The hospital room was a cage of sterile white, its walls closing in on Kara Zor-El as she sat by Clark's bed. The steady beep-beep of the heart monitor was a cruel metronome, each sound a reminder that her brother—the one she'd sworn to protect—lay helpless, his face pale, his chest barely rising. The bandages around his torso were useless, his Kryptonian skin rejecting human medicine, but they stayed, a futile gesture from doctors who didn't understand. Outside, the world roared—news vans, reporters, helicopters buzzing like a village bazaar gone mad—but in here, it was just Kara, Clark, and her guilt.
She hadn't moved in hours, her hands clasped tight, her blue eyes locked on Clark's still face. Jonathan Kent's voice haunted her, his warning from years ago echoing like a drum. "Keep your head down, Kara. If the world finds out what you are before you're ready, they won't see a hero. They'll see a threat." She'd laughed it off then, young and reckless. Now, it was real. The world had seen her—her speed, her strength, her heat vision burning men to ash. Would they care that she'd done it to save Clark? Or would they only see the bodies, the destruction, the monster?
Her chest tightened, guilt wrapping around her like a vice. Clark had always been careful, playing the quiet farm boy, hiding his strength, his plans. But she'd been reckless, tearing through the city in a blaze of fury, exposing them both. The viral videos were proof—her landing, her rage, her power. Had she saved him, or had she doomed them? Would Clark wake up and blame her, his sharp smirk replaced with cold anger? The thought made her stomach churn, her hands trembling in her lap.
Kara hadn't slept, her eyes burning from exhaustion, but she didn't care. When the SHIELD agents arrived—black suits, earpieces, faces like stone—she didn't fight them. The hospital was a fortress now, surrounded by cameras and cops, reporters shouting her name like vendors in a chaotic market. Resistance was pointless. So, she went, her boots heavy as she followed them to a sleek jet, then to the Helicarrier, a floating beast of metal and menace hovering over the ocean.
Now, she stood on its deck, the wind whipping her blonde hair, the sea stretching endless below. The hum of engines vibrated through her, like a bustling bazaar alive with purpose. She crossed her arms, her jaw tight, staring at the horizon. She didn't need to turn to know who was coming—the steady thud of boots on metal was enough.
"Enjoying the view?" Nick Fury's voice was deep, calm, cutting through the wind like a knife.
Kara didn't move. "You've been watching us, haven't you?"
Fury stepped beside her, his long black coat flapping, his single eye studying her like a hawk. "Longer than you think."
Her fists clenched, nails biting into her palms. "You knew about Clark. About me. And you did nothing."
Fury's smirk was sharp, unapologetic. "I'd call that doing my job."
She spun to face him, her eyes flashing. "And what's your job, Director Fury?"
He didn't flinch, his gaze steady. "Making sure powerful folks like you don't burn the world down."
Kara's voice was ice. "Am I a prisoner?"
Fury chuckled, gesturing to the Helicarrier's vast deck. "If you were, you think we'd still be in the air?"
He leaned closer, his voice lowering. "You're here because the world just saw what you can do. You need to understand what that means."
Kara crossed her arms, her heart pounding. "And you're here to explain it?"
Fury nodded, his smirk fading. "You've got a choice, Miss Kent. Hide, try to go back to your old life. But let's be real—that's gone. Or…" He paused, his eye piercing. "Step into the light."
Her jaw tightened. "Join SHIELD?"
"Now you're getting it," he said, his smirk returning.
The Helicarrier's halls thrummed with purpose, agents darting past, their glances lingering on Kara as Fury led her through a restricted wing. The air was cool, heavy with the scent of metal and electronics, like a high-tech temple. He stopped at a heavy door, his hand scanning a panel. With a hiss, it slid open, revealing a darkened control room, screens flickering to life like stars in a night sky.
Kara's breath caught. The screens showed everything—her name, Clark's name, photos from Smallville, grainy footage of their childhood. Reports detailed their movements, their abilities, their lives, all stamped with SHIELD's seal. Her stomach twisted, a mix of anger and violation churning inside her.
"You've been spying on us," she murmured, her voice low, her eyes scanning the files.
Fury nodded, unapologetic. "Super-powered beings don't just slip through the cracks."
One screen flashed a title: Avengers Initiative. Names scrolled—Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Steve Rogers—and now, Kara Zor-El. Her heart skipped. "What is this?"
Fury gestured to the screens. "The future. A world where people like you are needed."
Kara's voice was sharp. "And if I don't want to be part of your army?"
He didn't blink. "Then you walk. No chains, no threats. But the world knows you exist now, Kara. The ones who fear you—and the ones who want to use you—they're already moving."
She hated how his words rang true, how they burrowed into her doubts. A part of her—small, uncertain—considered it. But before she could speak, the door hissed open again.
Natasha Romanoff stepped in, her red hair catching the dim light, her face unreadable.
Kara froze, her breath catching. Natasha's presence hit like a punch, her confident stride, her calm green eyes—it all clicked. The late-night talks, the shared laughs, the trust Kara had poured into her. It had been a lie.
"You," Kara whispered, her voice trembling with realization.
Natasha met her gaze, steady but guarded. "Me."
Kara's chest tightened, her hands shaking. "How long?"
Natasha exhaled, a flicker of regret crossing her face. "Since the beginning."
Fury stepped back, letting the tension coil. Kara's mind raced—every moment with Natasha, every secret she'd shared, now tainted. Natasha had been her friend, her anchor outside Clark, the one person she'd let in. And it was all a mission.
"You were never my friend, were you?" Kara's voice was quiet, sharp as a blade.
Natasha hesitated, a brief pause that cut deeper than any answer. It was all Kara needed to know. She turned to Fury, her eyes blazing. "What do you want from me?"
Fury's gaze was even, unflinching. "We want you on our side."
Silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Kara's hands clenched, her nails digging into her palms. "And if I say no?"
Fury sighed, his voice low. "Then we hope you're as good as we think you are."
The control room was empty now, just Kara and Natasha. The screens flickered, casting shadows across the walls, Kara's reflection staring back—hardened, betrayed. The silence was a weight, pressing down until she couldn't bear it.
"You could've told me," Kara said, her voice raw, breaking the quiet.
Natasha studied her, her face soft but guarded. "Would it have changed anything?"
Kara laughed, bitter and hollow. "Maybe it would've hurt less."
Natasha stepped closer, her voice gentle. "Kara, I—"
"Don't," Kara snapped, her hand raised, stopping her. "I trusted you."
Natasha's eyes softened, a rare crack in her armor. "I know."
Kara turned away, her gaze fixed on the screens, on the files that laid her life bare. Fury's offer hung heavy, a fork in the road she hadn't expected. Join SHIELD, step into a world that feared her, or walk away, knowing the shadows were closing in. For the first time, she didn't know what to do.
Clark was still out there, fighting for his life. The world was watching, judging, hunting. And now, her trust in Natasha—her one safe harbor—was gone. Kara's hands trembled, her heart a storm of guilt, anger, and fear. Whatever she chose, nothing would be the same.