Title: Edging Towards Synchronicity

Author: gldngr7

Rating: Explicit

Began: March 11, 2017

Chapters:

Feedback: Encouragement and constructive criticisms are always welcome. Flames are destroyed with my freeze breath.

So open your eyes and see

The way our horizons meet

And all of the lights will lead

Into the night with me

And I know these scars will bleed

But both of our hearts believe

All of these stars will guide us home

-Ed Sheeran – "All These Stars

Chapter 7/8

It's never been so difficult to crawl out of bed and get ready for work. Usually he's the one leaving her, but this time the shoe is on the other foot as she considers and rejects the idea of taking a sick day. Of course, that wouldn't fly with her boss, who knows full well she doesn't get sick. Kara encourages Mon-El to go back to sleep, hoping that he'll be able to get some rest without the specter of night looming over him. He's already fallen back asleep by the time she finishes her shower and dresses in her slacks and light sweater over a button-up blouse. Taking one last look, Kara resists the urge to kiss his forehead before gathering her purse and keys and slipping out of the apartment.

Her day will ostensibly be spent on the hunt for the elusive new hero, Valor, about whom the public clamors to hear. She considers telling James the truth about Valor's identity. Of course, working as closely with the DEO as James does, his discovery of the truth is only a matter of time, but Kara decides it's best to break the news in a place accustomed to keeping secrets, rather than one dedicated to exposing them.

Later in the morning, she's glad she made this decision in advance, or she might have folded like a cheap picnic table when she looked up to find him leaning against the door jamb to her office. Only moments before, she had just finished putting the room back to rights after last night's less-than-professional, but thoroughly satisfying, use of her desk.

"Oh!" she startles, sitting up straight in her chair. Even going so far as to adjust her laptop and coffee cup so that they sit perfectly straight on her desk, to project her most professional image. "Hey James," she greets, before clearing her throat.

"I can't believe I snuck up on you," he teases. He leans, one shoulder against the jamb, one ankle crossed jauntily over the other, with his hands tucked into his pockets. "You're usually more on point than that."

"I'm not usually expecting people to sneak up on me at work."

"Then you haven't been a reporter long enough."

"Fair point," she concedes, her laugh a little more nervous than she would like.

"But seriously…you're distracted."

"I have a lot going on these days. You know…secret identity and all."

"And the new boyfriend," James injects, in a measuring tone as though testing the waters before him.

Kara's eyes widen and she adjusts her glasses on her face, studiously avoiding eye contact until she can marshal her limited cool. "Oh…."she drawls, screwing her lips up nervously. She knew James would have to find out eventually, but telling him seemed…awkward. Although maybe not as awkward as him finding out from other, unknown sources. "How did you…." She clears her throat while simultaneously emitting a nervous chuckle. "How did you find out?"

James tilts his head to the side. "I wasn't sure until just now."

Kara fidgets uncomfortably, pulling at the hem of her blouse. "What gave it away?" she asks, praying that she and Mon-El hadn't been caught on a camera somewhere in a compromising position.

"A little bird might have whispered something to my ear."

"A little bird?"

"He may work at the DEO now, but Winn and I still talk. Daily."

"How does Winn know?" she asks, really hoping they weren't caught on a security camera.

"Deductive reasoning, apparently. You may have noticed…he's kind of smart like that. So…how long has this been going on? Winn and I suspected something when we saw you together at Lena Luthor's gala."

"At the gala?" she laughs forcefully, shaking her head. "No, no, no…that wasn't…we weren't…there was no—"

"There was something there," James interrupted. "Maybe you didn't know it yet, but other people noticed. I noticed. A certain chemistry that defied your initial distrust of one another."

"It's very new," she concedes. "But good…great!" she corrects, self-consciously not wanting to sound like she thinks she's settling.

"I'm not sure I understand him," James confesses. "He seems…shallow, but you must see something there."

Kara's instinct to defend the man she loves rises within her, but she stuffs it down, telling herself that James hasn't had the chance to see what she sees. "That's my fault," she mea culpas. "I judged him harshly when he first arrived, James. I let my prejudices get in the way of seeing what was truly there. And I'm afraid those prejudices may have tainted the way others viewed him as well, including you. But underneath that shallow façade there's a good man, a deeply loyal man who's able to see me as more than just plain Kara Danvers, or Supergirl, Hero of Earth. He just sees Kara Zor-El. He sees me…and he cares about me."

"I cared about you," he points out.

"But…he's not human, James."

"And that matters," he infers.

"James," she begins, stepping out from behind her desk, "I would always have to hold back with you. Every hug…every kiss…every touch…carefully calculated not to hurt you. I couldn't risk that…someday I'd slip up and forget. I'm not sure you understood that. How could you? I didn't even understand it…at first."

"But Lois and Clark…."

"Clark grew up in this planet. Eliza explained it to me like this: his musculature was literally in infancy when he arrived on Earth. His muscles developed and reached maturity here and somehow, over time, he was able to make human strength, human speed his default setting. He only turns 'Superman' on when he needs to. He's able to physically compartmentalize better than I am. Not that it won't ever happen for me, but it could take years…decades, even. With constant practice."

"But with Mon-El…you don't have to," he finally begins to see the bigger picture, the realization dawning in his eyes. "You can have a life right now instead of decades from now."

"That's right. But I don't want you to think that I'm with Mon-El because he's my only choice. Remember when I told you I was worried that I would never find someone that would know me, someone who could be my perfect partner?"

"I remember. I told you…you would find someone."

"Well, you were right. I found him. And what we have isn't based on mere physical compatibility. It's based in shared histories and, even though our planets were rivals and very different culturally, there's still a commonality there that can't be ignored. It's something we can build on, something we want to build on."

"I hear you," James replies, crossing his arms at his chest and taking a deep breath. "But if he hurts you, I'll beat him with a lead pipe."

All things considered, it is the best reaction she could have hoped for. Kara lets loose an easy smile. "The line forms behind Alex."

"I guess that's fair."

"I'm sorry, if you felt like I was hiding it from you or something. That wasn't my…our…intention. It's just that…."

"It's new," James supplies.

"Exactly."

"I understand. Sometimes you need to keep new relationships in a bubble for a while. To protect them while they're fragile. I apologize if my questions forced you to reveal it before you were ready."

"No need to apologize, James," she shakes her head. "The truth is, I didn't know how to tell you. I've never been in this situation before."

"Then it's good we got it out of the way."

"One might even say a relief."

"So...about the other thing…how's the search going?"

"Search?"

"For the new guy…?" he prompts, leaning forward. "The story I assigned you. Ring any bells?"

"Oh! Of course. I've got some pieces that need putting together. Several eyewitness reports of seeing a man in a black hoodie siphoning electricity from transformers in the business district. One of those times occurring on or around the same time as the bridge incident. That can't be a coincidence, right?"

"I wouldn't think so. What's your next move then?"

"Well I was thinking that…some of the buildings in the business district have traffic cams positioned on top of them. I thought I might see if any of them could get an angle on our mysterious man in black. What do you think?"

"Worth a try," he shrugs.

'That's what I thought," she replies, adjusting her glasses on her face. "And I have a few follow-up questions for some of the eyewitnesses, so I need to track them down. Did Snapper say anything…about assigning me the story?"

"He had difficulty talking…because of the steam coming out of his ears. Just a heads up though, he may have implied that he would assign you a story in the near future designed to extract some outstanding professional dues from you. Prepare yourself."

"It's going to be bad, isn't it?"

"And as embarrassing as humanly possible," James confirmed. "How you handle it will test your mettle as a reporter, I'm fairly certain of that. You can still back out, you know? I can give the story to someone else…."

"No!" she cries, perhaps just a little too emphatically. She chuckles, and plays off her sudden attack of zeal. "Good stories always have their price," she quotes, determined to see the Valor story to the end. If for no other reason than to protect Mon-El.

James smiles, recognizing the mantra. "It took Clark a lot longer than you to learn that lesson."

"He can be a little thick sometimes," she quips, sharing a conspiratorial smile with the man that knows her cousin even better than she does.

James tilts his head back and laughs, the sound echoing down the corridor. "Truer words were never spoken. Well, it seems like you have work to do. I'll let you get to it."

"Thanks, James. For everything," she acknowledges.

"I just want what's best for you, Kara. You know that Clark sent me here to look out for you."

"Yeah," she nods. "And I appreciate everything that you've done."

"It seems like Kara's got her personal life covered now. But I'm always going to have Supergirl's back," he vows.

"I never doubted it for a second, James," she assures him.

James Olsen had been a crush; she can see that clearly now. A crush born of loneliness and the frantic search for a mate that swamps some people when they're in their twenties with no partner in sight and the weight of a burgeoning career bearing down upon them. And maybe she had seen a hint of safety in him because deep down she knew it would never work. He had been older, a mentor, and emotionally entangled with another woman – a woman Kara liked and respected, which had made it even messier. She had pined for him, like a little schoolgirl pining for the older boy that never quite paid her enough attention.

But why then, when the stars aligned and the timing was just right, had her gut screamed at her to withdraw? Perhaps it was because her heart needed to be free for something else. A better fit.

Kara feels somewhat lighter, having revealed her relationship to the man who only a few months ago had been the focus of her romantic interest, and this sudden release of emotional baggage has her feeling bold and suddenly feistier than usual. "Oh! I saw on the news wall coming in this morning that Guardian had an active night."

"He busted a drug ring and managed to stop a random kidnapping," James nods, smiling.

"What are the police saying?"

"They're not exactly happy."

"I bet!" she replies, as though this outcome should have been obvious.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

Kara shuffles through some of her Valor notes, trying to get them organized in order of priority in terms of follow-up. "The kidnapping is great; he saved someone in the moment. But the drug bust…cops usually spend months building cases for those things and a vigilante swooping in at the last minute has a tendency to ruin all of their hard work. Cops don't like getting scooped either, and when they do…the criminals with good lawyers can get them off on a technicality. Turns out things like warrants are actually necessary. I wonder how many months of taxpayer funded man-hours went into trying to nail those dealers. As a reader, and a taxpayer, I would be interested in know that. Maybe the reporter you've assigned to the Guardian can follow-up on that angle with the police. You know, I bet Maggie Sawyer could find out. You met her at the bar…right?"

"Oh," he exclaims, recalling that night when Alex introduced her new friend to the group. "Right, right. We've met before. Anyway…man-hours notwithstanding, Guardian left the dealers tied up, surrounded by 28 kilos of Oxy. I don't think they're going to have a problem making their case."

"Maybe…maybe not. Talk to Maggie. She's been assigned to track Guardian. I'm sure she'll be a good source for inside information on the investigation. Whom did you assign?"

James fidgets uncomfortably and the silence is telling.

"James?" she inquires. "Who's the reporter assigned to the Guardian story?"

He clears his throat. "I am," he replies. "I've been tracking him."

Kara's noticed James apparent man-crush on the vigilante—everyone has noticed it—and considers calling him out for his clear confirmation bias, but thinks better it. After all, when it comes to Valor and his story, she's not exactly impartial. And it's even worse because she's knows who Valor is, knows his secret identity, while James' opinions are shaped purely by Guardian's actions and not by who the vigilante is beneath the lead-based mask.

Or…are they?

Lead-based mask….

How many people know about her weakness to lead, that it hampers her abilities, particularly her x-ray vision? Out of necessity, it is a secret so tightly kept that only the people of her inner circle know about it. People she trusts. Because if it ever got out to the criminal element it would spread like wildfire and her job would become significantly more difficult overnight. So how is it that this Guardian, a self-styled hero of no apparent super powers, wears a lead-based armor, with a mask that covers his entire face?

Almost as if he expected to be x-rayed. Almost as if he anticipated her every move to identify him, understood her playbook.

Maybe…Guardian understood her playbook…because he helped her write it.

"What do you think you're doing, James?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"What I was always meant to," he replies. He saw the moment the proverbial light bulb went off over her head and knew she had made the connections.

"You have no idea what you're getting into," she insists, her brow crinkling with concern.

"I worked with your cousin for fifteen years," he contradicts her, "and then with you. I've been a sidekick long enough, Kara. It's graduation day."

"You could be killed!"

"I'm aware of the risks. And it's better than living a life on the sidelines, wanting to help but always getting shoved out of the way. Do you think I made this decision over night?" he asks. "This has been coming for years."

"I can't let you—"

"Can't let me?" he interrupts. "I am a grown man, with vastly more life experience than you. Nobody tells me what I can and cannot do. Not Clark and certainly not you. You know…Clark talked about how one of the reasons Krypton died was because of the arrogance of its people, and the eagerness with which they played God. He said it's one of the reasons he hesitated to become Superman. He was afraid he would forget how to be human, and that he didn't want to turn into one of them. Didn't want to repeat their mistakes. Apparently you don't have the same misgivings. You want to stop me? Have me thrown in jail."

With that, he tilts his head a bit and stalks out of the room, walking away before she can gather her racing thoughts and call after him. Kara drops into her chair, fuming. She wants to go after him and tell him how dangerous this risky lifestyle is for someone without impenetrable skin, but she knows that this building is not the place for such a discussion. And she also knows nothing she says will change his mind. Not now. Not after he's caught the hero bug.

Her anger drops down to a simmer when she begins to think about it instead of letting her emotions run rampant. Not long ago she spent several days on Earth-1 with a collective of heroes fighting off an alien invasion from the Dominators. Some of those heroes, like Barry Allen and Heatwave (she felt a strange shiver, like titillation mixed with mild revulsion just thinking about him) were meta-human with powers bestowed on them by an infection of dark matter. But others were not: like Oliver Queen, a normal man whose body and archery skills were honed to a weapon by time spent on a deserted island, or so he said. Or Sara Lance, a trained assassin (reformed) with unparalleled fighting talents, both in hand-to-hand as well as the bow staff. And probably any weapon put in front of her, really.

The point is, she realizes, that there are others out there, human beings, who have heard the call and risen to greet it. She left Earth-1 feeling like she had made a true, if somewhat reluctant, friend in Oliver Queen, and he is only doing what James Olsen wants to do. How can she offer support to Oliver, Sara, John Diggle, Ray Palmer, and all the others who put on a mask and a suit with nothing to back them up but their wits and their hard-earned skills, and not offer James the same hand of alliance?

It strikes her then, out of the blue, that she's not angry because James decided to become a masked hero. She's angry because he did it without her.

Kara will have to inform J'onn, if his abilities as a telepath haven't already revealed James' secret to him. If she's going to offer James her support it's going to be in the most overwhelming way possible, she smiles. From now on he'll have a team to back him up, strategies that don't include stepping all over official police investigations, and an eye in the sky looking out of him, whether he wants it or not.

She spends the better part of the rest of day, doing exactly what she promised James she would be doing. She tracks down a camera with a half-decent angle and manages to walk away with a flash drive with five hours of unseen footage to go over. If she finds anything incriminating or revealing Winn will be able to hack the mainframe and replace the original with looped footage. Thankfully, the follow-up question to her eyewitnesses lead nowhere – exactly as she'd hoped.

A full day of damage control under her belt, Kara decides to head to the DEO, where she is surprised to find Eliza waiting for her, along with Alex, in the conference room.

"Eliza, I was going to call you,' she says, throwing her arms gently around her adoptive mother. "What are you doing here?"

"After your call last night, I couldn't sleep at all. I'm just so worried about Mon-El, sweetie. How is he doing?"

"Mom says he had flashbacks when you got back to the loft last night," Alex added.

"I'm sorry, honey, I just assumed you told Alex. You two were never good at keeping secrets."

Kara shakes her head. "It's fine. I was going to talk to you both anyway. I don't know what to do." Just seeing the empathetic expressions on their faces, brings a rise of emotion from her chest. It is so easy, when she is with him, to forget that he's driving towards a cliff with leaking brake fluid. But here with her mother and sister, and their matching faces of concern, she remembers that what he's going through is no stroll through the park, and if not handled with care, could end on a tragic note.

"What is it?" Eliza asks, acknowledging that there must be more to the story is her second daughter is practically reduced to tears. "Did something else happen?"

"It's worse than we thought," she confesses, finding it difficult to drag air into her lungs. "I overheard him in the bathroom early this morning…talking to someone."

"Talking to…whom?" Alex asks, her eyes squinting with suspicion.

"His step-brother Ral."

"He has a step-brother…?" Oh…wait," Alex stops, allowing Kara's words to truly sink.

"Had a step-brother," Kara corrects. "Ral died on Daxam…of course."

"Okay," Alex nods, crossing her arms. "He was talking to a dead person. That's not that unusual when people are grieving. People go to cemeteries every day and talk to their lost loved ones."

"That's just it, Alex. He wasn't talking to Ral. He was having a conversation with him; of which, I was only able to hear half. You know…the living half."

"He's hallucinating," Eliza concludes. Kara's mom cups her elbow and draws her to the chair and leads her to sit, before commandeering the one next to her. Alex perches behind her mother, leaning an arm on the tall back of the conference room chair. "It's unlikely that this just began happening last night. Kara. In your recent conversations with him, did you have any reason to suspect he was experiencing hallucinations?"

"Such as?"

"Did he talk to someone not there while in your presence?"

"Never," Kara answered, but taking a moment to consider the question from deeper angles. "But…there were times when I felt like I didn't have his full attention. That his eyes were being drawn elsewhere?"

"But he never gave you any more overt clues that there was more going on than he was showing you?"

"I mean…I think I sensed he was hiding something, but overt? No."

"That's good," Eliza says, turning back to look at Alex for her consensus. Alex nods in response. "That's very good."

"Brief Reactive Psychosis isn't uncommon when someone experiences a major trauma," Alex explains. "It can happen when you lose a loved one and Mon-El lost far more than that. His brain is trying to deal with that and this Ral has become the Avatar for that loss."

"But, from what you described, he hasn't completely lost touch with reality and that's good."

Alex agrees. "It appears that he knows he's hallucinating, because he's taking steps to hide it from you…and everyone else. When the hallucination integrates with reality, it's much harder to shake."

"So…what do we do?"

"Normal protocol for treatment is to administer anti-psychotics to deal with the immediate problem and then follow-up with psychotherapy, but…."

'This isn't a normal situation," Eliza finishes. "We have no way of knowing how he'll react to antipsychotics. And the limited blood samples I had, I've spent testing potential treatments for his lead allergy. I've had some progress on that, by the way, but this seems like the more pressing issue."

"Without knowing more, we need to assume that his psychosis could take a turn for the worse at any moment. Mon-El should be hospitalized, both for the safety of others and for his own well-being."

"Safety of others?" Kara asks, realizing what Alex was saying. "You want to put him back into a cell?"

"Isolation," Alex corrects. "For his own good."

"But in a cell," Kara answers, only partially succeeding in stuffing down the rising panic. "After everything we—after everything I—put him through when he first arrived. After Medusa? You want to put him back in a cell like he can't be trusted."

"Kara, he's on the verge of a full-blown psychotic break. It sounds like he's fighting it for the moment, but there's no predicting how long he has before his mind completely fractures and he can no longer tell the difference between the hallucination and reality. And if that break happens and he experiences another flashback like the one he had last night…Kara, I know it's painful, but locking him up really is the best for everyone. At least until we can find a way to purge him of the hallucination."

It is a gut-wrenching decision, and one Kara had hoped would be only a worst case scenario. But here she is being asked to make the decision to lock him again. This time was infinitely worse than the first. Kara recalls Mon-El's remorse over accidentally injuring a drunk college student after a friendly arm-wrestling match and she knows that Mon-El wouldn't want to harm anyone else. "Okay," she nods regretfully, making her decision. "We'll play this your way. We'll lock him up."

A noise at the doorway gets her attention and she spins around to find Mon-El standing at the doorway, a look of abject betrayal on his face. So caught up in their conversation, none of the women had noticed his arrival, to their detriment.

"Mon-El," Kara exclaims, frightfully. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," he replies, his voice low and his eyes hard like titanium.

Mon-El putters around the loft, finishing the washing of the sheets and then making the bed to the best of his abilities. He watches a few episodes of a delightful show called 'Chuck' before his mind begins to wander to more lascivious territories. Ral, the best 'wing man' a brother could ask for, is right there with him beating the drum.

"So..." Ral drawls as she sprawled across one Kara's living room chairs, looking like the most bored person on the planet. "Nth metal?" he posits. "Think she'll go for that? That's a lot of trust you're asking."

"She trusts me," Mon-El reassures Ral confidently. "Look how far we've come in so short a time. I would never hurt her and by now…she knows that."

"But all the activities," Ral clears his throat suggestively, "you've participated in have been with the clear understanding that she could overpower you at any time if she felt uncomfortable. I mean, she won't be able to get out of cuffs made from N-metal."

'That's the idea."

"That might bother her."

"It might also give her a few moments of feeling like a normal human, in a controlled and sensual situation. It's not like I'm going to be hurting her. Besides…as always…the choice is hers. She only needs to say the word and I stop. Her trust is the most valuable thing I've ever earned. I have no desire to lose it."

"So how are we…you…going to get your hands on the Nth metal shackles?"

"A little distraction, a little sleight of hand, a pinch of super speed," Mon-El shrugs, unconcerned. "Not to worry, my friend. Which reminds me…I should get moving. I need to spend a few hours at the DEO before I start my shift at the bar tonight."

"Lead the way," Ral says.

Mon-El had hoped to sneak into the DEO unnoticed and retrieve the shackles before anyone was the wiser, but upon his arrival Winn accosts him as though he'd been trolling the security cameras for any sign of him.

"Buddy!" Winn greets him, a huge grin on his face, that Mon-El can't help but think is a little artificial. Only yesterday, after his coming-out as Valor, Winn had seemed angry at him for reasons he had never determined, but now that seems to have been wiped away like footprints in a sandstorm. Winn throws an arm around Mon-El's taller shoulders, who retreats a bit, confused by the sudden shift in attitude.

"I thought you were mad at me about something," Mon-El replies.

"Mad at you?" Winn asks, hoping to play off yesterday's attitude as a circumstance thoroughly misread by Mon-El. "What are you—oh! Are you talking about my mood yesterday? That can happen sometimes. I was under a lot of pressure," he obfuscates.

But Mon-El is as adept at perceiving deception as Winn at assembling proverbial puzzle pieces.

Recognizing that camaraderie isn't getting him anywhere, Winn changes his tactics. "Did I mention that I'm sorry for being a tool yesterday?" he chuckles uncomfortably, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Look, man, I was short with you and that wasn't fair. Maybe we can go to the bar sometime and talk about it over drinks and darts. I'm going to need to get drunk for that conversation," he cringes.

With a flash of inspiration, Mon-El sees the whole board, all the pieces he was missing yesterday because he was too caught up with worry about the consequences of becoming Valor. The joking about his sex life combined with their discussion about Romeo and Juliet, which makes much more sense now that he has crucial context, provide a moment of clarity allowing Mon-El to hypothesize about Winn's recent behavioral shifts. "You know about me and Kara, don't you?"

"Apparently not that drunk," Winn mutters with a wince.

"What gave it away?"

"I'm a pretty smart guy, Mon-El, and your subtlety needs refining. It was clear you were 'seeing' someone, but when you mentioned Romeo and Juliet a cohesive picture managed to form."

"I'm sorry if you were…are…hurt," Mon-El says. He stuffs his hands into the pocket of his jeans, mirroring the man in front of him, both of them a little wide of their comfort zones in this discussion.

"I've known a long time that Kara doesn't see me that way. I was angry at first, sure, but not so much about her. I was angrier at myself for not being what she needs. And that has nothing to do with you. Besides, I talked it over with James and he made me see that it wasn't about Kara, it was more about the fact that I don't have anyone in my life right now."

"You talked it over...with James?" Mon-El asks, apprehensively. "So James knows?"

Winn's face falls. "Oh man, I'm sorry! I didn't think! I just had all this stuff in my head and I couldn't talk to you about it, and James is my friend and—"

"Relax, Winn. It was going to come out sooner or later, but I should give Kara a heads-up so she's not blindsided." Mon-El scans the CIC for his girlfriend.

"She's still at CatCo," Winn informs him. "I'm afraid if she was going to get blindsided…it's probably happened by now."

"Great," Mon-El sighs.

"Don't worry," Winn attempts to reassure his friend. "It's probably a conversation they need to have. James is a gentleman and Kara can hold her own. Try not worry about it."

"I know all of that and yet it doesn't make me feel any better." He doesn't know James all that well, but his read on the man is that, like Winn, he once had romantic designs upon Kara. Designs which may be still very much in play. But he also senses a man of honor beneath all of that and believes James will surrender the field should Kara make it clear that's what she needs.

But Mon-El's biggest concern isn't about James, it's about Kara, as usual. Forcing her into an emotional confrontation on any timeline but her own probably isn't the best battle plan and can potentially drive her farther away. Mon-El hopes that such a confrontation doesn't result in a heartbroken Kara who's protected her heart by saying things she doesn't mean.

"Luckily," Winn says, distracting Mon-El from his thoughts, "I have just the thing to take your mind off your worries."

"And what might that be?"

"J'onn came to me this morning and ask me to license a certain Kevlar fabric from Kord industries. Now…my memory can be spotty sometimes—that's me being self-deprecating, by the way—but I seem to recall that we were just talking about that material night before last…." Winn trails off, waiting for Mon-El to confirm.

Mon-El crosses his arms, schooling his face to remain willfully passive. He knows exactly where this is headed and he plans to enjoy watching Winn get there.

"No?" Winn asks, shaking his head slightly, completely unaware that Mon-El is playing him like a string quartet. "Okay…well, J'onn didn't say anything else, he just did that inscrutable, enigmatic, arm-crossing head tilt, eyebrow-raise thing that he does and walked away. Now, Kara may be able to shoot white-hot laser beams out of her eyeballs, but I'm good at working things out and I think I know what's going on here."

"You do?" he asks, his face a mask of (faux) innocence.

Winn glances around like he's a burglar on lookout and leans toward Mon-El, lowering his voice. "You're him, aren't you? The new guy?" He manages to ask without hardly moving his lips at all. "I mean…it's not exactly a secret around here that the security could be better."

"And?"

"And you've been living in this place for that last few months, meaning you probably know your way around like it's the back of your hand."

"What does that even mean?" Mon-El intentionally stalls. "Like the back of your hand? How does one know the back of their hand? I mean…let's face it," he chuckles, "it's easier to get to know the front of your hand, am I right? One can become quite intimate—""

"It's just a figure of speech," Winn responds, completely clueless that Mon-El is attempting to distract him. "It means to know something really well."

"The subtext was clear," he reassures him, before insisting, "Subtext is my talent. You become an expert at subtext when your life depends on it."

Winn opens his mouth to speak and then slams it shut, his head tilting curiously. Mon-El mentally kicks himself for letting that tidbit from his past slip. "What does that—"

"Nothing," Mon-El interjects with a shake of his head, suddenly happy to return to their original subject. Ral stands behind Winn, his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, as though he is expecting something from him. He swallows with some effort, his mouth suddenly flooding with a bitter taste on the back of his tongue. His stomach clenches and rolls as he fights off the onset of nausea, his vision turning white and grey around the edges.

"Hey, are you okay, buddy?" Winn asks, his voice becoming serious.

Mon-El marshals his strength and his long-ago honed ability to wear a smile in almost any situation, no matter how humiliating or painful and takes a step away. He throws his hands up in the air and grins. "You got me! Don't know," he chuckles forcefully, "don't know why I ever tried to pull one over on a genius like you. I'm the guy."

Winn's eyes glaze over as he lets this news sink in for a moment, before his face lights up like a fireworks display. "I knew it!" he exclaims. "Who else knows?" There's a desperate gleam in the younger man's eyes like he needs to be thrown a bone, or the collective disappointments he's experienced this week will become too much.

Conspiratorially, Mon-El's eyes do their own sweep of the surrounding area, over Winn's head before answering. "Well, J'onn…obviously. And Kara."

"That's it?" Winn inquires excitedly. "I made third on the list?"

"J'onn and Kara both tell Alex everything…if she hasn't figured it out already."

"Fourth," Winn corrects. "That's okay…fourth is awesome. I can live with fourth."

"You're definitely in the loop now," Mon-El confirms. "I'm sure James will find out soon. He assigned Kara the story on me…uh Valor...so eventually she's going to have to spill the beans."

"Well I hope she does it soon," Winn frets a little. "I'm really not good in keeping this kind of secret from my friends."

"You mean about how you and James are…what's the word? Moonlighting? As this new hero Guardian?"

Winn's jaw drops, opening and closing like a landed fish gasping for water. "How did you…how did you…?"

"Subtext," Mon-El answers, his eyebrows waggling. "I see things, Winn. As you pointed out…up until last night, I lived here. When you're always around people have a tendency to forget that you're there around every corner. My quarters were right next to the training room. You two had more than a few chats about his 'suit' and I have a super hearing. And I've noticed how antsy and defensive you both get when Kara brings up Guardian. You're not the only one who can put together pieces."

"You haven't said anything to her, have you?" Mon-El can see a sheen of perspiration bead up at Winn's hair line as the man's voice grows ever more nervous.

"I think you'd know it if I did."

Winn imagines Kara's rampage. "Good point. Are you going to?"

"It's not my secret to tell," Mon-El decides. In all honesty he's had other things to worry about, and the moments when he's caught the peripherals of Winn and James in the midst of their new hobby have been thoroughly entertaining. Too entertaining to want to put it to a premature end. "But don't think I won't, if I think for a moment your extracurriculars are putting her in danger." There may be more to worry about now than just her.

"Understood."

"Now what was it you said you had for me?"

"Oh right! The design for your suit," Winn shifts instantly into a mode of excitation. "I thought we could look them over, talk color scheme, make any changes you think necessary, and maybe get some measurements so I know how much material to license."

"Sounds like a plan," Mon-El agrees. If Kara isn't here, he like the idea of having something meaningful to do that isn't running endlessly on the treadmill or binge watching programs on Netflix.

"I promise I'm going to make you look great!" Winn enthuses, leading Mon-El back to his bank of computers. "Just you wait."

TBC