Focus.

In the heat of battle, focus determines everything.

It is disassociating personal from professional, differentiating between the good and bad, knowing who to shoot before the bullets are in her -it is all focus. Focus determines whether she walks away from the DEO at the end of the day or leaves it in a body bag.

Alex Danvers learns this young. Learns this fast. Accepts it. And lives it now in the battle of century.

Rumbling skies rain on as DEO agents swarm around her like ninjas in the night, identities only confirmed by the stitched pasty labels visible under the sweeping spotlights of helicopters and flashing bright lightning strikes. Each assuming predesignated spots that would provide them with the most efficient area of cover.

By sheer whim, the Legion has contained one on the corner between Fifth and Broadway, just two blocks away from CatCo and the rest of Downtown National City and Alex along with a task force of specialized agents had been dispatched to help ensure its destruction.

Because it is more than just Reign now.

Because these things always come in twos, threes, and entire armies. Never alone.

And now it has come in the shape of World Killers. Biological superweapons created by some distant alien military scientists, outlawed by the Kryptonian Science Council, hell bent on asserting dominance over anything with a heartbeat.

This one was calling itself, Deimax, and that's all she cared to know.

Admittedly, the DEO special operations team is a little late to the fight. The battlefield is constantly changing, when it comes to villains like these, who have little stopping them from moving where they please. It made containment difficult and evacuation routes almost impossible, shown pointedly now in the empty cars that litter the streets and the screaming civilians still running for cover. This sobering reality contributed to a devastating hindrance for the DEO, but it's what tended to happen when everyone else had some variation of transportive ability, while the very human special operations squad was limited to a tank of gas and four-wheel drive.

The brunette can just barely see over the ledge of concrete she'd taken cover behind, the Legion are positioned in every which way on the street, bruised and battered and bloody, exemplifying every bit of the exhaustion bestowed by the tiresome blows, but still somehow gearing themselves up for more danger.

Focus.

Alex leans back, tracks to Agent Spencer's gaze across the street, partially hidden from view by the barrels and crates outside Noona's, a bagel shop. She sees the kryptonite cannon in the other agent's hands, and nods to her in confirmation when the woman motions toward her, tapping the butt of the gun.

"Beta Team in position."

Alex mutters into the flow of other voices bring static conversation in the com lines as she moves to switch from her Glock to her own kryptonite weapon.

"Ok. So that's three teams in position, if we time this right then-"

Winn's frantic updates ringing in her comm from base are interrupted by Mon-el's winded exhausted voice.

"Could you hurry? We can't hold off for much longer."

Alex can see him stumbling, and now that the metal of her kryptonite cannon is heavy in her hands, she's eager to do something.

"We hear you. J'onn, permission to engage?"

After numerous experiments, they'd found out that kryptonite did affect the World Killers, but it required a much higher potency for it to render the same consequences on them as it did on Kara and Clark. She'd been synthesizing a more potent form for weeks, efforts culminating in twenty-five emerald green bullets. Each to be loaded in weapons with enough concussive force to penetrate through four locomotives from over fifteen hundred meters away.

If planned right, it would put a World Killer out of commission. Permanently.

"Affirmative."

And now they had their chance to test it.

J'onn's voice is strained. Alex knows from the comms that he's taken more than a few hits trying to help Clark with another one, both blocks away, but still in the fray.

Kara is God knows where, having pushed Reign away from the evacuating crowds of civilians she'd tried to attack. Since then, the blonde's been more or less silent, though the brunette can hear the soft curses every time Reign's blows land just a little too hard.

J'onn had sent another strike team after them, but transportation and lack of adequate routes seemed to be as much a difficulty for them as it had for her team. She wishes they could hurry, because Alex can still see the bruises on her sister from the last battle. Can still see how Kara hadn't moved-

There is another crash and grunt of corresponding pain as Mon-el is thrown against a wall.

Focus, goddamnit.

"On my count."

Alex whispers into the comms and the noise trickles to whispers as she concentrates.

The sharp cracks of normal gunshots, the whine of bullets ricocheting off the World Killer's impenetrable skin, the screams, the grunts and pants of pain dwindles off to a standstill and the complete lack of sound that replaces it seems deafening, Alex's ears hurt more from the silence than from the noise that came before, but it's the only way to get a good shot.

Drown it all out.

Focus.

Slick rain twists its way down her tangling hair, soaking her jacket, tracing patterns down her hands, making the grip on her gun slippery, until she's forced to readjust.

"Three."

Through her gun scope, she sees the sharpened focus of Irma pulling Mon-el away from rubble as Brainiac Five grabs the World Killer's attention.

"Two."

The safety of her gun clicks off as Deimax falls into its crosshairs.

"On-"

*Boom*

Alex flinches hard to the left, delving back behind the safety of the concrete, as her earpiece screams with static.

"Where did that shot come?"

She demands over the com, searching the sky.

Silence.

"Someone answer me! Where the hell did that shot from?"

"Agent Danvers, we still have the shot-"

Agent Spencer is saying from across the way.

"Not until someone tells me where the hell-"

"But Agent Danvers-"

Alex ignores her.

"Alpha Team report!"

The line crackles.

"Alpha Team, present. No shots fired. Over."

"Beta Team report!"

"Beta Team, present. No shots fired. Over."

"J'onn? Status report."

"No shots fired."

That leaves… Kara.

"Supergirl? Status report."

The line crackles.

Silence.

"Supergirl?"

The rush of emotions surge forward within her like a frightened horse, consuming her, making her hands start to shake.

"Alex, please just give the goddamn order!"

Irma.

The British-like lilt in her accent almost consumed by desperation.

Alex can barely hear it over her own fear.

"Supergirl!"

Nothing.

And she can't breathe for its echoes, can't swallow for the churning nausea in her stomach, can't think for her mind is clouded by her fear...

"Agent Schott locate Supergirl's tracker. Fire the shot, Agent Danvers. That's an order."

J'onn takes authority, but it doesn't quell her beating heart.

But an order is an order and the realization of her predicament hits harder as she turns to look at her gun.

Alex's hands tremble, shaking the enhanced image that is portrayed through her scope, making it a struggle to find Deimax again. Deimax who hasn't even heard whatever has rattled her. Deimax who is about to pummel his way into Mon-el once more.

"Fire."

She whispers.

A shiver of force sends her flying as the concussive blast of the gun sends the bullet hurtling into the path of Deimax.

The sound of half a dozen other guns firing shortly follow.

And Deimax is hit. Holes puncturing through once impenetrable skin, leaving blood, muscle, and ripped flesh in their wake.

And Deimax is howling. Stumbling back grasping for something, anything to hold him up.

And Deimax is falling. But Alex is no longer watching or listening. Because she's listening to her comms.

Listening to wet haggard gasping sobs, more like broken machines grating together than anything even remotely human or even alien, filled with pain and agony and horrible, horrible hurt that she's never wanted to hear from anyone else unless they'd deserved it, but this is- this is- this is-

Kara.

This is her sister choking, gasping, sobbing?

It's hard to tell. And Alex doesn't want to listen any further.

"Winn! Where is Supergirl's location?"

Alex all but screams into the comms, rolling to her feet, and in the same breath-

"Vasquez, put me on a private line."

Then Winn's talking.

"Found them! They're just outside National City… the… the… desert! Alex… they're not moving."

The toe of one boot taps against the floor and Alex sucked her teeth at what the tic betrayed. She did not want to think about what that might mean, that Kara is screaming and no one is moving. It takes a moment to attempt and stifle the movement, and the tremor in her hands, and the erratic beating of her heart beating.

Nothing stops.

"I'm… I'm going to g-get a van. I'm going over there."

The words are cottony and rough in her throat as she struggles to form a plan.

"Agent Danvers-"

J'onn starts.

"No. No, I'm going."

"I'm not stopping you from going. Once I finish here… I'll meet you there."

There is a somber quality in his tone, like he knows something she doesn't know.

Winn starts to say something, but Vasquez's voice interrupts.

"I have the line."

Everyone's silent, but she can still hear Kara gasping. Gurgling. Writhing.

Alex swallows hard, tries desperately to school her features.

"Put me through."

And the other voices fade. Until it's just Kara.

"Kara! Kara listen to me."

Alex tries, tries so hard to make her voice even, as she maneuvers around falling rubble and scattered catastrophe, trying to find a DEO van. Any DEO van.

There's a horrifying lack of response.

Nothing but shuddering gasps and stifled groans and uneven sobs.

And she's never heard that kind of pain from Kara before, not when they were young and the agony of losing an entire planet had been fresh, not when she was hurt truly hurt for the first time, not even after the coma.

But now…

"Kara! It's Alex. It's Alex, I just want to help. I want to help but you have t-to talk to me."

She asks frantically, trying to be the calming force, but her throat dry clicks with emotion and the resulting crack betrays her lack of confidence.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Nothing except the agony of whatever's happening on the other line.

Her nails dig painfully into her palms as her fists clench and her vision blurs.

"Kara, please."

Alex begs, not caring how desperate she sounds right now, as she fumbles for her keys.

"Alex."

Not Kara. It isn't Kara calling her name, so she has half a mind to ignore it.

When she doesn't turn, the voice's owner, Agent Diane Spencer, is in front of her, reaching for the keys. 'I'll drive', she mouths. And Alex only gives her the keys because the common sense is nagging at the back of her head and of her heart, telling her that she really can't drive like this. She can't.

So, the brunette sinks into the passenger seat, hunched over, elbows on the sides of her knees, feet tapping. Eyes open, intent, staring at the upholstering, analyzing every crack and divot, every mark and blemish. It is all she can do, if Kara won't answer. And it's easier than listening, than being useless, than-

Focus.

"Please, Kara!"

There's a choking sputter on the other line, then -

"I-I'm sorry."

Her sister finally utters between agonal gasps and anguished whimpers, at first so soft that Alex isn't even sure she heard.

"I'm sorry. I'msorryImsorryI'msorry I'm so-orry!"

The watery apologies grow louder and more congested, until the words her sister wheezes are congealing into one high-pitched, clogged wheeze, pain and fear carrying the sound into a higher octave.

Over and over and over, until it's like she can't stop.

"Kara!"

Alex shouts, interjecting the mantrum.

"M'sorrym'sorrym'sorrym'sorry. M-sorry."

Why. Why. Why is she apologizing?

Alex interjects again.

"It's okay, Kara, it's okay. It's okay."

The slurred mantra breaks off for a moment, even when it sounds like Kara doesn't want it to. The groaning gasps, wet and gurgling, don't stop. The broken sobs, harsh and strident, don't either. So instead, Alex keeps up the steady assurances until the blonde finds her words.

"A-Alexugh?"

Soft and childlike, almost like a dream if it weren't for the clogged agony that encompassed the question.

"Yeah, It's me, Kar. It's me…. What...what happened?"

Hesitance weighs everywhere in Alex, because she somehow doesn't really want to know what happened, not when she can still hear the echoing boom, the screech of the comms, the silence.

"I… M'sorry.. I-It was to t-the only way…."

The last part is snatched away by a shuddering cough, and Alex closes her eyes tight, tendons in her jaw flexing, as she huffs out a breath, forcing herself to listen, instead of curse outright.

"What was the only way- God, is Reign still there?"

Because then the concern is exploding, because then this frantic drive towards her sister is nothing but a death march, but then maybe that's-

"No… n-no, Sam's d-dead. I killed her… Rao… I-I… I… Rao…. RaoRaoRao-"

And the garbled mantra starts up again.

"Kara. Listen to me. Listen to my voice. Are you okay?"

Because maybe, Alex selfishly thinks, maybe this is all a reaction to being forced to kill a friend. Because God, Sam was great when she wasn't rampaging around the city, but this is her sister, and Alex would trade anyone for her in a heartbeat.

For a moment, no words are exchanged, and the shuddering gasps are back.

In the vestiges of her mind, Alex registers the car moving underneath her, hears Spencer talking to someone else on the radio as she maneuvers the vehicle to her sister's location.

"I… I… No…"

No. And the heaviness on her chest triples in weight.

"I… I… had to to sh-shoot m-myself to do it."

Ice tightens its iron grip on hear heart.

"What?"

Kara, you're bulletproof, she almost rebuttals.

Kara, you step in front of machine guns almost every other day and they just ricochet, she almost shouts.

How in the fucking world could she shoot herse-

Oh.

Alex catches herself.

The kryptonite guns. The synthetic bullets. The ones the brunette herself had worked for weeks on as a solution for the World Killers.

No.

Nononono.

"You shot yourself?"

Shamefully, Alex can't hide the anger in her tone. She can't hide the disbelief. Because how can Kara do that. How can she be so reckless, so careless, so, so stupid-

Focus.

Focus, on what's important.

"M'sorry… M'sorry…"

Gurgling and soft…

And Alex's fury wisps away like a candle in the wind.

She swallows hard.

"It's okay, It's okay. Just… Put pressure on it, can you do that for me?"

The rain batters harshly against the car windows, hitting harder and harder, as the vehicle shoots down unfamiliar streets, speeding further and further from the metropolitan area.

None hit harder than the beating of her chest.

None fall faster than her heart to her stomach.

Somewhere in the distance Alex registers more gunfire and she prays to God that it isn't on Kara's end.

"I… it hurts, if I… If I do that… Lex…"

Petulance and exhaustion pushing through the words.

"You have to do it Kara… Just try, okay? For me."

Because Alex knows full well Kara would cut off a leg if it meant it would please her.

A watery groan emanates from her comm, as Kara seemingly follows her directions.

"Good. Good. What else hurts?"

"A-Alex," Kars pants, the word forced and small. "I can't – I can't breathe."

"Kara."

"I-I can't breathe,' she repeats. "Rao... I c-can't breathe... can't breathe, Alex, please, I can't –"

The hysteria in Kara's slurred gasps is contagious, but Alex still has enough wit and remnants of her medical school knowledge about her to know she has to make her sister stop, to know hyperventilation shouldn't be coupled with blood loss.

"Hey! Hey! Listen to me. Listen to me! Kara! You can breathe, Kara! Because you're talking to me right now. Okay?"

But Kara's not listening. Not even partially.

"Okay?"

Alex asks again, searching for any indication that her sister had heard, even as the agonal gasps become more strained and more quiet.

"... M'kay…"

But even then Alex hears the failing strength behind that uttered word, can hear how Kara is forcing out each breath, can hear how the blonde doesn't believe her.

"Good… good. J-just listen to me, okay? Focus on my voice. Is-Is there anything else that hurts?"

Iterating each word slowly and soothingly to get the message across, iterating each word to cajole Kara into listening.

"Uh… m-my legs… I c-can't feel them."

Oh God.

God, if Kara feels like she can't breathe and can't feel her legs, that meant the bullet had entered somewhere through the thoracic cavity. Nicked a lung maybe, had obviously hit somewhere along the spine.

It also meant that they didn't have a lot of time.

To distract Kara, or maybe to distract herself, Alex strings out an endless stream of mumbling: 'You're going to be fine. Just listen to my voice. We're almost there and then all we have to do is get you out of there. You're going to be fine."

And the more she says it, the more she convince herself that this will be fine, that this will all be fine. Even if the odds are horrifically low.

The van makes it to the turn, then to another, and suddenly, in the frenzied mess that was her mind, she noticed it had gotten silent. All she heard was her own rushed words and Kara's groans and whimpers, entangled with quick gasps. Not Spencer, not anymore.

"How far?"

Alex echoes her thoughts, glancing up the slight embankment at the road. Night and rain had settled in full, making even that slight distance hard to see. Agent Steel's knuckles whiten as her grip tightens against the steering wheel, the subtle movement giving her an answer she doesn't want.

"How far?"

The brunette repeats quietly. Steelily.

"The other strike team got trapped between some rubble. Their tires blew. Schott sent us a different route to avoid what they hit, but it's not the fastest… It's going to be… At least… another thirty minutes."

Everything in Steel's tone is apologetic, but it's not even close to enough considering the implications.

"The… other World Killer is putting up more of a fight than originally planned, J'onn and Superman are held up with him."

This time she can't blink the salt away. This time she can't calm herself with self-assurances. But she isn't going to let Kara know that. Refuses to let Kara know that. Because when hope is taken away, what else is left?

Her breath is dry and cottony in her throat as she struggles to find something, anything to say.

"Okay. Okay...Kara. The DEO tracked you to within a… a mile of your location I… I want you to tell me everything around you so we can get to you faster."

It's more than a lie than anything else. The DEO has evolved way past anything like that, they already have her location down to the coordinates, and if her sister wasn't all woozy from the blood loss, then maybe she'd had figured that out for herself.

But now...

"Uh… uh… There's s-sand."

Whispered words barely heard over the rain.

"Isss… Iss… s-soft… like… K-Krypton…"

Her sister slurs and Alex's eyes are stinging, the upholstery in front of her blurring, as she nods through her tears, even when Kara can't see her.

"That's good... That's good, Kara."

And it is good that she's at least talking. Even when the words are incoherent, slurred, jumbled, fading…

Goddamnit! Why can't she be there? There is no shortage of things that Alex would give to be there with Kara right now, to be there and help her ride through what has to be unimaginable pain. And if this is how Kara felt when she had been kidnapped, helpless and hopeless, knowing that there was ability to help, but she couldn't, then she'd never wish that on anyone ever-

Focus.

"How'd y-ya… How'd ya… g-get tah Krypton…"

What's supposed to be a question, ends up trailing into a drifting sentence, only barely carried by the wind..

"No. You're not on Krypton. Kara, you're on Earth. National City."

Alex chokes on tears and frustration, as she tries to convince her sister otherwise.

"Nash… Nash… c-city?"

And that one comes out as a question, even when Alex doesn't want it to be one.

"Yeah. Yes. National City. You're still here with me and Winn and J'onn and everyone else. So you have to hang on for a me, okay?"

Alex doesn't get much of any response, only hears the lengthened silence growing between the agonal gasps and maybe she can hear Kara crying, but maybe the blonde had always been crying.

Or... wait… it's not Kara, it's her that's crying.

"Oh…"

The brunette digs her nails into her palms and forces herself to stifle the tears, forces herself to keep talking.

"You gotta hang on for me, okay Kara?"

"But… iss… isss -so soft…"

"I-I know it's soft Kara, but you need to hang on… For me okay?," and maybe she's begging, but right now it doesn't matter. "Because we're the Danvers sisters, we come with a warning, right? We have to stick together, because we're stronger that way."

She murmurs.

Kara grunts out a noise, that once upon a time could have been a laugh, instead it's all contorted and watery and god she can barely tell it's there.

"El… Marayah…"

The blonde whimpers in a whisper that's taken with the wind.

"Yeah, Kara. El Marayah."

Kara doesn't say anything after that.

And Alex fills in the silence for her. Fills it with incessant rambling, with old stories, with promises of what they would do after she got out from under sun lamps.

Kara says nothing.

Fifteen minutes' pass that way and those are the longest fifteen minutes of Alex's life.

Until, suddenly the city, the suburbs, the farms are gone. Until it's just sand.

Sand, sand, sand, until Alex sees Reign.

Then the car is rolling to a stop, and Reign doesn't matter because Alex sees Kara.

Kara.

She lay still on her back, wounded on the sandy, cold ground of the desert. Her slim, muscular body surrounded by the puddle of emerald-tinged crimson red that oozed and mixed with the rain, but had not yet been absorbed by the ground.

Alex's mental stopwatch clicks, her nerve endings register the rain dripping down through her hair, across her face, soaking through her jacket as she steps into the night. Her mind's eyes see debris and trace residue and blood spatter now riding the rushing streams of rainwater, clouds having stormed to quickly to seep into the ground. Her ears register the engine still running, not yet turned off, they register the car doors slamming shut, the crunching footsteps that sink into wet sand, and Agent Spencer calling her name, saying something quietly, morosely, about containing Reign.

But Alex is running faster than she ever has, eyes trained solely on the gaping wound on her sister's torso.

"Kara!"

She tries to scream. Kneeling instantly, unabashedly, within a pool of her sister's blood, pale, shaking hands haphazardly moving the blonde's own and attempting to press down on the wound as her mind falters with words that she can't somehow bring herself to say.

Apply pressure, don't let her drift, don't let her die, please god; let her live.

And for a moment Alex thinks she's hurting her, her fingers wrapped around Kara's ribcage, the flat of her hand pressing down hard on the gaping hole where stitched fabric and smooth skin had once covered what was now pouring out into the sand.

"Kara?"

She tries again, and it's easier this time - the first time's always the hardest, the words fit within her mouth and it's earnest, but it's still not enough. It doesn't convey enough because Kara still hasn't answered her.

Alex presses harder, waiting…

Waiting for the blonde to move under fingers, a hitch in breath, an attempt to talk, a groan, for anything. She waits for the ripple of movement, that would start with a gurgling sound of pain as a fresh spurt of warmth spreads across her palms, then end when her sister moves to push at the hands pressed in tight to her side. Waits for the petulant groan to tell her to let go.

Nothing.

And she takes that moment to skirt up to her sister's face and...and... and… Kara's eyes are open. Half-lidded, but open.

Then why isn't she moving?

Why isn't she…

A growling malaise rumbles within her.

And distantly she realizes that as her fingers press close against her sister, her hands aren't rising. And if her hands aren't rising…

"Kara…?"

Nothing.

Quickly, shakily, she moves a bloodstained hand to her sister's carotid pulse.

Nothing.

Her chest isn't rising, she doesn't have a pulse, no movement…

No… no!

"Kara… Kara, come on talk to me! Please!"

Those glassy cobalt eyes that look right through her, those eyes that usually see everything, those eyes that have seen way too much, they look right through her.

No light, no glint, no emotion, no nothing.

And that's how she knows.

Even when she doesn't want to know.

Alex shudders under the rain, feels her shoulders shake, hears the sob that erupts from her.

Feels the weight of every one of her too-many memories she'd shared with Kara, as she curved around her sister, felt the cascade of water spill off her back and slant away. Kept bending until she covered her completely, kept the cold rain from her cold skin, one hand still splayed against her side, the other lifting her limp form to the crook of her shoulder.

It wasn't enough. It would never be enough again.

"I'm sorry."

She whispers, moving a hand to close her sister's eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

But those words aren't enough.

Nothing could ever possibly convey how every single instance of their friendship and sisterhood is written into the very fabric of who Alex has become; nothing can possibly convey how sorry she is that Kara had to suffer this alone.

Someone is talking in her ear, but she shrugs the someone away, keeping her gaze intent on her face, praying that Kara's glassy eyes would blink, praying the rain would wash the parlor away, and would smile and laugh and say the words that promised everything would be all right.

Even though it won't happen.

And nothing happens.

"Kara!"

Someone yells as the sky booms above them.

But it's not Kara, who calls those words, so she has half the mind to ignore it.

"Alex! Is she okay?"

Kal-el.

He looks unusually small in his uniform against the rain and the sweat and the crimson that had already matted his hair down, looking about as energetic and healthy as the victim of a drowning. One eye swelled shut, an unhealthy coating of red soaking from somewhere on his left side, and from the way he is hugging his arm to himself made Alex suspect he'd at least jarred his shoulder in the crash.

And for the first times she sees him, like Kara would have. As someone who needs to be protected.

"I'm sorry."

Alex whispers.

It disappears like a whisper in the wind.

Authors Note: Let me know what you thought? What do you think would happen?