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“Who are these people?”
“We don’t know.”
“What do they want?”
“We don’t know.”
“Where does their money come from?”
“We don’t know that, either.”
Hank Henshaw stopped abruptly in the middle of the corridor, and the phalanx of DEO agents and researchers who had been rushing along to keep up with him bumped into each other as they frantically tried not to bump into their director.
“What do we know? Anything?”
Alex Danvers said tightly, “We know they’re holding Kara in a chamber lined with Kryptonite. And I think we can reasonably assume they didn’t grab her to ask her if she wanted to buy some of their Girl Scout cookies.”
Hank eyed her. For a moment it looked as if he were going to say something sharp, but he apparently thought better of it and said, “I think that’s a safe bet.”
“Let’s get to the briefing room and figure this out,” Alex growled.
“All right. Report.”
The field agent to Alex’s right brought up a photo of a jumble of run-down warehouse buildings. “We’ve tracked Supergirl’s abductors to this complex. There’s clearly a sophisticated facility inside, given what we can and can’t ascertain with our imaging and scanning equipment.” He pointed a remote and the photo on the big screen changed, showing odd spectral shapes underlying the buildings. “We can intermittently locate Supergirl’s heat signature—”
“What do you mean, intermittently?”
“The room she is in is protected with Kryptonite, which does confuse the thermal imaging cameras, but it’s not actually lined with Kryptonite in a stable fashion. Molecules of the element appear to be in constant motion around the walls, and there is occasionally a break significant enough to allow us to capture an image.” The agent advanced the display to another photo. In this, a white-hot blur occupied a space that had been dark in the previous image. “Supergirl’s heat signature is unique, as you know, and we only need flashes of it to confirm her presence.”
Alex furrowed her brow. “Why ...?”
“Our theory,” broke in one of the research staff, “is that they were unable to acquire enough Kryptonite to fully insulate the holding cell. We have been aggressive about restricting the availability of the element due to our Kryptonian allies’ vulnerability to it, and this does suggest we’ve been successful.” She took the remote from the field agent and clicked through to a slide with four apparently identical, time-stamped images of the building. “Here, you see, the shielding created by the Kryptonite varies significantly from millisecond to millisecond.”
Alex didn’t see. “I see.” She also didn’t care.
“They’ve taken a limited amount of Kryptonite and, by acclerating the particles into a high-speed circuit of the walls, have created a thin barrier. It isn’t solid, but it’s moving fast enough that it might as well be, at least to a Kryptonian.” Her eyes went a little unfocused and she murmured, “It’s quite a brilliant solution, actually.”
“How does the accelerating mechanism work?” Hank wanted to know.
“We can’t tell,” the researcher said, unhappily.
“Doesn’t matter,” Alex said.
“What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?” Hank snapped.
“All that matters is that it does work,” Alex said. “If it’s working, it’s drawing power from somewhere. So all we have to do is shut the power off.”
Hank raised an eyebrow, and the agents around the room looked uncomfortable. “That’s all, huh?”
“That’s all,” Alex said. “Once we shut the Kryptonite accelerator down, Kara will take it from there.” She hoped.
It hadn’t been much of a plan, really: Storm in and blow up anything that looked like a generator. Still, there had been enough surprise on their side, and what they were doing was unpredictable enough, that they had been able to run through the complex relatively unscathed. They weren’t trying to get to the heavily defended parts of the building, so there was little resistance.
When the last of the lights died, there was a long silent moment, and then Alex heard the happy sound of glass breaking and walls being kicked down. “That’s my little sis,” she said fondly, and the agents with her grinned.
A few minutes later Kara appeared. She looked disgruntled but unharmed, and Alex felt something tight in her chest unclench when she saw her.
“You have glass shards in your hair,” is what she said. “And you’re covered with brick dust.”
Kara gave her a brilliant smile. “You look great too,” she said.
“Let’s get you somewhere safe and clean you up,” Alex said.
It wasn’t that easy or quick, of course. The mysterious denizens of the complex fled as soon as Supergirl was free, so the agents had to secure the buildings and do a room-by-room search. What had been planned (insofar as it had been planned) as a quick strike turned into a tedious afternoon of cataloging and assessment.
Alex didn’t do much of it. Mostly she walked the halls with Kara, getting the story of the abduction, trying to soothe Kara’s postanxiety hyperactivity. Kara was scattered and only half there, for which Alex couldn’t blame her.
Back at the DEO Alex and Kara split up—Alex to get a sandwich, since she hadn’t been able to force herself to eat earlier, and Kara to have a quick medical exam before her debriefing.
Fifteen minutes later, when Alex entered the command center, she was struck by the silence that hit as soon as she walked in. She looked around and said warily, “Okay, what’s up?” Eyes slid away from her as she glanced from agent to scientist to agent.
“Alex.” She jumped. For a big guy, Hank was very good at sneaking up on her. “We have a situation.”
“Of course,” Alex sighed. “Because Kara getting kidnapped was not enough of a situation for one day.”
“Briefing room,” Hank said. “Now.”
“We’ve been working through a number of the files and lab samples that we found,” the researcher said. “What we’ve been able to determine about the purpose of the lab’s activity is ... disturbing.” She was studiously not looking at Alex. “The lab is devoted to a variety of—well, I’ll call it nanotechnology, though it’s not really like the nanotech we’re familiar with. For one thing, it’s organic in composition. For another, it seems to act as a sort of neurotransmitter, which is a new application. New to us, anyway.”
Another researcher added, “It is possible that this technology is alien in origin.” Great, Alex thought.
“In any case,” the first researcher went on, frowning on her fellow as if he had revealed a state secret, “the purpose of the nano-organisms is clear. They are designed to infiltrate the neural pathways of the motor cortex, override the signals from the frontal and temporal lobes, and generate alternative signals.”
“Mind control,” Hank said.
“Crudely speaking, yes,” the researcher said. “Although it’s really much more elegant than that.”
“Oh,” the other researcher chimed in, “almost forgot. The structure of these particular nano-organisms has been tailored specifically for Kryptonian brain chemistry.”
There was a long pause. “So,” Hank said at last, “Supergirl control. Crudely speaking.”
Alex felt sick. “But they weren’t actually used on Kara. Right?”
There was another long pause.
“We can’t,” the researcher said, “be sure about that.”
The other researcher said, “These organisms are infinitesimal. And because they’re organic, and designed to integrate with the brain of the host, there’s no scan or test we can perform to detect them.”
“We can destroy them,” put in the first researcher. “That’s actually part of the elegance of the technology; they can be neutralized with a calibrated electrosonic pulse, at which point they essentially disappear.”
Alex looked up in relief. “So it doesn’t matter whether Kara’s infected with these things or not. We just do this pulse and if they’re there, they’ll be gone.”
The silence that followed was the kind of silence she was getting really, really sick of. Finally the first researcher, the woman who appeared to have most of her department’s social skills, cleared her throat and said, “There’s a problem with that, actually.”
“Actually,” Alex echoed dully.
“You see,” she said, “if we apply the sonic pulse and there are no nano-organisms there to absorb it, the pulse will destroy the structurally similar neurons.”
Alex put her head in her hands. “Let me get this straight,” she said, not looking up. “Kara may or may not currently be controlled by nanotechnology that we can’t detect. If she is, and we don’t do anything, then the most powerful person on the planet is essentially the puppet of some mysterious, nefarious cabal. If she isn’t, and we treat her as if she is, we’ll—what? Put her into a coma or something?”
There was a heavy sigh. “She would be unlikely to survive.”
Alex’s jaw dropped. She scrabbled internally for something that would right the shifting, dissolving world. Finally she said, “Nobody knows Kara better than I do. If she’s under some kind of alien influence, I’ll know. I’ll figure it out.”
“About that,” one of the field agents said. “We have to tell you some things about what we found in the building. But I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
They told her. She did not like it.
About half an hour later, she entered the small exam room where Kara was waiting. Kara was sitting in a chair with her head down, pillowed on her crossed arms on the table in front of her. When she heard the door open, she raised her head and glanced up at Alex. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Kind of as if she has an alien parasite in her brain, Alex thought. Or maybe as if she’d been held against her will for hours in a small cell and then, once rescued, subjected to invasive tests and then held against her will some more.
“Hey,” Alex said, sitting down across from her.
“What’s wrong?” Kara asked. “And don’t tell me everything’s all right, because it isn’t. I can actually tell when ‘The lab results aren’t back yet’ means ‘We’re stalling because there’s something we don’t want to tell you.’ ”
Alex sighed. “Life was easier when you were more gullible.”
“For me too,” Kara agreed. “Come on. You’re stalling.”
“Yeah,” Alex said. Then she explained, as clearly and succinctly as she could, what had happened. What was happening. What might happen.
When she finished, Kara sat looking at her for a few moments. Then she said, “So I have to prove to you that I’m me. Is that it?”
“Basically, yes.”
She frowned. “Do I seem like I’m not me?”
“You seem like you had a really, really crappy day and you’re exhausted, and anyone on earth would have a tough time acting completely normal under these circumstances.”
“That was diplomatic,” Kara said. She thought a moment. “You think it’s possible that I’m being controlled by nanobots.”
Alex tried not to grimace. “It’s possible. And they’re nano-organisms.”
“Wouldn’t I know?” Kara asked.
Alex shrugged. “I don’t think so. If you weren’t convinced that you were yourself, the deception would be pretty obvious in your brainwave patterns.”
Kara shook her head, exasperated. “And you can kill these things and get my brain back if they are controlling me—but if I’m not actually full of nanothings and you put me through the treatment anyway, you kill me.”
“Yes.”
“So I have to prove to you that I’m not being controlled by nanothings.”
“Yes.”
“Unless I actually am being controlled by nanothings, in which case you need to know that so you can fix me.”
“Yes.”
“So how do I prove I’m in charge of myself?” Kara was thinking as she said it. “I can tell you stuff, stuff from when we were kids that only you and I would know. That would work, right?”
“Kara,” Alex said as gently as she could, “when the agents went through that facility, they found a library on you. Every scrap of video, every article, every photo that’s ever been published. And then lots of stuff that wasn’t ever public. Pictures of our house. Assignments of yours from high school. Your journals—they had copies of your journals, I don’t know how. And—” Alex swallowed. “I mean, everything. There were transcripts of conversations we had when I swear we were alone. Things even I didn’t remember. They’d been collecting information for a long time, Kara. Almost anything you could tell me, they either know or could extrapolate from all the data they have.” She took a deep breath before she went on, “And these nano-organisms don’t just take over like you’re a remote-control robot. They act in concert with your natural, authentic brainwaves, so you’re going to act and think and talk as if you’re you even if you’re mostly someone else.”
Kara looked astonished, then horrified. “But Alex. You know me. There’s no way someone else could impersonate me to you.”
“I hope not,” Alex said, hating what she was saying. “But can I be sure? Absolutely sure? I can’t have a good feeling or be mostly convinced. I have to know, Kara.”
“How—” Kara stopped. She was beginning to realize; Alex could see it on her face.
Alex drew a deep breath. “You’re terrible at keeping secrets. You’ll tell anyone anything—”
“That’s not true,” Kara said hotly.
“Uh huh. That’s why none of your co-workers know you’re Supergirl, right?” Kara flushed. “There’s one thing, Kara. One thing you’ve never told anyone. Never even written in your diary.”
Kara stared at Alex. She shook her head, very slowly. “Oh, Alex. No.”
“Yes,” Alex said remorselessly. “The one thing I can be certain you’ve never told anyone else. One thing I know you’ll remember in as much detail as I do.”
“I can’t. Not here,” Kara whispered. “We’re not alone, Alex. Just because there’s no one else in the room—It’s the DEO.” She glanced around. “Cameras, Alex.”
“I know,” Alex said. She kept her voice as steady and neutral as she could.
Kara said, “Alex.” There was a plea in her voice. “We talked about this. It could destroy your career.”
“I know,” Alex said again. She closed her eyes but made herself open them again.
“And I’m Supergirl, Alex. What kind of a hero can Supergirl be if people think …?”
“I don’t care about my career, and I don’t care what people think of you, as long as I don’t have to kill you.”
Alex had never actually seen a person go white until Kara did, right then.
“Kara,” she said, as gently as she could. “You can’t both keep the secret and let me know you know the secret. Not here. Not now. And it has to be here and now.”
Kara still hesitated. They looked at each other, suspended in the moment before everything would change.
Then Kara moved around the table and, Kryptonian-fast, she was on Alex’s lap, her hands in Alex’s hair and her mouth on Alex’s mouth. Her mouth, her teeth, her tongue. She claimed Alex as urgently as she had when they were teenagers, with as much knowledge and command as she had during their last private time together only days ago.
Damn, Alex thought, she kisses like Kara. But still—if they had been under surveillance so close that there were records of their dinner conversations—
Kara broke away. She put her cheek to Alex’s, her mouth a few inches from her ear. Her voice was low, trying to give them an illusion of privacy though she certainly knew that the mics in the room were picking up every word. “The first time we made love was the summer before you left for college. It was August, and it was hot, and we were both so nervous and freaked out—I could hardly even feel my skin, and the sex was honestly kind of terrible, but at the same time it was the most amazing thing that had ever happened to me.
“The first time you made me come—” Kara’s breath caught, and it took her a moment to be able to go on. “It was Thanksgiving break and you were home from school. I don’t know, maybe you’d had some practice in the meantime, I never asked you, but it was different, you were so sure, it was like you knew how to touch me.”
Alex hadn’t practiced on anyone else. She had just thought about Kara’s body every single day while they were apart.
Kara’s lips brushed her cheek. “But you wouldn’t let me touch you. It was like a year before you let me touch you again. And I worried the whole year, that I had maybe been too rough with you without realizing it, or that I’d done something wrong. And finally you told me that you didn’t want me to make love to you because you didn’t want me to feel guilty.” She paused, and then went on, “Like you did.”
Alex wanted to stop her, but she wasn’t able to speak.
“The first time I made you come,” Kara went on, her voice barely above a whisper now, “it was summer again. Early summer. We were outside. The ground was kind of damp and I was worried you were cold so I rolled you on top of me. But I was inside you and you were so … hot …” Now she was actually whispering, and Alex would have had to strain to hear her if she hadn’t known exactly what she was saying. “I wanted to fuck you forever, Alex. I wanted to be moving inside you until the sun burned out.”
Alex tightened her arms around Kara. She remembered it with a staring clarity, as if she had never even blinked while it happened: the near-darkness of a cool June night, Kara’s eyes wide and shining even in the dimness, watching her with such focus, such love, and of course Kara’s hands between her legs, one pumping inside, one stroking her clit while she bucked and thrust with wordless urgency, until she was finally able to silence the voice saying sister sister sister and hear only Kara Kara Kara. “Oh Kara,” she said, the tears thick in her throat, “it’s you. I’m so glad it’s you.”
“It’s me,” Kara said. “And I love you.”
They walked out of the exam room hand in hand. The hall was suspiciously empty, delaying the inevitable meeting with her colleagues and, oh God, her boss. Alex didn’t know whether to be irritated or grateful to know that the others were giving them what limited space and time they could.
When they came into the command center, every agent was deeply involved in some task or other. There were some glances and nods—it might have been like any other time Alex and Kara had entered this room together, if she hadn’t known that it wasn’t. That now they all knew.
She couldn’t bring herself to look at Kara, but she felt her hand squeezed, just a little. It was reassuring, she couldn’t deny it.
“Alex, Kara.” Damn, Hank had gotten behind her again. She turned to look at him; his face was unreadably neutral. “Good to see you. Briefing room?”
She followed him, pulling Kara behind her, and as they walked past Vasquez on their way she caught a genuine smile from the other agent—a smile just shy of being a smirk. Rolling her eyes felt refreshingly normal.
Hank closed the door behind them, and all three of them stood awkwardly for a few beats. Then Hank said, clearing his throat, “I only want to say one thing for now, Agent Danvers, and that is, good work.”
Alex nodded, not quite meeting his eyes.
He sighed. “I mean it. No one else could have done what you did. And I know it could not have been easy, for either of you.” His glance flickered to Kara, who looked right back at him.
“Thank you, Director,” Alex said stiffly. Her face felt hot and somehow there was not quite enough oxygen in the room.
Suddenly she felt a hand—Hank’s hand—on her shoulder, making her start. “Alex, look at me,” he said, and she did, meeting his eyes. She saw neither the disappointment nor, worse, the uncomfortable pity she’d feared. His gaze was steady and unruffled. “Alex,” he said, “I’m sure you’re flagellating yourself right now, and I’m sure you’ve been doing it for years. If there’s any way for you to stop yourself, stop. You haven’t done anything wrong.” He laid emphasis on the last words, and they slapped Alex hard. She desperately wanted to believe them.
“The question of the appropriateness of a DEO agent conducting an intimate relationship with the asset she is theoretically controlling—we’ll table that for now. We will have to get back to it, and there may need to be some ... administrative adjustments.” He might have quirked a tiny smile, though Alex couldn’t be sure. “Right at the moment, you should both get out of here. Go home, get some rest, decompress.”
“Thanks, Director Henshaw,” Kara called after his back before the door shut behind him. “So, that wasn’t so bad,” she said into the open room.
“Not so bad,” Alex echoed. She felt as if she might start shaking. In fact, if Kara didn’t still have her hand firmly in her own, she’d probably be shaking already.
“Let’s go home,” Kara said, looking her full in the face. “Together.” She smiled, and the room was bright.
“Together,” Alex answered, unable to keep herself from smiling too. Maybe they could fly.