It had been the most beautiful summer evening for Lena's walk home. She didn't mind working later shifts when it meant walking home with the sky above full of pinks and oranges. Lena's faithful spaniel, Caoimhe, met her at the door with a wagging tail, desperate for pats from her mistress.

"At least you've had your dinner," Lena said, placing her bag on the entrance table, hanging up her hat, and giving her dog a hug. "Did Aine take you for a nice walk today? It was a lovely day. I'm guessing there's a plate in the dining room? Come on, Caoimhe," Lena said, Caoimhe at her heels as she went into the small dining room. It was half of the size of the dining room in her house at Luthorsport, and a fraction of the size of the one in the manor house in which she'd grown up, but never in her life had Lena Luthor felt more needed than when she'd arrived in Bletchley six months ago.

Lena had been fortunate in finding a comfortable house with a good backyard and decent kitchen in the village of Bletchley, both wealth and connections helping in this regard. She'd brought Caoimhe, her housekeeper Aine, and six trunks of clothing, books and assorted goods with her across the Irish Sea. Though Lena had had every intention of returning to Luthorsport for a couple of weeks during the summer, work had kept her too busy, and it was too vital that she stayed. They were making such progress, and it was too exciting and stimulating to leave behind for a sojourn to the remote corner of Ireland Lena called home. Lena had never felt so needed and so wanted in her life. Her methodical and mathematical brain was perfectly suited to the work. Perhaps at Christmas she'd have some leave.

Plus there was her new friends in London. It was these friends Lena cared most for, Alexandra and Kara Danvers, who had shown up quite literally out of the sea after a big storm in Luthorsport earlier in the year, and their friend Sara Lance who was the bravest and most reckless woman Lena had met.

But it was Kara in particular with whom Lena had a special bond. She didn't know what to call it; she didn't even know if there was a word. Lena managed monthly trips to London to visit her friends, her accountant, and Fortnum and Mason's for some decent supplies. Lena loved the lunches or dinners with her friends. She'd never had friends before; people she knew she could rely on, laugh with, be in open confidence with. Friends like that had only ever been for other people, usually fictional characters in books.

Kara came to Bletchley as often as she could, which was sadly only a few times a month at best, but those were the best days of the month. Kara was awkward and emotional and simultaneously excellent and terrible at keeping secrets. She was beautiful and brave and kind. She was also Supergirl, someone that Lena had once thought was just a British propaganda character, but turned out to be a real, brilliant girl with amazing powers from another world, who had fallen to earth as a child and was adopted by the Danvers family. Lena smiled while thinking of Kara. Hopefully in the next few days Kara would arrive on her doorstep, her hair blown from the wind, cheeks flushed, grinning. Lena bit her lip. Though she'd never say as much out loud, she was quite in love with Kara Danvers.

Lena sat down at the table and took the plate cover off her meal. Caoimhe rested her head on Lena's lap, hoping for a few bites. The meal was lukewarm, but Lena didn't mind. She'd hardly eaten all day, and Aine worked wonders with the rations. All too soon her plate was empty, and she let Caoimhe have a little lick. What Aine didn't see wouldn't hurt her. Lena stretched back and noticed a letter tucked under the plate. She seldom received mail here; very people knew her home address, and any official correspondence from her accountant or lawyers was directed to the Post Office in Oxford.

Lena picked up the the envelope and immediately recognised the handwriting. She took a few deep breaths to try and stop her dinner from making a reappearance before tearing the envelope open and pulling out the letter. She placed it down on the table, and had to force herself to focus on the words.

Dear Lena,

I know where you are and I know what you're doing. You should have stayed at home.

I know who your friends are. I know what they do. You should have kept away.

I know that the younger Miss Danvers is biological cousins with my old pal Mr Kent. What a surprise that is! And you chose to be her friend?

Yours affectionately,

Lex.

…

"Doctor Danvers?"

Alex just wanted to go home. It had been a long day, long week, long month. It was already dark and she was tired and had been on her feet for hours and just wanted to inhale any food and go to sleep. She decided to ignore whoever was calling her. Her shift had officially ended three hours ago. Surely it got to the point when she was allowed not to hear.

"Doctor Danvers? Please, Doctor Danvers," the woman followed after Alex and placed her hand on Alex's arm.

Alex stopped. She was aware that she slumped her shoulders. She closed her eyes and turned back to the woman. "Yes?" she said, hoping she didn't sound too abrupt. She opened her eyes, expecting to see a nurse or a secretary, but the woman was in pristine naval uniform, with shiny buttons, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, her hat perfectly placed. No doubt from the Admiralty offices. Alex was aware that she looked like a wreck in comparison.

"You are Doctor Alexandra Danvers?"

"Alex is fine," Alex said by way of confirmation.

The woman swallowed. Despite her perfect posture and neutral expression, there was something in her eyes that told Alex that something was very wrong.

"Kara…" Alex breathed, feeling as though she'd been stabbed in the stomach with an ice-pick.

"Who?" the woman asked. "Oh, you mean Lieutenant Danvers."

Alex felt confused. Why would anyone in uniform come and find her at work if it wasn't about Kara? "Wh - you're not here about Kara?"

"No," the woman said. "Doctor Danvers, Alex. I have a car waiting. I can drive you home. Please, there's something I - I'm…"

"All right," Alex said, too tired to argue and happy enough for a free ride home. She followed the lady outside to the vehicle waiting outside. The driver held the door open and Alex climbed inside, with the woman behind her. The driver closed the door. The car smelt strongly of leather polish, and Alex knew she'd ever been in a car this nice.

"I believe you know Captain Sara Lance," the woman said.

"Yes," Alex said, suddenly very unsure as to where this was going. The driver started the engine and pulled out into the quiet street. There was still the occasional air-raid, but nothing compared to a few months ago. Tonight the sirens were silent. "She's a friend."

"I know. She's a - friend - of mine also," the woman said awkwardly.

"Oh. Sorry, I missed your name," Alex said, fully aware that the woman had never offered it.

"Agent Ava Sharpe," she said and pursed her lips before continuing. "I believe you know what Captain Lance does? Her job, I mean?"

"Yes," Alex said, getting the feeling that Agent Sharpe was more than just a secretary. "More or less."

Agent Sharpe nodded. Alex assumed that she knew a lot more than she was letting on, about Sara, about Alex, possibly even about Kara. Despite the dark, Alex could see that she was breathing heavily. Agent Sharpe was clearly trying not to cry.

"Captain Lance is missing."

"Oh?" Alex said, wishing she had something more useful to say, and hoping to prompt the Agent for more information.

"You don't understand," Agent Sharpe continued, lowering her voice, though Alex guessed that the driver had heard much juicier conversations than this one. "She's missing in France. It was supposed to be a 24-hour in-and-out mission, but she - Captain Lance failed to show up at the rendezvous point."

"When was this?" Alex asked, feeling a cold sweat come over her. Sara was smart, but the sort of smart that thought running into burning buildings was quite an all right idea if it meant saving someone. She wasn't like Kara with the superpowers to get herself out, but she did it anyway. As far as Alex knew, there wasn't a weapon Sara didn't know how to use, including her looks as well as more traditional arsenal, and right now wasn't sure if that made matters better or worse.

"Four days ago. She's never missed a rendezvous before. I don't know what to do. I can't send anyone in to find her. I have taken this as far as I can, but no one is willing to send more resources after one missing femme fatale. I - I don't know what to do. I can't lose her, Alex. I can't…" Agent Sharpe's voice cracked.

Alex reached across the seat and took the Agent's hand, having no idea what she was supposed to do to help.