Oh why hello there, my long abandoned friends.

I sincerely hope there's actually some people still willing to bear with me with this story, 'cos I know it's been a ridiculous amount of time (enough for me to actually say, I hope you've had a very happy holidays, new year, start and semi-finish of Supergirl, Waitangi day if there's any fellow NZ'ers out there).

So yeah, I suck. Buuuuut I suck a little less because I'm also very happy to say that my amazing friend Fandomlove17 has gone even a step further and agreed to look over each chapter for me. So hopefully those niggly little bits that I always miss will be smoothed out, and I'd like to say a massive thank you to her for supporting me so much with this story. Couldn't do this without you babe xxxxx

I've struggled and beat this chapter into submission, and I hope it's at least worth the wait. Quick reminder, the bits in italics are flashbacks, running in chronological order since the beginning of this story. There's a month difference between where they started and the present day events, so basically they're just meant to show how we've got to what's happening now. I've made them so they're from different people's perspective, so hopefully that comes through!

Alrighty, I'll shut up now. Thank you all so so much for your support with this story, I love you all xx

...

Chapter Six:

Kara loved flying- always had and, she hoped with all her heart, always would.

With flying comes the sky, in its infinite wonder; with flying comes freedom and the undeniable sense of rightness. There was nothing that quite came close, Kara had learned, than the instant when she took to the air with the sun on her face and only the wide expanse of space above her.

But this wasn't flying.

This was… floating.

She didn't know where she was, what was happening, or why there was this indescribable pain that completely shattered her mind whenever she drifted too close to the surface. All she knew was that this haze- this white, cloudy surrounding- was just completely, utterly wrong.

But even as that thought comes to her, it just… disappears, lost to the fog of her memories.

Kara doesn't have the chance to mourn its loss though, because then she's floating away too.

(Alex's leg is healed completely two days later.

Over these days, she's submitted to every conceivable test Hamilton has created. They take hourly blood samples, analyzing the decay of the unknown drug in her system. She's made to breathe into tubes, to clench her fingers into a grip and tense her muscles to test her strength. She must've answered the same questions hundreds of times now.

Yes, there was a list of chemicals on the label of the vial Alex injected herself with (these, she's made to write down for the chem lab to analyze).

No, she didn't recognize all of them.

And yes, dammit, she understood the risk that came with.

At the end of these two days, after her daily scan shows just how complete her healing is, the DEO is forced to admit this one thing: they have absolutely no idea what they're dealing with.

For Alex, the two days where she's stuck at the DEO are filled with an absolute sense of foreboding.

It's not so much a wait for something horrible to happen, but rather the continuous belief that there was a thing just there, or had been there, or could be there again. While her skin no longer showed the mark, her leg throbbed with the phantom pain of the wound that had so unnaturally healed. With every movement came the memory of the liquid strength that had blazed through her veins, setting alight her muscles with unfathomable power.

Was this what Kara felt like? Was this what she dealt with every day?

Alex doesn't know; unsurprisingly, she isn't anxious to talk about how she's feeling, even with Kara.

And at the end of these two days, when the DEO is forced- reluctantly, but with little other option- to let her return home, Alex resolves to forget everything that happened.

She can forget the feel of the needle pressing into her skin, the way her skin burned as the drug flooded her veins. She'll ignore the phantom memories of the bullet carving through her leg, of her muscles stitching back together.

She'll push it all away.

And then they can finally move past this.)

Her father is the latest product of her fevered brain.

He's sitting at her side, running a soft hand through her hair, and under his breath he hums some long-lost melody from her childhood.

"Alex," he says softly, oh so softly, and the way her name sounds from his mouth is like a blanket draping across her battered body. "Alex. Alexandra."

He reaches up a hand, index finger pointing to first one definite spot, then another, then another, tracing patterns across the ceiling in a way the most distant part of her mind recognizes.

"That's Canis Major," she says reflexively, smiling slightly when her father nods in encouragement, "and that's Cygnus."

On and on this goes, with her carefully spotting the constellations, reciting information she'd long thought forgotten. She revels in this simple moment, and lets herself fall deeper into the infinity that space provides.

But slowly, the familiar sky above her stretches, thins, becomes something distorted. The starbursts of light bend and contort until they're unrecognizable. And it's then- when Alex is so thoroughly confused and lost as to where she is and what they're doing and just what the hell is going on- that her father looks to her.

But it's not the face she remembers from her childhood- all smile lines and bright eyes.

Instead, it's the face her father had when he'd betrayed them for Cadmus.

It's the face of a stranger.

"We told you to take care of Kara," he says, "look what a good job you've done."

(Alex jerks awake with a start, her heart racing and shadows playing at the edges of her vision. The curtains were still drawn, but strips of sunlight showed through the gaps. It was late, obviously later than the usual time that she'd wake up.

So why didn't she feel rested?

Alex sits up, drawing in a harsh breath when the motion sends a wave of dizziness through her head. That was one of the things she'd neglected to mention to the DEO medics; the persistent lightheadedness that attacked her whenever she made a sudden movement. They would've seen it only as another reason to keep her locked away in the DEO for more tests.

But it was fine; it's only been a day since she left the overbearing care of the DEO. It'd stop by itself.

Maggie's not in the bed next to her, but the sounds of her voice travel through from the kitchen. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Alex hoists herself up and follows her girlfriend's words. She just manages to make out what Maggie's saying as she reaches the bedroom door and, instinctively, she freezes.

"I know, sir," she hears Maggie say. Then there's a brief silence while, presumably, the person on the other side of the phone answers. "Yes- I'm aware, but I just need a bit more time off, sir, I believe I have more than enough holiday days owing-"

Whoever it is cuts off Maggie again, and then comes the undeniable sound of the Detective letting out a frustrated breath, sharp through her teeth, before she positively snarls out, "I'm well aware of the importance of this case, sir, but this is more important. Korsak can more than handle everything while I'm gone. I'm taking these days off, and I'm prepared to face the consequences for that when I return."

Maggie hangs up the phone, and in the silence that follows Alex opens the door, padding silently over towards the kitchen. The detective must hear her approach though, because she turns, giving Alex a smile that doesn't fully reach her eyes. "Hey," she murmurs, brushing back several strands of hair that have escaped from her messy bun, "didn't hear you get up. You hungry?"

Alex nods absently, pushing forward to grip the back of one of the kitchen chairs. "Was that Weston?" she asks, referring to Maggie's captain, the man she comes home complaining of and praising in equal measure.

"The one and only," her girlfriend replies, turning to the stovetop.

"He didn't sound too happy with you asking for more time off."

"Yeah, well, he'll live with it." Maggie cracks some eggs into a pan with entirely too much force than is necessary, swearing under her breath when the shell cracks apart and the yolk drips down the side of the pan.

Alex hesitates for a few seconds, shifting her weight to her other leg- only to switch back in an instant when the phantom pain from the gunshot throbs sharply. "You didn't need to take any more days off."

Maggie doesn't even look up. "Yes, I did- I do."

"I'm fine, babe. Hamilton wouldn't've released me if she thought something would still be wrong-"

"Alex," Maggie interrupts sharply, her eyes alight with so much anger that all Alex can do is stare, "just stop talking, alright? Stop saying things you think will comfort me, because they won't," she turns back to the stove, stirring the eggs with furious, pounding movements. "I don't need your words, or your excuses, and I don't need you to tell me whatever goddamn thing you think Hamilton believes. I don't need anything, except for you to sit down and eat breakfast."

By the end of it, she's breathing heavily and even from this relative distance away, Alex can see the way her hands shake as she lifts the pan away from the stove and over to the plates lined up ready on the opposite counter. The eggs have only been cooking for a minute at the most, and they're still a runny mess when Maggie attempts to slide them onto the plates. Alex doesn't say anything though, until the pan slips slightly in her girlfriend's shaky grip and, instinctively, Maggie brings up her other hand to steady it, burning her fingers on the scorching metal. "Shit," she mutters lowly, shaking her hand.

Alex moves forward instantly, reaching out to take her girlfriend's hand. There's a horrible instant where- with her heart stuttering and her brain completely blacking out- she thinks Maggie will jerk away from the contact. But Alex doesn't even have the time to brace herself for the earth-shattering despair that will bring before Maggie's hand's in her own, small and warm and familiar.

Just that one touch is almost enough to make her forget why she feared such distance in the first place.

Almost.

"Come here," she says roughly, tugging Maggie's arm towards the sink. The water's cool and soothing as it washes over their joined hands. Maggie allows it, standing silently as Alex holds her burned hand gently, her thumb tracing nonsensical patterns over her skin.

They're close enough for Alex to make out the subtle kaleidoscope of colours in Maggie's eyes, the warm browns and gentle golds that seem to merge together in an impossible, mesmerizing pattern.

Kara had told her once, about what it felt like in the Phantom Zone, to look out and know that what was in front was endless and infinite, boundless and uncharted. Maybe this is what she'd meant, Alex thought, looking into Maggie's eyes, because she could lose herself forever in their depths.

"We need to talk."

But Maggie's gone again, turning away from her, and when she speaks her words are clipped and cold. "No, we don't. Just- just eat your damn breakfast, alright?"

"Maggie."

The Detective whirls around. "What exactly would you like me to say, huh? Since you seem to have the answers to everything, Alex, tell me what to say."

"I don't have the answers to everything."

The laugh that falls from Maggie's lips is pained and breathless. "You don't? Then what made you inject yourself with that needle, huh? What possible reason could you have for that? You do some crazy things for your sister- and I love it, I really do, I love how much you two care about each other. But don't you dare tell me it was for her, 'cos there's not one bit of me that believes it was what Kara would've wanted."

Alex groans, rubbing at her eyes till she sees stars. There's a thousand things she could say, none of which would be what Maggie wants to hear. She could explain how afraid she'd been, knowing that her strength was waning with every drop of blood that fell from her leg. She could describe how desperate Kara had been, how hard she'd been fighting despite the Kryptonite that laced the walls and swept through her system like poison.

She could say all that, and it still would've come close to describing the myriad of emotions that had been running through her mind as she pressed the needle to her veins.

But, Alex thinks, she owes it to Maggie to at least try.

She reaches- across a horrible, almost unfathomable distance- for Maggie's hand, and while the Detective doesn't move away from her touch, her hand remains stiff and unmoving in Alex's own. She ghosts her fingertips over the skin of her palm, tracing the familiar paths and ridges, the roughness that has formed over the back of Maggie's knuckles. It'd been something Alex had commented on, a long time ago now, as a sign that they should be together; with all the similarities between their work, their hands were identical.

"I was thinking about this," she says quietly, interlocking their fingers together and bringing them to her lips, "I was thinking about us," she breathes.

Maggie's silent for a long time, long enough that Alex isn't entirely convinced that she's not ignoring her, but then eventually she speaks. "I don't want you taking those sorts of risks."

"I know."

"But I'd be a hypocrite to ask you to stop."

Alex doesn't answer, instead choosing to squeeze her girlfriend's hand gently. There's an understanding in the gesture- a thankfulness that Maggie hasn't asked that impossible question, a reassurance that Alex, in turn, won't demand the same.

Maggie sighs deeply, raising a hand- the one that's not currently trapped in Alex's own death grip- to brush at her eyes quickly. "Just- just please don't do something like that to me again, okay? At least not for a while. Give me some time to recover."

In response, Alex tugs her girlfriend closer, pressing her lips to Maggie's forehead and reveling in the impossible amount of reassurance this brings.

She'd spent the past three days trying to forget the feel of the needle pressing into her skin, of the drug flooding her veins and the impossible strength flowing through her limbs.

But then with Maggie, she loses herself all over again.

It's only in retrospect that they'll both realize Alex never actually responded to Maggie's question.

But maybe that's for the better; if she had, it'd just be another broken promise.)

Kara is back the next time Alex stumbles into relative clarity. She's a hand brushing against her hair, a flicker of blonde at the edge of her vision, a caress that, despite it's obvious gentleness, still leaves a trail of white-hot pain against Alex's skin.

She's there, and then she's not. She's Supergirl, then Kara. She's bleeding out on the floor, covered in blood and bruises in one instant, and in the next she's whole and perfect, laughing that ridiculously joyous laugh.

And then, almost inexplicably, it's her sister, but as the impossibly young girl she'd been when Kal-El had first bought her to Alex's family.

She sits in a chair in the corner- a chair that definitely wasn't there an instant ago, in a corner of a room Alex can't identify- and she's just so small that her feet barely scuff the floor as she swings her legs gently.

Alex stares. "Kara," she thinks she says. Her tongue so cracked and her throat so horribly dry that she isn't entirely sure the name makes it past her lips. "Kara."

The girl stills, turning to face her. And while the colour of her eyes- a blue so bright and pure- is familiar, there's another emotion there that Alex has never seen.

"Kara," she wants to say. But now the world is fading again. But not into the swirling expanse of colours she's expecting. This is something dark and grey. This is falling. This is nothing. "Kara…"

Alex is powerless now, gripped by the shadows. And her eyes blink once, twice.

Was it always this hard to breathe? Did she always have to fight this hard? And God, she's so tired of fighting.

"Kara…"

She breathes.

In and out. In and out. In… and then…

And then…

J'onn stands outside of Alex's room once again, just watching through the one-way glass as she thrashes against the bed.

It must be early morning by now, and the only change in Alex's status is her slowly rising temperature. It now hovers just above 101 degrees. And it's enough to have everyone even more on edge- the doctors, that is. J'onn watches in a steady disconnection.

That's not his favourite agent thrashing against the restraints.

Just like it's not the girl from the stars lying in a medically-induced haze back in the infirmary.

It's this blatant denial of the facts right in front of him, rather than anything, which has been keeping him going. It's an illusion of safety, he knows, but it still remains so much easier than facing this reality.

The agent he'd left in charge of the hunt for the Montgomery's had just sought him out. With exhausted eyes and a frustrated- if not, defeated- voice, he'd explained that once again, their increased efforts in finding the father and son remained hopeless.

He's grown to accept that now, though. There's not many people capable of remaining outside the scope of the government's reach for such an extended time. The fact that the Montgomery's have means that they've got something else at play, and that same thing will continue to be in play until J'onn can understand who- or perhaps, what, he's now thinking- they're dealing with.

Which has led him right back to here. Because J'onn's sure that the only person capable of the knowledge is on the other side of the cell.

"Kara…" Alex calls from inside the room, her voice a whisper- and a broken one at that, falling heavily in the stark room. "Kara."

J'onn bows his head, no longer physically able to watch. He doesn't know if Alex is calling for Kara because she's aware of what's happened, or if she's lost in some feverous delirium, trapped within memories.

Either way, it's hard to hear.

Either way, it's heartbreaking.

(On the day Alex is cleared to return to work, Kara arrives at the DEO a few minutes earlier, dressed in her Supergirl outfit and bearing a small, slightly grease-stained, white box.

She catches J'onn's glance and grins. "For Alex," she says, almost bouncing on her feet, "they're her favourite."

The logo on the top has an address finding the store in Georgia, meaning that she must've flown over 2000 miles before coming here, but J'onn doesn't question it. For the past two weeks while Alex has been on forced leave, the few times Kara had stepped foot inside the DEO, she'd been different. She still went about her business as Supergirl to an impeccable standard, but when she was actually on the base, working with the agents, she was quieter, more reserved, as if not completely sure as to her place in the agency without her sister by her side.

Which was ridiculous, of course, but not entirely incomprehensible.

So instead of rolling his eyes, as Winn does, or chuckling in amusement, like Vasquez, he stays silent, merely giving Kara a gentle smile of encouragement.

They're not waiting for very long before Alex enters, a little slower than usual, her usual blank face slightly colder than it usually is. But she still grins when she sees them waiting for her, and the fond laugh she rewards Kara with when she sees the box in her hands is just as warm and bright as it usually is.

"You shouldn't've," Alex says, even as she opens the lid, groaning at the smell of the fresh pastry.

Kara's smile is blinding. "I wanted to do something special for you, to celebrate you coming back to work."

"Exactly. 'Cos since I'm back to work, I need to follow my usual workout regime."

Kara barely hesitates a second, taking a bouncing step forward with her hands outstretched, already making grabbing motions. "Oh! No worries, I'll just take those back then-"

"Don't you even dare," Alex warns, tucking the box protectively against her chest.

Any interest that Alex had drawn at her entrance is practically lost then at this familiar sight. Because it's just Agent Danvers and Supergirl, just Alex and Kara, with their gentle teasing and squabbling and impossible closeness. For the moment, at least, it's familiar enough to quiet the rumors.

J'onn though, can't stop the niggling seed of doubt in the back of his head. "Agent Danvers," he says in greeting. She straightens, turning to face him- and yes, there it is: she's favoring her left leg, only slightly, barely noticeable, but enough to set off a small alarm bell.

"J'onn," she says, "it's good to be back."

Her voice is different too; unyielding and firm, like she has to prove a point rather than the easy confidence she used to have.

And that's all it takes for him to decide.

"Not completely back," he reminds her pointedly, hating himself as he watches Alex's shoulders tighten. "Agent Danvers, you're required to fully complete the mandatory psych evaluation, following which you'll be writing a very extensive report on what happened two weeks ago, to be on my desk by the end of the day. Understood?"

The Alex Danvers of the past would've protested furiously- and she does still now, but there's an undercurrent of something different lining her thoughts, the barest hint of actual, undeniable fear.

He fixes her with a sharp look, daring her to argue, and watches as her face locks down completely.

Kara's eyes are wide and watchful, but Alex merely nods once. Giving her sister a small smile, she turns and walks in the direction of the offices, towards where the DEO's resident psychologists are no doubt waiting for her.

There she'll be carefully analysed and monitored, questioned and scrutinized. It was no secret that that set of offices were some of the most dreaded among the agents. But, J'onn theorized, an absolute necessity.

"You think she's ready to come back to work then?" Winn asks, palming his tablet tightly.

"She's Alex," Kara says, as if it's the simplest thing in the world. "Of course she's ready."

And they walk away, following Alex.

They don't notice his silence. They don't notice his doubt.)

It's an absence of something that draws J'onn from his thoughts.

It takes him a moment to place it, but then amid the chaos of the DEO, there's one less maelstrom of emotions.

And it's because, he realizes, he's not registering Alex anymore.

And then suddenly, there's a noise; a harsh, abrasive, furious beeping.

But not from immediately close to J'onn.

No.

Instead, he spins around, fully aware of, but not really prepared for, the sight he knows will greet him.

Alex motionless on the bed, a blaring contrast to the furious flashing from the heart monitor to her left, which shows a steady, unchanging flat line.

"Alex," he breathes, putting his palm to the glass.

Barely an instant later, Dr. Richards and several other medics crash into the room, and then suddenly the previous stillness that had gripped the room earlier is replaced with a flurry of activity. J'onn can't make out what they're saying through the thick glass between them, but if he concentrates hard- an increasingly difficult task now, considering the emotional strain he's now feeling- he can instead catch fleeting and panicked thoughts.

-stat's falling-

-temp's through the roof-

-need to get some anti-seizure meds through that line before her system entirely collapses-

J'onn pulls himself back, reins himself in. Distance, he reminds himself, and disconnection, that's not Alex that's not Alex, it's fine.

Oh, the fuck is he kidding?

That's Alex and he's terrified.

The doctors fly around the room, rushing to treat Alex, desperately working to save her life, to get her heart beating once more. They throw terms around to each other, each sounding more complicated and concerning than the previous, and all J'onn can do is just stand there and stare at the chaos unfolding before him.

"Come on, Alex," he mutters- pleads- "come on, come on, fight."

For Kara, he thinks, for Maggie. For Eliza, and James and Winn.

For the myriad of people who can't live without you, Alex.

Fight.

The second Dr. Richards steps out of Alex's room, J'onn steps forward, crowding the unassuming man with all the force of his intimidating, director figure. "What happened?" he growls out.

The doctor instinctively tries to take as step backwards, but finds quickly that there's no space for him to do so. Instead, he's forced to face the full force of the Martian's anger. He visibly swallows. "We've got her stabilized now," is all he offers as answer, and it's not near enough to calm J'onn's blazing worry.

"What. Happened"

"We've been carefully analyzing the drugs in her system," Richards forces out, the words nervous and stuttering. "And while we haven't yet received the results of her bloodwork back from the lab, we've noted that they're decaying in a way that is, at least, reasonable."

It's taking all of J'onn's considerable mental strength not to scour the man's mind himself; that'd be a definite way of getting the answers he needs faster.

"Just tell us what happened, man," comes a voice from behind. J'onn turns slightly, noting that he's no longer alone in his vigil, that James Olsen and Winn are standing behind him. He's oddly reassured by their presence.

The doctor takes a second to compose himself, straightening his white coat and clearing his throat and good God, who was this man? Surely J'onn wouldn't've hired someone this infuriating?!

"What was also reasonable, was Agent Danvers' condition over the past 24 hours. Her fever, the delirium, they are all classic indicators of someone experiencing withdrawal."

"Whoah," Winn says, "but Alex can't be- addicted- to anything, right?" His voice, as usual, lilts up towards the end, an ever-present question to the world at large.

And J'onn wants to answer him, to reassure, to maintain the delusion that things will be so easily fixed. But with each new revelation comes the sense that things are just completely falling through his fingers. Surely- surely- there's another explanation for this.

But that's just the thing- because if there is, he can't see it.

Richards answers instead. "I can't make any judgements until we get the results back on her bloodwork. Regardless of whatever those tests show, we're going to proceed more cautiously with her treatment now."

"But how is that possible? How could she have this level of addiction- how could that drug still be so present in her blood- that it's having this effect on her now?"

At this, Richards shakes his head firmly. "No. I've never seen anything like this before, but I can tell you this; based on the decay rates we're seeing now, that drug was injected into her system far more than one time. Recently too."

Silence is a funny thing, J'onn muses. Back on Mars the concept simply didn't exist, because how could you have such impossible quiet when, at all possible times, your mind was filled with noise?

And right now, everyone's thoughts were screaming.

James talks first, voicing what everyone else seems apparently unable to. "Then I'm just going to ask the question everyone else is thinking: where did she get more of the drug?"

It's not so much the fact that Lena Luthor is standing at Alex's door. And it's not even that she's asking to see Alex. It's the fact that- for the first time that Maggie has ever seen her, including all those months back where she'd arrested the L-Corp executive in her own office- she actually looks worried.

"What are you doing here?" Maggie asks, rubbing hard at her eyes- traces of sleep still cling to her mind like cobwebs and honestly, she's still not entirely sure she's not hallucinating Lena right now.

"I already told you," the Luthor says, her voice cool and even, "I need to see Alex. Is she here?" she moves to look past Maggie into the apartment, but with one smooth motion the Detective blocks her way. Lena freezes instantly, and while her dark eyes flash with some unknown emotion, her face remains impassive. "I don't want to argue with you."

Maggie chokes out a laugh, leaning against the doorframe with a nonchalance she certainly doesn't feel. "That's funny. Because I definitely want to argue with you."

And yeah, maybe she is taking some of her frustration out on Lena right now, and there's a part of her- the usually more reasonable, 'good cop' mindset- that's telling her to rein it in.

But then the memories of the past week come back to her- her memories of Kara, more specifically.

And her frustration hardens into something far worse.

Lena's jaw noticeably clenches, and when she speaks next there's a definite clip to the end of her words, as if she's struggling to maintain the mask of professionalism she usually flawlessly holds. "I know you don't understand, but right now I'm here to help. This has nothing to do with Kara."

"Nothing to do with Kara?!" Maggie echoes in disbelief, "I- you-" for a second she flails, completely lost in the face of the fact that Lena doesn't know about what's happened.

She doesn't know about the explosion at the DEO, or about Alex or anything about Kara. How could she have known?

But then, with the cold sense of certainty that comes with a sudden realization, Lena's words came back to her.

'I made a mistake. I need to talk to Alex.'

And she realizes that her earlier assumptions weren't entirely correct; while Lena obviously wasn't aware of recent events, she most certainly knew something.

"What aren't you telling me?" she asks furiously. It's then- as her hands start to quiver- that Maggie notices she's still carrying her gun in her left hand, and even as she realizes this, she sees Lena's eyes travel to it, widening imperceptibly. She doesn't move away though, if anything, the steps closer, as though daring Maggie to use it.

"I don't have the time to give you an explanation," she says, and her voice has the same steely emotion that Maggie's heard her use to silence entire boardrooms, "I'm here for Alex." And with that, Lena pushes Maggie's restraining hand away, pushing boldly past her into the apartment. And after barely a split second of hesitation, Maggie turns to follow her, slamming the door shut so the neighbours won't be disturbed the verbal bitch fight that's about to occur. She takes a moment, as well, to place her gun back with her jacket, slung over the chair.

Lena strides through the apartment, checking each room to make sure Alex isn't there. By the time she gets back to the main space, where Maggie's been waiting for her, she's wearing a look that- if Maggie didn't know better- she'd call panic.

"Where's Alex?"

"Not here."

This time is Lena's turn to growl furiously. "When are you going to understand that I'm trying to help her- to help you."

"When you tell me just what the hell you've got to do with anything."

"I can do that," Lena says, stepping closer, "or I could spend that time telling you how to save Alex."

It's like a lightning strike; a split second of absolute shock, followed by devastation.

Maggie doesn't even register that she's advanced on the L-Corp CEO, enough so that they're standing barely an inch apart, looking furiously into each other's eyes. "What do you-" she starts to say.

She never gets it out though.

Because at that precise moment, her phone rings.

Normally, she wouldn't answer it. She's all but about to throttle Lena, and she needs to be fully focused to keep that anger in check. But her intuition kicks in- that small part of her mind that gives her such a good read of people, that seems to sense danger before the threat has even made itself known. And she knows- just knows- that it's J'onn on the phone. That something's happened to Alex in the time that she's gone.

She looks up. "You said you made a mistake. With Alex?" she asks.

Lena nods. "She came to me, asking for help. I didn't realise what it was," her voice drops a little, and she shifts where she stands, "I should've done."

If there's an apology laced in her words, Maggie ignores it. It's not an apology she wants. "And Kara? Was the way you handled that a mistake too?"

At the mention of Kara's name, Lena goes still, her eyes flashing dangerously. "I… I haven't quite decided yet." Her gaze flickers briefly towards one of the photos Alex has lining the walls, a simple one of Alex and Kara from when they were teenagers. In the photo, their heads are pressed together, a contrast of blonde and dark hair, and they grin broadly at whoever's taking the photo.

It's the subtle shift in Lena's gaze that makes up Maggie's mind.

"Come on," she says, moving to grab her jacket and gun, "I need to get back to the DEO. You're coming with me."

Woohoo! Finally got there! Things are moving on a bit faster now, but I'm just gonna say that the next chapter's a doozy. It's gonna be a big one, where some things come together and a few more things fall apart. So please bear with me, cos this story's still got a way to go yet.

I'd love to hear any and all thoughts on this chapter, but thank you all soo much for continuing to read and follow and favourite! Your support means the world.

Let's see how long the next chapter takes for me to get out, shall we?

-F