The Daily Planet was quiet as the reporters watched the news in the bull pen. They'd all heard about the destruction in Starling City on the radio or seen footage on their phones before coming into work, but there was something potent about seeing it together on Channel 38.

Everyone remembered Merlyn's earthquake disaster last year, and that had certainly been difficult to watch. But what Starling City was enduring now was on a whole other level. Juiced-up men in masks stomped around causing all kinds of mayhem; there had to be hundreds of them. It wasn't long before people noticed that for all the citizens and public property targeted, not a single news crew was harmed. They wanted this broadcasted. That just made it more disturbing.

"Why haven't they sent in the National Guard or something?" someone wondered. "These bastards have been tearing up the city for most of the night and the government still hasn't sent help."

People near him muttered their theories: still strategizing, tangled in red tape, but the conversation died with the sound of a building collapsing.

"I have a feeling their vigilante is in over his head." mused Lois Lane. Clark couldn't tell if she was dismayed or grimly satisfied; she'd never been a fan but had slowly come to admit that he was trying to help. And he really was; Clark saw that from the start, even though he didn't like his methods.

He took another careful sip of his coffee. "Maybe he has a plan."

Her eyes never left the screen. "This has been going on all night. If he had a plan, it probably failed a few hours ago."

A bloodcurdling shriek echoed from somewhere behind the reporter and they cut to the news room. The anchorwoman was fighting tears as the anchorman read from the teleprompter in a shaky voice.

It was more of what they already knew: Starling City under attack, police overwhelmed, citizens trying to evacuate.

Jimmy Olson handed Lois a coffee. "Is there really no one who can help?"

I could, thought Clark as he took another lingering sip from the "Best Buddy Ever" mug Jimmy got him two Christmases ago. The question was if he should. He knew he definitely wanted to. Clark had never been great at ignoring a cry for help, but his cousin's words always rang in his ears when he considered it: No matter how nice we are they will always be afraid. They'll hate us and the government will try to hunt us down. We can't expect them to accept us. She was right, of course. Kara was the smart one. The scared one too, to be honest. But it was a healthy fear, and a valid one. He wondered where she was, and whether she was watching the news. Maybe she was conflicted as well, tempted to swoop in and help.

His glasses began to fog up and he had to lift his head away from his steaming mug.

"This just in,"

All eyes snapped back to the screens.

"What appears to be a rogue super soldier is attacking the invading army."

The following footage was compiled bits and pieces of varying length. The first was just a flash; something zoomed past and tore right through an unsuspecting soldier. The next was of a soldier getting speared with a broken lamppost by an unseen opponent. Several severed heads sailed through the air in quick succession behind a reporter. Another showed a flaming bus flying towards a large crowd of the aggressors; only a handful evaded the impact. The stragglers, all eight of them, stood together and faced the twisted mound of melting metal and damaged brethren. They looked so eager to stare down their attacker, begging whoever it was to ascend the wreckage and try to finish them off.

They got their wish. Something catapulted over the metal and fire, landing just feet away from the eight super soldiers. The cameraman gasped and inched ever so slightly from behind the concrete wall he hid behind.

The rogue soldier wore a blue dress. And damn, was she pissed.

Every single person in the Daily Planet leaned forward, their eyes wide. One guy could be heard choking on his latte.

The ensuing slaughter was downright gladiatorial. That blonde ball of fury ripped them apart with her dainty little hands. Except for one guy, who she killed with just her knees. Every move was fluid and deliberate and resulted in spraying blood.

"She's like a deadly ballerina," commented Jimmy. Clark nodded in agreement.

The woman ran off and the room collectively groaned; the cameraman had been too far away to catch her face. Everyone exchanged looks, all thinking the same thing: Who's that blonde?

Whoever she was and whatever made her stand up for the city, Clark was happy. A little confused, but happy. How was she able to take them on so easily? She was the only super woman they'd seen, so did that mean whatever made the men stronger was even more effective with her? Theories buzzed quietly around the room like gnats as the anchors once again commanded the screen.

"I envy the reporter who gets to interview her." blurted Lois. Clark smirked, knowing how intense she could be when it came to a good story.

A minute later, the anchorwoman smiled in surprise. "It has just been confirmed that the rogue soldier's face had been caught on camera,"

It switched over to footage taken by a cameraman who was running down an alleyway. When he reached the end, he was standing behind the blonde in the blue dress. She appeared to have just caught a silver SUV and was holding it over her head. She threw it with ease and it landed on three soldiers down the street.

And then she shot lasers from her eyes and set the car on fire.

Expletives and exclamations echoed throughout the room, because that shit was new. There had been a distinct lack of laser vision until now, and Clark found the power eerily familiar—

The blonde turned around. Her eyebrows rose upon seeing the cameraman, then she waved at the camera nervously before sprinting off.

Her face. They finally showed her face.

"Clark!" Lois yelped when his mug shattered on the linoleum.

The news had gone back to the anchors, so Jimmy scurried off to get paper towels and super glue. "By the way, whoever that is, I'm going to marry her!" he announced before leaving the room.

It had been ten years, but he knew it was Kara. His baby cousin had always been afraid to reveal her powers, yet there she was, using them for the sake of Starling City. It must've gotten really bad in order for her to give in. Did she know anything about the vigilante? Did she see him die? Or had the sheer magnitude of the devastation been enough? Clark absentmindedly wiped at his eyes. Poor Kara. She must feel so vulnerable and alone—

"Are you crying?" asked Lois, quietly and incredulously. "Why are you crying?"

That's my baby cousin and she must be so scared and I'm so proud of her and I miss her so much. But he knew he couldn't admit to any of that. Lois had that look in her eye, and he had to shut her down the best way he knew how.

"She's just so young," he said with a sniff, "and she's all tiny—I bet she's no taller than you! And did you see all that blood on her?" his voice began to quaver. "That's a lot of blood! What if some of it's her blood? And she's all alone!" The waterworks started and Lois uneasily patted his arm before handing him a tissue. "Her parents must be so worried!" he sobbed. Everyone was staring at him now. They all seemed uncomfortable. Yes. Yes. Be uncomfortable. Be very uncomfortable. "And she's doing all that in a dress! It's so hard to fight in a dress! And she's not even wearing shoes!" He squeaked the last word and bawled into his soaked tissue.

One terribly awkward second later, Jimmy was back and Lois was shoving Clark towards him.

"Put that stuff down and find him a place to be alone." she ordered. "He's disturbing people."

Jimmy did as he was told and led his sad buddy away, cooing consolingly as they walked down the hall. He left him in Linda Lake's empty office with a box of tissues and a Snickers bar. Now Clark felt kinda bad for hamming it up but hey, free Snickers. And it had been necessary, anyway; if anyone suspected that he knew who the blonde was, it'd put the both of them in danger. And on top of that, he'd managed to strengthen his reputation as a total pansy, which would sure come in handy in the future.

He took out his phone so he could continue watching the news. By the time he clicked on the app, there was more footage.

Where… the hell… was her dress? Was she wearing a hoodie? Just a red hoodie?! And who was this guy fighting by her side? They brought the pain and made it rain blood while the reporter looked on in amazement.

The reporter and cameraman both seemed out of breath when they reached the two fighters. Seriously, who was Kara's new sidekick? And why did he kind of look like a younger version of himself, with his fair skin, dark hair, blue eyes, and all-around Adonis-like handsomeness?

"Who are you?" the reporter asked, shoving the mic in her face.

"She's my baby cousin," Clark murmured through a mouthful of Snickers.

"Sorry, but we're in a hurry." Then she threw her dude's arm over her shoulder and they took off into the sky. Like, whoosh. Clark felt almost wistful. He missed flying.

After they were out of sight, the camera was trained on the reporter. He was just standing there, his brow furrowed.

"What are they, a fucking Powerpuff Girl and Rowdyruff Boy?"

Oops. Apparently that was a live feed. Though, really, they've been showing people being dismembered, so what's the harm in an f-bomb?

Smash cut to the news room, where the anchors joked about the Powerpuff crack the reporter made.

"They sure are a ways from the city of Townsville, aren't they, Mark?"

"Yes they are," But he clearly didn't understand the reference.

A few minutes later, they got new information.

"The heroes have been identified as Felicity Smoak and Roy Harper."

"Damn, Kara, that's a helluva name," Clark commented quietly.

"Felicity Megan Smoak is a Queen Consolidated employee—and EA to Oliver Queen, CEO." The picture from her employee ID accompanied the explanation. She looked very put together.

"Cool," Clark mumbled as he finished off the Snickers bar.

"Before her promotion, she worked in the I.T. Department. She is an orphan with no known relatives. Her only connection seems to be to Oliver Queen."

The anchorwoman, Sandra, took over for the next part. A picture of Felicity's sidekick popped up. "Roy William Harper Jr. is a Glades native with a criminal record. He has been dating Thea Queen for the past year and a half and is a busboy at her night club, Verdant."

"How interesting that they share a connection to the Queens," remarked Mark Marren.

Sandra Shapiro arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "I bet the Queens will be the first to get interviewed."

Then they started getting reports of the SCPD wanting to hunt down the two rogue soldiers and relaying that information. Clark was so annoyed with the police's ungratefulness that he blew a raspberry in frustration. As he wiped spit off the little screen, he mumbled angry words about the idiots who wanted to hurt his baby cousin. Talk of heavy artillery and a manhunt followed, which is when Jimmy came in.

"Hey, how are…. Wow, I've never seen you frown so hard." The photographer's head tilted to the side. "And I didn't know it was possible to spin around in a desk chair in anger."

"These men are fools, Jimmy!" Clark glared at his phone. "Fools,"

"Okay, I think someone is getting a little too empathetic," The younger man moved closer to the desk. "How about we go get some air, huh? And you can vent about my totally wonderful future wife."

The reporter considered that for a moment, then rose from Linda Lake's chair. Jimmy clapped him on the shoulder as they left the office.

"You done crying?" asked Lois unsympathetically as she caught up with them in the lobby.

"Yes, and I feel much better now." he replied with an adorable smile as they stopped in front of the doors.

She stared at him as if he were the most confounding thing she'd even seen, though it was also possible that she was trying very hard not to notice how adorable he was. Her lips puckered furiously before she licked her thumb.

"You have chocolate on you," she explained as her thumb rubbed at the corner of his mouth. Then she flounced out onto the sidewalk.

Days had gone by and the Queens were still hold up in the mansion. The police had come to interrogate them, but were answered with only flustered confessions of ignorance. Thea said slightly more than that, having gone into a heated tirade about their ingratitude, but that was all. Though Moira had barely known either Felicity or Roy, it had been Oliver who had said the least.

He'd come into the living room on a single crutch and sat down with very little grace. The CEO had admitted to as much as he could: she was his friend and he thought he knew her well. He had a glazed over, melancholy look that spurred the detective to end the interview quickly. There were plenty of QC employees who might know something, he said before leaving.

Oliver lay in bed, as he had to with so many injuries, and thought back. Had there ever been a time when Felicity had had a scratch or a bruise? When the Count had threatened to inject her, would the needles have snapped against her skin? Diggle had mentioned recently her fear of sharp objects, and Oliver remembered her fear of heights; perhaps what she had really feared was exposure.

And out of everyone, Felicity was the one who never pushed. She had never demanded answers when he told her those ridiculous lies before she joined the team, and she never nagged him about the island. Her understanding and patience now seemed to stem from empathy.

He closed his eyes. How could he be so self-centered? Not once had he ever asked about her family or childhood. There was no reason to expect her to open up if he didn't seem to care enough.

Her glasses were in his good hand, and he looked through the lenses again. They distorted nothing. They were just for show. The clues had been there, if he'd just talked to her, if he'd just paid attention to something other than himself. If he had, maybe she would've trusted him.

Thea entered his room without permission and plopped down beside him, her limbs sprawled. She stared at the ceiling before looking her battered brother in the eye.

"Hey," she sighed.

"Hey," he returned mechanically.

"People posted videos of them on YouTube," his sister said, holding up her phone, "Wanna watch? They're mostly of Felicity. I found some good ones."

Oliver shrugged. It was probably the closest he'd ever get to seeing Felicity again.

The first one must've been taken from a high-up apartment window. Below in the street, Felicity in her blood-and-blue dress ripped tires off an overturned eighteen wheeler and threw them at a herd of soldiers. It was confusing at first; why keep them away? Why not just tear through them? The moment the cluster was kept at bay, she turned around and crouched beside a wrecked sedan. Then she was on her knees, looking under. It finally occurred to him that she was talking to someone pinned under the car and was reluctant to move them at the risk of hurting them more.

The soldiers charged and she sprang up, grabbing each one and throwing them a mile down the street. It took a while but she seemed intent on avoiding bloodshed. Crouched by the sedan again, she slowly and carefully inched it this way and that, until she felt comfortable hurling it. Under the car had been a kid with an injured leg. She scooped him up like a baby and appeared to be talking to him. They gently lifted off the ground and flew away as the man behind the camera colorfully voiced his astonishment.

"She didn't want the kid to see her kill anyone." Thea stated. "I hope the news will start showing this one."

Neither of them had been interested in Channel 52, what with the bounty on their friends' heads. There was more talk of capturing them than thanking them. But losing Roy without warning had driven her to seek news of him elsewhere.

The next one was taken on a street that had seen a lot of destruction. The camera was trained on the fire and debris, with the camera holder's friend occasionally in the shot. Then the friend shouted, "Look! Up in the sky!"

With a murmur of confusion, the camera shook around until its owner had it trained on two figures soaring over his head. "Whooooa!" he shouted as Felicity zoomed away, her arm wrapped around Roy. When they were gone, the onlookers cackled in delight.

When it was done, she paused it and propped herself up on her elbow. "Oh, guess what the news has started calling her."

"I thought you weren't watching the news."

"I wasn't, but then I got too curious. And they've been interviewing people who think Roy and Felicity are heroes. Anyway, apparently they have names now, like how the vigilante is called the Arrow now. You wanna guess?"

"Supergirl?"

Thea rolled her eyes. "Clever, but no. She's the Blonde Bombshell."

"Nice." He even managed a smile.

"Now Roy,"

Oliver hummed in feigned contemplation. "Superboy?"

"No. Ollie, you suck at this. You're not even trying." She sat up, her legs tucked beneath her. "I don't know if you saw it, but there was this reporter who saw them beat the snot out of a bunch of bad guys and he tried to interview them but they flew off. He called them a Powerpuff Girl and a Rowdyruff Boy. That's what everyone's calling my boyfriend now."

"Rowdyruff Boy?"

"Yes! Your blonde secretary was flying around shooting lasers from her eyes while wearing blue and they're not calling her Bubbles, but Rowdyruff Boy is apparently Roy's official vigilante name now."

"Please stop trying to make me laugh, Speedy. Some of my ribs are broken."

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm being totally serious, though! My tough, brooding, criminal boyfriend is being referred to as Rowdyruff Boy. I think he actively tries not to be cute, and now he's Roy the Rowdyruff Boy, which I cannot say with a straight face. Like, how come your dorky EA has a sexy vigilante name and my hot BF gets a cartoon reference?"

"He must be more adorable than you think,"

"I bet he's pissed, wherever he is." Her smile was gone, and he saw her jaw tense. "Felicity and Roy saved the city and now they're on the run. How is that even close to fair? If Lance hadn't warned them, what do you think would've happened? Would they've allowed themselves to be arrested, or would they've been chased around by fighter jets? They're out there with nothing, and they barely know each other but they're all each other have, and we may never see them again."

Oliver had been thinking much of the same lately. He took his sister's hand. "They seem to make a good team. I'm sure they'll keep each other safe."

Her nose scrunched up. "That's the other thing. What if they get… cozy?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what if they can't resist the growing sexual tension and end up banging?"

His eyes narrowed. "He's not her type."

"And who's her type? You?"

"Yes."

"Oh," she nodded. "Right, and you and Roy have absolutely nothing in common. It's not like you're both handsome, brooding tough guys with magnificent jawlines. In no way is he just a poorer, snarkier version of you. I don't know why I was so worried."

Her brother took a moment to ponder that. "Oh, shit."

"Yeah. So let's hope they'll be able to come out of hiding before they start breaking headboards."

She rolled off the bed and left her brother to sulk, but remembered something as she stepped out the door.

"Hey, do you think the stuff that made Roy super was also used on Felicity? Everyone thinks that it just worked differently on her, but flying? Laser vision? All Roy has is strength and healing."

Oliver sighed and held out Felicity's glasses. "Put these on."

Thea took them curiously and slipped them on. "There's… no change. Like, at all."

"Exactly."

Her eyes grew wide behind the glasses. "Then why would she wear them? Are they supposed to be a fashion thing?"

"What do you think?"

"I think she was pretending to need glasses."

Just like she pretended she couldn't carry me into the Foundry the night my mother shot me, he thought. "What else do you think she was pretending?"

She took them off, staring at them as she considered the question. "I guess she was just pretending to be normal. Or trying really hard, at least."

"Well, she certainly had me fooled."

In the two months after they left Starling City, the two had crashed a high school prom, participated in amateur night at a strip club because they needed the money, and counted cards in Vegas. Needless to say, they'd bonded.

Now they were in Smallville and finally able to rest. The first thing Ma had done when they showed up was hug them and insist that they eat. The following days consisted of chores, chilling in the loft, and watching the news.

But after a few days, they had to get serious. Developing new identities would take a while, and they had to get started. Dying their hair came first. By some miracle she convinced him to go a rich strawberry blonde, while she chose a dark brunette. Then, with a little prodding, Roy put on Clark's old glasses.

"Why am I wearing these again?" he asked as they lay on the bed in her old room.

"For the same reason I wore mine: they serve as a reminder. That and they make you look different."

Roy sat up to look in her mirror. "I think the hair does that just fine."

"It's the combination that really works." she countered, poking him playfully. "Look at the person in the mirror. If you saw him on the street, what would you assume about him?"

He shrugged, quiet for a moment. "I guess he looks smart."

"Keep going,"

"Maybe he came from a good family,"

"I could see that,"

"And he doesn't have a record."

She encouragingly patted him on the knee. "Good job!"

Then he eyed her in her Daisy Dukes and tank top. "And you look like a stripper."

"It was one time, and you did it too." She sat up, clearly debating whether to slap that adorable smirk off his face. "And you were better than I was."

For a moment he glowed with pride. "I know, but look in the mirror."

Scowling, she did. Her wild dark hair created none of the softness that her old style had; the gentle blue of her eyes was now fierce and her fair skin seemed even lighter. This girl looked capable of felonies and responsible for a lot of broken hearts. Even when she softened her expression the impression didn't dim; the reflection was still confident… and even a little sexy. Roy had made a very good point.

"Now she's really gone," she choked out. Felicity Smoak had left too soon and with too little warning. Her blonde ponytail, her colorful nails, her glasses… she even missed her nut allergy, which she'd sometimes regretted. And Felicity had friends and a job she loved and a degree from MIT and even… No, it wouldn't help to go there.

"Hey," the boy said softly, taking her hand. The intimate contact startled her, as did his expression. He seemed to be mourning as well, and unlike the person he grieved for, he fearlessly showed his empathy. This guy, whoever he was, didn't feel the need to be stoic. "We can figure out little ways to remember them."

"Yeah," she said with a nod, her voice tight.

The boy smiled and nodded towards the mirror. "So, was I right?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if she were familiar with a brass pole."

"Told you so,"

"And she looks a little dangerous."

"Won't argue with that,"

"And I doubt she graduated high school."

"Yeah—Wait, she sounds a lot like Roy Harper."

Her eyes flicked to meet his bespectacled ones. "I guess she does. And that guy seems to have a bit in common with Felicity Smoak."

The boy looked away with an almost shy smile. "I bet that dweeb likes books a lot, too."

"Did Roy like books a lot?" The way he'd said it made her wonder.

He shook his head. "Nah, he couldn't. He grew up in the Glades. He had enough to deal with without worrying about being bullied."

"Had to be a tough guy,"

"Exactly."

"And that guy doesn't?"

He looked in the mirror and sighed, like a weight had been lifted. "He's okay with being a dork."

Fuck, he was adorable. She nodded in understanding. "I remember Clark having a decent library. I'm not sure what he took with him, but we can go look."

Mrs. Kent yelled for them, saying it was almost time for dinner.

"Maybe later. It's my turn to set the table." He almost seemed excited as he rose from the bed.

She watched him leave, admiring how Clark's old clothes fit him then chastising herself for doing so. Whoever this new girl was, at least she wasn't alone. She had him.