Water sluiced around Kara as she shot through the ocean swells, whitecaps breaking over her as she attempted to slow down her momentum. Groaning, she pulled up forcefully, her body battered and sore as she regained control and flew to land. Collapsing on the wet sand, Kara closed her eyes and breathed deeply, waiting for her heartbeats to slow down.

"Well, that sucked," she muttered. Tapping on her earpiece to activate the Bluetooth, she heard nothing. No clicking, no dial tone, not even a crackle of static. "Great." Heaving herself into a sitting position, Kara gingerly reached over to unzipper her boot and retrieved her phone. She sighed with relief when she saw that it still worked.

The susurration of waves grasping at the shore with greedy hands, grabbing the gravel and pulling loose pebbles and shells and sand back into the ocean's maw, created a mesmerizing rhythm which calmed Kara's heart and soothed her nerves. She listened to Nature's song for a few minutes, just enough for her to gather her thoughts, before she hit speed dial.

"Kara, where are you? Are you okay?" she heard as soon as the called was answered.

"I'm okay, Alex. I'm not exactly sure where I am. On a beach somewhere. I got knocked around pretty good, but I got some licks in, too. Just give me a few minutes, and I'll meet you back at the DEO."

"Okay-y-y. Are you sure you don't want to be picked up? We can track you through the phone. You sound different."

"No. I can get there. See you soon." Kara disconnected the call before Alex could say anything else. She knew she'd hear more than enough once they were face to face. Alex had warned her not to go after Non again. Too much had happened that day. The Black Mercy had tricked her into believing she was on Krypton with her parents, with Aunt Astra, with Kal-El. She felt foolish for believing it. She should have known better. The dream was one she had indulged in countless times, particularly during her first few years on Earth. But the last few weeks had proved so taxing, so painful, that she had willingly fallen under the ruse, and she had nearly died.

Alex had brought her back, had reminded her of who her family was now, who had been her family for the last decade.

The next crushing blow had come quickly. Aunt Astra had died in her arms. She would never be called Little One again, would never have the opportunity to convince her to help them, to abandon Non's plans to destroy humanity. Kara could feel the tears gathering once again, and she angrily fought them, gritting her teeth as she slowly rose on shaky legs.

Rao, she felt like she'd just finished boxing ten rounds with a mountain—more specifically, as if she'd been thrown against one for ten rounds. Again and again and again. Some quality time in the sun was in the cards. She'd make sure to get up at dawn tomorrow morning. At least she didn't have to work over the weekend.

That brought thoughts of the next horrendous part of her day: her misunderstanding with Cat. Hank had tried to cover for her while she'd been under the influence of the Black Mercy, that alien, parasitic, tentacled monstrosity which had attached itself to her torso and brain and manipulated her thoughts. Winn had fielded Cat's demands that Kara get to work, threatening to fire her if she didn't show up. Hank had agreed to Alex's plan that he impersonate Kara, not realizing how hard her job was, how fierce Cat was, how broken Kara and Cat's relationship was thanks to the aborted romance Kara had embarked on with Cat's elder son, Adam.

Everything was a mess. Her life read like a cheap telenovela, and she didn't know how to bridge the gap.

Not knowing the content of Hank's conversations with Cat, Kara had returned to work, needing some sense of normalcy. She had been greatly disappointed. Cat had taken one look at her and kicked her out, telling her that she still couldn't stomach looking at her. And if her look of anger had been mixed with concern as her brown eyes had flitted over Kara's form, it hadn't mattered. She had pointed at the elevator, and Kara had not had the energy to calm Cat, to figure out why she was so upset with her, to defend herself or placate Cat or deal with any other challenge set before her. Not then. Not after the day she had experienced. Not after living through a day where she had thought she was with her family on her native planet, only to have her dream ripped away. Her family ripped away. Again. She couldn't take anymore loss, and she had feared if she'd pushed, Cat might take her job away. So, she'd left without a word.

And when she'd arrived home, she had been so happy to see Winn, James, and Alex. So happy to relax and eat and laugh. So glad to not be alone. But Winn and James eventually had left and Alex had received the call that Non was spotted and Kara had flown off to confront him, ignoring Alex's pleas that she remain.

Yes, she was done with this day. Done with the drama and the heartbreak and the pain.

Kara leapt into the air and flew east, soon recognizing where she was. Within seconds she swooped down to DEO headquarters, striding inside, head held high. She would not let anyone see how weary she felt. She would not let anyone see how heartbroken she was. She would tamp down those feelings until after her work was done.

Strutting off the elevator, sunglasses on, Cat accepted the coffee Kara offered and entered her office while spouting off several important tasks she needed her assistant to complete. Her assistant. The girl who'd singlehandedly brought her older son back into her life only to drive him away just days later. He said he'd keep in touch, but that didn't mean anything. Her assistant had broken his heart.

Chancing a peek at Kara, she noted how the IT hermit and Olsen rallied around her, talking to her and patting her shoulder. As if she needed support. A flash of worry impeded her internal ranting, but she pushed it back forcefully. No. Kiera didn't get concern from her. She didn't deserve it. She wasn't that innocent, bright-eyed, naïve girl she'd made everyone believe her to be. She was a heartbreaker. She was selfish. She was reckless. She was immature.

Cat honestly didn't know why she hadn't fired her last week. The nerve of her coming in three hours late, and then after blatantly disregarding her duties and getting Cat's coffee wrong (and when was the last time that had happened?) she'd had the audacity to ask for the rest of the day off. Only to come back that night in jeans, for Christ sake, as if nothing had happened, as if it were just another day.

But it hadn't been. And nor was today.

"Keira!"

"Yes, Ms. Grant?"

Obsequious now. Head tilted in question, ready to be useful. No sunny smile, though. And her eyes weren't the clear crystal blue Cat was used to seeing behind those nerdy spectacles. Cloudy. Hmm. Maybe stormy was a better description. More gray than blue. Was that because of what had happened last week, or was it something else? Not that she cared. No, they had a purely professional relationship now. And if the last few days had been stilted and tiring, well, they were just getting used to the new dynamic. It needed to be this way. Clean. Impersonal. Unemotional.

Firming her resolve, Cat gave Kara enough to do to last the rest of the day. And then some. Again, no bright smile, no nodding of the head in the golden retriever-like way Cat was used to seeing. Hmm.

The rest of the day was blessedly quiet. Once in a while Cat would catch sight of Kara's serious demeanor and slumped shoulders, but she chose to ignore it. To ignore her.

And so it continued into the next week. Cat treated her assistant like every other peon (even though Cat chafed at the truth that Kara was not just another peon), and Kara acted professional and adequate and proficient.

Cat should have been happy. After all, she knew that the bubble-gum, happy-go-lucky persona had all been an act, and now that Kara had dropped such an irritating (although uplifting) front, everyone else could see who Kara really was. Even her friends appeared worried. Not that Cat was. Not that she cared. (Because she didn't, dammit!) That girl had hurt her son. (Had hurt her, not that she'd ever admit it.)

Day after day, Cat found herself studying her assistant. Found herself noticing the cloudy eyes and the slumped shoulders and the wan features and the sallow cheeks and the pallor—Christ, she looked like death warmed over. Like she wasn't sleeping. Like she was in pain. (But Cat didn't care. Couldn't care. They had a professional relationship now.) As long as Kara did her job, that's all that mattered. (But, no. That wasn't all that mattered.)

She wanted to know. Her curiosity (not concern, never concern again for that girl, that fake girl) urged her to find out what was wrong. It wasn't this thing between them (this weight, this ravine neither of them could cross) that was bothering her. But Cat had grown into her nickname, was viewed as one of the best investigative reporters in the world for a reason, and she didn't understand why Kara hadn't attempted to get back into her good graces. (And maybe that's really what was upsetting Cat, although she wasn't really upset. Just curious.)

And where was she, anyway? As Cat glared at Kara's empty desk, she noticed Witless glance at her and pick up the phone. No doubt to let her erstwhile assistant know that her absence had been noted. Cat would wait a few more minutes before demanding someone find Kara. And oh, would Kara pay if she had to be tracked down to do her job. Just another reason for Cat to be angry. And she was keeping track.

When Cat looked up once more after finishing a phone conversation, her eyes zoned in on Kara's form. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a messy, limp pigtail, her face the picture of concentration as she typed away, a phone held against her ear by a raised shoulder. Her jaw looked discolored. Swollen. And why was she sitting that way?

"Cora!"

Rain pattered steadily against the windows, the room's lighting offsetting Nature's ashy cadaverousness. After several days of this relentless, frigid rain, Cat felt as if the sun's warmth would never return, leeched away by circumstance and confusion and secrets and lies. It didn't matter whose fault it was or if anyone was even at fault. This situation had become untenable, and Cat had no idea what to do. She was not used to feeling powerless, and that made her reactions even more vicious, more short-tempered, more volatile. Much to her unending regret. (Not that she had any reason to regret anything. She had done nothing wrong.)

Although she wanted to ask Kara whether she was all right, Cat said, "Tripping over your own two feet again, I see. Honestly Cora, it's not as if you're even wearing heels." Sighing dramatically, Cat watched Kara flinch but squashed down any remorse. "Anyway, bring this to Todd." She extended her arm with the editorial piece, the comments written in red taking up most of the white areas on the pages. She had not been impressed. "Tell him I expect a revised version no later than noon tomorrow. Chop, chop."

"Yes, Ms. Grant." With a nod Kara left the room, and Cat shivered as her eyes traced the water sliding over the balcony door, as if looking for a way in.