Chapter 18: NOTICED
[DEO Headquarters, Training Room — October 2016, 7:45 AM]
Kara's fist caught me in the ribs with enough force to crack concrete.
I staggered but stayed upright.
Two weeks ago, the same punch would have sent me sprawling. Today, I absorbed the impact, adjusted my stance, and came back with a counter-strike that she actually had to block.
"Good." Her approval was grudging. "Again."
We'd been sparring for an hour. The routine had become familiar—Kara testing my limits, pushing slightly harder each session, documenting improvements that shouldn't be possible for a newly-awakened Daxamite.
I threw a combination I'd learned from Alex. Jab, cross, body shot. Kara deflected the first two and let the third connect, testing my power output. Her eyebrow rose slightly.
"You're hitting harder."
"Training pays off."
"Not this much." She stepped back, dropping her guard. The sparring session was over, replaced by something more uncomfortable—interrogation posture. "Your improvement rate isn't normal. Even with consistent yellow sun exposure, even with quality instruction. You're progressing too fast."
I reached for my water bottle, using the motion to buy thinking time. The lead testing had improved more than just my resistance—it seemed to be accelerating my overall adaptation, strengthening my cellular recovery across the board. But I couldn't explain that without revealing Winn's involvement.
"Daxamite physiology," I offered. "We evolved under harsh conditions."
"I've studied Daxamites." Kara moved closer, blocking my path to the door. "Our governments exchanged scientific data during the occasional periods of détente. Your species develops powers under yellow sun exposure at predictable rates. You're outside those predictions."
"Maybe the data was incomplete."
"Maybe you're lying."
The accusation hung in the air between us. Not hostile exactly, but pointed. Direct in a way that demanded response.
I set down the water bottle. Met her gaze. Decided on partial truth—the safest kind of honesty.
"My body adapts to damage." The words came slowly, each one considered. "I don't fully understand the mechanism. But when I take hits, my durability improves. When I fail at something, I get better faster than I should. It's like..." I searched for an analogy that wouldn't betray too much. "Like my cells are learning. Evolving in real-time."
Kara's expression didn't change, but something shifted behind her eyes. Processing. Evaluating.
"The warehouse. The lead exposure." Her voice was careful. "Alex said you recovered faster than expected."
"Yes."
"And the combat training. Alex mentioned your reflexes improve during individual sessions, not just between them."
"Also yes."
"That's not Daxamite physiology. That's something else."
"I know."
She was quiet for a moment. I watched her work through the implications—the possibilities and dangers of an alien who could adapt to threats in real-time. The tactical advantage. The unpredictability.
"The pod," she said finally. "When you crashed. Kryptonian design, but configured for Daxamite occupancy. Could it have done something to you? Modified you somehow?"
I hadn't considered that explanation. It was convenient—plausible, even. The pod had been ancient technology, configured in ways no one fully understood.
"Maybe," I said. "I don't remember much from before the crash. Bits and pieces. The escape from Daxam, the journey. But the details are fuzzy." I paused, sold the uncertainty. "Something could have happened that I don't recall."
"We should investigate the pod. See if there's any evidence of modification technology."
"It's been examined dozens of times already."
"Not for this specifically." Kara's expression had shifted from suspicious to intrigued. "If you're right—if something changed your fundamental physiology—that's significant. Both for understanding your capabilities and for..." She trailed off.
"For knowing what else might change?"
"Yes."
We stood in the training room's artificial light, two aliens on a planet neither of us had chosen. The tension between us had transformed over recent weeks—from hostility to wariness to something more complex. She was watching me now with genuine interest, not just professional suspicion.
"I'm not your enemy," I said. "Whatever's happening to me, whatever I'm becoming—it's not a threat to you or the team."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because the first instinct I have, every time my powers activate unexpectedly, is to protect people." I thought about Emma Chen, the child I'd shielded with my body. "Whatever the pod did to me, whatever changed—it didn't change that."
Kara studied me for a long moment. Then she nodded slowly.
"I'm going to ask Winn to run additional analysis on your pod's systems. Look for anything that might explain the adaptation." She moved toward the door, then paused. "And Mon-El?"
"Yes?"
"The progress is impressive. Genuinely. But don't push too hard. Adaptation or not, there are limits. I don't want to explain to J'onn why my training partner burned himself out trying to evolve faster than biology allows."
"Understood."
She left. I stayed in the training room, processing the conversation.
The pod explanation was convenient. It might even be true—transmigration wasn't exactly a documented phenomenon, and the mechanism that had transferred my consciousness into this body could have triggered physiological changes as well. I had no way to know for certain.
What mattered was that Kara was asking questions instead of demanding answers. She was curious, not hostile. That was progress of its own kind.
Alex appeared in the doorway ten minutes later, tablet in hand.
"Heard you and Supergirl had an interesting session."
"She noticed the improvement rate. Asked questions."
"And?"
"I told her about the adaptation. Partial truth—that my body learns from damage." I moved to the weapons rack, started putting away the training equipment we'd used. "Blamed the pod for potential modifications."
"Smart. Gives her something to investigate that doesn't lead back to the controlled testing."
I looked at her sharply. "You know about that?"
"I'm head of tactical operations." Alex's expression was unreadable. "I know about everything that happens in this facility. Including unauthorized experiments in Winn's lab."
My stomach dropped. "How long?"
"Since the second session. Security flagged the biometric anomalies." She set down her tablet. "I didn't intervene because the data is genuinely useful. Your adaptation rate is remarkable, and understanding it could be valuable for future operations."
"You're not angry?"
"I'm annoyed you didn't trust me enough to include me. But I understand the impulse to act rather than wait for permission." She picked up the tablet again. "We'll formalize the testing protocols. Run it through official channels. That way, when your resistance becomes tactically relevant, we have documentation to support deploying you in lead-present environments."
Relief flooded through me. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. Official protocols mean official oversight. Which means J'onn gets briefed, which means you get to explain this to him personally."
"That seems fair."
Alex almost smiled. "Same time tomorrow. Training room two. And Mon-El?"
"Yes?"
"Next time you want to conduct unauthorized experiments on yourself, at least pick a co-conspirator who can keep a secret. Winn's tells are visible from orbit."
She left me alone with the training equipment and the knowledge that my careful deception had been transparent all along. Alex had been watching. Had seen the testing. Had chosen to let it continue.
The team was more complex than I'd realized. More capable of nuance. They understood that sometimes rules needed to bend for results that mattered.
I finished cleaning up the training room, thoughts circling around the implications. Kara was investigating. Alex was formalizing. J'onn would be briefed. The careful walls I'd built between my secrets and their observation were becoming permeable.
But maybe that wasn't entirely bad. Maybe the truth—partial truth, carefully curated—could build trust in ways that lies never could.
The paper crane still sat in my pocket. I pulled it out, examined its perfect folds. Evidence of a life I'd left behind, abilities I was still discovering, questions that might never be answered.
I tucked it away and headed for J'onn's office. Better to deliver difficult news personally than wait for Alex's report.
The ice was still cracking beneath my feet. But I was learning to fly.
Time to find out if that would be enough.
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