The room was spinning. It was thrumming with an energy Cat could taste. In the darkness of her bedroom she could actually feel the shelving shake and her bed shift with the movement. She couldn't breathe, but had to. Deep breaths, try and stay calm. Turn the light on.
She regretted it instantly. Her bedside lamp illuminated the damage, making each quake of the floor, each rattle of the walls that much worse. The building was going to collapse, it was going to crumble. But she refused to die today. Cat could do this. She could put one foot in front of another, she could do this without drama. She could get out of her penthouse apartment, she could make it down and outside to the hot, dark streets below. No elevator. Not this time, not after Leslie Willis. Never again would she trust one in an emergency.

She padded barefooted down her hallway, out to her living room, and her mind flashed to how many stairs stood between her and safety. How long that would take. That was when the crockery began to shatter. She looked up, but couldn't see. Hand darting to the light switch—why wasn't she running? She should be running. But the light flooded the kitchen. Something was off. Her skin thrummed, her blood hot like there was something extra running below the surface. She felt the plates fly out even before they moved. Dashing them against the tiles of her kitchen floor, she looked over and focused on the glass cabinet, long-stemmed wine glasses, tumblers, mugs; they jumped like they sensed her attention, and scattered up and out, so fast she had to duck. Had to crouch with a gasp, covering her head with her hands. They missed, but smashed against the wall behind her, one after the other. The room shook, and as it did her bookcases emptied, books flying out too fast, paintings coming off the walls, chairs, end tables, knickknacks smacking and cracking, splitting and breaking. She felt strange. Stranger than she ever had before, but she stayed down, stayed as still as she could. Tried not to breathe this time. Tried not to think, but all of that was impossible. This wasn't an earthquake.

Her phone.

She could call Kara. She had to call Kara. Kara would come. Kara would forget the shield of that lie, for this. Forget the ridiculous double act she had made Cat sit through months ago. Two Karas side by side and the momentary feeling of insanity, the overwhelming doubt and stupidity. No, Kara would come. She'd solve this. Someone had to solve this.
Cat had to get back to her room, but the air felt thick with strange energy, her skin itching from it. Her lungs, her eyes, her mouth. The floor—she stayed close to the floor. It was covered in glass and fragments of her belongings, anything that could be thrown or tipped or cracked in two. She crawled like a pathetic thing, reaching her bedroom, grabbing her phone and huddling next to her bed on the carpet. If only she could make herself as small as possible, it would stop. If she stayed here, if she huddled and crouched and kept her eyes closed, none of this would be happening. Her heart beat like a drum. She pressed her speed-dial, and her hands were shaking so hard it took more than a few tries.

Her voice came out small.

"Kara, I need you. Please."

The frantic trilling of the ringtone made Kara jump, sleep fading. She squinted at the name and felt a stab of terror, answering it while sitting bolt upright.

"Miss Grant?"

The woman on the other end of the line was babbling, wasn't making any sense. She had never heard her boss's voice tremble like that, not even when Livewire was seconds away from stopping her heart. Not even when faced with the end of the world.

"Don't move, ok? Please, Miss Grant…Just…"

Kara changed in a blur of red, yellow and blue, her cape streaking red behind her as she flew towards Cat's apartment. She could see it right away, the way the building was slanted, like something had tried to shake it loose. She landed and sprinted, not bothering to stop herself from cracking the handle of the balcony door, breaking the glass.

What she saw terrified her.

Furniture, kitchenware, books, ornaments, strewn about like someone had let a whirlwind loose in the apartment. All the lights were blazing, which made it all the more eerie somehow.

"Miss Grant?"

She marched through the living room, afraid. Looking, but not finding. She heard a small gasp, faint even with her super-hearing. She ran toward it, finding herself in a bedroom. Miss Grant's bedroom. She saw Cat right away, cowered on the ground with her arms gripping around her knees, shaking her head and mumbling nonsense to herself.

"Cat," she said. But she didn't get a response. She hunched down, putting a hand on Cat's shoulder, but Cat flinched back and let out a long breath. Their eyes met.

"Carter." It was the first word Cat said that had any weight behind it.

"It's his dad's weekend, don't you remember?"

Cat closed her eyes and exhaled again.

"Oh."

"Cat, I need you to tell me where they are."

Cat looked confused, she shook her head. Kara tried again.

"Cat, who did this? I can find them."

Cat let out a sob. And oh, Rao's light, Kara had never heard her make such a sound, never saw her face lose so much color. But Cat's eyes became sharper.

"You don't understand, Supergirl." She seemed breathless, but her voice grew hard for a moment. "You have to arrest me. Do whatever it is you do. I shouldn't be here."

"Miss Grant…"

"It was me, Kara," Cat said it like she was daring Kara to contradict her. Kara couldn't tell which part; the fact that they were talking about that great big lie, or the last thing… which she was having trouble making sense of.

"You?"

Cat seemed to be steeling herself, but her voice had lost its edge again.

"I think…" she swallowed. "I think there's something really wrong with me."

"You're in shock," Kara said softly. She helped Cat stand, and took a breath as Cat leant the weight of her body against her. "Are you hurt?"

Cat shook her head. Kara led her to the kitchen, trying and failing to find a glass she could fill with water. Cat seemed to be concentrating hard, her eyes closed as she leant against the counter.

"I woke up, and everything….it was all different."

"You're going to be ok, I promise."

"No." Cat was shaking. "Kara, please? I need to get out of here."

Cat winced, closing her eyes again and Kara felt it. The room began to shake, the walls vibrating. Everything thrumming loudly; a whole building of things rattling against itself. Cat let out a gasp and Kara looked up at the ceiling, a crack appearing above them. Dust and plaster fell in chunks, the crack traveling along the ceiling, the building beginning to split in two. Cat was muttering God Oh God Oh God and shaking her head. Kara stared at her with her eyes widening.

"Cat."

Cat had her eyes closed, she was gripping the counter. She was breathing quickly, like she was starting to hyperventilate.

"Cat?" She reached out, wrapping her arms around her, prying Cat's hands loose. The building shook again, more dust fell. "Breathe. Cat, you don't have to do this. You can stop this."

"I don't know how," Cat gasped. "I don't know how."

"Breathe," Kara said. "Listen to my voice, concentrate on my voice. On my breathing. Can you do that for me? In. Out."

Cat shuddered a breath, nodding, her body tense.

"Just concentrate on one thing at a time. Slow down your breathing."

Cat nodded, her body relaxing a little into Kara's arms. Her breathing was evening out, and the building stopped shaking. The room was suddenly silent, the sounds of the emergency sirens below filtering up from the street. After a moment, Cat opened her eyes. She seemed to be begging. Kara nodded.

"I'm taking you someplace safe."