#(well she's unnamed... i meant her to be my custom director)

[athela-3]

laughter is (not) the best medicine

1.4k words; gen/comedy; it's 3 am, y'know what this means; fourth wall? what's a fourth wall?; no content warnings.

Kazunari can't talk, can't laugh, can't make a sound for the next few weeks. This is easier said than done, especially with friends as chaotic as his.

“Wait,” Sakuya blinks, ”you mean he can't say anything?”

The Director nods. “Only for a couple weeks. But yes, he can't talk until the doctor gives him the all-clear again.”

For a few seconds, the entire living room falls silent. Five pairs of eyes stare at the Director, then at Kazunari, shuffling his feet next to her, and back again.

“What?” Muku's eyes are round as bottlecaps. “Did—did the doctor find an alien spore nesting in his throat? Is it going to slowly take him over bit by bit until he turns into a green winged monster and take us back to his home planet to—”

No, no, Kazunari shakes his head with what he hopes is a reassuring smile. He steps forward and places his hands on Muku's shoulders. I'm fine, he mouths. It's OK, Mukkun! I'll be all right!

Muku blinks, the panic washing off his features gradually replaced with confusion. “Um, Kazu, I don't know what you're saying…”

I'm fine, he mouths again, moving his mouth a bit more exaggeratedly this time. I'm (points at chest) fine (thumbs up), piko (wink)!

“You're… fine?” Muku repeats uncertainly. Kazunari nods, and his roommate sighs in relief. “I'm glad to hear that! Or… not hear. I'm… glad to see that?”

“So there's something wrong with your throat, and the cure is just to shut up for a couple weeks?” Banri, leaning against the far wall, chimes in. “You don't need medicine or anythin'?

Well, this is complex. Just as Kazunari ponders whether he should just answer him over LIME, the Director speaks up for him. “The nodule on his vocal cord doesn't seem to be very severe, so total rest for a few weeks should be enough. Then, when the doctor thinks it's safe, he'll start speech therapy.”

“Speech therapy?” Sakuya echoes.

“He might have to change the way he speaks,” she explains. “The nodule could have been caused by overuse of his voice, or by using it the wrong way. Speech therapy can help identify and fix any bad habits, to prevent something like this from happening again.”

“Oh. I see.” Sakuya turns to Kazunari. “I'm sure you'll do great! We're all rooting for you!”

Tasuku exhales a long, slow breath. “Vocal nodules are always a risk in acting. The God Troupe once put on a play that had a lot of screaming lines. One of the main cast got nodules halfway into the play's run and had to be replaced.”

“How terrible!” Citron exclaims. “It must be very disjointing for them!”

Disjointing? Kazunari almost laughs, but manages to stifle it in time and turns it into a silent grin instead. You mean disappointing, he mouths. Right?

“It must be… what?” Sakuya frowns, puzzled.

“What do joints have to do with anything?” Banri shakes his head.

“Beats me,” mutters Tasuku.

Guys! Kazunari waves his arms in the air, causing the others to face him. He means disappointing! Not joints! Disappointing!

“Elbow?” Muku hazards a guess. “Sad? Sad face? Elb—not elbow? Angry?”

“Oh, he is doing pantomime!” Citron's voice positively drips with excitement. “I want to try as well!” And with that, he starts gesturing wildly, holding an imaginary bowl in his hand and imaginary chopsticks in the other, slurping it, and grabbing at his neck.

It takes all of Kazunari's self-control not to burst out laughing out loud at that very moment. Not that he knows what Citron is trying to act out, but that's unnecessary when the sheer magnitude of the gestures are hilarious enough on their own. Ronron! Stop! You're too funny! I can't laugh right now!

“Soba?” Banri blinks, but Citron waves his hands no.

“Is it udon then?” Muku tries. “Are you choking on udon?”

Well, Citron does seem to be eating some kind of imaginary noodles, which then get stuck in his throst as he swallows—no. Kazunari's eyes widen. What? No way! He grabs Citron's wrist, shaking his head. Ronron, it's a nodule in my throat, not noodles!

“Huh. Whatever it is, it seems like Miyoshi's got the answer,” Tasuku observes.

“If only he can tell us what it is,” bemoans Banri.

But he can! Kazunari slides his hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, thumbs flicking rapidly over the keyboard as he types. Next to him, the Director peers over his shoulder before suddenly emitting a low groan.

“Throat nodule,” she tells the others. “He thinks Citron is referring to his throat ‘noodle’.”

“That is correct! Kazunari, your interpretation skills are almost as good as Tsuzuru's!”

Banri throws his hands in the air, frustrated. “That ain't even the right word! How're we supposed to do charades if ya don't even have the right word?”

“I don't think we could have guessed even if he had,” Sakuya grins sheepishly.

“Pfft. It ain't that hard. Sakuya, you guess.” Banri detaches from the wall, stepping forward to a relatively clear spot in the room. Then, he starts flapping his arms and… making zipping gestures at his mouth? Is that what he's doing? Kazunari isn't sure, but that seems the likeliest interpretation.

“Um… Oh! Are you a chicken?” Sakuya calls out. “A… chicken with a zipped beak?”

“Yes!” Banri points at him, triumphant. “See? He got that first try! I told you, charades ain't hard, you just didn't know what you were doing!”

“Why are we doing charades in the first place?” Tasuku grumbles.

The Director laughs. “Ssh, let the kids have their fun,” she stage-whispers to him, which of course means everyone in the room can hear her completely clearly.

Excuse you! Kazunari's hand flies to his chest in overdramatic affront. We're all adults here! Except for Mukkun, that is. But most of us aren't kids any more!

“Miyoshi.” Neither Tasuku's face nor his voice could get any more deadpan if he tried. “Just type it down. We can't read your lips.”

“I–I'd like to try, though!” Muku raises his hand like a student with a question. “Reading lips sounds fun!”

“I'll try with you!” volunteers Sakuya. “What should I say? Hm… Oh! I know!”

Tasuku sighs, and the Director catches his eye. Ah, what's that? Are Kazunari's eyes tricking him, or did she just mouth something at him?

“Sakuya! Please stop moving your head! I can't read your lips!”

“Oh, I'm sorry! Let me try again!”

“Pfft. He's obviously sayin'—”

“No, no! Banri, you must not tell him! It will behoove the element of challenge!”

“…you mean ‘remove’?”

“Sakuya! Please stop moving your head!”

“Miyoshi? Are you all right?”

Kazunari opens his eyes to find everyone else staring at him with varying looks of concern and immediately slams his eyes shut again. No, no, he waves a dismissive hand at them, I can't look at you or I'll laugh! This is way worse than the hardest “If you laugh, you lose”-type videos he'd ever watched! How is he supposed to stay silent for several weeks if every day is gonna be like this?

He whips out his phone again. This time, instead of typing, he quickly picks out one of his favourite stickers and sends it to the groupchat. There's a brief moment of collective buzzing as it reaches everyone's phones simultaneously.

The Director pulls out her phone and opens the message. Kazunari watches as the corners of her eyes soften, a smile growing on her mouth. Then she steps forward and throws her arm around his shoulders in a side hug, smile breaking out into a grin.

“We love you too, Kazunari,” she tells him softly.

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Mon 15 March ‘21

FIRST TIME GRAMMY AWARD WINNING ARTIST HARRY STYLES!! From the bottom of the stairs to the top of the fucking world baby, get itttt!! He won Best Pop Solo Performance for smash hit Watermelon Sugar-- the other two categories he was up for went to others but he was a dark horse for any of them so getting one is awesome! Yeah the grammys are shit but I’m so happy for him to see him receiving validation and acclaim from the industry that has never appreciated what he (and his bandmates) are and can do as artists, it’s a fucking start you know? We can enjoy the moment! Harry did! His acceptance speech was short and it feels like he was blindsided and forgot everything (including not to swear on TV and as pro as he is you know that means he was absolutely reeling, I love that) but later he said “I want to thank my fans for giving me an environment to be free to make the music that I want to make and supporting me along the way the last ten years”, yes that’s right we have helped you find a place to feel good, and “this is an incredibly sweet icing on the cake of what I get to do everyday so thank you.”

But that’s not all! He also performed, and wore things! Say what you want about Harry (or better yet please DON’T at least to me but that’s a losing battle) we always get so hyped up about even just seeing his outfits and he does not let us down! BLACK LEATHER, TITS FULLY OUT, DICK BANANA CHARM, AND A MUPPET BOA? Yeah he did that! Shirtless under a patent leather suit, I mean: wow. Very glam rock, very… well listen it’s just very GAY in like so many different ways??? Harry Lambert said they wanted “something darker, sexier, and more unexpected” which is definitely about that look I’m assuming and not the pastel thrift store rummage bin hodgepodge he wore later, unless Harry(s) and I have very different ways of interpreting “darker”. (Harry L also said “free the nipple” and we can all see that he MEANT it.) Harry red carpet-ed and accepted his award in a lavender muppet boa, tits slightly less out but still cleavagey, and with a seemingly random collection of other garments YES BABY OKAY you just WEAR THAT THEN! About that Harry L said, “we wanted to do something that felt British and eccentric, a little bit rock ‘n’ roll and a little bit camp,” but the people have spoken and they said ‘we think he looked like Cher from Clueless’ so, sorry Harry(s)! Esquire struggling to describe the look-- “the kind of thing that Styles seems to make wearable” klasjdlk the doubtful ‘seems’ is sending me. Either way we can definitely all agree on the camp part, and that the matching face mask (as seen in the audience shots and in adorbs pics of him camping it up with Lizzo backstage) is amazing, love that (even if he does spend way too much time nervously pulling it on and off omg just LEAVE IT) and it even went also with outfit number THREE (or at least it did as well as any of his anything went together lol) which was a big floppy orange coat and plaid pants and a THIRD BOA, a dignified (haha JK NOPE it’s still a muppet) black number this time.

It seems the performance was filmed in advance rather than done live-- there were clues suggesting this might be the case, but the real giveaway was when a picture from it leaked before the broadcast, lol. Way to make it so we “can’t even tell if it’s live or not” Ben, and why is he STILL so obsessed with trying to gaslight us anyway my god just say what’s prerecorded it’s fiiiine. ANYWAY Harry played Watermelon Sugar and only WS; well after all it is his GRAMMY AWARD WINNING SONG. Plus it was a really nice version, all smooth and funky, with a highlight of the night being Harry’s full on 60s girl group choreo move with the backup singers, omg. Those backing vocalists were the duo G.A.W.D., and there was extra accompaniment by fellow nominee Devonte Hynes aka Blood Orange (who also directed the performance and no I do not know what that means) and “Spencer and Josh” on horns (the closest I can find to someone crediting them so, apologies guys). Anyway! All of them (regular HS band included) were decked out in matching gucci black leather too and looking good. And Harry looked so happy to be up there performing, just beaming like a lighthouse, so overall- good good stuff, I just keep on dancin!

The real bombshell of the performance though was subtle and needed confirmation after for the excitement to really hit-- it was Sarah drumming  decked out in tight black leather and visibly pregnant!! That’s right, band drummer Sarah Jones is PREGNANT by (Grammy Award winning) guitarist Mitch, there’s a HARRY STYLES BAND BABY on the way!!!! WHAT A NIGHT! It wasn’t enough for Harry to find love in his own band, he’s somehow cupid-ing that energy all over the place and spreading it around, AMAZING!

And Liam comes through with not just a sweet congratulations for Harry (“what a huge moment, proud to be your brother” awwww) but also the final word on the performance look- goddammit it IS one of the rejected Best Song Ever video looks, LMAOOOO. But did he tag HSHQ instead of Harry directly in acknowledgment of how the awards system really works and that they are all to be congratulated or simply because it was easier? We will never know.

Additional tidbits-- bassist Hynes was apparently playing creative director Molly Hawkins’ dad’s bass- did we know her dad was a famous bassist who played with Fleetwood Mac and many other 70s stars?! If I did I had definitely forgotten! And more Molly news-- she’s also pregnant!! Harry will soon be surrounded by quarantine babies, dreams really coming true huh? Harry posted a pic of himself with Mitch and Devonte looking very cooool, we saw the ceramic watermelons label execs were sent for the WS release last year, and Rebecca Ferguson who knows 1D from way back when (and has recently drawn attention for talking frankly about how fucked up the industry is and about having seen unnamed boy band members literally slammed against the wall by their management) congratulated Harry and posted a couple of baby pop star Harry pics, cuuuute. Louis’ merch handlers, in response to no complaints whatsoever, sent out emails apologizing. They say they’ve run out of lanyards which were meant to be sent out so they will “be adding a freebie which we know you’ll enjoy” to affected customers’ orders. That is sucky about the lanyards but that’s customer care! Niall posted about his cool bright limited edition merch to remind that it will be gone gone gone tonight and also shared a pretty and touching picture from a the large anti violence rally held in London to protest the killing of Sarah Everard today. And finally some good advice from Bebe Rexha, loved by larries; she says she loves us right back but please don’t kill anyone for not streaming her new song! Yes good plan.

[pernatius]

Lost in Space Part 2: Ch 1

Summary: After returning to Earth, an unnamed Space Explorer must face the consequences of going past Quadrant 5.

Attempting to write 10k words for part 2 by the end of the week. 

Part 1:

Ch 1

Ch 2

Ch 3

Ch 4

Ch 5

____________________

I sigh. I watch my breath move away and disappear before my eyes. I shiver, but instead of hugging myself to keep in what little warmth I have, I look down at my shaky hands. I imagine my blood dripping down my fingertips. I then lay them down, hoping to paint the cold floor beneath me. I know full well it’s all in my head, but I try to anyway. I try until I can feel the skin underneath my nails tear. When that happens, I grip either shoulder. This isn’t because I now know it’s best to keep warm. I did so because of how trapped and lonely I feel. 

My eyes move up towards the wall I’m leaning against. I imagine a window and the rich blue sky waiting on the other side. I then go on to imagine how long I’ve spent here. By this point, I could’ve already stayed here for days, weeks, or even months. Time has lost its touch on me. The walls haven’t changed. No cobwebs or even a speck of dust has touched them. Even the door right across from me doesn’t have a sliver of time’s touch. Its knob hasn’t moved an inch since I got here. Even the air vent above lacks any indication of how long I’ve been here. There’s no sound coming from them, especially no voices. It strengthens the lack of hope, though. It causes my head to lower. 

Because of this, I scoff. I scoffed at how lucky I was back then. At least back at the Tauvoxes’ ship, I felt alive. Even if it was fear it’s better than feeling dead. 

Light touched me. It blinded me. I tried covering my eyes with my hand, but with his hand wrapping itself and clutching my wrist it became impossible. 

He led me. I walked by his side and took note of the many doors that stretched from both ends of the hallway. They’re all closed, which meant many others are facing the same torment I had just been released from. I imagine the hundred or so helpless others sitting at the very edges of their rooms with their heads down. Most hug themselves to keep warm or what little hope they had left. Some just lean against the wall, hoping for death to take them away from the mind-numbing torture. Sure, maybe some deserved to be here. Maybe they broke out of the limits of humanity, but no one deserved this. No one deserved the drain. Whatever they had done to get themselves here it couldn’t have been enough to forget they’re human too. They have families. They have friends. Maybe a pet at home like a dog. Maybe that dog used to wait at their front door until they got home from work. Maybe that dog now has their head down and is whimpering because they were promised a walk too long ago. Whatever the case they have memories. They have lives, or at least they had lives before being sent here. True monsters could be on the other side of those doors, but it’s not like they wanted to be one. Life just forces people to become one. I might not be called a monster to most, but it doesn’t matter what most think because in their eyes they see me as one. In his eyes especially. 

He sat right across from me and just like with The Director shades covered his eyes. They showed me the helplessness sketched on my face. “It doesn’t take much to realize you aren’t handcuffed. You can try to run out of here. Hell, you can try to sock my nose. However, if you’re smart you wouldn’t do something so rash. We attached a chip on the back of your neck not too long after your court case. So, if you try to do anything other than answer me you will be electrocuted.”

“Does it matter? Whether or not I answer I’ll just be sent back into that room to be left to myself. To be tortured.”

“Rightfully so. You had disobeyed direct orders, caused the death of your entire crew, and nearly brought all of humanity into another war. Thank God for that band of Space Pirates…”

His words faded from my hearing. Instead of sitting in the interrogation room, I’ve bent down in the middle of a farmers market. Underneath a small rock, a flower sways before my eyes. My hand pushes the rock away, grabs the flower, and plucks it out of the ground. I then ran over to my mother. Well, it was more like scrambling to her as I tried not to trip because at that time my shoes were somehow always untied. Once I’m next to her, I tug her baggy pants. When that doesn’t get her attention, I call out her name. Still, her attention is directed towards the woman running the little shop. They’re laughing as the owner places my mother’s purchased fruits and vegetables into a bag. Because I was just another selfish child, I kicked my mother. This gets her attention, but not the type I wanted. She turns and lowers her head as the owner is talking to another customer. My mother mouths, “When we get home-”

“Here’s your bag,” the owner interrupted her with a soft voice. 

With that, my mother’s demeanor shifted right back into its lighthearted self. She smiles and says her thanks, but that’s the end of that side of her. Once we get home she scolds me. With the flower crushed in my hand, I can feel my throat tighten. I’m crying in front of her as she points her finger and shouts at me. She could’ve scolded me for at least another hour, but a phone call cuts her off mid-sentence. 

I threw the flower down and continued to cry into my pillow. I don’t know how long I cried. Maybe a few seconds. It could’ve been five minutes. An hour possibly, or maybe even two. How long it was doesn’t matter. I calmed down eventually. Well, the crying portion of my emotions ended. From being a tearful mess I then turned to frustration. “You’re always making me cry. I wish something made you cry for once, mom,” I shouted.

It wouldn’t take long for me to regret that statement because what had come next was an explosion. My childhood home was swallowed up in a blaze of fire. I tried looking for my mom, but I was too late. A piece of the roof punctured right through her, but she was still alive. Her body twitched and I saw tears in her eyes. I wanted to help her. I tried to, but I was too weak. So, I ran. I pushed past some crops and ran until I slipped and fell in some mud. 

As I tried wiping off the mud from my face, I cried. I cried until I saw something appearing in the mud, it reflected something. It reflected something unworldly. Looking up, I see a spaceship. 

The trudging soon began. My shoes were covered in mud, grass, and sewage. They smelled and were on the verge of breaking apart. I’ve worn the same clothes for days. We’ve been trudging for days. Blisters sat underneath my feet. Scars scattered throughout my ankles and some even managed to get to my shoulders and chest. The others and I haven’t eaten much. Our rations ended a week ago, so we’ve been surviving on whatever we’re able to find whether that means killing a fox or going dumpster diving. 

It was supposed to end about a month ago, but the hideout was found out. The people that made it there first were either killed by the blast or, if they managed to escape before it hit, became their prisoners. 

“Go west? Are you insane,” our group leader questioned. 

She stood in front of him. She’s about my age, two years older. Her name is Ashley. I, of course, didn’t know it at the time, but she would become the one I risked everything for about two decades later. “Can’t you see they already know we’re heading south?”

We’re all young. Most of the group barely hit puberty. He was the oldest, so it was only natural for us to make him the leader. However, other than me he was the most stubborn. “Even if they do, what other choice do we have? Five hideouts have been discovered in the past month. If we go back west we’ll be shot down as soon as we step foot there, or worse we’ll become their prisoners. Let’s say you’re right. At least south we have some cover.”

“They’ve been hitting in one unit. There’s no way they’d split up in two separate directions.”

“And you know this how?”

“I’ve been watching them from afar. I haven’t seen any of them-”

“Wait. You’ve been splitting up from the group,” he yelled. 

“Yes,” she muttered under her breath. 

He steps closer to her and lifts her by her collar. Because of the huge height difference, her feet are seen dangling. She begins to cry. The others either just watch or look away. “You’ve been sneaking off from the group? For how long?”

Her crying causes my heart to drop and fists to shake. I wanted to do something, but I was just too scared. He was older, taller, and way stronger. 

“I-I don’t know...a few weeks?” The last word in her answer is spoken with a squeak. 

“You could’ve been caught for these past few weeks,” his grip tightens on her collar, “You could’ve given away our location these past few weeks.”

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. 

Seeing him move his hand into his pocket, I already knew what he was planning to do. So, I didn’t waste any more time. I buried down my fear towards him and instead replaced it with the fear of that knife making it into her chest.

“Stop.” It was my turn to get in front of him. I looked at him with begging eyes, but he ignored me. He pulled the blade back and swung. 

He cried out and let her go. I caught her before she hit the ground. As she and along with the rest of the group tried to process what just happened, I grabbed her hand and led her away from there. The last thing I see of them is them trying to help him pull the branch out of his ankle. 

For months we all struggled. For months it was all about survival. It was about becoming a hunter rather than the hunted. It felt like years, but the years I’ve spent with her felt like hours. She made me happy the first time in a while. It’s the type of genuine happiness that causes your cheeks to cramp from all the laughing. I hadn’t felt that happy since before my father’s death. She was my first in just about everything. She was my lover. We’ve been together for basically my whole life. Until everything crumbled down. It crumbled because of me. 

“And you did it all for her,” he broke me out of my memories. 

“Yes,” I said confidently. 

“One life isn’t worth the lives of millions.”

My eyebrows furrowed. One twitched. The space between them scrunched up. “What are you trying to say?”

“What do you think I’m trying to say?”

“You think I would let her die? You think I would just sit back on my ass and let my wife die?”

“You were the one that caused her predicament. It’s only deserved you-” 

Before he can finish I punch his nose. He stumbles out of his chair and clutches his now crooked nose. Blood dripped out of the site, but I didn’t get to savor his pain for long because the consequences he described earlier began. An electric shock hit me. It went up and down my spine, causing me to stumble out of my chair as well. 

Knees bent and shaking, I cry. I cry for it to stop. It does, but I still feel it. It’s over, but I still feel my spine burning and head pounding. So, I fall to the floor and try to dig my nails in it. I watch my tears splash onto it as well. 

He moves in front of me. He bends down so that my eyes can meet with his shades. “Was it worth it?”

[apveng]

She Is Not Kara, Damn It!

Here is the third part of my story. The first part, Khao-Shuh, is here. Second part, Why Do You Need Supergirl, Anyways?, is here.

*******************************************************************************

“Alex, are you listening to me?” Alex picked up the dress that lay on the floor and held it up for her daughter to see. And, hopefully, accept. “This, Hope. You are wearing this to school. Not a Bat Woman custom.”

Into the phone, she added. “Of course, I am.”

“The Bat Woman fever is not down, yet?” Kelly asked sympathetically.

“No, Mommie. I am wearing black and red to school today. Ms. Hamza would love it. She loves Bat Woman. She told me so.” Hope stubbornly shook her head.

“I did ask you not to bring her so many Bat Woman comics.” Alex glared at her daughter. “But, when does anyone ever listen to me?”

“Ha! I could recite all the issues that you bought her, Dr. Danvers.” Kelly retorted.

Alex ignored that inconvenient truth.

She assumed her no-nonsense mother expression and said clearly, “Hope. No. You are not going to wear Bat Woman to school.” When her daughter’s chin tightened in response, she added. “And, no means no. You can wear your Bat Woman costume on Saturday, not today.”

“Kel, I need to go. Otherwise, she will never listen to me.” Without waiting for Kelly to say goodbye, she hung up. And then rolled her sleeves for battle.

********************************************************************************

Apparently, Kelly hadn’t considered her own warning sufficient because she got a call from Nia as soon as she reached her office.

“Hey! Alex, how is it going?” The overly bright voice, not to mention the odd timing, confirmed her suspicions.

“I am alright. I am not going to lose my head to a White Martian pretending to be Kara. Can we get this over with please?” Alex returned. The way her friends acted one would think she was an irresponsible teenager not a 36-year old working mom who had served as the director of the DEO.

Nia protested. Thankfully, a call over the intercom announcing J’onn, M’gann and an unnamed visitor saved her. “Gotta go, Nia. Duty calls.”

She steadied her breathing, snapped a professional smile on her face and opened the door, closing and securing it after J’onn, M’gann and the stranger—the stranger who looked nothing like Kara—came in.

“We thought it best for S’lynn to come here in another form.” J’onn said once they were seated.

Not knowing whether to feel grateful or irritated, she looked at S’lynn Sh’onkend. According to the report M’gann sent over, S’lynn was a soldier and had been with the rebels for nearly a hundred years. She carried herself like a soldier too. Easy and full of self-assurance but alert and ready to move at a moment’s notice.

So, different from Kara.

“Thank you for agreeing to do this.” She meant the words. To have been fighting so long for peace, against your own species, and now to come to a completely strange planet and agree to go incognito against her own people. It was a lot to ask of anyone. She had nothing but admiration for this woman.

“Of course, Dr. Danvers. I couldn’t do anything else.” S’lynn returned.

Brief and to the point. Alex liked this woman. Of course, that might change once she saw her in Kara’s form.

After a round of thorough questioning about Kara, she nodded at M’gann. “She is well prepared, M’gann. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Realising she was stalling, she nodded at S’lynn. “Would you change? We can see how well you can copy Kara’s mannerism and demeanour.”

Thankfully, unlike her friends—who seemed to have forgotten that they voted unanimously for this very thing—none of them protested. S’lynn stood up, and as Alex braced herself, changed into Kara.

No amount of preparation would have saved her from feeling like being run over by a truck.

This after all her preparation. After she had gone through old albums and videos that she hadn’t glanced at for so many years. Rifled through memories that she had buried so deep that she hadn’t realised she could even access them. Listened to songs and jokes and game nights each of which sliced like knives.

Only the sympathetic look on the woman’s face, so unlike Kara—who would have been at her side eyes full of worry, not looking from six feet away with a stranger’s distant sympathy—saved her from completely losing her mind.

She had to go through her breathing routine before she could regain her composure. J’onn, M’gann and S’lynn waited without commenting. She was grateful for their forbearance.

“Alright. Could you show me how she, I mean you, walk, fly, act? Just anything Supergirl or Kara Danvers may have reason to do.”

“Yes, Dr. Danvers.” The voice—so familiar, so beloved—sent another set of chills through Alex. How had she got the cadence so pitch perfect? It was almost as if she had taken training from Kara herself.

Alex’s wonder, admiration, and dismay only grew as she conducted the tests. There were a few differences of course. Mainly in how S’lynn reacted to and acted with Alex—she was as familiar with Alex as she was with M’gann, her mentor and leader, her actions full of respect and affection; but the warmth that Kara kept specially for her, which Alex had missed every day, every moment since Kara left, was missing. In everything else, S’lynn was the perfect Kara double. Even J’onn couldn’t have done better.

She supposed she should be thankful that S’lynn couldn’t imitate Kara’s intimacy with her. Otherwise, she might have been in trouble. The way her heart pounded, double-time when she saw certain actions, so familiar and so strange, she wasn’t sure she was completely safe.

There was nothing to be done about it but to be vigilant of her own heart. She had made a promise.

So, she continued.

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As that first week passed, Alex found that she could actually use S’lynn as a data point for her detection program—now renamed, quite originally, “SK”, after S’lynn and Kara. At least, it wouldn’t make industry leaders raise their eyebrows like Kara’s imaginative product name had. M’gann gave her the go ahead and a few other rebels who could help her, so it wasn’t long before all her focus was diverted from El Mayarah to SK.

It was still hard for her. She found herself continually taken aback at S’lynn’s ability to play Kara so perfectly. Even accounting for Martian ability to share memories, which gave S’lynn J’onn’s and M’gann’s memories of Kara, the quality of the work was beyond her comprehension. Thank goodness no Martian can read her mind any more, or she wasn’t sure she could have kept up the façade in front of all the people she was working with. As it is, she found it tough to keep her cool around her colleagues and S’lynn.

She had to remind herself, constantly, that S’lynn is not Kara.

It also made her work itself difficult. Her earlier detection program had been based on mind waves and a few communication cues. The limited availability of test subjects had constrained her. J’onn and the few she knew maintained other forms only for short periods, so the very immediacy of their act was built into her models. It, she realised, was different when they had someone like S’lynn who had everything near pitch perfect. Alex couldn’t after all find a person who was as familiar and close as she was to Kara for every employee who worked at every organisation under threat from infiltration.

Biometrics, such as fingerprints and retina scans, were of course out of the question since these were perfectly copied by even the least prepared of her Martian subjects. DNA scans pretty much defeated the purpose and was too wide and intensive in scope to help given that the infiltration was already underway. And there were privacy concerns. She needed something unique to Martians but something that wouldn’t give warning or impinge on anyone’s privacy.

What was she supposed to do?

“Problems?”

Alex heart went into double-time at the voice. She is not Kara, Damn it! She took a moment to settle herself. “Just trying to identify the one characteristic that makes a Martian a Martian.”

S’lynn drew her eyebrows together. Oh my God, how does she get even that little squiggle that Kara gets when she worries about something correct? “Given we need to rule out DNA and mind waves, I am not sure either.”

Alex was about to nod when a sudden explosion startled them both. As always, without waiting to move, Alex was at Kara’s side in a flash. It was when she caught the hand, bare except for the material from the suit, that she faltered. Not, Kara, S’lynn. She remained frozen for a moment and had to be pulled down by S’lynn.

As they remained huddled on the floor, S’lynn’s arm around Alex, waiting and wondering whether the project has been discovered and if they were under attack, for the first time since M’gann had announced her plan, Alex felt at ease. What an idiot she had been. She had kept her physical distance from S’lynn believing that it would only increase her pain. Turns out, all she had to do was touch S’lynn’s skin to realise, deep within her soul, without a shadow of a doubt, that she wasn’t Kara.

She lacked Kara’s warmth that always brought sunshine to Alex’s mind. Of course, she did.

The door opened and Brainy called. “It is alright. It was just a test gone wrong.” He reached them, gave his code, and then pulled Alex up. “Director Danvers, are you alright?”

“I am not Director anymore, Director Dox.” Alex repeated perhaps for the hundredth time in the last week.

“Ah! Yes. It is you being back at the DEO. Some portion of my mind refuses to accept the update.” He tapped his forehead in thought. “I don’t know why.”

Alex rolled her eyes and waved her arm at the door.

Once Brainy left, after giving her an overview of what had gone wrong outside, she smiled at S’lynn. “I have found the solution to our problem.”

S’lynn brightened. “You have? What is it then?”

Alex’s smile broadened. “Turns out you are not Kara.” At S’lynn’s confused look, she explained. “I mean, your body temperature is different from a Kryptonian’s.”

S’lynn slapped her forehead. “Of course. We should have realised.” She looked up at Alex hopefully. “Now, we could get the detector made easily, right?”

“Yes.” Alex nodded. “So, let us get it going, Supergirl.” Alex said that last with relish. They were careful to use “Supergirl” whenever they were together, “Kara” being out of the question. Alex had been professional about it. And, it had been hard. Now though, she can say the title without her heart doing a confused little dance. S’lynn was not Kara.

She would never confuse any shapeshifter with Kara. Why had she thought she would?

With her heart both light and heavy, Alex got back to work.

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Notes:

I will have the next chapter ready in a couple of days. Thank you.

Any scientists/engineers reading this, please don’t curse this lapsed engineer for her product design and modelling skills. Thank you.

I used this cool name generator for S’lynn’s name.