game, you and me.”

“Sounds good.”

Lucy said, “Um, Maggie, have you ever played against Alex?”

“A few times, actually.”

“Oh, good, because people always bet against her and it’s…not a great idea. Financially. Or, well, ego-wise, really.”

Maggie sighed.

Maggie won the coin flip and broke, sinking two solids, but missed the next shot. Alex sank three in a row on her turn. A flicker in her eyes suggested that Alex blew her next shot on purpose, but then the look was gone. Maggie got one, and another on her next shot. The white ball followed the second ball to the rim of the pocket to the yells of their onlookers, but then refused to fall in, thank God, but Maggie’s hand was shaking from adrenaline and the next shot failed miserably.

She went to take a sip from her glass, but it was empty. Silently, Lucy handed her a full glass, with a smile. She sipped and found herself momentarily lost in those grey eyes. Her head tilted and she smiled, oddly calm and happy for the first time in a long time. She even watched Alex sink two balls and then a third and hand her the chalk with a small smirk. Maggie chalked her cue and looked at the table the way Alex had described to her so many times, thinking about angles and rebounding…

--and although Maggie knew about rebounding, who better, the idea that bouncing off something you wanted to touch might lead to something so much better in another direction, was just an idea that had never occurred to her before—

And she hit two balls exactly the way she wanted, one in the pocket and the next as the white ball hit it from behind. Her next shot hit a solid right up close to a stripe, both of them next to the pocket.

Kara clapped enthusiastically. “Maggie, that‘s really good! Alex just hates it when I do that!”

Vasquez smiled. “You can do it, Danvers. Just take it slow.”

And Maggie’s mind went someplace completely different, a place that absolutely did not help her game.

But Lucy said, “Hey, can we make side bets that Alex can’t get her stripe in without taking the solid with it or without simply making the solid go in instead?”

Vasquez and Kara bet on Alex, Kara at least having the grace to apologize to Maggie. Staunchly, Lucy bet against her. Maggie said, “You don’t have to, but thanks.”

Alex had eyes for nothing but the five balls on the green baize: two striped, two solids and one white. The eightball was the one near the pocket, so even if she sank it, not sinking the balls in order would cost her points. She stalked around the table considering angles, and everyone else took two steps back. Maggie was certain that Alex had absolutely no idea what kind of impression she made on people. Aliens were handing money to Lucy and Kara was taking down bets in her reporter’s notebook.

Finally, Alex chalked her cue. She snapped the shot, hitting the white ball into the seven which hit the bumper and ricocheted back to smack the solid out of its way, leaving the eight spinning on the edge as the seven fell in. With her next quick shot, she sank the eight ball. Lucy, the blue alien and a very tall and furry alien found themselves paying everybody.

Maggie gave Alex her twenty. “Good game, Danvers. Nice shot.”

Alex said, “Your game has improved, Sawyer. Been practicing?”

“Now and then.”

“Maybe one of these days, you’ll almost beat me.”

“Oh, one of these days I’m going to beat the pants off you, Danvers.”

They stared at one another, Alex blushed deep red, and Maggie fled back to the shelter of her booth, Lane following, controlling her laughter with admirable restraint.

Meghan passed their table. "Same again?"

They both shook their heads.

"Straight scotch," said Maggie.

"Straight soda," said Lucy.

Maggie pulled out her wallet. "How much are you out from betting against Alex?"

Lucy pushed her wallet away. "I didn't bet against Alex. I would never do that. I bet on you, Detective. And I would do it again."

There was a reason Maggie usually drank beer. She sat there working out what Lucy had just said. It wasn't working. Meghan brought them their drinks. Maggie's throat burned as she drank.

Lucy continued. "I suspect the two of you would be more evenly matched in a firefight, or maybe in hand-to-hand combat. And that is me speaking as somebody who has fought side by side with Alex both ways." Lucy lifted her soda and toasted. "To one of the most sports-woman-like losers I have ever laid eyes on."

They drank.

Maggie laughed. "Thank you, ma'am." She looked lost in thought. "She's taller than I am," she said eventually.

Lucy leaned across the table. "All trees are felled at ground level. Tall people always forget that."

"Especially men," agreed Maggie.

They toasted again to men forgetting, drank again. Maggie took her courage in both hands. "Um, not to be forward but, well, but you're not gay, are you?"

Lucy grinned. "Bi, actually."

"Um, you want to get out of here?"

Chapter Text

Angie panicked and stood up, leaving her notebook with her half-finished beer. She hurried over to Maggie and Lucy and said, “There’s nothing like a pair of hot ladies to join me for a dance-off!” (Gideon had taught her several lines for hitting up women. Angie could only hope the AI had not let her astray.)

The jukebox shifted to something highly danceable about old rock and roll that Angie didn’t follow, but her dancing lessons with Peggy Carter stood her in good stead and her tight jeans didn’t hurt either. With a shrug, they joined her in the dance. Eagerly, Kara Danvers, dragged her sister over to join them. Vasquez stood on the side, with her beer in her hand, just watching, looking a bit conflicted for some reason. Angie danced first with Lucy, then Maggie, then Kara (noticing out of the corner of her eye as Alex looked, well, also conflicted), and then she shimmied up to Alex, whose eyes got very big, and Angie took that as a good sign, grabbed her by the hips and leaned into her, grinning like a fool, before she let go, salaamed and reached out for Agent Vasquez.

And that’s where things got interesting. Angie had expected the butch Latina to be a wallflower.

Yeah, no.

The moment they linked hands, Vasquez took control of the dance, leading Angie in some very rhythmic, sensuous moves. Then, suddenly, a blonde beauty in a tight dress intervened, spinning Vasquez out and then back in so that the femme was behind the agent, pressing her… impressive front… to Vasquez’s back. “Oh, honey, dance with me!”

Angie was surprised. Usually, the fast dances were good for getting someone to notice you and then you waited until the music slowed down to make more direct contact.

What this chick was doing was… not that. But from what Sara said, Vasquez was already gay, so that didn’t matter, however hot it was. Angie turned back to the group and saw Kara frowning, so Angie grabbed her and led her into another dance, this time to a song about something that would… had… happened in December of 1963. And Kara automatically danced with her, grinning.

It was two songs later when Angie realized that Maggie and Lucy had left.

///

Alex Danvers hurried to the Dollywood ladies’ room, panicking. The hot chick with the blonde hair and tight skirt and blouse unbuttoned just the top two buttons, but still. And low heels and understated makeup. Looking her right in the eye with just a sliver of a smirk.

And she kept calling Alex “Sugar.”

At one point when the woman had winked and gone off to get a fresh Manhattan, Vasquez had huffed, “Yo, Alex, what’s with the femme?”

And Alex’s eyes had been wide with the “I have no idea” of it all. Vasquez had gotten her a glass of water and watched from the bar as Alex had let the woman lead while dancing. After about three quick dances and one slower, the woman had said, “You’re new to this, aren’t you, hon.” It wasn’t really a question.

“I—”

“This can’t be your first rodeo.”

“No, not exactly—” Alex felt her eyes flicker down to the woman’s cleavage and then hurry back up to her face.

“Oh. Not used to a femme, is that it.”

“Well, but butches are badass.”

“You probably wouldn’t believe it, but I’m ex-army.”

“That’s difficult, but I guess Maggie, and everybody is different?” And that wasn’t really a statement. “Did you—Um. Did you break your nails a lot?”

But the woman bent her hand that was holding Alex’s to show that although her nails were an immaculate cranberry and finely shaped, they were in no way long.

Alex mumbled, “Right, right, because—”

“Because,” murmured the woman, pulling Alex close, “short nails are so much more useful if you think you might be having sex with another woman. No?”

Alex felt her face flush. Language wasn’t happening. She swallowed.

“Don’t worry, Sugar. This much intimacy is also nice. Just a little warmth on a chilly evening, that’s all.”

And because that sounded safe and hopeful, Alex murmured, “Want to get out of here?”

///

Kara watched her sister leave with the unknown woman, heart pounding and eyes wide. Kara shook her head. She knew that Alex had attempted one-night stands with guys in college, never particularly successfully. But was this any different? It felt a little different. Cleaner? But still not 100% safe. She was pretty sure she needed to let her sister go, do, find out, whatever. But that didn’t make it easier.

Vasquez ordered a scotch and a Cosmo and motioned Kara to an empty booth and slid the Cosmo across to her. Kara sniffed it, recognized the alien vodka equivalent and smiled weakly at Vasquez. “Yeah, I needed that. Thanks.”

“You look upset, Little Danvers.”

“Aren’t you? Pretty sure Alex is off to have sex with that woman. Isn’t that… I don’t know. Bad for national security?”

Vasquez gave her a sad smile. “Alex isn’t the type to spill national secrets to a stranger.”

“But why isn’t she with Maggie? Or you? Somebody who knows her and how badass she is and loves her for it.”

“I’m not, she doesn’t, she would never. And looks like Maggie took off with Lucy. Who would do that? She could have been with Alex. I just don’t…”

“Right? I mean, I like Lucy and oh shi—sherbert, I’m the one who invited Lucy down to meet Maggie, but I thought, just friends. I mean, isn’t Lucy straight? But that didn’t look—”

“Bi.” It looked like the syllable hurt her to say.

“Oh, Vasquez. I didn’t think. Are you in love with Lucy?”

Vasquez stared at Kara, and then started to laugh. “I respect Lu, but she’s not my type.”

Kara sipped at her drink, feeling looser already. “What is your type.”

And there was a moment between Vasquez’s laugh and her frown, just a moment, but Kara watched it with super-speed and it looked like yearning. For her? No. For Alex? Oh, that tracked. “Oh, Vas. You know, maybe this thing between Maggie and Lucy could be good for you. Maybe Alex will, I don’t know, look around for a change. You could—”

Vasquez stared, then frowned, then looked… mildly hopeful.

///

Back on the Waverider, Angie stumbled up to Sara on the bridge. “So, you know, I was out there at the bar all on my lonesome. For five hours. What happened to Peggy? She’s the trained agent, not me.”

Sara yawned and tried to hide it. “Yeah, last minute special assignment. But Mxy ran quarterback to protect you if shit hit the fan, so we were always ready to extract you if things got all SNAFU’d.

Angie blinked. “Okay! I understood maybe three words of that sentence. It's just, yaknow, Alex ended up dancin' with a gal who looked like a blonde girl nex' door version of Peggy, and I was tryn' ta, you know, dance distractingingly... Whoa...I’m jus’ gonna crash in that lovely bed. Maybe when I wake up, it’ll be clearerer…”

Sara turned to Zari.

“Yeah, got it,” said Zari, pulling one of Angie’s arms over her own neck. “You just come with me, kid. We’ll get you some water and get you to bed.”

“You’ll shtay?” asked Angie drunkenly.

“Oh, I’ll stay,” Zari said with a sigh.

Chapter Text

Peggy had trained as a covert agent during the war, and she knew that sometimes ops swerved in interesting directions. So far, she had always avoided actual sex, and for this op, she was pretty sure that having sex with Alex Danvers, however pleasant it might be, would be the wrong call. That was okay. The key was to leave her hot and bothered so she’d go seek… satisfaction… somewhere else.

But Alex didn’t have to know that.

After riding side saddle on Alex’s motorcycle, clinging tightly to the woman’s midriff, she took off the extra helmet Alex had offered her and ran her hand through her hair. “Well, now. I haven’t done that in a coon’s age.” Sometimes it really tickled her to use her well-practiced American accent.

“It’s a little like flying,” said Alex, packing their helmets in her saddlebags.

Shyly, she took Peggy’s hand and led her into the building. In the elevator, Peggy gave her heated looks but refrained from touching her. Alex swallowed and led her down the hall and into her apartment.

The place was bigger than Peggy had expected, the colors neutral, the most notable decorations family pictures. But there was a fireplace, which Alex immediately lit, pointing vaguely when Peggy asked about the bathroom. On her way across the place, she glanced left and fought not to gasp at the enormous bed on the raised platform. She peed quickly and came out, only to see Alex on that platform, taking her shoulder holster off and setting it in a gun safe. Peggy came to a decision instantly. “Wait,” she said.

Alex whipped around. Peggy stopped, reached up under her skirt, and unbuckled the small holster from her inner thigh and reached out, handing it to Alex. “Better safe than sorry, Sugar, right?”

Alex frowned, pulled the weapon from the holster, checked the bullets and then set it next to her gun and locked the gun safe. “Right.” She stepped down from the platform and pulled out chairs from the counter between the kitchen and the living room. “Wine? Water? Beer? I might have some scotch left.”

“Maybe scotch, then tea?”

Alex chuckled. “A woman with a plan.” In the kitchen, she found two rocks glasses and split the last of the scotch between them, a bit more than three fingers each.

Peggy raised her glass. “To… finding a good partner for the dance.”

“The dance.” They clinked glasses.

Peggy glanced at the counter, but then gestured questioningly to Alex’s sofa before the fire. Alex smiled shyly and joined her there.

“So,” said Alex, remembering something she’d heard another lesbian say in a similar situation (Maggie? Sara?), “What do you do when you’re not burning up the carpet dancing with a bunch of lesbians?”

Peggy laughed. “How do you know that’s not how I make my living?”

“Ex-army says you do something a little more substantial. Unless I’m wrong?”

“No, not wrong. I’m in information management, an offshoot of what I did in the war.”

“So, Iraq? Afghanistan?”

Peggy hedged. “I was in a few theaters, wherever they needed me.”

Alex nodded. She knew how that could be. “So like library tech?”

“Mm. More like cyber-security, but there is overlap.”

“Hence the gun?”

“Well, I’m new in National City. I’ve spent time in DC and Metropolis and last year in Gotham…”

“Ah. Say no more.” Alex sipped her scotch, mesmerized by the rise and fall of the warm flames. Which she was focusing on to avoid focusing on the warm rise and fall of the woman’s… bust.

Peggy asked, “So what’s your story, Sugar? How long have you been out?”

Alex opened her mouth and closed it again. “Ah. Well, technically, to other people, um, I guess tonight. Although I suspect my friends knew a lot sooner than I did. But I’ve been having these feelings for several months now.”

Peggy nodded. “I felt things for people during my deployment, but it never felt safe to admit it to myself.”

“And I imagine that Don’t-Ask-Don’t-Tell didn’t make that any easier.”

Peggy sighed and sipped her scotch. “It can take a while to acclimate. But how about you? What do you do when you’re not dancing with girls?”

“FBI. Alien crime unit.”

“They need their own unit? Do they commit more crimes than humans?” Peggy asked curiously.

“Not really, although they are victimized at higher rates. But they were in a moral/legal grey area before the Alien Amnesty Act made them citizens.”

“How’d you get into that?”

“I’m good at languages.”

They sipped their drinks. Carefully, Peggy laid a hand on Alex’s thigh. “So, that woman you beat at pool…”

Alex’s face went blank. “Maggie.”

“Is she your ex?"

“What? No! She didn’t like me… like that. Said those relationships never work out, you know, with someone who’s fresh off the boat.”

“I just wanted to be cautious, because you had the eyes of pretty much all the women on you when you were playing, and it seemed like something important might be going on.”

Alex took a drink. “They just know I’m good at pool.” She shrugged.

“Mm. Even the one with the short hair, who got you the glass of water? Because she never took her eyes off you.”

“Oh, well. Vasquez. That’s her thing, watching people.”

“I don’t think she saw anybody but you.”

“Pfft. Anyway, I’m pretty sure she’s straight.”

Peggy’s eyes widened. “I don’t think a straight woman could pull off that haircut. Besides, didn’t you say butches are badass? I would bet good money that she is butch. And badass. And she likes yours.”

“My what?”

“Your ass.”

Alex blushed. (Peggy thought it was a little adorable.) “This isn’t the kind of conversation I thought it was going to be. And I kind of feel like I’ve met you before, but I can’t place where.”

“Well, I’ve gotten into trouble trying to date women who weren’t as unattached as they said or even thought,” said Peggy. “Some women can be… a little clueless. I’m only in National City for a little while, so I can’t think when we might have met in the last few days. I’m simply saying, Sugar, there was a lot of admiration in that bar, a lot of pheromones, you know?”

“Guess we’re not going to be necking after all.”

Peggy heard a mix of disappointment and relief. “Well, would you rather kiss me or kiss your Vasquez?”

“Vas—Oh, shit. I would. But that’s. Oh dear.”

Peggy smiled and finished her drink. “I think I should go. Might you call me a taxi?”

“Do people still take taxis anymore?” Alex pulled her phone out of her back pocket and busied herself tapping it. “There. A Lyft should be here in six minutes. We can wait out front.”

Alex retrieved Peggy’s gun. They went out into the cool evening, watching thin clouds pass over the moon. “I’m sorry,” said Alex. “I think you expected someone more experienced…”

Peggy smiled. “Not really. But I was certain you’d be interesting to talk to. And you are.” She kissed Alex on the cheek. “Take care, Sugar. And see about that Vasquez. I bet she’s sweet on you.” She winked and got into the back of the Lyft car.

Alex stood on the sidewalk looking dazed as they drove away.

Chapter Text

Maxwell Lord had looked at the literature on EVERYTHING: mechanical physics, quantum physics, material science, biology, chemistry, bioengineering, chemical engineering. He was running out of fields to research. Something had to work. He absolutely had to reverse engineer the pink kryptonite that he had devised a while back. It was one thing when it affected the gayphobic and transphobic politicians. It was another thing when it affected him.

Was that hypocritical? It felt hypocritical. And yet…

Then it occurred to him to look into civilian technology derived from military research. After all, wasn’t it the NASA moonshot that had led to microwave technology? So, basically, if we hadn’t needed to beat the USSR to the moon, we’d still be reheating our coffee on the stovetop. There were quite a few stories like that one, the Internet and duct tape just two of them. He’d ask his assistant Brendan (by email) to find more, something that might help a current work in progress, something to stabilize a volatile substance.

He didn’t mention that the substance was reverse-pink-K. That was need-to-know information, and the only person other than himself who needed to know and could (probably) be trusted, was Lillian Luthor. He’d been most displeased with the way she had weaponized his tech for Cadmus, but he was 99% sure that their interests here aligned. She’d even told him in passing that she had attended the betrothal ceremony for an alien and a human—and he was pretty sure that she had meant Kara Zor-El and Lena Luthor, but Lillian had been icing the back of her neck and gulping down pint after pint of red clover tea when she’d said that, so he kept his mouth shut. A smart man didn’t interfere with a menopausal woman.

So when his email dinged with a response from Brendan, he went to the door of this office and met the man there.

They had both been awkward since the Event at Max’s place, caused by the (less proto than Max had remembered) tablets of pink K. So the attractive young man barely looked Max in the eye when he handed him a book: Impossible for a Reason: One Success and All the Failures in the Search to Create Supersoldiers.

Max closed his office door and sat down to read.

///

Roughly eight hours of sleep later (“morning” was approximate on the Waverider when they were floating in the temporal zone), the crew, Cartinelli, and Mxy gathered in the galley. Gideon even took on her human persona and showed up with them, all the women responding to her presence (and her simulated pheromones) with extreme focus.

“So,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes, “how did the bar mission go?”

Angie was drinking miso soup (she had asked Gideon to recommend a hangover cure, and this is what the ship had replicated). “Sorry, Gideon, could you speak less loudly?”

Peggy pulled a cup of black tea with milk and a blueberry waffle from the replicator with a small smile. Quietly, she said, “I had a fairly long talk with Alex. Bad news, she seemed to recognize me, though she couldn’t place me, so I think I’m functionally ‘made’ and won’t be able to be in the driver’s seat on changes anymore. Good news, I think we might have gotten her to the last few steps to acknowledge her queerness.”

Mxy said, “Hmm. Let’s see.” He opened his 5th dimensional laptop and pulled up his MyxFlyx account.

…

After the usual “I’m a refugee on this planet” intro, the camera panned the DEO gym, where Vasquez was working on the salmon ladder and Alex was standing just inside the door, mouth open and hands shaking, looking at the ex-Marine’s arm muscles and muscular ass and… oh, my, looking away.

She took a few deep, long breaths, but when she looked up again, Vasquez had turned in her direction and was frowning at her. Frown #14, Mild Confusion.

Alex ran a hand through her hair and noticed the slight change of Vasquez’s micro-expression, from confusion to breathlessness. Wait, what?

Alex said, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your workout.”

Vasquez shrugged. “I only have a few more sets to go, maybe two, with three reps each?”

“I can come back later!” Alex hurried toward the door, but Vasquez followed her.

“Wait, Alex. It’s no problem. I haven’t had a rest day in more than a week. I can cut this workout short if you need me for something.”

Alex’s face was a momentary flag of need before she got control of herself and presented as emotionless. “No, it’s no big deal. I just. No, it’s fine. When you have time. I’ll just… go.”

Vasquez hurried to her side as she opened the gym door to exit. “Alex, at least join me in the locker room while I change back into my tacticals…”

Alex’s breath caught, but then she nodded and followed Vasquez into the women’s locker room. She immediately focused her eyes on the irregular pattern of black lines on the grey carpet.

Vasquez chuckled. “Don’t be embarrassed. We’re all women here, after all.”

Alex sighed, but didn’t lift her eyes. “Yeah,” she muttered. “That only works if both women are straight.”

“Oh, shit!” said Vasquez. “You think I’m showing off because I’m a lesbian?”

Alex’s head snapped up. “You’re a, no I don’t think you’re the gay one! I mean, I just—”

They stared at each other, Vasquez forgetting the two ends of her belt in her hands. “Wait, Alex. Are you, what are you saying?”

Alex waved her hands. “It’s just, I hadn’t realized it might mean. Well. Back when I first joined the DEO and I met you and you were, are, such a badass, and close quarters combat training with you was the best part of my day, and I thought, well, teacher crush, right, because I just really wanted to be like you.”

Vasquez blushed, but she said, “So, looks like you managed that better you thought.” She finished buckling her belt. “Well, we both get off soon… Want to grab a drink, maybe get dinner?”

“You mean, like, in a gay bar?” Alex’s eyes were wide.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be, but actually the Amphipolis is kind of nice. Good food, hot servers.” She winked.

Alex just nodded, apparently not trusting her voice.

…

Sara and Zari high-fived. Peggy nodded thoughtfully, but it was Angie who said, “Well, okay, it looks good, but we should check a little further in time. Can we see where Kara is?”

Mxy hit fast forward and stopped when Kara was frowning at her phone waiting for the elevator at CatCo. “Alex, pick up!” She threw her phone into her bag, took the elevator down to ground level, hurried down the street and into a back alley and then flew away.

She arrived at Alex’s window and let herself in. “Alex, what’s wrong?”

Alex sat in front of her fire with a glass of scotch and a mournful look. “Kara, just leave me alone, okay. I made a mistake.”

“Did you talk with Vasquez? Was that woman right about her?”

“Yes and no. She is a butch lesbian and she’s always liked me, but the DEO has anti-fraternization rules. Even if she felt the way I do, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t, we couldn’t be together.”

“Did you tell her how you felt? Did you tell her you’re gay?”

“No and yes. I mean, I tried to tell her how I feel, but you know me, Kara. Emotions have always been hard. I’ve tried that thing Lena talks about, putting emotions in tiny boxes and shoving them away, but it gets harder every day.” She sniffled and sipped her scotch. “So what about you and Lena? Any momentum there?”

Kara looked glum. “Ever since Lena saved the world right before I got stuck on Barry’s Earth, and I didn’t come thank her and I had to apologize so many times for diving through the portal as me and then as Supergirl to save me--! God it’s so hard to be so many people. I wish I could just tell Lena!”

“Kara, that would put her even more in the crosshairs than she already is, between her brother and her mother and every other alien-hating goon in National City.”

Kara pouted. “I know, but how do you have a relationship, even just a friendship, with someone if you can’t be honest with them?”

Alex put her arms around her little sister. “Sometimes, Sis, I wonder how there is any love in the world at all.”

With a small voice, Kara asked, “So what do we do? What can we do?”

“Our jobs,” Alex said with some determination. “If we can make the world safer for other people, then maybe… maybe it won’t matter if we… don’t, can’t, if nobody—”

“Yeah,” said Kara sadly. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell myself for the last two years.”

…

Sara reacted first. “Oh, so she wasn’t giving Lena the cold shoulder. She was on an alternate Earth. But she can’t tell Lena that, so…”

Peggy started pacing. “We’ve tried just diving in and solving small problems that had big, if limited results.”

Gideon said, “Mm. The Pareto Principle and the Butterfly Effect.”

Peggy frowned. “Sure, if you say so. We also tried a more direct intervention. And that didn’t get us very far and also burned me as an asset. We still don’t know why this is happening. There must be some way of finding the source of this aberration.”

Sara grunted. “I’m still betting on that Max Lord. If he was trying to feed Alex whatever off his fork, that suggests he has the hots for her. So what if he wants a better chance at her, after his pink K made a lot of people rethink their sexualities? When you hear hoofbeats, expect a horse, not a zebra.”

Peggy and Angie shared a look and then looked back at Sara, confused.

“It means—” started Sara.

“No, no. We understand what it means,” said Peggy. “It’s just… isn’t time travel often about zebras?”

Sara sighed. “Much less than you’d think. Humans are horribly and delightfully consistent.”

Zari asked, “Mxy, is there any way we can see what this Max Lord was up to right before this all started?”

“Absolutely.” He tapped his MxFlyx again but then a content warning came up. “Um, wait a moment, please.” He hurried out to the hall with his laptop and then came back saying, “We really don’t need to watch that! Suffice it to say that, a few weeks before changes in the timeline started showing up, Max and his Personal Assistant got a lot more… personal. That could be motive…”

Angie asked, “Gideon, what’s the situation with the timeline? Has it gotten any better?”

Gideon showed the complicated knot that was the timeline, this time with fewer threads ending abruptly. “Good work, ladies. Now I count only six lives at risk, instead of fourteen.”

Sara and Zari high-fived.

Peggy just nodded seriously. She turned back to Gideon. “Do you have a time stamp for when the timeline started…”

“Going all wonky?” Angie offered.

Mxy added, “And that’s Pacific time, remember.”

Gideon frowned, calculating. “Captain, it would seem that about a week after the encounter in question, Mr. Lord absented himself from his time stream for roughly two minutes at a time in a range of American cities.”

Zari frowned, then tapped away at her tablet. “Didn’t we have a mission to collect those portal watches from Lex Luthor?”

“Yes,” said Sara, “but they were broken.”

“Not entirely. His idea that you could travel back in space and time simultaneously came up against that principle, what was it?”

Gideon said, “The Historical Imperative. The universe is held together with immense inertia. Jumping from one time to another without passing through the timestream challenges that inertia, but then time snaps back.”

“But two minutes is long enough to drop a drone loaded with pink K,” said Zari.

Angie murmured, “What’s a drone?”

“A flying robot,” whispered Peggy. “Still theoretical in our time. They tried making them during the war.”

Sara sighed. “So we just go back to those times and places with the Waverider and stop him.”

Gideon shook her head. “Even if we had done that first, without intervening in the ensuing timelines, from Mr. Lord’s point of view, it would have been two years, plenty of time for the changes to gel. And a single two-minute (or possibly less) presence in a timeline would require surgical precision. The odds of our doing it successfully several times would be astronomically unlikely. I’m sorry, Captain.”

“Okay, so if we can’t be the scalpel, what do we have in our arsenal that we could use as a chainsaw?” Sara started pacing across the command center of the Waverider.

Peggy was watching Mxy’s hands, which occasionally gave off blue sparks. He saw her frown and explained, “Sometimes I have a little too much fifth-dimensional energy and I have to offload. Don’t worry. It’s harmless.”

But Peggy kept frowning. “I’ve seen that before. Towards the end of the war. We were confiscating 084s from captured spies. Objects of unknown origin. Things thought to have magical or alien properties. The Nazis were obsessed with the occult, and while most of that was of course hogwash, every so often they stumbled upon alien artifacts. We’d get wind and hunt them down. One was…a hat. A Homburg, I think. It gave off sparks just like that.”

“My hat! I lost that in a poker game with Winston Churchill. Long story. You know where it is?”

“Now, I mean in Supergirl’s now, no, it could be anywhere. But back in my present, yes: Fort Monmouth New Jersey. I brought it there myself.”

Chapter Text

Max Lord had gotten thirty pages into the book on supersoldiers when he shouted, “Vita rays! Of course!” He quickly emailed the LordTech science librarian and asked her to get him everything she had on vita rays. They would be the perfect thing to stabilize the drones’ anti-pink-K emitters for enhanced distribution.

Of course, that was going to mean the nauseating time/space jumps that gave him a virtual hangover each time. But if it meant he could go back to being happily straight again, he’d take it.

///

J’onn J’onzz paced through the DEO, trying to get away from his agents’ loudly emotional minds. He had been used to it from Agent Vasquez for years, her unrequited longing for Agent Danvers, that she held under tight control and often gritted teeth. And Agent Danvers’s mind usually held anxiety for Kara, excitement for combat training and combat, frustration about her mother, untapped sexual energy with no one to share it with, annoyance at National City drivers, and in the summer, longing to surf the waves and feel the freedom it gave her. Occasionally, mourning Jeremiah, every year around the time he died, the rest would recede for a few days, only to come pouring back in at the end of that week. And that, he could handle.

Now, as far as he could tell, it seemed that Alex had confessed her feelings for Agent Vasquez; Susan had panicked and decided professionalism was the only honorable response, leaning on the DEO’s non-fraternization policy to squeak her way out of the one thing she wanted more than anything else, and had for years. He was used to getting headaches from hearing his agents’ feelings. He wasn’t used to migraines. He looked at his watch. His shift ended in twenty minutes. He really needed to go talk to M’gann.

///

Major Lucy Lane had been called back to National City to consult with Director J’onzz more often lately, possibly not coincidentally since she had started dating Detective Sawyer. And when she passed through the command center, she often saw, under the computer feeds, Winn playing with a yoyo and Vasquez frowning. There were rumors that Alex had a list of Vasquez’s frowns and what they meant. Clearly, the girl had given it way more thought than was probably healthy, given that Susan followed DEO rules to the letter (well, most of the time; and Lucy could totally forgive the time she followed the spirit of the rules instead. To be fair, Col. Harper had been a little shit and Lucy felt guilty that she had ever helped him incriminate J’onn and Alex).

And Lucy had lived with her general father for more than twenty years and was used to intuiting what would make him annoyed, angry, etc., and then trying to get Lois to not do whatever she was about to do to bring him down on them. In contrast, J’onn was comparatively easy. And she knew that when J’onn was looking distracted, he often went to Dollywood to see M’gann, which was great in this particular instance because the conversation she wanted to have with him really needed to be off-site, and she was pretty sure that M’gann would agree with the advice Lucy intended to give him.

///

Dollywood was surprisingly crowded for an ordinary Wednesday night. M’gann was polishing glasses behind the bar while Violet filled orders hand over fist. A cursory glance at her clientele’s emotions didn’t show any commonalities—no championship game or alien threat—that might account for the number of aliens and humans hanging out cheek by jowl and drinking her dry. She was going to have to call her suppliers two days earlier than usual to stock up again.

Brian and Joe were hanging out at the bar and Brian seemed shocked at how crowded the bar was. “And I’m on the police scanners all the time, because often our EMT truck gets called when there’s cop action.”

Joe shook his head, winking in M’gann’s direction. “Don’t worry. Mars is in retrograde. All should be back to normal on Tuesday.”

And that made M’gann chuckle, but then she sensed a masculine walled-off mental presence and her smile faded. She nodded to Violet and pulled down a rocks glass, Aldabaran rum, seltzer and orange bitters for J’onn and took it over to the booth she could sense him sliding into. She slid opposite him and then Violet came over and handed her a blue fizzy drink, Venus & Mars, her go-to mild alien cocktail. M’gann nodded her thanks.

“Thank you,” he rasped, and took a drink gratefully.

“Look like you’re under the weather. Agent stress?”

“You’ve no idea.” He rubbed his eyes and temples.

“So: talk? Bond? Find solutions? Complain?”

“Some of my agents, well, they’re human. And it’s just all been a bit too much today. Well, really, for a while.”

M’gann turned to see Lucy Lane step out of the crowd in skinny jeans, a scoop-neck shirt and a little black leather jacket. M’gann scooted further into the booth so that Lane could sit next to her. Violet came over with a scotch-rocks, winking at M’gann and returning to the bar.

“Wait,” said Lucy. “She’s telepathic too?”

“Nope. She’s a bartender and you are very consistent.”

J’onn glanced at Lucy. “Major Lane—”

“We’re not on duty, J’onn. I’m here because I’ve heard you’ve been having those headaches again. I think it’s maybe been a while since you sat down with Pam from HR to get a refresher on the sexual conduct code. It’s been updated, you know.”

J’onn groaned quietly. “I can’t lose either one of them. You know that.”

“Mm-hm. And all they have to do is to fill out some paperwork that they are in a consensual relationship and are aware of the harassment policies, blah, blah. And they can date, see where it goes. You might have to keep them on separate field ops for the time being until it’s clear whether the relationship has traction, but it’s not impossible.”

J’onn stared, surprised.

M’gann smiled. “Aren’t you the one that says love will save the world? Maybe you should believe your own propaganda, J’onn.”

“I can’t believe it could be so easy. There’s gotta be a catch.”

“Sure,” said Lucy. “It might not work. They might blow up. Pam will no doubt point out that it could blow up on a field op, if they were being too protective of each other or were in the middle of a fight, but I know those two, J’onn. And you do too. They are scrupulously professional. I trust them both. And I would trust them to have my back on an op.”

J’onn drained his glass. “Did you drive here, Lucy? I think I could use a lift home.” He touched M’gann’s hand on her glass, send her a wave of love, and then he and Lucy left.

///

Max Lord wandered through the labs with his hands in his pockets, thinking about not very much but noticing his employees. Most of the computer scientists were men, but a lot of his mechanical engineers were women, both brilliant and in many cases beautiful. He felt the thrill of the chase down below and allowed himself a small smile. Looked like the vita rays had worked.

Chapter Text

The Waverider synthesized four World War II Strategic Scientific Reserve women’s uniforms, one male Army general’s uniform, and an army jeep, and took them back to 1946 New Jersey. Gideon changed her appearance to look like a contemporary general who visited the base from time to time, but wasn’t there on the day they were going in.

She/he walked into the back bay grinning.

Zari rolled her eyes.

Gideon shook his head. “C’mon, Z, you know I look good.”

Angie drove, with Zari in the passenger seat and Sara and Peggy on either side of General Gideon in back. In Gideon’s lap was an old-fashioned leather suitcase with shoulder carry straps rather than handles. Mxy stayed behind on the Waverider, not being allowed to help them directly.

As they pulled up to the gate, the guards immediately recognized the general and waved them through. They drove counterclockwise to the back of a warehouse and Peggy picked the lock and let them in. It was wide, long, and dark with rows of high shelves covered in boxes and trunks, each tagged with its own number.

Peggy said to Angie, “Stay in the jeep and keep it running in case we have to abort.”

“Got it.”

Gideon passed around the picture she had found of the black metal box stamped with the numbers 084 on top.

Sara grunted. “Needle in a haystack. All right, we know what we’re looking for.”

The separated to take different aisles between the many shelves, looking high and low, squinting at numbered tags. Finally, Peggy called out, “I’ve got the 084.” She pulled the metal box down and set it on a stack of trunks. “Repeat. I’ve got the bloody thing.”

She pulled out a handheld blowtorch and proceeded to melt the strip of lead that they had used to seal it only the year before. As the others came trotting up, she opened the lid. They all saw the blue sparks coming out of the box. Peggy lifted the hat out and showed the others.

Zari asked, “So what do you do? Wear it?”

Peggy said, “We never tried that. It didn’t seem prudent.”

Sara said, “Gideon, would you mind?”

Gideon set her suitcase down, opened it and pulled out an identical black homburg. Peggy put it into the metal box and resealed it. Gideon put the sparking hat into her suitcase and Peggy put the box back where she had found it.

They hurried back to the jeep. Angie had the motor running. They all retook their seats.

As they went back through the gates, one of the soldiers looked a bit perplexed, and Gideon said, “Don’t panic, but the moment we turn a corner and are out of sight, hightail it back to the Waverider.”

Angie complied. Zari held tight to the door handle and asked, “Gideon, what are you not telling us?”

Gideon resumed her normal appearance, although still dressed as a general. “Ah, yes, Captain. It would appear that the general made a last-minute decision to visit the base today. We just missed him entering.”

The Waverider briefly became visible as the bay door lowered and Angie drove them back in. Sara said, “Gideon, fire us up.”

“Right away, Captain.”

When they reached the bridge, they saw Mxy chewing his fingernails as he paced back and forth. “Did you find it?” he asked excitedly.

Gideon handed the suitcase to Peggy, who pulled out the still-sparking hat. She went to offer it to him, but he said, “You have to use its magic yourself. I can’t help you directly but, given that you will be returning this powerful artifact back to the 5th dimension, I can give you a hint as a thank you.”

“A hint?” said Peggy.

“Yes,” said Mxy sadly. “And it may not help much.”

Sara said, “You know what? I think I’m going to need to be sitting down for this conversation and I’m going to need a glass of scotch in my hand before I sit down.”

Angie took one look at Peggy and said, “Yeah, English, I know you’re going to say tea, but I think you should join her.”

Peggy shook her head, mostly amused but also realizing her girlfriend was right. They trooped off to the library. Sara poured two glasses and handed one to Peggy. They all sat down in the armchairs while Mxy took up the lotus position about six inches above the desk.

Sara took a long sip with her eyes closed and then leaned back in the armchair. “Okay, Mxy, so how do we use this?”

“Number One, you must define what you want very, very precisely. Number Two, think of an artifact that will achieve what you want.”

Zari sighed and popped a peanut M&M in her mouth. “I’m done in. You ladies can stay up all night brainstorming, but I’m going to bed.”

Angie took one look at Peggy and Sara’s determined faces and turned to Mxy. “Okay, Mr. Mmm…Imp. How about we synthesize some schnapps and I’ll teach you how to play gin rummy.”

Peggy watched them amble off together as her girlfriend started explaining the card game to the 5th dimensional being.

“So, Agent Carter,” said Sara. “Care to help me brainstorm our goal?”

“Thank you, Captain Lance. There is nothing I would like better, except perhaps keep the bottle open. This may take a bit of work.”

“Gideon, join us. I’m thinking we should know if the timeline has changed at all since our little jaunt to the army base.”

The screen showed virtually the same knot, with five cutoff threads. Gideon said, “No and yes. As you can see the configuration is pretty similar, just rearranged. Oh! But now I can tell you who the endangered ones are.”

Peggy and Sara both leaned forward.

“Um, it’s James, Alex, Winn, Cat, and Mon-El.”

Peggy looked at the chart Zari had drawn to explain to Angie and her the web of relationships, straight and queer, surrounding Supergirl. “In our scenarios we were trying to keep the Danvers sisters queer and make sure Kara and Lena, and Alex and Vasquez got together. Um, why would their staying either straight or apart endanger—”

Suddenly the knot grew three sizes and the number of loose ends exploded.

“HOLY SHIT!”

“Gideon, what just happened?”

“Er, my guess would be quantum, Captain.”

“But hasn’t all of this been quantum? The butterfly effect when we change small things?”

“Yes… but… To me, this looks like Schrodinger’s Future.” Gideon took in their matching looks of incomprehension. “If the hat is the box, whatever we pull out will quite likely either fix the problem—the cat in the box is alive—or make it, well, vastly worse.”

“So the cat is dead?”

“In effect. Yes.”

Quietly, Peggy muttered, “Bugger!”

Gideon replied, “I quite agree.”

Chapter Text

Several hours later, Zari dragged her way into the Waverider kitchen, begging Gideon for coffee, very strong, with just one dollop of cream. (And Gideon had learned long ago not to ask for more precise measurements of something like “dollop.”) Sara and Peggy came in the other way together, looking like women who hadn’t slept all night.

Shortly after, Angie strode in, looking sprightly and saying, “Hey, Pegs, did you ever come to bed last night?”

“Alas, no, Angie. We went down to their lab and covered their white boards—they’re like blackboards, but opposite—with all kinds of ideas, wild and pragmatic, but nothing that screams eureka!”

Zari gulped down coffee and let out a deep grateful sigh before saying, “I think we haven’t done enough due diligence here. We don’t know the long-term effects of what we’ve done so far.”

“Hey, where’s Mxy?” asked Angie.

The imp appeared with a five o’clock shadow and an old-fashioned ice pack on his head. “I, Miss Martinelli, am handling a phenomenal hangover.” He looked at the other women. “Schnapps. Don’t do it, kids.”

Sara asked, “Mxy, can you show us a year ahead of our last time in the Danvers’ timeline?”

He snapped his fingers and a movie screen appeared in front of him and a tub of buttered popcorn appeared in each of their laps.

…

Winn and Alex sat in the command center finishing off the new scanning program.

Alex said, "Okay, we are now scanning for any electromagnetic activity within the region. If anyone powers up this device, we're going to know exactly where they are."

"Good," said J'onn. "Then we can strike."

James strode in, saying, "Marcus knows where his mom is. But he has to take me to her."

"That device is still out there. Whoever has it could set it off at any moment. It's not safe for him outside of containment."

"But his mom is still out there."

Thinking to himself, I am not a Red Shirt, Winn raised his hand. "I could, I could go with him. I have a mobile version of the telekinetic dampener. It should have plenty of juice to keep Marcus and his mom from going all Carrie."

"Be safe, agents."

They didn't even take the time to change into tactical gear. James drove one of the DEO SUVs through National City, with Marcus saying, "Turn right here. Go straight. Toward those buildings over there."

James glanced at Winn in the passenger seat. "Thanks, man, for having my back."

Winn patted his mobile device, grinning. "You do realize where we're going, right?"

James groaned, "The warehouse district. Because of course."

"Also, this is our first DEO mission together. And what is so super-awesome about that? I am the senior agent here!"

"Here," said Marcus. "That building. She's here!"

They followed the boy down the narrow, dimly lit hallway. "She's here! Mom? Mom!"

"Wait, slow down!"

But he was hurrying ahead of them, toward the woman who stepped out from behind some old shelving. "Marcus?"

"Mom!" Marcus ran forward and she hugged him fiercely, then looked up to realize that he wasn't alone. "Mom, these are my friends. They helped me find you."

"It's okay," said Winn. "We know you didn't attack the square on purpose. You're safe now. This bad boy is going to protect you." He grinned.

"All of us?" she asked.

"All of..." James and Winn gaped as a dozen men and women of the same species slowly stepped into the light.

//

Lena was glowing. She turned to Ms. Penn with a huge smile. "Tomorrow we can begin the material trials." Penn's face was serious. She didn't answer. Lena gestured nervously. "I keep forgetting that success means that you're leaving. Working with you has meant so much to me."

"Me too. Whatever happens next, I want you to remember never to doubt yourself again. You are a marvel, Lena. And your mother should be proud to call you daughter."

Lena grinned, knowing that Lillian would never, never see her that way. Anything less than perfect Lena did was proof that she wasn't good enough. Anything perfect she did was just an accident. But for a moment, looking into Eleanor Penn's eyes, she thought, Maybe I'm good enough after all...

And then Penn picked up the tablet and pushed the energy up to full power.

"Wait! What, what are you doing?"

The turbine started to turn. Out in the desert, the ring filled with swirling purple energy.

//

Kara paced back and forth across the DEO command center, worried about Marcus and his mother, worried about Lena. Could she be behind this? How could that be? Kara looked at her phone. Lena still hadn't returned her text. She sent another one: Lena, your anions are causing aliens to react telekinetically. If you turn that on again, we'll have another earthquake. Call me!

Alex shouted, "We've got something! A huge release of anions."

"Where?" asked Kara.

"San Isidro Valley."

"You got a satellite image for that?" asked J'onn.

"Yeah."

"Let's go," said J'onn.

Kara tore off her glasses and ran after him.

//

Winn pulled his mobile device onto a table and began the startup sequence. The warehouse lights turned on and off, and the floor began to tremble. The aliens stood stiff, bereft of will, and their eyes glowed purple.

"Faster..." murmured James.

"I'm going as fast as I can!" The device shorted, sending out a spray of sparks. Winn jumped back. "There's too many of them! It's not working!"

"What's wrong with it?" asked James.

"It's made for two, not twelve! We gotta get out of here. This much telekinetic energy between these Fourians-- The entire city is in danger!"

"I am not leaving here!"

"Then what do you want to do?"

"Well, they're linked telepathically, right?"

"Yeah."

"So if I can break through to him, maybe he can break through to them."

"Okay. Go..." And Winn thought for the hundredth time that James's overwhelming need to be a hero was going to be the death of Winn yet. He stared from behind a wall as James strode toward Marcus, trying to get the boy's attention.

"Marcus! I need you to look at me. I told you that I would keep you and your mother safe. And I am NOT breaking that promise!”

But the boy rose into the air with the rest of his extended family as the Earth shook and bits of rusty metal and gravel started to rain down on their heads.

“James! We have to get out!”

But James tried the grab the boy’s legs, and Winn Schott, Jr. turned around and hightailed it out of the warehouse.

…

Sara looked at Gideon. “None of that seems worrisome to me."

Gideon frowned. “In the old timeline, Winn would never have abandoned his friend. This might be the first crack."

Sara set her tub of popcorn on the table.

Zari hugged hers tighter.

Chapter Text

Peggy paced in front of the screen that Mxy had stopped, showing Winn running away from a collapsing warehouse. “So if this is the horseshoe nail that lost the kingdom, we should look much further into the future, no?”

Gideon hummed. “In what Ray would have called Monday-to-Friday reality, I would say yes. But this is war, and intergalactic war at that. The entire city is being faced with a situation where people are going to act on the deepest roots of their character, which might lead to their embracing the best of themselves and/or might lead to them abandon their character completely: it’s a toss-up.”

Angie nodded, “Yeah, English, you told me about the hijinks you got up to with the 107th regiment…”

“So wars are likely to bring out more cracks?” asked Sara.

“I’m afraid so, Captain.”

“Got it. Mxy, keep running the film.”

Snap!

…

Lena ran to the computer, typing in kill codes. "Why won't it shut down?" She glared at Penn. "What did you do!"

"What I had to do for my people. I want you to know that the affection I have for you is real."

A rain of plaster dust cut off her words as Supergirl and J'onn J'onzz drove through the roof and landed in the lab.

"Turn it off!" commanded Supergirl.

Lena said, "I can't. I tried! "

Supergirl tried shooting the turbine with her laser vision, but there was some energy shielding it. It continued its slow turn and the purple energy billowed and flowed in the ring out in the desert.

"Why won't it turn off?" yelled J'onn.

"I don't know!" said Lena. "She must have made it self-sustaining somehow."

Lena stared at Eleanor Penn, as the woman watched the ring glowing brightly, a look of heady anticipation on her face. Lena said, "You're bringing something here. What is it?"

"You'll see."

In a burst of superspeed, Supergirl grabbed Penn and slammed her against a wall. They traded blows and the woman was strong--alien strong. Kara ducked and Penn put a fist into the wall behind her. Then Supergirl knocked her out and flew out through the hole in the roof.

//

The warehouse shook and collapsed in on itself. Winn threw himself clear of the wreckage but then was back up again, racing to where the doors had been, tearing away metal chunks and rusted bits until his hands bled. “Supergirl! Where are you! A warehouse has collapsed on James!”

But a light coastal wind just whistled in his ears.

//

Supergirl flew to the portal. It was only fifty feet high, but she remembered the nanobots and she knew that even small things could cause astronomically large problems, and when they were talking about a portal in space, the term "astronomically large" was literal. She stopped her flight and stared into the purple energy. She tried sending her laser vision into the portal, but something shot through the portal and encased her. It was like the globe of energy that the Daxamite ship had shot at her. It dragged her fast back down to Earth with a huge concussion.

The agents at the DEO watched their surveillance feed, yelling, “Supergirl! Get up! We need you! Earth needs you.”

But she lay there in the dirt gasping for breath while sleek alien spaceships zipped through the portal and began to cover the airspace of National City.

//

Lena hurried to the computer and tried to find a way to shut it down. Penn pushed herself up and faced J'onn, who growled, "You don't mess with my family!"

But Penn pulled out a handheld device and shot a red laser at the man, halting him in stasis.

"Eleanor! What is that?" shouted Lena.

Calmly, Penn said, "A White Martian gave me this. White Martians developed this technology in order to keep the Greens under their control."

J'onn's body flared with a web of red lines and he fell to his knees, taking on his Green Martian form and still staring off, appalled, into space.

"It traps a Green Martian in his own mind, a never-ending nightmare. Pretty savvy, if you ask me."

J'onn collapsed. Lena ran over to him, grabbed him by the shoulder, pressed his throat to check his pulse. "J'onn!"

Lena stood suddenly. "You're lucky he's still alive, Ms. Penn." She walked back to her computer station. Next to her chair was her large Gucci bag. "So, Ms. Penn. I take it that you are an alien yourself? What planet are you from?"

"Daxam."

Lena rolled her eyes. "I've heard about Daxamites. Apparently, my best friend dated their prince for a while.”

Penn gasped. "That is an honor, indeed!"

"Um, no, nope. I think it was straight panic, because apparently his assets appealed to her view of the world better than mine did at the time. Personally, I don’t see it.”

Penn looked outraged. "How, how can you not be, how dare you--"

"You fooled me, Ms. Penn, if that is even your name."

"Elyrapin, close enough. Call me Elyra."

"Elyra. You were quite convincing. You obviously learned a lot during your time on Earth. How long has it been?"

"Ten of your years. Forever, really."

"I see," said Lena, reaching into her bag, pulling out a Glock and pointing it at Elyra’s face. "And did you learn that you're not bullet-proof here?"

Elyra didn't panic, didn't show a single trace of emotion. "Put the gun down, Lena. I know you care about me too much to shoot me. You don't want to hurt me. Would you kill your mentor? Your friend?"

Lena smiled sadly. "You played me, Elyra. You did. You played on my mommy issues to get in under my radar, to inspire me the way my own mother, brilliant as she is, could have if she had ever, ever wanted to. But she never did. She always preferred to tear me down. So, yes, on the one hand, with my, let's be honest, genius intellect, could I have achieved greater things if Lillian had given me the kind of pep-talks you did? Sure."

"Lena, you are not going to just shoot me in the head. Whatever you think of me--"

Lena said, "For all your brilliant pep-talks, you are still a binary-thinking person, aren't you? I would have expected so much more of you. No, Elyra. I am not going to shoot you in the head."

Elyra smiled.

Lena shot her in the heart.

Chapter Text

On the ground, below the small fighter pilots hovering over National City, randomly shooting lasers into the streets, chaos ensued. Armored Daxamites landed and fought the unsuspecting and unprepared Earthlings hand to hand. Meanwhile the largest of the ships, the head of the royal armada, a forty-foot-wide ship that nearly tore the portal apart when it passed through, downloaded a communication from the king.

"People of Earth. Do not be afraid."

The Daxamite soldiers' weapons were a cross between medieval halberds and AK-17s and Star Wars laser rifles. The best that could be said about human ballistics in comparison was that they shot lead, which Daxamites were deathly allergic to, but given that only a handful of humans out of the 7.6 billion on Earth knew that fact, it didn't exactly help.

Largand continued, across the chaos. "We have crossed a sea of stars in order to bring you a new way, a better way."

Across the city, cars were hit by plasma blasts, people (especially those most vulnerable: the poor, the queer, the aliens) ran screaming, trying desperately to find shelter. At Maggie's NCPD precinct, cops were racing to the armory, grabbing shotguns, racing out to the chaotic craziness that was the new chaos that was National City.

"I will be your king."

Maggie grabbed the shotgun from a fallen peer. She shot two aliens and ducked behind a cement wall.

"And you will be my subjects. Obey our orders and we will protect you. Do not resist."

She pulled out her phone and called Alex. "They're everywhere. The soldiers are everywhere!"

"Are you okay?" yelled Alex.

Inside the DEO, Largand's message played across all the screens, just as it did across National City.

Winn said, "We've got transmat signals all across the city. Our satellite systems are crashing."

"They've attacked the NCPD," Alex said.

Winn asked, "Is Maggie safe? What are we going to do?"

Suddenly on the balcony, Daxamite soldiers appeared and started shooting. Alex shot back and yelled, "Everybody evacuate! Winn, go!" She ducked behind the central table and tapped her earbud. "Supergirl, we're under attack. I've evacuated the DEO!"

"Hang on, I'm almost there!" yelled Supergirl above her own wind.

"There's no time!"

"Then I'll meet you outside!"

Alex jumped up and shot a soldier and slid on her knees under the halberd of another, jumped to her feet and ran up the stairs to the balcony, leaping over one soldier's body, ducking another's blast of blue energy. The balcony was broken and the soldiers were chasing her. She turned to fire at the soldiers. Two Daxamites fell but the one behind them shot her with a blast of plasma, straight to the chest, and the force of it shot her off the balcony into space.

Falling.

Being caught by her sister, held tight in the arms of steel.

"We need to get somewhere safe," said Supergirl.

Above, Air Force jets and Daxamite crafts flew in high-tech dogfights, shooting at each other, spiraling to the city streets in colossal explosions.

Below, on every screen in National City, King Largand said, "Welcome! To New Daxam!"

///

Before Lena and Kara had worked together to get Mon-El to go with his parents back to Daxam, Agent Vasquez had thought through a variety of scenarios. And although there was not much that General Sam Lane and Agent Susan Vasquez had in common, one was the idea that at some point, an army of aliens might just possibly invade Earth. So, in the interest of world peace, or at least preparation, Vasquez had shifted her drinking from the lesbian bar, Amphipolis, to the alien bar, Dollywood, and she made it a habit to get to know every single alien she could.

She knew which aliens were visiting Earth for business and pleasure and she found out as much about their worlds as she could: politics, economics, business practices, technology. The range of their military forces.

She knew which aliens were refugees from famines, wars, genocides. Most of the refugees were like M'gann and Kara, one of a handful of their species left anywhere in the galaxy. Very few were like the Daxamites, an entire world population without a planet to go back to. An entire world population looking for a new world to populate.

Earth might start to look very homey in the wrong light.

And the DEO could handle a lot of high-powered aliens, but an army?

Also, Vasquez had thought, the Daxamites already knew about the DEO. If they ever did come back, they would know enough to attack it first thing. So, if J'onn ever had to give the order to evacuate National City's DEO, they were going to need a command center... elsewhere.

And by command center, Vasquez meant computers, scanners, a small armory, medical supplies. So when M'gann had finally gotten the money to do the rest of the rebuilding of Dollywood after Cadmus had shot it up, Vasquez had asked to take a look at the bar's basement, and had worked out a deal for the DEO to rent it as storage for what they would need if hell ever did show up to National City in a handbasket, or, more likely, via a space squadron. That was part one: Plan Whisky. Parts Two and Three (Tango and Foxtrot, and she’d had the acronym before she had conveniently found the dance schools), were in other parts of the city, and Vasquez and J'onn had allocated agents to each mobile center in the event of an evacuation, so everybody knew where they were supposed to go.

So the moment Vasquez heard Supergirl sounding stunned and scared in her earpiece, Vasquez had sent two agents to set up the command centers across town, and she went to commandeer Dollywood, just in case.

And that's where she was when Supergirl carried in a comatose J'onn J'onzz and left him there to go back into the fight. M'gann helped Vasquez make him as comfortable as she could, but she said they would have to get the device from the Daxamite who had been working with Lena and then had kidnapped her.

Vasquez still had her earbud in when she heard the exchange between Alex and Supergirl.

"Hang on, I'm almost there!" yelled Supergirl above her own wind.

"There's no time!"

"Then I'll meet you outside!"

Shots fired and a rush of wind. Vasquez's stomach dropped to the floor. She knew what "I'll meet you outside" meant and it terrified her.

Then she heard Supergirl say, "We need to get somewhere safe."

"S-Supergirl," Vasquez cut in. "We're setting up in Dollywood. Bring her here."

Then she ran into the ladies’ room and vomited.

//

Supergirl flew at superspeed and appeared at the bar in a whirlwind, sending papers and small objects flying.

Vasquez yelled, “Is she all right? I hate when you two do that.” Supergirl laid Alex on a gurney and stepped back, and then quickly started mouth-to-mouth on her sister.

Vasquez looked like she was going to vomit. Alex’s DEO Kevlar vest had taken a blast, had melted away and still felt warm. Dr. Hamilton came running with forceps and tried to peel away the layers of melting material, but then some of Alex’s shirt and skin started coming with it.

Supergirl yelled, “Everybody shut up!” She honed her hearing. “Her heart’s not beating!” With X-ray vision, she looked into her sister’s body. The front ribs were shattered and had torn her sister’s heart to shreds. Her chest cavity was filling up with blood. “She’s, she’s, how? But I caught her…”

She stared around the makeshift base as if seeing it for the first time, but the sights and the noise had no meaning. She had a vague sense that Dr. Hamilton was using a portable X-ray on her sister, but that didn’t matter. She looked around, lost, until she saw Vasquez leaning over and vomiting a few feet away, into an old trash can. Stumbling forward, Supergirl pulled Vasquez up and wrapped her arms around her sobbing. Both of them held on very tight.

Chapter Text

Back at CatCo, Winn turned off the camera and shook his head, amazed as always by Cat Grant. He said, "Ms. Grant, that was incredible."
"And that was a pretty nifty trick, Winslow."

Suddenly a Daxamite soldier landed on her balcony. Winn yelled, "Go, go, go!" They headed toward Cat's personal elevator, but then another soldier came flying through the broken window and Winn grabbed Cat's hand and pulled her in another direction, yelling, "Go, go, go!" But two more soldiers appeared, and they were surrounded so they just stopped. Winn froze but Cat just shrugged.

"Okay, well, it was nice knowing you."

The Daxamites aimed their halberds at them.

(Later on, when people tried to tell Kara that they probably hadn’t felt a thing, that it was probably over in a microsecond, she nodded absently, hearing what they were trying to make her believe and the kindness behind their lies, and going back to imagining just how long a microsecond of pure and unadulterated torture could actually be.)

//

At Dollywood, amid the chaos, the K-scanner was going berserk.

"What is that?" asked Vasquez.

"Shit!" said Agent Jordan. "The DEO system is registering a major kryptonite signal at the center of National City." He looked at the map on the computer screen. "Oh, my God. Supergirl."

//

Supergirl and Superman collided in midair. Superman punched her in the face and she returned the favor. Far below on the ground, Supergirl could hear a familiar hurried heartbeat getting closer. Fires flared where cars were burning in the streets. She grabbed hold of Superman and flew as fast as she could downward and they landed in the shallow pool in the park, water spraying everywhere. They both jumped up and immediately tried to laser-eye each other, but they were almost evenly matched, so Kara broke off her attack and supersped right up to him where she could punch him repeatedly. He returned the strikes, but she powered on through and finally, with an uppercut to the Jaw of Steel, she sent him flying into the air and landing with a resounding splash in the water, unconscious.

Supergirl fell to her knees in the water, stunned, just waiting for her sister to arrive.

Hands grabbed her and pulled her upright. It was Vasquez. "I'm here. It's okay. I'm here."

//

Lena sat in her pristine grey and white office at L-Corp, wearing black and drinking scotch.

She thought, when all of this was over, if they even survived, she might wear black and drink scotch for the rest of her life. She had always known that she was capable of murder, but now she had proven it to herself. What would Kara think? And her family? And her friends, Winn, Maggie, Lucy? Well, Lucy was a soldier and this was a war, after all. But she was pretty sure she was going to have a hard time facing the Danvers women after this.

She drained her glass and glanced at the chessboard on her glass coffee table, where she had been playing a game against herself for weeks. She knocked the pieces off the board, disgusted.

In the open doorway, a silhouette appeared. Lillian's voice said, "That chessboard's been in the Luthor family for generations."

“Did you come here to yell at me for not treating the family heirlooms with respect or to blame me for what's happening outside?"

"How could you let that woman deceive you? I taught you to be a scientist, to question everything!"

Lena got up and refilled her glass. "No, what you taught me was to doubt myself! To look for validation elsewhere, so much so that I was willing to take it from the first mentor that offered it to me." She strode back to the couch and sat down.

Lillian considered that and nodded. "I'm sorry."

Lena huffed her doubt.

"I am, Lena." Hesitantly, she sat on the other end of the white couch, folded her hands. "When you came to visit me in prison, I honestly wanted to be a better mother to you. But every time I've had the opportunity to choose you or something else.... I've chosen something else."

Lena muttered, "Congratulations on saying the first honest thing in your life." She took a sip of scotch.

Lillian nodded. "I have justified the worst behavior for the best of causes, but I was right." She reached out and righted the white chess pieces. "The threat was real. But maybe I backed the wrong child to stop it."

Lena stared at her.

"The transmat portal you created? That was brilliant, Lena. If you could do that, with the portal, maybe you could do something with this." She picked up a metal box and held it up for Lena to see.

"Is that from Lex's vault?"

"He created it to get rid of Superman."

"Does it work?"

"Well, you'd need to adapt it. But if you could? You would be the Luthor who saved the world."

//

They had finally taken back the DEO, getting rid of the Daxamite soldiers with extreme prejudice. Vasquez returned to the command center to update the crew and take point on whatever happened next. Nobody had said that Alex's Assistant Acting Director was Vasquez, but everybody knew that Vasquez was informally third in line, so nobody got in her face about it. If anything, a lot of the higher-ups looked relieved that it didn't have to be them.

So Agent Susan Vasquez had stood in the command center, hands on hips, taking up as much of her agents' mental space as she could (Silverback gorillas did it. Human men did it. The Danvers sisters did it. Clearly, it worked.). And people obeyed her.

When she was sure that the command crew were managing to function, she went and checked up on J'onn in the medical bay. His vitals weren't optimal, but they were steady. She took his hand in hers, saying, "Please, J'onn, wake up soon." She picked up her phone and dialed M'gann, but she got no response. She sighed, "We need you." And she went back to the command center.

J'onn was telepathic. Even in his weakened state, he could feel the emotions of the people around him. He knelt in the blood-red dirt of Mars feeling the emotions even as he was stuck in a cycle of self-loathing that kept him inside his own brain.

But then...

But then, M'gann was there.

M'gann put one hand on J'onn's hands and one on his forehead. "It's true," she murmured. "You have to wake up. Your friends need you, J'onn. The great fight is coming."

He shook his head, barely conscious. "Don't know if I'm gonna be strong enough."

"Don't worry. Everything will be fine." She kissed him. "Now, wake up."

He lay there. Shaking her head, she walked away. She had done what she could. Time to go back to the bar, where the DEO agents were still running mission and patching up injured agents. J'onn would heal or he would not. She had done the best she could.

//

When the Supers landed on her balcony, Lena came out to greet them, followed by Lillian. Lillian said, "Of course the two of you would make an entrance."

Lena sighed, "Unfortunately, this is her on her best behavior."

"What did you want?" asked Supergirl, annoyed.

"My daughter has a way to save us."

Lena led the way back into her office. "It's a device that Lex designed to keep humans safe while irradiating the atmosphere with kryptonite. It would have made the planet uninhabitable for both of you."

"Well," said Supergirl, "lucky for us, my cousin put him in jail before he could make it work."

"And lucky for you, I found it," said Lillian.

Lena said, "I've been studying it, and I think I can get it to irradiate the atmosphere with lead rather than kryptonite."

"Just a trace amount," said Lillian. "Harmless to humans. But the atmosphere would become toxic to Daxamites. The aliens would be forced to leave. Or stay and die."

"All of them?" asked Superman.

"And they could never return," said Lena. "Even Rhea's son."

Supergirl swallowed. "Start working."

//

Dr. Hamilton was testing Lena's lead formula to make sure it would be safe for humans. She wasn't completely convinced. She had tried several tests, but--

Suddenly she heard gasping coming from J'onn's bed and she ran, expecting to have to call for a crash cart, but he was sitting up on his bed panting a little and patting his chest, but looking relatively normal. "Oh, thank God!"

When she reached his bed, he asked, "Where's M'gann?"

“Back at Dollywood now."

He looked around at the damage to the laboratory. "What happened here?"

Dr. Hamilton sighed. "Everything."

//

Lillian felt the building shake from the explosions going off all over town as she paced back and forth in front of Lena's desk in her once-pristine white office. Now it was strewn with rubble, and Lillian chewed at the inside of her cheek, the only sign she allowed herself of her frustration with her daughter's--and the world's--persistent disbelief that aliens were a menace. And now that she had been proved right about everything, it was down to Lena to save the world.

Lena held the tube in place with one hand and said, "Can you hand me the, the, um, duh--"

Lillian handed her the Allen wrench.

"Thank you."

"I always thought we’d work well together."

Lena slid the last piece into the device and used the wrench to fix it in place. "There," she said with disbelief in her voice. "It's done."

Lillian strode over. "Good. Turn it on so we can end this."

Lena sighed. "You’re right. There's no time to waste." She grabbed the device and strode away, pushing the button on top.

//

Across National City, chaos reigned. Explosions took chunks out of concrete buildings, set cars on fire and left people reeling from the impact. The DEO was out in force hurrying to get people to safety or at least to places of marginally less danger, but the Daxamite soldiers were remarkably adept at killing with their space halberds.

Mon-El fought against his own people, and they had no compunction about shooting at him, but he did wrest a halberd from one the soldiers and fought and killed six more with it. He had always preferred the halberd to pistols and now he remembered why. It had the ability to fire, yes, but it could also be used to trip and smash his enemies.

Superman, famously, hated weapons. He used his freeze breath to encase four soldiers in ice, while the Martian Manhunter, led a group of humans to a street that was not currently burning.

At the DEO, Vasquez studied the computer screen above her head and tapped her earpiece. "Superman, we have bogies above National City Children's Hospital."

"I'm on my way!"

Suddenly, down in the streets amid the fighting, Daxamite soldiers stumbled and fell. Green streaks of light lit up National City as the Daxamites beamed up to their ships, leaving their weapons behind. The ships above the city turned like a flock of birds and shot up into space. The soldiers who weren’t fast enough just crumbled to dust in the streets, including Mon-El.

The roar of the fighting fell into a sudden exhausted silence.

…

Peggy and Angie stared at the screen, aghast at the intergalactic war of the worlds that they had just watched unfold. They glanced over to Sara and Zari. Zari looked horrified. Sara was weeping.

Zari muttered to them, “She knew them. Alex… was a friend.”

Sara wiped her eyes. Mxy handed her a handkerchief. Blowing her nose, Sara worked to pull herself together. “All right. Bathroom break and then we’re all getting back to work. This shit just got real.”

Chapter Text

Back in the timeline when the Battle of National City was all but forgotten trauma, Lillian Luthor wandered through the Luthor’s Metropolis mansion feeling unmoored. She had long since reorganized and culled her clothes closets, but was back to using the Cadmus one the most. Basic black was classic and practical. Looking out the back window on the slope that led gently down to the half-built garden with its circular wall built of grey pavers, Lillian wondered at herself, that she had ever been interested in daffodils, bluebells, or lilac.

Something was definitely missing.

She wandered up to her study, but the memory of good white wine and oysters and a certain liberal journalist haunted her. She wandered down to the smaller dining room and she could almost smell the chocolate mousse and port. She passed by the door to the ballroom, but couldn’t bear to look in at it empty and silent.

And she had taken to sleeping in the room she had shared with Lionel for decades, unable to face the person in the mirror she would see if she stepped into the smaller bedroom where Cat Grant and given her an extraordinary massage and then an even more extraordinary orgasm.
And it had all been too much.

Lillian had never been particularly introspective, had scoffed when Lena had mentioned having a therapist. And yet...

She thought back to the call she’d gotten from Cat the day before Thanksgiving. She had recognized Cat’s number and hesitated, but then her curiosity had gotten the best of her.

…

“Cat!” she said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hm. Well, here it is, Lillian. I’m sure you’re aware that your daughter and Kara Danvers are engaged.”

“Well, it’s a brave new world, I suppose.”

“Quite. Well, it happens that in some cultures an engagement is a private understanding between the individuals involved. A betrothal, in contrast, is the public declaration of their intent to wed.”

“Is that so,” said Lillian flatly.

“Yes, and the truly interesting thing is that in some of these cultures, the people who take part in the betrothal cannot be turned away from the wedding.”

“That’s a… fascinating cultural detail. And simply being present fulfills this…”

“For most attendees, yes. For family members, there is an additional role to play in the ritual.”

“Role.”

“Mm. Which comes with a script. That you will want to memorize. Looking at notes during a 4000-year-old ritual is rather déclassé, after all.”

“I… see… And you would happen to have a copy of this script? Translated into English, one hopes?”

“Lillian, really. If I didn’t, why on Earth would I have called you about this.”

“I am fairly certain that Earth is not the point here, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Fair enough. Text me your email.”

“Cat, why would you even bother taking time out of all you do to keep the country on an even keel--”

Cat sighed. “You’re not wrong. It’s just. My sons, Adam and Carter. Maybe they’ll never marry. As you point out, the world is a different place than it was when we were young and took so very many things for granted. But. If they ever do, I find I would really like to be there. I would fight to be there. And I understand, I do, that your relationship with your daughter is quite likely… vexed… and complicated…” She sighed. “Well, what parent-child relationship isn’t, even if we don’t put superheroes or supervillains into the equation?”

“Lex is not a supervillain.”

“Excuse me, was I talking about your son?”

“Then--”

“My point, Lillian, is simply that… Well, my vocation has always been about putting information people needed into their hands in time for them to use it if they so choose.”

“They’ll hate you for it,” Lillian said forcefully.

“And why, pray tell, would that be?”

“Because they’ll assume I would be there just to sow chaos.”

“And are you intending to sow chaos? Always assuming you decide to join us?”

“Well, I. No. I. Well.”

“Okay, listen up, Lilian. If you are planning to sow chaos at your daughter’s betrothal? Just don’t come. Because you will be in a room that is supersaturated with superheroes. And that does not sound like you planning on a cozy retirement where you get to work on your golf game. That sounds to me like you begging for a world of hurt. And if you betray them? if you betray Kara? And Lena? I will buy a ringside seat, cocktails and peanuts to your execution, whatever I have felt for you in the past.”

“You--”

“Mm. Text me your email. Then make up your mind. But understand, if you use this as an opportunity to betray or harm them? I will use every contact in my considerable network to force your bodyguards to look both ways whenever you even think about crossing a street for the rest of your born days.”

It was probably the strangest threat that Lillian had ever heard anyone make, to her, to Lex, to anyone. And the least dangerous sounding.
But she felt it to her bone marrow.

…

It had taken Lillian ten minutes to decide. It was the words “whatever I have felt for you in the past” that did it. Because Lillian had always assumed that their pink K fling in the cell in Lex’s bunker was just biology happening. (Even though, later when Lillian was in prison, Cat had sent her the perfume and the card that said they’d always have Paris.)

And Lillian had considered the fling in Cat’s shower after she got out on parole was just Lillian having been starved for affection. And dancing with Cat (in that tux!) at the Daily Planet gala was just Lillian helping Cat put Maxwell Lord in his place. (It didn’t hurt that having been one of the tallest people in her ballroom dance classes in college meant that Lillian had a lot of practice leading.)

But then Lillian had invited Cat back to the mansion. Well, and again that helped Cat put Lord in his place. But then Cat had returned for light book-shopping of all things and then back to the mansion for a romantic evening, dining, and dancing together in an otherwise empty ballroom. And then the massage…!

That’s always where Lillian’s mind went blank. Because that last… interaction, the day, the evening, they were fundamentally different than the previous ones. And that was what had terrified Lillian. She hadn’t been prepared to accept that she had so fundamentally changed, that she had become a completely different person. And yet she had.

The colors in her wardrobe, the colorful flowers, elegant curving garden wall after a life of… huh… straight lines.

And in the last few weeks, those feelings had seeped out of her, leaving her feeling what? Sad? Bored?

Achingly disappointed?

Definitely alone.

But maybe seeing the world a bit more like the way Lena saw it had brought them closer together. The afternoon in the garden, when Lena came out in jeans and green Pro-Ked sneakers and a Marcy and Peppermint Patty baseball shirt and helped Lillian plant flower seeds in a rainbow pattern… had they ever before had a wholly pleasant interaction in the three decades of Lena’s life with the Luthors?

Lillian wasn’t a fan of self-reflection. The past was unchangeable. Why bother combing through the tangle of choices that had been made and could not be unmade? And yet…

Lillian had always assumed it would be her son who saved the world, but it had been her daughter instead. Lena had never needed a man for anything. It never occurred to her to be the power behind the throne because she always knew that she’d be the one on the throne.

When Lena was young, Lillian had deplored her rejection of traditional values, resented her defiance of authority, and for a long time thought she was foolish to give up on relationships even though that enabled her to be more focused in her work, her research. When Lena had partnered with Jack Spheer, Lillian had thought that her daughter might finally settle down. But apparently Spheer had pushed his luck just a little too far, right before Lex’s breakdown and arrest. Lena had quit their partnership and come running back (or so Lillian had seen it at the time) to LuthorCorp, taking over for her disgraced brother and making major changes to repair the branding damage that the kryptonite bombs had done (in addition to the physical damage, of course).

It took Lillian years to see that Lena had always anticipated that Lex’s instability might well make him a liability to the family company. Apparently, if Jess Huang was to be believed, Lena had seven different business plans based on scenarios predicated on the different ways Lena predicted his mental health might deteriorate.

But it wasn’t until this week, when apparently Max’s vita rays had stabilized his anti-pink-K tech, when Lillian felt like an excavator had torn up her whole self, scraping organs and feelings and plans, and dropped the viscera into a muddy pit—well, suddenly, she realized that Lena’s apparent gift for preparing for an uncertain and possibly, probably, dangerous future might have had its roots in her queerness.

Hope for love to prevail. Expect people to be absolute shit. Have an exit strategy that kept you alive.

Lillian rubbed her eyes tiredly. Damn that Max Lord anyway. His pink K had opened up avenues, possibilities, whole dimensions of the world for Lillian and… well, probably for other people like her. But then, suddenly, apparently because Max didn’t like having his dick up another man’s ass, he had chosen to change the whole world, not just himself but hundreds? Thousands? Of people’s lives. Including Lillian’s.

Now, Lillian felt drained of all color, empty in a way she had never felt before because she had never felt so full as she had when she was with Cat.

And Lillian had never been particularly empathetic, had never understood Supergirl Danvers’ “hope, help and compassion for all” do-gooder habit of throwing herself into other people’s problems, other people’s pain. If anything, Lillian had made a profession of spreading her pain around.

But what if… what if thousands, tens of thousands of people were currently feeling, as Lillian was, like an excavator with sharp blades had just dug out the heart of her, the part that had, after that first… event with Cat in the cell back in Lex’s bunker, decided to change her perfume, the sense of smell located in the brain very close to the amygdala, the home of memory and emotion?

Lillian had put on that perfume that Cat had sent her (and when the vial was empty, bought more) every morning since the bunker.

To remember Cat.

Lillian had become a different person after the bunker. Maybe not a better person. Definitely not an introspective or empathetic person. Just… different, fuller, more alive.

And Max Lord had taken that from her, and she had helped him. She had helped him take that from thousands, maybe tens of thousands of people. She had helped him hollow them out and leave them like empty shells on the beach.

And that couldn’t stand. But what on Earth could she do to fix it?

Chapter Text

After Lucy drove J’onn back to his apartment, he changed from his Hank Henshaw face and his street clothes into his green Martian self and his prayer robes. He needed to get clarity. He knelt and opened his mind to H’ronmeer.

At first his mind drifted up as if on a breeze, fluttering through surface thoughts, his own and others’, drifting to and fro until he sank deep into himself, down through his body, down through the floors of his apartment building, down through the basement and into the hard-packed dirt, flowing between stones, around pipes, down through the hard crust of the earth, down farther than he had ever sent his consciousness, squeezing between tectonic plates, down into the hot, dense mantle.

There, his spirit warmed and lit up like a hot coal. There, he felt all the other minds, so far above him, heating and cooling in the sunlight and breezes that wafted over the planet, caressing mountain and river and grassy plains.

There, a vibration moved through him like a word, a whisper from H’ronmeer, a hot flame that licked his bone marrow and lit him up like a torch.

Interference…

With an icy instantaneous swooping feeling he found himself on his knees, falling to the floor and just barely catching himself.

Vertigo swung him back and forth as he clung to the floor, his eyes squeezed closed. He gasped and retched and coughed up bile.

Slowly, the vertigo thinned and weighed less heavily on him. Cautiously, he pushed himself back to sit on the floor, leaning against the wall, his eyes screwed closed.

The Martian word he saw burning in his mind literally meant depurify, but he trusted his ears, which had heard the word H’ronmeer spoke to him and automatically translated it into English.

Something was deeply wrong.

///

M’gann woke abruptly from sleep and glanced at the clock to see that it was barely 2 a.m., which surprised her. She had only gone to bed an hour before and normally slept quite soundly through the night. She lay back and tried to remember her dreams, but all she could see in her mind’s eye was the earth’s molten core.

There was something off about the dream, the colors desaturated and muddied with greys, and a low murmur filled her skull, first quietly, almost pleasantly, then gradually growing louder and louder, like the growl of countless oncoming angry bees.

Then, suddenly, the drone cut off. A voice from nowhere—J’onn’s?—uttered, “Interference.”

She sat up, gasping for breath, suddenly certain about one thing. If that voice had been J’onn’s, then the murmuring voices had come from everyone else, the twelve million inhabitants of National City, but they sounded… off. Like more than half of them were off-pitch, too high, too low, something.

She turned on the light and got out of bed, transforming into her White Martian self, her head just barely scraping her ten-foot-high ceiling. She could see just a fraction of herself in her human-sized mirror; she remembered J’onn telling her that only a fraction of her was this persona that she had been born as. The rest of her was her Green self and her human self, her self-sacrifice and her empathetic heart.

Fine. Yes. But if H’ronmeer was infiltrating her dreams, and apparently the dreams of the millions of National City inhabitants, her enormous monster self might be exactly what her chosen people needed of her…

///

Cat Grant was working late. She often did when Carter was traveling with his father during summer vacation. CatCo was dim and quiet in the wee hours; the only ones still working were the international desk on the other side of the top floor newsroom and the custodians. It was peaceful.

Or it had generally always been peaceful before. Lately, not so much. The last few weeks she had felt…vaguely wrong, itchy, like she didn’t fit inside her own skin. Honestly, it was a lot like she had felt as a teenager, from junior high when the boys had teased her mostly because they didn’t have a clue how to flirt, and then in high school when she had joined the school newspaper because of Jennifer Dormer, the scholar-athlete who had been running the paper since she was a sophomore, even though she was also the captain of the lacrosse team.

That constant itch, that constant questioning of why she never felt that she fit in anywhere. Wellesley was where that had finally changed, when she majored in International Relations and minored in Journalism. When she had… experimented with dating a woman, well, women, before meeting the man at MIT who would be her first husband…

That feeling had come rushing back, leaving her feeling unmoored. Something was just plain wrong, but she had trouble naming it. Working eighteen-hour days, she could ignore it, follow the ups and downs of the election news, watch from a distance as National City Pride pulled out record low numbers, watch as her assistant Keira tried to keep the same hours Cat did and often fell asleep at her desk.

Something was… different. Wrong.

And then she heard steps coming from the general elevator: heels, a long stride.

She stood up just as Lillian Luthor, dressed all in black, her ash-blond hair twisted into a pragmatic updo, stepped into her office’s open doorway.

Lillian.

She could smell her own signature perfume from twenty feet away.

But that vial could never have lasted three years, not if Lillian had worn it at all since the Pink K fiasco. And Cat was pretty sure she had.

“Cat,” said Lillian. “We have a problem.”

“We?” asked Cat.

“Well, I do. I’ve no idea how you might feel…”

And that hesitancy, that was not Lillian Luthor.

Ever.

Color Cat intrigued. She gestured at the sofa between her desk and the door. “You drink Glenmorangie, Lillian, if I remember correctly… Glass?”

Lillian nodded with the wisp of a smile.

///

Agent Susan Vasquez was a Marine. Retired, sure, but once a Marine, always a Marine. Fuck, she had the words Semper Fi in large white letters across the ass of her black underwear, had often dreamed of Agent Alexandra Heart-on-My-Sleeve Danvers seeing that and turning a hundred shades of pink. Of Alex desperately rambling to distract herself when it was clear she really wanted to slide them off Vasquez’s very fine muscular ass. But Vasquez also often dreamed of Alex being appalled at the ropy scar all down her left leg, of being sickened by the sight.

Vasquez’s dreams were only rarely kind to her.

And lately, they had gone back and forth between blistering desire and frosty anxiety.

When Alex had come out to her, expressed her desire, Vasquez at first had thought, finally! She’d invited her out for drinks at Amphipolis, but when Alex had reacted to the lesbian bar with wide eyes and stumbling words, Vasquez had realized that the woman wasn’t ready to be out yet and she really shouldn’t be in a sexual or romantic relationship with the woman who had trained her.

Semper Fi. Always faithful. And, ideally, as often as possible, honorable.

It was a hot night in late June. Vasquez poured herself a glass of scotch and stepped out onto the small balcony off her Art Deco living room, looking out on all the little lights of National City.

Just her luck. To desire the badass woman and to have her want her back and to know with breathtaking certainty that it would absolutely never work out.

She took a bigger gulp than she meant to of the scotch and ended up coughing almost uncontrollably, spilling the gold liquid on the concrete floor of the balcony.

Then she heard that musical blip that told her that she had a DEO-related email.

Wiping her mouth and closing the sliding glass door behind her, she opened her laptop on the coffee table to find an email from J’onn.

DHenshaw: Dear Agent Vasquez, AD Lane brought to my attention a change to the HR policies regarding romantic relationships between agents. If you and Agent Danvers want to move forward, you will only need to do some training and fill out some paperwork. I have advised Pam to potentially anticipate you and Agent Danvers making an appointment to work with her. Best Regards, H. Henshaw

Vasquez stared at the email like it was an Asgardian Nerfherder, ready to chew up her right leg to match her left. She rubbed her eyes, but the email remained the same. She looked at the empty rocks glass and went to the kitchen to rinse it out and set it to dry in the dish rack.

She would go to bed, try to sleep without dreams (ha! very unlikely) and then see if the email was still in her queue when she got up to stretch, jog and drive to work. The odds were that it wouldn’t be. That this was also some strange, unhelpful dream.

But maybe… Maybe?

Well, it was a small hopeful thing. Enough to keep her going while she brushed her teeth and tried, desperately, not to hope.

Chapter Text

When Kara got to CatCo that morning, hurrying in with Cat’s soy latte, she was surprised to see Cat’s door closed and locked. Through the glass, she could see two rocks glasses, one on either side of the coffee table, as if Cat had sat drinking with someone that she didn’t want to get too close to. There was still golden liquid left in both glasses. Kara stepped back to her own desk, set the latte down next to her blotter and very calmly hurried down to security and knocked on the doorframe of Nicole, the officer on duty during the night shift.

Nicole yawned as she gestured for Kara to enter. “Hey, Kara. Aren’t you on latte duty at this hour?”

“Normally, yes. Do you know when Ms. Grant left yesterday?”

Nicole sat at her desktop and typed. “Hmm. Well, there’s no sign that she called her driver. You sure she’s not still here? Maybe she crashed on her couch.”

Kara just stared.

Nicole rubbed her eyes. “Right. Crazy. Hmm. Wait, her keycard was used in the paper archives…”

“Do you have surveillance video?”

Nicole typed some more. “You don’t think it was her?”

“I don’t think she was alone, or maybe not acting on her own volition.”

Nicole turned her monitor so Kara could see Cat and her tall companion hurry into the archives. Nicole fast forwarded the video to show them leaving together, walking with purpose. Nicole said, “Looks like volition to me. I’ll look into it further, see if any other cameras caught anything else.”

“Thank you.”

Kara wandered to the elevator and paused with her fingers between the up and down buttons. Her job was to assist Cat, with her latte, her schedule, her lunch.

Her life?

Kara hit the down button.

///

Down in the DEO’s Human Resources, Pam smiled as she saw the email notification that Agents Vasquez and Danvers had completed the sexual harassment training. She went to her files and pulled up the forms that they would have to fill out, two DEO pens, and two chocolate chip oatmeal cookies from the tin in her desk drawer. Pam was a firm believer in positive reinforcement when it came to encouraging the DEO’s most important resources, its agents, to be more human.

///

Lena Luthor sat with the third-quarter projections and a tall glass of water. Dehydration was nobody’s friend. Suddenly, her door burst open and Kara Danvers hurried in, followed by Jess.

“Ms. Luthor, I’m so sorry. She’s just so fast—”

“That’s all right, Jess. Make a note downstairs that Ms. Danvers is to be let in immediately whenever possible.”

Both Kara and Jess stared and said, “Really?” Jess hurried out.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Danvers?”

“Ms. Luthor, as you may know, I am Cat Grant’s assistant at CatCo—”

Lena smiled. “Jess tells me you are something of a legend among personal assistants, lasting for years there rather than only weeks.”

“Yes, sure. I guess. I’m concerned about her safety. She was last seen leaving CatCo at two this morning with your mother.”

“Stepmother,” said Lena frowning. “And what do you expect me to do about that?”

Kara’s phone dinged and she muttered, “Nicole, you life saver!” To Lena she said, “This is the article from the archives that they were caught on surveillance reading before they hurried out.”

Lena recognized the Daily Planet headline from her second year of college: LEX LUTHOR TAKES REPONSIBILITY FOR MAN OF STEEL’S GAY ROMP!

Kara said, “Your brother was CEO of LuthorCorp at the time—”

“More importantly,” said Lena, “I was interning in R&D over summers at the time, and I worked on the mechanical dispersion actuator. We were told it was for an anti-malarial drug delivery device. Instead, it sprayed pink Kryptonite in Superman’s face.”

Kara’s jaw dropped. “So why would Cat and Lillian—"

Lena stared out the window past her balcony. “I think the why isn’t the important thing right now. I think the question is where.”

“So where—”

“Metropolis Museum of Science and Technology.”

///

Detective Joe (No Current Surname) watched Maggie across the police bullpen. She had been checking her phone every ten minutes as if expecting a text, probably from the woman she had met at the bar that night when Agent Danvers beat her at pool. She had seemed hopeful. Well, a lot of people had gotten their hopes up that night, but from what Joe could smell, none of those hormonal pairs had in fact paired up. Everyone claimed to be overworked, overstressed, still getting over long-ago breakups, not ready to get “back out there,” which Joe understood to have something to do with this thing called Dating App that connected people who didn’t know each other.

He didn’t believe any of it, although he was pretty sure all those humans (and more than a few aliens, including Kara Zor-El Danvers) did.

Earth-dwellers liked to think their way through their lives, ignoring the evidence that was all around them, that he and Krypto practically swam in. National City had been chemically tampered with, possibly redirecting the trajectory of thousands of people’s lives, but he couldn’t find any evidence that what had been done was technically illegal. He typed up his report for the chief, complete with the Alien Olfactory Notation of the chemicals in the air and the water supply, grumbling to himself.

The whole thing just stank of Maxwell Lord.

///

Lois Lane saw Kara’s text on her phone screen and picked up, even though she was standing by a Daily Planet copy machine copying some scribbled notes an informant had given her surreptitiously.

Huh.

Lex.

Pink K.

MMS&T.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

///

Cat was not surprised that Lillian had called her own driver or that a black SUV showed up in the middle of the night to drive them up into the mountains.

Cautiously, she asked, “Where are we going?”

“To one of Lex’s underground lairs. Not the one you… visited. Another close by.”

“Hm. But don’t you need Luthor DNA to break in?”

Lillian opened her purse and pulled out a hairbrush with several long black strands of hair. “Sometimes, I admit, it can save time and energy to not be so, what do the young people call it? Extra?”

“Go small, then go home. Makes sense. But I don’t understand. The article said Lex had donated the device to the Metropolis—”

“The finished device, yes, in the interest of ‘science.’ More like showing off. Not the original prototype. That, I’m sure he kept. What I’m less sure of is if he kept the original payload, whether for ‘safety’ reasons,” she snorted, “or because it got weaker over time. The high wavelength Kryptonite, red, pink, etc. breaks down faster than the low wavelength, the green, silver, black, etc.”

Cat digested that. “So you want to use the prototype and the old pink K--if he has any at this base--to, what? Requeer everybody?”

Lillian shrugged. “I just… I find I detest feeling dead inside."

Cat nodded slowly. “Mm. Allons-y. We are two women of a certain age, with some rather specific skillsets. We’ll figure it out.”

Chapter Text

Lois Lane was known to be persistent. Delia Johnson, the director of the Metropolis Museum of Science and Technology, had been out playing golf when her head curator called her about the reporter’s request, which Johnson had automatically denied. There were some devices in the museum’s collection that never left the vault in the basement, and even if the kryptonite emitter hadn’t been one of them, she would certainly not have let a Lane get near it. She never dreamed that Lois Lane would hunt her down and confront her at the sixteenth hole to tell her of a credible threat to the device’s safety. And Johnson had met Lillian Luthor just the once, but the thought of that woman breaking into her museum was enough for Johnson to drop her golf game and return with the reporter to go make sure the device was safe in the vault.

It wasn’t.

Sitting in the security office going over weeks of surveillance video, the last person Johnson would have expected to see paying off a custodian to get into the vault room was Maxwell Lord. But there he was. And that meant that the next people Johnson was going to have to talk to were the museum’s lawyers.

And that meant that Delia Johnson was not going to be finishing her golf game anytime soon.

///

Cat watched Lillian use Lena’s hairbrush to trigger the mechanism that raised the locked vault out of the floor. Blasé as always, Lillian said, “If you see anything that looks even remotely organic, don’t touch it.”

“Noted.”

Lillian punched in a complex code and the door sighed open.

Cat had seen at least one version of Lex’s warsuit and his atomic axe, but the large maroon flower was new. “So,” she murmured. “Little shop of horrors?”

“Basically.”

Lillian turned from the creature to take things off shelves, but Cat was mesmerized by the plant. It appeared to be… breathing?

Lillian made a satisfied noise and Cat looked back to see her holding a shiny metal box with holes over the top face. She met Cat’s eyes and then suddenly darted forward and pulled Cat toward her, away from the plant, whose lazy tentacle was reaching out.

Cat yipped in shock, then cleared her throat. “Thanks for that. Should I ask what it could to to me?”

Lillian took a cartridge from another shelf and walked behind the creature, where what looked like an IV was attached on one end to the wall and on the other end to the plant’s middle. She snapped the empty cartridge out and inserted the full cartridge in its place. Slowly, the tentacles stopped moving.

“A Black Mercy would trap you inside your head, in your happiest scenario so that you never want to leave, and then drain your life force until you were an empty husk.”

“And you… keep it… sedated?”

“You never know when you might need something like that.” Lillian bent over and pulled a small silver case from under another table. “Got it.” She tried typing in a password, but it didn’t work. Pursing her lips, she tried again.

Cat suggested, “Perhaps Superman?”

Lillian typed that in, and the case opened. “Naturally.” She opened the case to show what looked like pink slate, flat and flaky.

Cat asked, “Shouldn’t it look more, I don’t know, radioactive?”

“It no doubt did back when Lex used it on Superman. But the strong compression he used to make it also made it prone to flaking over time.”

“Will it work?”

“That remains to be seen.” She closed and picked up the case, which appeared heavy and handed the dispersal device to Cat.

Cat took it and took one more glance at the deadly flower when Lillian hit the trigger to sink the vault back into the floor again. And she remembered Morgan Edge trying to take over CatCo back when Cat was working in Washington with President Marsden.

But no. That snake deserved a much less pleasant end. Surely.

///

J’onn changed back into his Hank Henshaw persona and drove back to the DEO, entering at the same time as M’gann, Alex and Vasquez. He could hear the determined minds of Kara and Lena not far behind. When they reached the command center, Detectives Maggie Sawyer and Joe were waiting, wearing their police badges on their belts and their DEO visitor lanyards around their necks. J’onn felt as though reality was ready to turn on a dime, so he was careful with his words.

“Okay, people. Listen up. Something is wrong with the space-time continuum. Someone or something is causing interference in the—”

Joe raised his hand. Maggie shushed him, but J’onn could tell he had information. “Detective Joe?”

“Yes, sir. Joe and Krypto work… have working?... on problem. Smelling changes in the atmosphere. Chemicals, radiation, very bad. Made report to police captain, but very busy man. Joe can’t give police report to DEO, but can give police-DEO liaison information. Maggie can decide after.”

Everyone took a moment to hear what he was trying to say. Maggie pulled her phone out of her back pocket. “Email me.” Ten seconds later, she was scrolling through, her eyes getting wider and wider. “Okay, so I’m not a scientist—”

“I am,” said Alex and Lena simultaneously.

Maggie forwarded them the file.

They stood there, scrolling on their own phones and both stopped at the same time and looked up, appalled, saying, “Those are carcinogens!”

Joe said, “Data go back two years to drones seen over National City, spewing chemicals—is spew right word?”

“Yes,” said Kara, “it’s the perfect word,” looking more and more like a fierce Kryptonian.

Joe nodded, pleased with himself. “Joe manage to track drones. Most set to self-destroy, but one fail. LordTech, er, tech.”

“Damn that man,” muttered Alex.

“Or,” said Maggie thoughtfully, “maybe arrest him? Surely setting off, or spewing, known carcinogens into the air has got to be illegal. At the very least reckless endangerment.”

Vasquez growled, “And if he was playing with time, we can handle him here based on the CHRONOS part of DEO protocols…”

Alex’s earbud went off. “Of course. Aw, hell, send them up. WITH an escort! Preferably armed. Thank you.” She turned back to Lena. “Guess who’s coming to visit us?”

“Oh, mother! What now?”

Chapter Text

Back on the Waverider, the team was down in the lab brainstorming artifacts that they might pull from Mxy’s old hat to save the world. So far, on one whiteboard they had listed:

Rory’s book that could rewrite reality

A flying pig

A time-turner

A magic bubble wand

On the other whiteboard, they had listed the problems, among them that a pig, wings or not, was unlikely to help; a magic bubble wand wasn’t guaranteed to do more than disperse possibly magical bubbles; and a time-turner, even if it existed, would probably either itself break or break reality because of all the complex maneuverings the team had done since Max Lord had dropped his drones on the cities.
And what could they possibly write to revise this hugely complex reality of millions of people’s lives?

“Never thought I’d say this,” said Zari, “but I kind of wish Rory was here. He had a gift for that.”

Sara sighed. “He’d be writing for the rest of his life to get everything back to normal.”

“Yeah,” said Angie. “It’s not like Dorothy clicking her heels together three times and saying, ‘There’s no place like home!’ and getting whizzed back home.”

Everyone stared at her.

“What? Your reality doesn’t have the Wizard of Oz? And it’s pretty queer too. That bar that we went to, Peg, the one on Mcdougal Street. That was the password to get in. You had to say you were a friend of Dorothy.”

Peggy felt the electricity in the room. Quietly, she asked, “Could that actually work?”

Sara nodded slowly, “Mxy, if we pulled Dorothy’s ruby slippers out of the hat…”

Mxy’s smile widened. “Dorothy Gale’s Ruby Slippers of Return? That is absolutely 5th dimensional magic.”

“So we do just click our heels…?” asked Zari.

“Mm, no. You could pull them out of the hat, but the person who is at the heart of this would have to use them.”

Sara said, “So Alex, then.”

“Yes.”

Peggy picked up the hat and stepped in front of Sara. “Captain Lance, would you care to care to do the honors?”

Everyone held their breath.

///

At the DEO command center, four armed, black-clad agents escorted Cat Grant and Lillian Luthor (with DEO visitor lanyards) to confront the irate command team and consultants.

Cat, with her usual air of knowing better than anyone else, said, “All right, stand down. We know what went wrong and we’re pretty sure we have a fix.” She held out the box with the holes on top.

Together, Kara and Lena said, “The kryptonite emitter!” and then glanced at each other, embarrassed.

Lillian rolled her eyes. “Maybe we won’t need high tech after all.”

“That remains to be seen.”

Alex said looked at the small silver case in Lillian’s hand, saying, “So what? We used this to irradiate the city with lead. What do you need it for now?”

“To counteract what Maxwell Lord—”

“The carcinogens?” asked Lena. “We’re up to speed on that.”

Cat Grant said, “Maybe not entirely. We didn’t know about the cancer side. We just knew what the intent was. It’s Max’s anti-pink kryptonite formula. Conversion therapy that you breathe.”

“So you’ve reproduced pink kryptonite?” asked Supergirl.

“Not reproduced,” said Lillian. “Collected.”

“From Max’s attack three years ago?”

“From Lex’s. Six? Seven years ago.”

Maggie asked, “Doesn’t that stuff have an expiration date?”

Lillian snarked, “What? Regulated by the FDA? Hardly. It’s an illegal substance.”

Lena said, “There are tests we can do with microscopy, thin-film interference scattering—”

“We don’t have time,” snapped Lillian.

Joe (clearly not recognizing Lillian or her WASP power clothes and power moves) said, “Not having time lead to mistakes. In this case, possibility of magnifying carcinogenic effects. Quickness makes garbage!”

Maggie translated, “Haste makes waste.”

“And what kind of alien are you?” snarled Lillian.

Cat intervened. “All right, people. Tone it down. We aren’t just a bunch of Kansas City Community College freshman trying to solve this problem. We are a literal brain trust of some of the finest minds in the country, and--sorry, Lillian, but you know it’s true—of the galaxy.”

Kara took on her Supergirl pose with her fists on her hips. “So we do some tests, see if it’s safe or even feasible and then what? Irradiate the city with it?”

Lillian and Cat glanced at each other (it had to be said, with some uncertainty). “Yes?”

They all stared at each other, unsure.

Then there was strange zhiish sound. Everyone went into battle stance except for Cat and Lillian, who just looked terminally bored.

Then in walked the Legends of Tomorrow, Sara Lance and Zari Tomaz, followed by two women who looked awfully familiar to Alex and Lena and completely new to everyone else.

Alex gawked then pulled herself together, “So, Sara. How’s it going? What can we do for you.”

Sara held out a black Homburg hat, which was sparking off blue energy. “Alex, babe, it’s more about what we can do for you—and the world.”

Zari was holding something behind her back, looking supremely innocent.

“With a hat?” asked Maggie.

“A Homburg,” corrected Lillian.

Lena said, “Those blue sparks. That’s 5th dimensional energy.”

“Yep,” said Zari, taking Winn’s usual chair under the computer feeds. “That it is. And that is how you are going to solve this… mess.”

They looked at each other. “What mess?” asked Alex. “I still don’t see—"

Lillian rubbed her eyes. “Cat, I just… can’t.”

Cat patted her on the shoulder, to everyone’s surprise, then said, “Long story short: before Maxwell Lord inserted this new batch of unfortunate chemicals into the atmosphere, an awful lot of us were exhibiting… tendencies… of belonging to the LGBTQIAA-whatever community. Too long; didn’t read: we were acting queer as fuck. And… possibly fu—”

“Cat,” warned Lillian.

“Right, never mind. Need to know. Max was one of those people and he didn’t like it and tried to ‘fix it.’”

Alex and Kara groaned. “He always ends up causing a problem bigger than the one he’s trying to solve!”

“By adding chemicals into the atmosphere?” asked Lena. “But it’s not like we can just vacuum those out with some sort of Ghostbuster technology, although now that I think of it, that could be feasible with a little—”

Kara said, “Um, babe, maybe not now…”

“Right. Note to self for later…”

They all stared at each other.

Sara said, “Um, actually, Alex, we’re pretty sure this is something that you have to do.”

“By putting on a hat?”

From behind her back, Zari pulled Dorothy Gales Ruby Slippers of Return. “This, Miz Danvers, will allow you to get us all back to the correct timeline.”

They all stared at the red shoes, sparking with blue energy.

Alex laughed. “Good joke, guys, but no. Me putting on low sequined heels is not going to solve anything.”

Cat turned to Lillian, sighing, “Well, it was nice knowing you.”

Vasquez frowned. “But are we limited to how many times we use the hat?”

Sara said, “We didn’t ask. But what else would you want to pull out of it?”

“Whatever might be the thing that would make Alex want to use the shoes.”

Sara looked at the hat still sparking with blue energy. She handed it to Alex. “It’s worth a shot.”

Looking uncertain, Alex reached into the hat until her shoulder was touching the brim. “There’s nothing—Oh!” She pulled her arm out. In her hand was some black cloth. She shook it out to show black women’s underwear with SEMPER FI written in white letters on the back.

Vasquez choked. “Those—”

Alex’s eyes went wide. She stuck them in her cargo pocket and sat down at Vasquez’s station, untying her combat boots and stripping off the black socks. Zari leaned down to place the red shoes before her.

Alex stepped into them, then looked up at everyone staring at her.

Sara said, “You know what you need to do.”

Alex gritted her teeth and tapped her heels together three times, saying, “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.”

Blue light flew through the command center, crushing the pink kryptonite into powder and dispersing it around the room and out of the building via the balcony.

Suddenly on all the computer screens in the room, a scene of chaos played out like an old movie.
…

Inside the DEO, Rhea's message played across all the screens, just as it did across National City.

Winn said, "We've got transmat signals all across the city. Our satellite systems are crashing."

"They've attacked the NCPD," Alex said.

"Is Maggie safe? What are we going to do?"

Suddenly on the balcony, Daxamite soldiers appeared and started shooting. Alex shot back and yelled, "Everybody evacuate! Winn, go!" She ducked behind the central table and tapped her earbud. "Supergirl, we're under attack. I've evacuated the DEO!"

"Hang on, I'm almost there!" yelled Supergirl above her own wind.

"There's no time!"

"Then I'll meet you outside!"

Alex jumped up and shot a soldier and slid on her knees under the halberd of another, jumped to her feet and ran up the stairs to the balcony, leaping over one soldier's body, ducking another's blast of blue energy.

The balcony was broken and the soldiers were chasing her. She leapt over the edge of the balcony, turning backwards to fire at the soldiers as she fell into space.

Falling.

Trusting.

Being caught by her sister, held tight in the arms of steel.

"We need to get somewhere safe," said Supergirl.

When Supergirl and Alex walked into the bar, Vasquez ran to Alex and kissed her soundly. "Are you all right? I hate when you do that!"

"Vas, it's not like I make a habit of jumping off buildings."

Vasquez turned on Supergirl. "Always be faster than her. Always. Promise me!"
…

In the DEO, rainbows licked the computer monitors and played over the faces of the agents, consultants and legends. When the room took back its usual colors, the hat, the shoes and the legends were gone.