Chapter Text
Chapter 1
The laughter in the room was warm, golden, the kind of joy that spilled over glasses of champagne and clung to the strings of fairy lights strung across the ceiling. Kara smiled so hard her cheeks ached, the glass in her hand trembling faintly as she raised it with the others.
“To Alex and Kelly!”
The cheer rang out, and Kara clinked her glass against Nia’s before lifting it toward the head table. Alex beamed, the flush of champagne and happiness painted across her cheeks, and Kelly’s hand found hers on the white linen. Fingers interlocked. Wedding bands glinting.
Kara swallowed hard against the sudden tightness in her throat. The sparkling wine slid down like glass.
She had told herself she’d be ready for this day. She’d practiced the smile in the mirror, the toast, the hug she gave Kelly after the vows. She’d whispered to herself, This is good. She’s happy. That’s all you ever wanted for her.
But it felt like something inside her had cracked wide open anyway, and no amount of practiced composure could keep the shards from cutting deep.
“Hey.” Nia nudged her shoulder gently, voice low beneath the noise of the room. “You okay?”
Kara blinked, startled, and forced her smile back into place. “Of course. Just—happy for them.”
Nia didn’t look convinced, but she let it go. She had always been too perceptive.
When the music shifted into a soft ballad and Alex pulled Kelly into her arms for their first dance, Kara excused herself. She slipped out onto the balcony, where the cool night air hit her like a wave. The muffled music spilled out behind her, but out here the stars were sharp and silent.
Kara braced her hands against the stone railing, bowing her head. She could still see them if she turned—Alex’s hand curved against Kelly’s waist, their foreheads pressed together. The look in Alex’s eyes, open and unguarded, the kind of love Kara had dreamed of once.
Her stomach twisted. God, what did you expect? That she’d wait forever? That she’d somehow just… know?
She squeezed her eyes shut, but it didn’t stop the images from flooding in: Alex’s laugh at some terrible pun Kara had told, the quiet comfort of late-night takeout after missions, the way Alex had always, always been her first home on Earth. Kara had held it so tightly to herself, had buried it so deep, that she thought she could live with it. She thought she could let Alex go, if it meant she was happy.
But seeing it—seeing Alex slip the ring onto Kelly’s finger, hearing the vows spoken with steady certainty—it felt like drowning.
The door creaked softly behind her. Kara hastily wiped at her eyes, but she knew her composure was a fragile mask.
Alex’s voice was warm, teasing. “Sneaking out already? I thought I’d at least get you on the dance floor once.”
Kara turned, her heart stumbling over itself. Alex stood in the doorway, dress fitted and perfect, hair swept up in elegant curls. She looked radiant, more than radiant—she looked married, and the word burned in Kara’s chest.
“I just needed some air,” Kara said quickly, forcing a laugh. “Too many people in there.”
Alex smiled, stepping closer. “You always hated crowds.” She reached out and squeezed Kara’s hand. Just a squeeze, a simple gesture. But Kara felt it down to her bones.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Alex murmured. “I couldn’t imagine this day without you.”
Kara’s throat closed. The words she wanted to say, the truth that had been suffocating her for years, rose like fire on her tongue. I love you. It’s always been you.
But instead, she forced her lips into a smile, even as her eyes stung. “Of course I’m here. Always.”
Alex leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Kara’s temple before heading back inside. “Don’t stay out here too long. You’ll miss dessert.”
And just like that, she was gone, leaving Kara standing alone beneath the stars, trembling with everything she could never say.
When the music swelled again inside, Kara tipped her head back and let out a shaky breath. The city stretched out before her, glittering, oblivious. Her reflection in the glass door looked whole, but she knew better. She was splintering, and no one could see it.
She whispered into the night, voice raw and breaking, “I love you, Alex.”
The words disappeared into the dark, unheard. Too late. Always too late.
Chapter 2
The apartment was dark when Kara landed on the balcony. She didn’t bother with the lights, just stumbled through the doors, toes catching on the rug as she ripped at the straps of her heels. One clattered against the wall, the other disappeared somewhere under the couch.
The silence pressed in on her. Too quiet after the laughter and music of the reception. Too heavy after Alex’s smile.
She dragged the pins from her hair, scattering them like tiny stars across the floor, and shoved out of the dress that still smelled faintly of champagne and roses. The zipper stuck halfway, and she yanked it down hard enough to tear the fabric. She didn’t care. She couldn’t breathe with it still on her.
Barefoot, in a camisole and shorts, she curled onto the couch, hugging a throw pillow to her chest. Her body trembled with exhaustion that went deeper than muscles, deeper than bone. It was a kind of hollow ache that no amount of sleep could fix.
Her eyes burned, but she didn’t fight it this time. The tears came hot and fast, spilling down her cheeks, dampening the fabric she pressed against her face. She tried to stifle the sobs, but they tore out of her anyway, shaking her shoulders, leaving her breathless.
“God, Alex…” The words cracked as they left her. “I should’ve told you. I should’ve said something before—before all of this.”
Her voice broke into a whisper, as though speaking louder might shatter the fragile shell of denial she’d wrapped herself in for so long. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. And now—now you’re gone in every way that matters.”
The couch creaked as she curled tighter, knees tucked up against her chest. The city lights flickered faintly through the curtains, but she kept her eyes squeezed shut. If she didn’t look, she could almost pretend she was back in Alex’s apartment, years ago, laughing over cartons of lo mein. She could almost pretend there was still a chance.
But her fingers twisted in the pillow, clutching as though it might anchor her, and she knew the truth: Alex had chosen someone else. Alex had found her forever, and Kara had been too much of a coward to speak before it was too late.
Her sobs ebbed slowly, leaving behind hiccupped breaths and an ache that hollowed her out. She stared at the ceiling, vision blurry. She thought of J’onn, of Nia, of Lena—of all the people who saw her as strong, unshakable, unbreakable.
If only they knew. If only they saw the cracks that threatened to split her open every time Alex smiled at Kelly like she used to smile at her.
Her phone buzzed faintly on the coffee table. She flinched, then dragged it closer. A new message glowed across the screen:
Alex: Thank you for being there tonight. I love you.
Kara’s chest caved in. She typed back quickly, thumbs shaking.
Kara: I love you too.
She hit send before she could think better of it. The words sat there, glowing. Safe. Believable. Sisterly.
No one would ever know the truth hidden in plain sight.
Kara dropped the phone and curled back into herself, staring at the faint morning light starting to touch the horizon. She had told Alex, in the only way she could. And it wasn’t enough.
It would never be enough.
Chapter 3
The DEO was alive with the usual hum of activity—agents moving between consoles, weapons checks echoing from the training room, the steady beep of monitors filling the air. Kara stood near the main briefing table, arms folded, staring blankly at the holographic projection of an alien ship orbiting somewhere over Nevada.
She wasn’t really seeing it. The words being tossed around—containment, protocols, tactical sweep—slipped past her like water through cupped hands.
Her mind kept circling back to the glow of Alex’s wedding band under the reception lights. The way she had smiled at Kelly, forehead pressed close, whispering something Kara couldn’t hear.
“Supergirl?”
Kara blinked, straightened. “Sorry, what?”
Vasquez gave her an odd look but didn’t press. The meeting carried on.
From across the table, Nia’s gaze lingered. Sharp, steady, patient. Kara felt it like heat against her skin.
When the briefing ended, Kara escaped to the balcony that overlooked the training floor. She braced her hands against the railing, forcing herself to breathe deep, steady.
“Okay,” she whispered to herself. “Pull it together. You can do this.”
“Can you?”
Kara startled, spinning to find Nia leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, expression far too knowing.
“I—of course.” Kara plastered on a smile that felt brittle, like it would shatter at the slightest touch. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
Nia’s brows lifted. “Because I’ve been watching you since the wedding, Kara. You’ve been… different. Distracted. Sad.”
Kara shook her head, too quickly. “I’m fine, really. Just—just tired.”
“Liar,” Nia said softly. Not cruel, not sharp—just steady, matter-of-fact. She pushed off the doorway and walked closer, her heels clicking lightly against the floor. “You can fool Alex. You can fool J’onn, maybe even Lena. But not me. I see things. You know that.”
Kara’s throat tightened. She turned back toward the railing, blinking hard at the lights of the training floor below. “Nia…”
“You love her.”
The words landed like a physical blow. Kara’s hands clenched the railing so tight the metal creaked.
Nia’s voice gentled, softer now. “You love Alex. Don’t you?”
Kara’s breath hitched. For a moment, she thought she could deny it, thought she could laugh it off, make some joke. But the dam had been straining for too long, and Nia’s voice was too kind.
“Yes.” The word tore out of her, small and raw. “God, yes. For so long.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy but not condemning.
Kara forced a shaky laugh, wiping quickly at her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. She’s married. She’s happy. That’s what counts, right?”
Nia stepped closer, her presence warm and grounding. “And where does that leave you? Drowning quietly while everyone thinks you’re fine?”
Kara turned, eyes glassy. “It leaves me being the good sister. The supportive one. The one who smiles and says she’s happy because—because she is. And that’s all that matters. That has to be all that matters.”
Nia’s face softened. She reached out, squeezing Kara’s arm gently. “You don’t have to carry this alone. Not with me. Let me be here for you.”
Kara’s lips trembled, her chest threatening to cave in all over again. She swallowed hard, nodded. “Okay.”
And for the first time since the wedding, Kara let herself lean—just a little—into someone else’s strength.
Chapter 4
The coffee in Kara’s hand had long since gone cold. She sat at her desk in CatCo, staring at the blank document on her screen, the cursor blinking like a taunt. A story she should have filed an hour ago sat half-finished in her drafts, but her mind refused to stay tethered. Every line she wrote dissolved into the same looping thought—Alex is married. Alex is gone.
Her phone buzzed.
Nia: Patrol tonight? I’ll meet you on 5th and Main.
Kara exhaled, relief slipping through the tightness in her chest. Nia hadn’t stopped checking in since the wedding. Not in an overbearing way—just these little nudges, reminders that Kara wasn’t invisible in her grief.
Later, in the cool air above National City, Kara flew low beside Nia’s gliding form. Dreamer’s suit shimmered faintly under the streetlights, her hair whipping free in the wind. They didn’t speak at first. Just the rhythm of movement, the steady pulse of wings beating against the night.
Finally, Nia broke the silence. “How bad is it today?”
Kara’s laugh cracked out of her. “On a scale of one to Kryptonite? Somewhere around green rock shoved under my skin.”
Nia winced. “Ouch.”
Kara swallowed, eyes fixed ahead. “Every time I see them together… it feels like I can’t breathe. And then I hate myself for even feeling it. Because Alex deserves this. She deserves Kelly, and happiness, and forever.”
“And you deserve peace,” Nia said gently. “But you don’t have it, do you?”
Kara slowed, hovering above a rooftop. She dropped down, boots hitting the concrete with a soft thud. Nia landed beside her.
“I don’t know how to live with it,” Kara admitted, arms wrapped tight around herself. “I’ve carried it for years, and I thought—if I buried it deep enough, it wouldn’t hurt. But now it’s worse. Because I know for certain I lost her.”
Her voice cracked. “I lost her, Nia.”
Nia didn’t flinch. She just stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Kara’s shoulders, pulling her in. Kara stiffened for half a second before collapsing into the hug, forehead pressed against Nia’s collarbone.
“You didn’t lose her,” Nia murmured. “She’s still your Alex. She’ll always be your Alex. Just… not in the way you wanted. And that hurts. I know it does. But Kara, it doesn’t make you broken. It just makes you human.”
Kara let out a shaky laugh against her. “That’s rich, coming from the one with actual dreams that see the future.”
“Yeah, well, even dreamers know heartbreak when they see it.” Nia squeezed tighter. “And you’re not carrying this alone. Not anymore. You’ve got me.”
For the first time in days, Kara let herself believe it. Just a little.
When they pulled apart, Nia’s eyes gleamed with quiet determination. “So here’s the deal. I’m your safe place now. When it gets too heavy, you tell me. When you want to scream or cry or just sit in silence, you come find me. Got it?”
Kara nodded, throat too thick for words.
Nia smiled, soft but fierce. “Good. Now let’s finish this patrol before Brainy worries I let you fly off into the sun or something.”
Kara laughed—real, if fragile—and for a fleeting moment, the weight on her chest eased.
Chapter 5
The mission had been brutal. A nest of Durlan smugglers routed in the old warehouse district, flames licking at the walls while civilians scrambled for safety. Kara still smelled smoke in her hair, even after a quick pass through the DEO decon showers. Her body didn’t tire like a human’s, but her heart—her heart felt like lead.
Alex walked through the medbay, checking agents one by one, her commanding presence steadying the room like it always did. She’d pulled her hair back hastily, a smear of ash streaking her cheek, and Kara’s chest twisted at the sight. Even after chaos, Alex was radiant. Always radiant.
Kara sat on the edge of a cot, clutching a cold compress she didn’t really need. She watched Alex moving, every step precise, efficient, her wedding band flashing as she signed off charts. The tiny glint of gold stabbed sharper than any blade.
“Hey,” Alex said, pausing in front of her. Concern softened her voice. “You okay? You’ve been… quiet.”
Kara’s throat worked. The words rose unbidden, too fast to stop. “I don’t—” She caught herself, but too late. Her voice cracked. “I don’t know how to do this anymore.”
Alex frowned, crouching to meet her eyes. “Do what?”
Lie. Pretend. Smile while you’re happy with someone else. Kara’s chest ached with the scream she couldn’t let out.
Before she could fumble through an answer, Nia stepped in from the doorway, voice smooth and steady. “She means balancing both lives. Reporter by day, Supergirl by night, almost getting blown up in between. It’s a lot.”
Kara whipped her gaze toward Nia. Their eyes locked, and Kara saw the silent plea there: Let me help you. Let me cover this.
Alex’s expression softened with understanding. She laid a gentle hand on Kara’s shoulder. “Hey. If it ever feels like too much, you tell me. We’ll figure it out. I’ve always got your back, okay?”
The words should have soothed. Instead, they sliced her open. Kara nodded quickly, blinking back the burn of tears. “Okay. Thanks, Alex.”
Alex squeezed her shoulder, then stood. Duty pulled her away—always duty, always something demanding her attention. Within moments, she was gone again, barking orders to another agent.
The second she was out of earshot, Kara sagged, pressing the compress over her face to hide the tremble of her mouth.
Nia slipped closer, voice a whisper. “That was close.”
Kara dropped the compress, jaw tight. “I can’t keep doing this, Nia. I almost told her. I almost—” Her breath hitched, and she shook her head. “She can’t ever know. Not now.”
Nia’s hand found hers under the cot’s edge, a quiet tether. “Then you lean on me harder. Until you can breathe again.”
Kara gripped her hand like a lifeline, because it was.
Chapter 6
The DEO was quieter after hours, most of the agents gone, the hum of computers softer than during the chaos of the day. Kara lingered in the training room, pounding her fists into the reinforced dummy again and again, every strike echoing too loud in the emptiness.
She wasn’t holding back. Not really. The dummy’s head snapped back, its chest caved under the blow, and Kara didn’t stop. Her chest heaved, each punch a ragged breath, each hit a scream she couldn’t release aloud.
“Wow.”
The voice cut through her haze. Kara froze mid-swing, shoulders locking tight.
Alex leaned against the doorway, arms folded, eyes sharp in a way that always seemed to see too much. She was still in uniform, hair falling loose from her bun, that band of gold on her finger catching the dim light.
“You trying to knock its head into orbit?” Alex asked lightly, but there was no amusement in her eyes.
Kara dropped her fists, turned her back quickly. “Just… working off some steam.”
Alex stepped inside, slow and steady, like she was approaching a wounded animal. “You’ve been doing that a lot lately.”
Kara forced a smile, hoping Alex couldn’t see it crack. “What can I say? Better the dummy than the bad guys, right?”
But Alex didn’t smile back. She came closer, laying a hand gently on Kara’s arm. “Hey. What’s going on with you?”
The touch burned. Kara’s throat closed, panic rising sharp and fast. If she met Alex’s eyes, if she let herself soften even an inch, everything would come spilling out.
“I’m fine,” she said too quickly. “Just tired. Long week.”
“Kara.” Alex’s voice was low, insistent. “I know you. You don’t break training equipment unless something’s eating you alive.”
Kara’s chest tightened, words clawing to get out. It’s you. It’s always you. And I’m drowning because I can’t have you.
She swallowed them back, shaking her head. “I said I’m fine.”
The silence stretched between them, heavy, fragile. Finally, Alex sighed, stepping back. “You’ve always been a terrible liar, you know that? But… if you don’t want to tell me yet, I’ll wait. Just remember—I’m here. Always.”
Her hand brushed Kara’s arm once more before she left, the sound of her boots fading down the hall.
The moment she was gone, Kara sagged against the ruined dummy, her body trembling. The echo of Alex’s touch lingered like fire on her skin.
From the observation deck above, a flicker of movement caught her eye. Nia, watching silently, concern etched deep into her face. She raised her hand in a small, steadying gesture—I see you. I’ve got you.
Kara pressed her eyes shut. She couldn’t hold this together much longer.
Chapter 7
Kara tried to lose herself in the work. Missions, reports, patrols—she threw herself into each one with a precision that almost bordered on obsession. It was easier to focus on the next fire to put out, the next criminal to chase, than to think about Alex’s smile when she answered Kelly’s calls.
But Alex noticed. Of course she did.
It started small—questions asked in that casual, sisterly way. Are you sleeping okay? Eating enough? Kara brushed them off with practiced smiles. But Alex’s eyes lingered longer each time, suspicious and sharp.
Tonight, in the DEO’s mission control, the questions came harder.
“You were reckless out there,” Alex said, crossing the room with that familiar commanding stride. Her short hair was still damp from the quick post-mission rinse, strands clinging to her forehead. “Flying blind into a collapsing building? What the hell were you thinking?”
Kara pulled her cape tighter around her shoulders, staring at the floor. “I was thinking there were people inside.”
“That’s not an excuse, Kara.” Alex’s voice softened, but only slightly. “Something’s going on with you. And if you keep shutting me out, you’re going to get yourself—or someone else—killed.”
Kara’s chest tightened. She kept her eyes fixed on the holographic display, willing herself not to break. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” Alex stepped closer, her voice lower now, gentler. “I know you, Kara. I know when you’re carrying something too heavy. Talk to me. Please.”
Kara’s hands curled into fists. The words clawed at her throat, desperate to spill free. It’s you. It’s always been you. I’m drowning in it, and I can’t tell you because you’re happy without me.
Her lips parted, but nothing came out. Panic rose sharp and fast.
From across the room, Nia cleared her throat. “She’s just burned out, Alex. We’ve all been running nonstop since the wedding.”
Alex’s head snapped toward her, suspicion flickering in her eyes. “Why do I feel like you know more than you’re saying?”
Nia didn’t flinch. “Because I pay attention. She’s exhausted. That’s all.”
Alex studied Nia for a long moment, then looked back at Kara. Her expression softened, worry winning over suspicion. “If you won’t talk to me, at least talk to someone. Don’t keep doing this alone.”
Kara nodded quickly, too quickly. “I will. I promise.”
Alex searched her face for another beat, then sighed, brushing her short hair back with a frustrated hand. “You’re the worst liar. Just… don’t shut me out forever, okay?”
She left with those words hanging heavy in the air.
As soon as the door shut, Kara slumped into the nearest chair, her whole body shaking with the effort of holding herself together.
Nia slipped quietly to her side, voice barely above a whisper. “She’s going to figure it out if you keep slipping.”
Kara pressed her palms to her eyes. “I know.”
“And what happens then?”
Kara’s voice broke on the answer. “Then I lose her all over again.”
Chapter 8
The city outside Kara’s window glowed faintly, the hum of traffic a distant murmur. Inside, her apartment was dark except for the faint flicker of the TV—volume low, light washing across the walls in soft pulses. Kara sat curled on the couch in an oversized sweatshirt, a mug of untouched tea cooling in her hands.
She had been staring at the same news segment for twenty minutes without hearing a single word. Her thoughts churned too loud.
The knock on the door startled her so badly she almost dropped the mug. She wasn’t expecting anyone—Nia usually texted before showing up, and Lena was out of the country.
“Kara? It’s me.”
Her stomach lurched. Alex.
She hesitated, debating whether to pretend she wasn’t home, but then the key scraped in the lock. Of course Alex still had one. She always would.
The door swung open and Alex stepped in, casual clothes, hair still damp from a shower, that wedding band flashing as she closed the door behind her.
Kara’s voice came out thin. “Hey. Everything okay?”
Alex didn’t answer right away. She dropped onto the armchair across from the couch, arms folded, eyes locked on Kara with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. “We need to talk. Just us.”
Kara’s grip tightened on her mug. “About what?”
“You tell me.” Alex leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Because lately, every time I try to ask what’s wrong, Nia’s right there running interference. And I love her, I do—but I’m tired of her covering for you. I’m your sister, Kara. If something’s going on, I deserve to hear it from you.”
Kara’s pulse thundered in her ears. She tried to laugh, light and easy. “There’s nothing going on. Nia just worries too much.”
Alex’s jaw tightened. “Don’t do that. Don’t lie to me. You’ve been distant since the wedding. Distracted. Tonight you nearly got yourself killed charging into that building, and don’t tell me it’s just exhaustion.”
Kara swallowed hard, staring into her tea like it might offer her an escape. Her chest ached with the weight of all the unsaid words pressing against her ribs.
Alex’s voice softened, but it carried the same force. “Talk to me, Kara. Please. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s breaking you apart.”
Kara’s throat closed. The truth was right there, rising like a tide she couldn’t hold back. It’s you. It’s always been you. And I’m drowning because I lost you.
She blinked hard, forcing a smile that felt like it might splinter. “I’m fine, Alex. Really. Just… tired. Like I said.”
Alex leaned back slowly, her eyes never leaving Kara’s face. Short strands of hair fell across her forehead as she shook her head, her expression caught between frustration and hurt. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”
Kara’s chest twisted.
“But,” Alex continued quietly, “if you’re not ready to tell me, I’ll wait. Just… don’t shut me out completely. Promise me that.”
Kara nodded quickly, desperately. “I promise.”
Alex studied her for another long, silent moment before finally standing. She bent, pressing a quick kiss to Kara’s hairline—the kind of soft, absent gesture that tore Kara open from the inside.
“Get some rest,” Alex murmured, and then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her.
Kara sat frozen on the couch, the untouched tea cooling further in her hands, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes. She whispered to the empty room, voice breaking on the words Alex could never hear:
“I can’t tell you. I’d lose you forever.”
Chapter 9
The DEO’s command floor was quieting down for the night, monitors dimmed to standby, agents clocking out in pairs. Nia lingered at her console, tapping in a last report from the day’s mission when she felt someone behind her.
“Got a minute?”
Alex’s voice was low, steady. The kind of voice that brooked no refusal.
Nia straightened, glancing up. Alex stood there in her black jacket, arms crossed, cropped hair neat but eyes sharp—too sharp. Suspicion crackled in the air between them.
“Sure,” Nia said carefully. “What’s up?”
Alex jerked her chin toward the empty briefing room. “In there.”
Once the door slid shut, Alex didn’t waste time. “I need you to level with me.”
Nia’s fingers flexed nervously at her sides. “About what?”
“About Kara.” Alex’s eyes narrowed, not unkind but piercing. “She’s been off since the wedding, and every time I ask what’s wrong, you jump in with an answer. You cover for her. I know it. So tell me the truth—what’s going on with my sister?”
Nia’s stomach clenched. She’d promised Kara. Promised to carry this for her. But Alex’s gaze was relentless, protective, almost pleading.
“She’s exhausted,” Nia said at last, voice steady but measured. “You’ve seen how much she does—reporter, superhero, everything in between. It’s catching up to her.”
Alex tilted her head, unconvinced. “That’s the line you’ve been giving me for weeks. But I see more than exhaustion, Nia. She’s… hollow. Broken in a way I don’t understand. And I think you know why.”
Nia swallowed hard. Her dreams had shown her truths before, but she didn’t need a vision to know this moment was dangerous ground.
“Alex,” she said softly, “if Kara wanted you to know, she’d tell you herself.”
The words landed heavy. Alex’s jaw tightened, her hands curling into fists at her sides before she forced them to unclench.
“So there is something,” she murmured. “Something she won’t tell me.”
Nia bit her lip, resisting the urge to fill the silence.
Alex’s eyes softened, just a fraction. “I’m not trying to interrogate you. I just—she’s my sister. My whole life. If she’s hurting, I need to know how to help her.”
Nia’s heart twisted. “Maybe the best way to help is to wait. Be there, like you always are. She’ll come to you when she can.”
For a long moment, Alex just looked at her, gaze sharp enough to strip away defenses. Then she sighed, running a hand through her short hair.
“Fine,” she said, voice clipped but weary. “But I’m not letting this go. Whatever’s eating her alive, I’ll get to the bottom of it.”
She left the room in a storm of determination, boots echoing down the hall.
Nia sagged against the table, pressing her hands over her face. She could feel the noose tightening. If Kara slipped again, if Alex pressed one more time—everything might come out.
And Nia wasn’t sure either of them was ready for that.
Chapter 10
Alex drove home with the city lights blurring past, one hand gripping the wheel tighter than necessary. The quiet hum of the engine only made the silence louder, her mind replaying the conversation with Nia on a relentless loop.
She knows something.
Alex could see it in Nia’s eyes—the hesitation, the way her words had been careful, measured. Nia had always been loyal to Kara, but tonight it had felt like more than loyalty. It had felt like protection.
And that unsettled Alex more than she wanted to admit.
Kara had always come to her. Always. Broken hearts, crises of faith, the unbearable weight of being Supergirl—it all ended up on Alex’s shoulders eventually. That was their rhythm, their bond. Alex carried Kara when she couldn’t carry herself, just as Kara had done the same for her.
So why was she locked out now?
She slammed the car door harder than she meant to when she pulled into the driveway. The small house was quiet when she stepped inside—Kelly’s shoes by the door, the faint scent of lavender drifting from the candle her wife had left burning on the counter.
Kelly poked her head out from the bedroom, smile soft. “Hey, you’re late. Everything okay at the DEO?”
Alex forced a smile, leaning down to kiss her briefly. “Yeah. Just… a lot going on.”
Kelly’s eyes lingered on her face, sharp with that quiet intuition Alex had come to both love and fear. “You’re worried about Kara.”
It wasn’t a question.
Alex sighed, tugging her jacket off and tossing it on the back of a chair. “She’s not herself. And she won’t talk to me about it. Nia’s always there, running interference, and I don’t know why. I just—” Her throat tightened. “I feel like I’m losing her, Kel.”
Kelly crossed the room, slipping her hand into Alex’s. “You’re not losing her. You and Kara? That bond doesn’t break. Maybe she just… needs space.”
Alex shook her head, frustration simmering. “She doesn’t need space. She needs me. But for the first time in our lives, she’s shutting me out. And I can’t fix what I don’t understand.”
Kelly squeezed her hand. “Maybe the best thing you can do right now is trust her. Let her come to you when she’s ready.”
But Alex’s jaw clenched. Trust was one thing—watching Kara unravel before her eyes was another.
Later, lying in bed with Kelly’s arm draped across her waist, Alex stared at the ceiling in the dark. She replayed the image of Kara in the training room, fists flying like she wanted to tear herself apart. The hollow sound of her voice. The way her eyes avoided Alex’s like they burned.
Something was wrong. Something deep.
And Alex Danvers wasn’t going to stop until she found out what it was.