Following their arrival in Earth's solar system, the Kryptonian body undergoes a series of changes in response to the unprecedented energy potential of the systems sun. Most of the changes are physiological adjustments to allow for the expression of new powers, but one distinctive aspect of biology is suppressed.

Kryptonite counters the affects of the yellow sun, allows biology to reassert its function. Kara's never been affected long enough for anything beyond debilitation to happen, and Clark logically attributes any symptoms he experiences to the radiation. Either way, all the parties involved are completely unprepared for the results of confinement under long term exposure.

Astra goes into heat not even a day after being put into the cell. Alex is the first to notice change. Astra is lounging, curled like cat on the raised portion of the cell floor, and seems disinclined to move. "You're the one who defeated the Heligramite. I like you."

It's not a sexual thing, even if Kara blushes while explaining her aunt is Omega. It just makes her more in tune with her primal side, prone to reacting on instincts millennia old.

Her primal side manifests as territorial aggression towards everyone but Kara – who is and always will be family – and Alex, who smells so much like Kara that there's no difference. According to Alura's holographic matrix, scent is important, as is comfort and nesting. None of which are words that describe the cell, not matter how the definitions are stretched.

Alex borrows Kara's cape.

It's for a good cause, and it's not like they don't have three testbeds for prototype replacements that they need her to try out. Alex is quite proud of the weighted, reversible, thermally insulated design herself, but has a sneaking suspicion that its the integrated snack pockets are going to win the day.

General Lane shows up as she is presenting it to Astra. Alex feels her cheeks heat as she becomes exceedingly aware of the fact Astra's touching her face again. She's always aware of her proximity, how could she not be, but there are world of difference between being touched and being seen. Especially being seen by Lane, of all people. Kara likes Lucy, but Alex wouldn't trust her father with a stuffed poodle, nevermind someone related to, and loved by, Kara.

She blocks the cell's entrance with her body, keeping her eyes on the General and the rest of his men squarely in her peripheral vision. She won't let them get past her, but she can't stop them from going round.

"She is unfit for interrogation."

Alex tenses ever-so-slightly as Astra comes up behind her. Kryptonians are furnaces at the best of times, and Astra is – not hot, why did she have to think hot, anything but hot -

"I'll be the judge of that."

As if.

"Are you medically qualified –"

Alex yelps as Astra's nuzzling into her neck turns into a nip, and twists up into the movement, arm coming up in an aborted strike. Into, away from, it makes no difference - Astra follows her motion, carries the momentum, and brings the two them down on the raised bit of floor that counts as a bed. She locks arms at the last second to keep Astra above her instead of flush against her, but that's the best that could be said of the situation.

"You are agitating her, General. Let me do my job." Then, softer; There is no need to restrain me, General. Astra.

Lane's voice is a particular mixture of paternal and patronizing that sends Alex's hackles up, so who knows what Astra's response is going to be. "Agent –"

"Let me do my – " She catches the movement from the corner of her eye, throws her weight, and rolls position so the volley of glowing darts catch her in the back. Gasps. Twitches. And stills in Astra's arms.

Astra looks, Astra sees. Astra screams.

Halfway across the city, Kara reverses direction without warning. There is nothing to collide with her eight stories above the streets, but an entire block loses its windows as air rushed to fill the void left by her sudden departure.

In a motion so practiced it goes deeper than instinct, Astra's fingers catch at the edges of her cuffs, draw the filaments of blades out and lock them into place. She steps forward. She uses her claws to catch one in the neck, then the next, ducks, and drags another down to meet her knee.

Kara smashes through the door to face her aunt, still keening her anger over a cell full of still bodies, and the unsteady stutter of her sister's heart. She burns.