Author's Note: Well. This story has been in the back of my mind for a while and due some positive feedback and reviews and pms from here and on ao3, I decided to flesh it out a bit, write a basic outline, and make it a six chapter fic instead of three. \\\

…

"Kara," Alex whispers, quietly, to get her attention and then, "no don't", when the blonde focuses on her with a distant gaze and they both see the moment the younger girl tries to dig into God only knows how many fragmented messed up thoughts and drag them together enough to fake… something.

They both know Kara's world is teetering on the edge of the unreal, or at least the edge of where she can't tell what's real and what isn't, which amounts to basically the same thing.

Some of it is lack of sleep. The dark circles under the blonde's eyes had become more pronounced as the hours leaked by, her movements more sluggish, and until Alex had called her name, her head had been heavy on her knees. Had Kara's fingers not been sweeping over her knuckles, eyes half-lidded but open, Maggie would have assumed she was sleeping.

The rest of it is trauma, compounded now with the despondence of grief. In the way she'd been quiet, so, so quiet, after she'd found out about Jeremiah and Superm- Clark, in the way her bare feet curl, then uncurl against the fluffy carpeting, in the way she presses against the wall, in the way her gaze is just a little bit off.

But only one of those things can be fixed right now.

"We don't have to stay down here." Alex continues softly. "We can go upstairs. Sleep in a real bed."

Kara doesn't say anything in response to that, downcast eyes choosing to focus on surveying the room, until the coherency is all the way back in her eyes. And even then, she only goes back to looking at her knuckles.

Everyone has been putting considerable effort into making everything sound like a suggestion, instead of an order. Although, Maggie's unsure how much that message is getting through. This isn't the first time they've suggested sleep and they've been sitting on the living floor for more than she'd cared to admit.

"It'll help… until the sun comes up again."

The blonde twitches, like she wants to lean into Alex, but can't quite bring herself too. And there'd been a great deal of that too. Abortive movements that the younger girl consistently made to stop herself from seeking comfort, even when Alex is more than willing to give it, but they're not going to push it, they're not. Even when they're inching past a quarter past two, and the pitch black of midnight had long replaced the steady warmth of light. Even when, in a few more hours it would be like the light had never gone away. Which would have given Maggie some type of relief, if it hadn't become clear that the sun wasn't a catch all. That it wasn't some miracle cure.

It wasn't a question at this point.

Kara, like anyone else, needed sleep, even if she had plenty of well-warranted reasons for not wanting it, but she wouldn't let herself.

"Is…" Kara murmurs, voice low and scraped over, barely a whisper. "Is… L-Lois alive?"

The younger girl's eyes don't leave her hands, but her expression draws together in such a way that it makes the skin on her brows crinkle.

It's the first thing she has said in hours, a heavy hoarseness intertwined with that steady, airy distance, like she's asking the room, instead of them. Yet, somehow, her words are more coherent than they've ever been, even with the strain interlaced within them, as if she's investing massive amount of energy to keep it that way. As if she loses focus on what she's saying it's going to disappear from her grasp.

Alex shifts easily, moves her hand slowly so that Kara can see it, and when her sister doesn't flinch away this time, rests it on her trembling hand.

"No." her wife says. "No… she's alive. She's up in Metropolis. She's still living up there."

Maggie swallows hard, wondering if Alex will expand on that, and when her wife doesn't continue, she knows Alex is leaving some things out intentionally for Kara's sake. Allowing her to make things sound better than they actually are.

Lois Lane had taken Clark's death hard. Very hard.

And as a result, she was a very elusive person.

She came to their wedding and sent out birthday and Christmas cards. Occasionally, she'd visit Kara's grave, but mostly, she just kept her distance.

In her heyday Lois had been the inquisitive, upcoming hotshot at the Daily Planet, known for her ability to ruffle the feathers of the robber barons and to get interviews with the elusive, hard hitters. Most noticeably Superman, and knowing what Maggie knows about Clark now, that part made a little bit more sense.

When Superman had gone insane, the media jumped onto the witch hunt enthusiastically, and no outlet would touch the topic of the man potentially being innocent with a ten-foot pole, much less show him in any sort of positive light. But Lois had known the truth then, and, like all the Lanes, was stubborn.

It had gotten her fired. Then black listed. Then the government had put a gag order on reports about Superman. Effectively putting an end to anything Lois tried to do in terms of spreading the word. Around the same time, Maggie knew that she and Sam had been refusing to speak with each other, that Lucy had been deployed, that Eliza and Alex… had been going through their own spiral.

The witch hunt had essentially taken away Lois's job, her fiancé, her livelihood, her voice.

And she'd isolated herself from the rest.

Maggie doesn't know much of the details, having met Lois until years later, but she does know that it wasn't until Lucy had returned from deployment, that Lois had been able to get her shit together.

"J-Jimmy…" the blonde stutters over her words, already losing her focus, but they both know what she's asking, that she's going through her mental rolodex of everyone she'd known back before.

"Jimmy's alive too. He helped pull you out."

Alex rushes to affirm, but the crinkle on Kara's face only deepens as her pupils dilate, clearly not s making sense of what she's saying.

"And… and… Eliza?"

That's a question she should know the answer to, and Alex's wounded expression mimics that too.

"Alive." Alex whispers. "Remember, I told you we were going to talk to her in the morning?"

Kara nods, but it's like the echo of a shadow, as her eyes grow distant again.

"Just n-not… Kal…"

The blonde whispers detachedly to herself, eyes flitting down to Alex's shoes as the last of her words slip away into the air.

"I'm sorry Kara. Not Kal."

For a moment, it looks like Kara's going to say something else.

But she doesn't.

And Maggie can only watch as Kara fades out of focus again.

It's different than just zoning out the way a normal person would, but it's hard to find a way to quantify that difference, pin it down, and figure out what changes to make it look so damn sad.

… …. .

It's half past three when Kara finally falls asleep in the corner of the living room.

She doesn't move away from Alex's hand.

…. …

Diphenhydramine Monoxide Test 17

Method of Delivery: Aerosolization

Subject: K-52-L

Dosage increased to 700 milligrams of aerosolized diphenhydramine delivered with two parts oxygen via simple face mask at a flow rate of 15 liters of per minute. Integumentary reaction occurred within five seconds of contact. Evidence of urticaria with initial dosage, progressed to blistering and epistasis after prolonged interaction. Additional physical reaction delayed until approximately 34 seconds after delivery, subject refused to inhale. Once inhalation occurred, subject exhibited exaggerated hyperthermia, tachypnea, miosis, and periodic episodes of myoclonus. As exhibited in other exposures, veins protruded prominently with a bright green hue. Strongest color emanated from the origin point. Symptoms progressed to junctional tachycardia, nystagmus, and abnormal posturing. Culminated in generalized tonic-clonic seizures. Subject became unresponsive 14 minutes and 53 seconds after initial exposure.

Aerosolization discontinued at this point.

Consciousness regained after 8 minutes and 9 seconds, during which time greenish hue dissipated and epistasis ceased after approx. 20 mL of drainage. Awakeness marked by a period of disorientation, muscle weakness, sharp onset of hypothermia, and generalized fatigue. Subject attempted to vomit, but due to fasting procedures, nothing of significance was produced.

Overall impression, subject was incapacitated in an effective means to subdue without physical restraint. However, risk increased because of biomedical hazard resulting from clean up. Consider increasing dosage or adding an additional amphetamine as a catalyst to speed up reaction process. Should be successful as a deterrent. However, not a sustainable method as a regular chemical restraint if subject is to remain productive. Consider alternative forms of delivery, instead inhalation or proximation, possibly intravenous delivery. Variety of dosages should be created to produce desire effect on subject.

Subject will be monitored for two hours to observe for any additional side effects.

Physician's signature: Silas Stone

There's a picture in the top right corner. A file photo, almost a mugshot, of Kara.

There's no mask yet. No pins. No ports from what she can see.

The date scrawled in idiosyncratic shorthand indicated that the photo was taken seven years ago.

Kara would have been what- fourteen? Fifteen? The girl in the photo is caught physically between cherubic youthfulness and gangly adolescence, her arms, skinny and matchstick thin, disappearing into oversized scrubs, the softness of her features hiding behind long, greasy hair, and her eyes… she looks like she's about to cry. Like she's terrified.

And Jesus Christ, she was only a kid.

Only a-

"Thermo-regulative vocal association." Lucy drawls out slowly, interrupting her anger, like it's a question instead of the statement she's framing it as.

Maggie's eyes clear a little. Just enough to adjust away from the clinical details on the stat-pad cradled in her hands to where Lucy sits cross-legged adjacent to her in the dining room, notes spread around her in such as careful disarray that it seemed neat and messy at the same time.

In the time they've had since Kara had gone down for the count, they've turned back to the case file with feverish intent.

J'onn was somewhere combing through the blonde's psychiatric history, Maggie had been regulated to medical documentation, and Lucy, she was rooting through just about everything else. And for fleeting moments Maggie wishes she'd been assigned to something else. It had been far easier to just skim over the copious quantities of information like she had on the drive up or zero in on the pertinent information to solve a problem like she had yesterday with the mask. And God how had that only been yesterday?

Now it feels like she's just reading, with no endpoint in mind besides knowing. It feels horribly invasive. Knowing the grotesque little details of what CADMUS had done to a child because Kara had only been nothing more than a gangly teenager in those early years. Knowing how they sheared away at the shy, youthful girl in Alex's childhood photos like she was an object, instead of a person. Knowing how purposeful everything was.

It's disgusting.

It's horrific.

The sheer deliberateness of it all.

And judging by the length of the medical history she had yet to read, the creation of synthetic kryptonite had doomed Kara from the start.

Which is why Maggie forces herself to look up at Lucy's mumbled utterance, even when she's not actually addressing Maggie, because unlike J'onn who'd been silent and methodical when he became immersed in a topic, the DEO protégé tended to think out loud, repeating things as if affirming them to herself.

"What?"

Lucy's dark eyes flick up toward her.

"Thermo-regulative vocal association," she repeats and Maggie watches as she highlights the words on the stat-pad with tip of her finger. "It's been mentioned six times so far. I'm adding it to the list."

Maggie nods slowly.

"Seven times," she mumbles, drumming her fingers against the table. "It was mentioned in the surgical report too. Something about how they didn't know how it would be affected with the mask."

It's the fifth ability that they have some record of.

Enhanced strength, amplified healing, flight, extreme durability… and now thermo-regulative vocal association.

Jesus Christ.

"Doesn't matter now does it?" Lucy mutters, wincing as she shifts in the chair. "The mask is gone."

Maggie has no idea where the mask is now.

Last, she'd seen of it was when Vasquez had been washing it off. The blood and bile had gone away easily. The bone fragments attached to the interfaces, where Kara had literally torn it off her face, had not.

Just thinking about it, wells up the nausea that she had so carefully contained within her and she has to swallow to stifle the burgeoning feeling and shove it back underneath.

"It is…" Maggie echoes, then to force the image out of her mind, "Have you heard anything from Sam?"

Contact between the two defacto teams had been kept minimal in the interest of keeping things off the grid, so she wasn't particularly worried about the stagnant communication between them, but it still bothered her, that the rest of her team was far away. She'd only received three updates from the Beta team: the faux message about debrief, a confirmation of reaching the safe house, and the influx of case file information from Winn.

"Not much." Lucy mutters, carefully neutral. "J'onn still wants to hold off on them coming up a bit. Considering how uncomfortable Kara is around him, he thinks it would be inadvisable to add a bunch of boys to the mix."

The brunette quirks an eyebrow at how purposefully blasé Lucy seems about the situation.

"What did Sam think about that?"

The younger Lane's line of sight skirts away from the pages, amber gaze meeting her eyes, as she shrugs.

"It doesn't matter what he thinks about it, it isn't his call. He understands the logic behind it though, but you know him… antsy as hell."

She nods, as Lucy continues. She gets the underlying feeling Sam wouldn't have been able to brush off Lucy being slammed into a wall as easily as the DEO protege had.

"Last I heard, they'll be heading up here in two days, at least she's getting some sleep before then."

Maggie clenches her jaw, tension tightening somewhere above her as she spares a glance at the three women sitting in the living room. Vasquez is crouched by Alex whispering something that the other woman nods too as she sits cross legged next to her sister, who, if it hadn't been for the steady rise and fall of her shoulders, seemed more dead than alive.

They've arrived at the conclusion that Kara slept in intervals. Working herself to the point of exhaustion, until she could do nothing, but sleep, until she somehow jolted herself awake minutes later. No hint of hidden emotion that usually fluttered to the surface at rest, ever showed in her expression. No twitch of the brow. No nightmares.

Just stillness. Just a lifelong way of coping in world.

And it really doesn't surprise Maggie.

The implications of that.

Not with her lengthy, detailed case history, filling in sketches and allusions and educated guesses and painting a depressing picture of the last few years.

Maggie had figured out young, spurred on in oppressive memories and boundless life experiences, that there was a perverse cruelty hidden within some people that could be artfully disguised behind conventional guises. A brutishness that barely contained itself behind frank words, dirty looks and passive aggressiveness from people that could be neighbors, coworkers, or passerbys on the street.

Festering. Brewing. Until those people are given a little taste of power and what was hidden all along crawls out, slimy and sludging, staining everything it touches. Satisfying their own gruesome desires all the while forming neat little rationalizations to satisfy their decaying conscience as it destroys, destroys, destroys…

Her father had been one of those people.

So, Maggie can see and has seen more of what obscenities humans are willing to inflict on each other than she really cares to think about. And knows too well, that when the humanity is sucked out of it, when the victims aren't human, the justifications come that much easier.

"Take a break if you need too." Lucy says more than asks, following her line of sight, and when Maggie turns toward back to her in confusion, the other woman repeats herself. "Take a break. The stuff in here is shitty. I know that, you know that. Take a breather."

Maggie scoffs.

"I already took a break from helping Alex with Kara. This is supposed to be my breather."

Lucy blinks at her, unphased by her snappish rebuke.

"So, take a break from your breather. I don't care. You're following the rabbit, nothing good comes from that."

Maggie shoots her a half-hearted glare, but Lucy only pats her hand against the table, gesturing for her to put the stat-pad down.

"Five minutes," she acquiesces, closing the screen of the stat-pad, blinking ferociously as the images fade from the edges of her eyes.

…. …. …

"They're not even telling me what's happening! Why on earth do I have people coming into my house in the middle of the night? Whisking me away into the darkness like I'm some sort of vagabond! I told you not to take that dangerous job! I-"

Eliza Danvers is a tall, lithe woman with the long silvery, blonde hair of someone who's become accustomed to stress and the wizened eyes of someone who used to laugh a lot but doesn't anymore. Her worn hands, currently wringing themselves of anything that could possibly in them, are one of Midvale's most precious assets, as one of its only remaining physicians. And like many physicians, when she spoke, though tampered slightly by an undercurrent of anxiety, she tended to commandeer the conversation.

Since the video call had started on the holo-panel of the stat pad, neither she nor Alex had gotten a single word in.

For as smart as Eliza Danvers was, she was also very nervous.

Maggie would never try to reconcile what it was like for a mother to lose both a daughter, then a husband, in such a short period of time. She knows what grief does to people. She knows how people surrender to their vices.

Alex's had been alcohol.

Eliza's was control.

Even before… everything, Alex had said, it had always been control.

Micromanaging everything. Scrutinizing everything. Putting things to an impossibly high standard.

Maggie knows on some level it's maternal instinct, that Eliza doesn't want to lose her last child.

But she's also seen the way it affected…. The way it still affects Alex.

That Eliza is a lot of the reason her wife is always eager to take blame for things out of her control.

And sees it, in the way Alex's hands tremble against the table, even as she squares her shoulders.

"Mom."

Alex murmurs lowly, voice wavering as Maggie covers her wife's shaking hand with her own.

Eliza either doesn't hear her or ignores her entirely.

And as the elder Danvers continues to ramble, Maggie skirts to the background of the video stream. Gone are the soft, pastel blues and greens of the Midvale kitchen adorned with the photos of childhood, replaced with the sterile, neutral colors that are reminiscent of the room she and Alex are in now.

A safe house.

J'onn had been making calls at all hours of the night.

One of them had been to a Cameron Chase. Ex-DEO, ex-CIA, pretty much ex-everything, and Maggie was unsure of how that spoke positively to Chase's reputation, but J'onn had claimed that she was particularly adept at making people disappear and that she could be trusted. Because though CADMUS had been generous in leaving Eliza Danvers unharmed in the years prior, it was certainly only a matter of time until CADMUS cast their net back towards their asset's origins, when they discovered their jackpot was missing.

"Mom!"

Alex repeats, louder this time, jerking Maggie out of her thoughts and Eliza out of her rant.

The older women stops, mouth opening then closing without saying a word, then her brows stitch together much like Alex's did when a realization was being made and like Kara's did earlier.

"Alex?" the eldest Danvers starts, voice lowering a fraction, becoming something softer than it was before. "Alex, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Alex doesn't answer, looking past the computer to the edges of the coffee table where Kara is.

The blonde's shoulders curl inward, one arm pulling her knees against her torso, the other outstretched with a trembling hand to play with a plastic spoon, replicating that same goddamn position that had been a source of comfort since being released form that god-awful harness, even if it looked distinctly uncomfortable now.

In front of her, there's a careful array of apple sauce cups. Ten… no eleven of them. Each positioned carefully with the little plastic spoons that came with them perched on top. Exactly the way Maggie had absentmindedly arranged them the day before. So far, Kara had been eating everything that had been put in front of her, mostly bland foods like oatmeal until they could be sure her stomach could handle it.

The apple sauce had been a clear favorite, even if Kara hadn't said so. She hadn't said much since last night.

"Maggie." Eliza asks, turning her attention towards her. "Did something happen?"

Maggie opens her mouth, then closes it… because it really isn't her story to tell.

"I… I think…" she starts slowly, deliberately. "that Alex should be the one to tell you."

At the mention of her name, Alex jerks her attention back to the video screen, eyes already misting with tears. She tries to whisper something, but no sound issues forth when she does, and her amber eyes jerk towards Maggie, whirling with a frantic desperation, the remnants of panic, the echoes of grief, and so many other emotions.

Maggie tightens her grip, rubbing a circle on the back of her hand, because Alex needs the grounding movement to continue, and who would she be to not give it to her. Slowly, the taller brunette's grip solidifies against her own and she's forcing herself back towards the screen.

"Uh… Maggie's team. They- they found her." Her wife whispers unevenly, spitting the words out as if it's something she can't get rid of fast enough. "They f-found Kara and now she's here."

There's silence on the end and, for a moment, Maggie thinks Eliza might be in shock, but then the elder woman fixes her daughter with a pitying look.

"Alex… we talked about this… Kara's dead." Eliza stumbles on Kara's name, but everything else is said with such sickening validation, that Maggie would have believed it if the woman in question wasn't less than a foot away. "You… you aren't drinking again are you?"

Any sympathy Maggie had for Eliza in that moment vanishes.

Alex's mouth closes, sealing like a vault as her chin trembles, but she doesn't say anything to her credit because Maggie has more than a couple of choice words she'd like to voice.

Instead, her wife reaches out and shifts the stat-pad further to the left, so her sister is in the frame.

The sudden movement shakes Kara out of her stupor, makes her coil tighter as she releases her fragile hold on the spoon, eyes snapping to Alex instead. And briefly, Maggie knows her mind was far away again because the blonde looks at them both with such a visceral confusion, before just as quickly unshuttering the lucidness that floods back to the surface.

There's a longer silence on the other end of the line as Alex draws a deep shuddering breath through her nose, eyes clenched shut, and it hurts Maggie to hear how hard she's trying not to cry.

"I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, Kara."

Alex mumbles with forced calmness.

Kara doesn't say anything, relaxing back into her chair, but her eyes dart to the computer screen, where Eliza is sitting, and the elder Danvers face is pale as a sheet.

"Oh my God."

… …. ..

The call lasts twenty-five minutes.

Kara manages to string some words together, though she never manages to look quite at screen, the echoes of an emotion Maggie finally places as shame everywhere in her demeanor.

Alex is a ball of trembling emotion.

And Eliza never apologizes for what she says.

She never does.

… …. … …. ..

"Alex." Maggie murmurs, pulling her aside. "Are you good?"

They're in the hallway.

Vasquez had drifted in later, taken in the three of them sitting in silence, then looked pointedly at her and Alex and said, "Take a break, I'll stay here with Kara." She had held a deck of playing cards in her hand as she sat down across from the blonde, so Maggie had some idea of what she was planning. But Alex's eyes had been watery, and her jaw could have made coffee grounds from the way they were grinding together, so Maggie had looked at Kara who'd been looking at the medic, and when there had been no inclination that she was going to freak out if Alex disappeared from view, she pulled her wife away.

And now they're in the hallway.

And Alex is shaking.

"Mom is Mom."

She says in a wavering tone, looking sharply to the left to avoid meeting Maggie's eyes, trying to hide her tears.

"Hey!" Maggie starts, "She shouldn't have said that to you."

Alex bites her lip as she averts her eyes toward the floor.

"N-no. It's stupid to get so worked up over it, I mean I know what I was saying w-was- I know how it sounded-"

Maggie interjects, softly, but firmly because Alex would only spiral further if she let it continue.

"Alex, no it wasn't okay. It's never okay and it's not wrong to be upset about it."

Alex's voice catches on her breath and she shudders, digging her nails into her palms, tighter and tighter, until Maggie covers her hand with her own, rubbing circles against her clammy palms until she feels some of the tension Alex was stockpiling, slip away.

For the briefest of moments her wife stares down at their intertwined hands. Uncurling her other hand to fiddle with their matching rings, before uncurling the rest herself to look at Maggie, then without hesitation she leans into her. Alex is tall, taller than Maggie, and the position would have been awkward if they hadn't done this so many times before. So, she lets Alex lean into the crook of her neck, lets her relax, as she rubs her back.

"It's going to be okay." She whispers. "It will."

Alex mumbles something back, but it's undecipherable, any legibleness snuffed out by her shaking in the crook of Maggie's embrace.

"Hmmm?"

Alex pauses, and moves slightly, so Maggie can hear her when she repeats herself.

"I… I asked how you were doing?"

Maggie holds Alex tighter.

"Managing." She whispers. "Just like we all are."

…. … ..

"It's… It's not great." Vasquez starts reluctantly. "In the broadest umbrella terms, the hallmarks of PTSD are there. In the way she walks, how she sits, how she looks at everything. Even the way she's speaking. You've seen some of the shit they were doing in the files. It isn't really a surprise."

The pencil in the medic's hand flips effortlessly in between her fingers. Maggie had seen her do the same thing with a penlight, and once with an epi-pen, several times before. Enough to know it's something she does when she must ground herself and just happens to have something in her hands.

"Lucky for us, it seems to be learned behavior. The way she counts her exits, the way she's not directly talking to any of us, it's learned behavior. A defense mechanism. A well warranted one, but something that's going to be hard to unwire. This isn't shit that's going to disappear over days or weeks. I don't know how that's going to playout for our timeline, Sawyer."

Maggie steels her expression, trying to keep it purposefully impassive.

"You don't think she'll talk?"

She asks, because she understands dredging up trauma could always do more harm than good, and would never force the blonde, but a lot of this depended on affirming what had happened, if anyone of them wanted to see the light of day again.

"About what they made her do? I… I think she would if we got Alex to convince her, but interrogation wise, and I'm not saying we're going to interrogate her, I don't think… I don't think Kara is going to be a reliable witness. Cognitively, I mean."

The pencil flips again.

"Cognitively?"

But Maggie feels like she already knows the answer to the question she's asking.

"I know you've seen it. The ways she's zones out. It's like she's having trouble anchoring where she is." Vasquez murmurs. "She's not just scared. She's not just traumatized. She's actively disassociating."

The pen stops swirling between her fingers.

"And you don't think that's learned behavior?"

Vasquez shrugs.

"My working theory is that it's because of the god-awful cocktail of pharmaceuticals. I mean she was what, 13 or 14, when they started putting her on those things? I think that CADMUS had a kid Superman on their hands and they knew she was going to get stronger, but they also knew excessive sedative use wouldn't work if they wanted results. So, what do you do if you don't want to compromise strength, but still need to control them?"

The medic relays detachedly, eyes skirting back to her notes.

"You confuse them."

Maggie whispers.

Vasquez nods.

"If her physiology is anything similar to that of a human's, those are the developmental years, when connections are still forming. Massive amounts of high dosages of any drug can impair neural growth and CADMUS was throwing all sorts of shit at her. I mean LSD has no clinical applications for them to have been spoon feeding it the way the way they were!" Vasquez can't quite hide the bite in her tone this time, the pen flipping faster in her hands. "It seems like they were just playing with dosages, until they got something, in addition to all the other shit, that would keep her compliant, and Kara's mind just… developed around that. She concentrates enough to understand what people are saying and to follow instructions, but, any time she tries to focus on something for too long…"

Vasquez cuts off the rest of her words sharply, flipping the pen so that the tip burrows into the oak wood of the table surface to simulate the cut off.

"Jesus..."

Maggie murmurs under her breath. She doesn't know much about interconnectivity, not in humans, certainly not in aliens, but what Vasquez is saying reminds her of the early morning hours, and the immense difficulty it had taken for Kara to drag together enough of something to ask about Lois and the others, and how that moment of clarity hadn't lasted long.

"According to what I've seen of the files, CADMUS was purposely working her up to get to a point like that. It alludes to the problem being something medical, more physiological than psychiatric. We cut her off from those drugs since then, and there's been progress on the communication front because at least she's talking at us now, but as far as the disassociation goes…"

Vasquez says, still deep in thought.

"If it's an impairment, the sun might help it?" Maggie suggests, glancing out the window where the sun is peaking out behind the trees. "If we could get her outside, it could help."

It had already been confirmed that Kara wasn't a flight risk, that the blonde would likely not go anywhere without Alex at the very least in her periphery, but the extraction specialist knew it might take a bit of convincing for J'onn to let them out beyond these four walls.

"It's worth a shot." Vasquez shrugs. "On one hand, the sun allowed her to skip the entire withdrawal process, so maybe her mind might just needs some catching up, but I wouldn't get my hopes up. I'm going to see where we can get with other forms of communication, see if I can get her a pad of paper and a marker or something else that doesn't have a sharp tip…"

"She wouldn't hurt Alex."

Maggie says automatically, sensing the implication behind the medic's words.

"It's not Alex I'm worried about."

And that comment makes Maggie straighten.

"You're not saying-"

"I'm not saying that. I'm just saying she's been on precautions the entire time we've had her. Why do you think I gave you plastic spoons?"

… …

Maggie lurks just behind Vasquez as the field medic lays out her case to J'onn and Lucy, the silence stretching over long moments as the other duo absorbs what they're saying.

J'onn doesn't say anything at first, glasses rimmed eyes skimming back over the psychiatric case files. Neither does Lucy, who leans against the desk he sits at, arm's crossed, wariness everywhere in her stance. And it already seems that the writing for their plan is on the wall.

Then he is folding his reading glasses, the incandescent lamp casting yellowish light over his dark skin, as he places them slowly on the oakwood table. There's something regal and wise about him, even when he sits, as if he has hundreds of years of knowledge stockpiled in archives of memories and life's experiences.

"Her psychiatric history details several ailments that are of concern. Generalized anxiety, paranoid ideation, delusions, and that barely scratches the surface. And you are now telling me she is actively dissociating..."

The rest of his sentence trails off, waiting for a more compelling argument.

"She's not a flight risk."

Maggie says from behind Vasquez.

"It would be a safety risk."

J'onn rebuts and it isn't a direct no, but it sounds close to one.

"I agree."

Vasquez says passively, no inclination of an argument in her voice, and Maggie wonders what the endgame in that approach is because it certainly wasn't the game plan going in.

J'onn's gaze is heavy as he slowly inspects them, drawing some sort of conclusion from his examination, as he leans forward, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"How certain can you be that this psychosis is something medical and not psychiatric in origin?"

He asks.

"I'm not certain of anything. I'm a field medic, not a doctor, but I've seen addicts, people who have had their lives destroyed by drugs, people who can't tell their own two hands apart. You've seen more of the files than I have J'onn, I'd say most of the mental health issues listed in the case file aren't because she's actually insane, it's because they ran a teenager into the ground until they couldn't fix her because they didn't even try."

J'onn is contemplative, Lucy is a clenched fist with hair, but Vasquez doesn't falter.

"If she continues to dissociate, she continues to be unreliable witness, J'onn. We'll be here for years if we can't confirm anything without her checking out on us. If we're wrong, we're wrong, but not doing anything… She's a safety risk either way. You've seen what she can do. So, we owe it to her to at least try."

He sighs, but eventually, he nods.

"I trust your judgment."

Vasquez turns to Lucy, staring her down until she nods too.

"Keep us updated."

… …. … …

Kara lingers at first, only venturing far enough from the entrance to allow the sun's rays of light to cascade across the sharp edges of her worn features. Its warmth reflecting emptily off the blonde's dark eyes as she picks at the fraying edge of her sweatshirts, watching the birds that had retreated to the edges of the forested yard.

The aura of nervous energy she exudes is something she and Alex have quickly learned to expect, so, it isn't surprising, that Alex, sleeves of her own grey shirt rolled up past her elbows, doesn't push Kara to move further, only waits patiently, already on the grass, and neither does Maggie, watching off to the side, preferring to be the steadying presence, as she lets the warmth of the sun combat the cool breeze of the air conditioning that wafts out from the open screen door behind them. Somewhere, out further, she knows Lucy is around, likely tracking the perimeter, as J'onn had done in the previous nights, but for now it's just the three of them.

The blonde tips her head forward, away from the birds, and Maggie sees her gnaw the inside of her cheek before her hair is slicing shadows across it, obscuring it from view, wavering for a moment, before she finally convinces herself to step forward onto the grass.

Something akin to confusion flutters across Kara's distant eyes as she stares hard for a moment, then she's crouching on the ground, splaying her hands across the green blades, like a kid digging their hands in the sand.

"It's real."

Her voice wobbles.

"It's real."

Alex confirms softly.

Kara looks up at her sister with watery eyes, then frantically looks back down and her hands run through the grass again, before curling and yanking the blades out of the ground. She digs a little too deeply, an entire a hunk of dirt coming up with it.

Maggie blinks at the resulting hole in the ground but watches Kara stare forlornly at the green blades of grass as they flutter back to the dirt, and decides that Cat Grant of all people, has more than enough money for landscaping.

"It's real."

Kara whispers again, something changes when she says it this time, something tight and heavy, on the brink of tears.

"It… It can't be real."

Alex shoots Maggie a worried glance as Kara's words slur slightly in her bizarre denial, and for a moment, it seems like the blonde is going to follow up with something else, but she doesn't continue.

Her wife kneels down next to her sister and Maggie follows getting down on her level, not wanting to tower over her, but the blonde continues to ignore them both.

"What do you mean by that, Kara?"

Alex asks softly, instead of outright denying it, but Kara shies away, twitching suddenly and with a spastic, almost frantic movement, curls back into herself. Her hands tucking back against her chest, her shoulders trembling, but her line of sight never moves from the ground. Not even for a second.

"I'm not…"

And what ever sentence Kara begins to say is already disappearing before it finishes. Maggie sees her temple spasm, watches the skin around it contract as she concentrates, and imagines the crinkle of her brow that she can't quite see from this angle.

"I'm n-not allowed here."

It's hard following Kara's train of thought, but Alex continues nodding like her sister is just talking about the weather, instead of claiming that grass isn't allowed outside.

"Kara-"

Alex tries to interrupt, but the blonde is still mumbling to herself.

"I'm… not… n-not- allowed here-"

The younger girl shudders violently, squeezing her eyes shut as she rocks back on her heels.

"Kara, hey, it's okay… it's okay." Alex interrupts lowly, softly in a tone that Maggie has really only heard her use with her sister. "Who told you that?"

Kara moves her hands up to rub her temples, but she still won't look at them.

"They did."

Small and petulant and simple.

Like a child.

"Kara… They're not here."

The blonde shakes her head, hands pressing against her head tighter, tighter until her knuckles turn white.

"They said… They s-said it's not allowed."

Kara repeats robotically, and it sounds like those are someone else's words, and she's just repeating them, and Maggie supposed that isn't far off the mark.

"They told you that, Kara?"

Maggie asks softly.

The blonde nods once. Twice. Three times.

She and Alex share a look, and Maggie remembers the file, knows just how far CADMUS goes when making their rules. And it takes everything in her power not to reach out and touch Kara then, to comfort her, to do something besides stifle the anger in her throat.

"It's not allowed..."

Kara whispers again.

Alex shifts a little, so she's sitting instead of kneeling next to Kara.

"Kara, can you listen at me? Just for a second?" her wife starts, and when the blonde doesn't say anything, she continues. "You're allowed to be here. I… I don't know what they told you in there, but you're far away from them now. If you don't want to stay out here. You don't have to. We can turn around, go back inside, sit by the window. It's okay. Or you can stay out here, with the grass, with the birds. But it 's up to you. What do you want to do?"

The blonde shudders again, several shades paler despite the warmth of the sun, and Maggie thinks if Kara presses her hands any further against her head, she'll fracture her skull.

"It's… It's…

Kara whimpers, forcing out the words like they're burning her tongue.

"It's s-soft."

She stutters finally, fingers twitching to rub her knuckles, shifting back and forth again. And whatever she says next slips into a language Maggie doesn't recognize as she curls further into herself, chin tucking low against her chest, burying her forehead in her knees.

Alex expression draws together as Kara mumbles, confused for a split moment, before shifting into understanding, and Maggie realizes that whatever she's saying is likely Kryptonian, when she can't pick out anything even remotely rudimentary from any of the languages she's heard before, but Alex at least half-way understands.

"Yeah, it is soft isn't it?" Alex soothes, answering English when she can't find the right words to say in Kara's own language, and the blonde nods against her knees. "Is it okay to touch you?"

And its painful moments trying get a response out of Kara, who won't stop quaking in her spot, but eventually she jerks her head downward into a nod- like gesture. So, her wife, reaches out carefully, slowly and rests her hand on her sister's shoulder and Kara twitches again, as she shivers, even in the summer heat, but she doesn't jerk away.

"I know it's against their rules." Alex murmurs, moving her hand up to Kara's, trying to urge it away from her temple. "And I know you don't want to break them. So we can move back and sit next to the window, and we'll leave the door open, okay? That way you won't be breaking their rules and then you, Maggie, and I can make some new rules together, so the old ones won't count any more. Does that sound good?"

Kara nods feebly, letting her hand be guided away by Alex, and Maggie watches the color and shape rush back to the indents the blonde had made in her skull.

"Okay."

… ….

In the hours that pass, they come up with some basic rules that should never have to be made to begin with. It makes Maggie wishes that at least some of the CADMUS members had been left alive, so she could kill them all again.

… .. …

Her stat-pad vibrates just as the sun begins hiding behind the trees and if it were any other situation, Maggie would have had the half the mind to ignore it, but her stat-pad only vibrates for one thing now.

So, she excuses herself, peeling away from Alex and Kara, and retreats further into the living room to investigate further, a sense of foreboding sifting over the atmosphere.

And sure, enough it is Sam.

And he only sent one sentence.

Check the news.

All ominous and dark. And entirely lacking in information.

Jesus Christ, Sam, and his need to keep things entirely to vague.

Maggie flits her fingers over the device, pulling up the first news site that appears in the search bar, and she doesn't know what she's steeling herself for exactly, but if Sam felt the need to mention it…

Headlines begin to spring up from orangish-yellow light of the stat-pad, the Daily Planet logo twirling on it's 3-D landscape in the top left corner.

'Eve Tessmacher is expected to plead not guilty in CADMUS case-'

'President Baker to sign new executive order enforcing the alien removal act-'

'Breaking! Five members of National City Police Department's Counterterriosm Unit have been reported missing-"

Something cold like frigid fingers, chills her rushing blood, forming a vice grip around her chest, dragging her heart somewhere below her knees and she has to force a breath and slow down to read the headline again.

It doesn't change.

When she clicks the link to read further, small details pop up, staining themselves in her memory.

The date they'd gone missing. The commissioner's statement. Personal anecdotes from the squad. Their photos.

Sam's stern expression. Winn's youthful baby-face. Vasquez in her academy inform. Davidson's curly red hair.

Her.

The photos are old.

But they are high quality and unmistakable.

Shit.

….

Author Note:

Oof I can't write panic attacks, but I tried.

So this one was more to explain some things and set up for the next chapter, in which I further the actual plot, but I hope you liked it. Extra props to the peeps who can find the Easter eggs in this chapter and the last few. Someone already found out who Havok was! Let me know what you thought?

I'll try to get on a steady posting schedule but life is life is life.