"Now we lower the bed's side and see if you can walk. Don't worry if you can't; you've been in a coma for years. You shouldn't be able to walk," Strickland said and helped Christen to lower her legs over the side.

She looked down at the ground, and fear clenched her gut, but she didn't want to admit to it as she lowered herself until her feet touched the ground but had to hang onto the doctor to stand and concentrate on not hurting the woman.

They managed one step, then two, and let go, and she made it exactly one step on her own before dizziness overcame her, her legs folded like jello, and she crashed to the ground.

"Too much, too fast," Strickland said as she called out to the two soldiers standing nearby to help her get Christen back to bed.

"No, I can do this," she insisted, frustrated as she pushed a metal trolley out of her way.

It didn't just move a couple of feet but traveled five feet before hitting the edge of something else and toppling down the stairs to the floor below before skidding to a standstill some distance away.

"If that were a person you manhandled, we'd have trouble," Strickland chastised her, and she closed her eyes as she realized this wouldn't be as simple as it seemed.

She struggled into a sitting position, got herself to her knees, and made it to her feet with great effort and would have collapsed again if the males had not stepped in to support her.

With their help, she walked to the platform's edge and back to her bed, feeling stronger and surer with each step.

They helped her back to bed, and she shyly thanked them.

***

The men must have seen quite a bit of her rear end through this hospital gown; at least someone gave her the dignity of panties.

"You're a miracle, and I just keep waiting for the catch," the doctor said, injecting her with something.

"You said Alexander's skin is impermeable unless you add the Terrelium23A compound, so why can you stick a needle in me?" she asked, and Strickland grinned.

"We manufactured the needle with Terrelium23A."

She took the pen she handed Christen earlier and stabbed it right into her hand, breaking it in two, and although it cut the doctor's finger, it did nothing to her skin. Yet it did hurt.

"So, it looks like I'm Supergirl but also super smart with a handy memory?" Christen teased with a frown, rubbing her hand, and Strickland laughed.

"Just don't try to fly. Cane tried that one night after he got really drunk, and it wasn't pretty. He had his watch on, which negated his ability to remain sober and not get hurt.

"This alien substance Alexander introduced into your system makes you virtually indestructible, which is why we inserted the chip into your head.

"You are the closest to pure we could get while keeping you basically human. Your bones are stronger than titanium, and you can bite through metal, but nothing is all the way indestructible.

"One injection of Terrelium23A straight into your bloodstream, and you die. If we put you inside a container lined with the stuff, you will be as vulnerable as any person.

"In fact, you will be forced to wear this watch in public. We laced the bottom with Terrelium23A, it won't be comfortable for you, but it will make you human enough to avoid problems," Strickland said, taking it out of her pocket and placing it on the little trolley beside the bed.

"So, I'll be wearing a leash, but I might be allowed to see the outside world if you don't kill me?" she asked, and the other woman nodded. "How do we ensure my survival?"

Strickland observed her with a thoughtful expression for the longest time.

"We prove to them that you're a valuable asset, not a liability. We make you part of the team, and the rest will depend on how well you do what you're told because, let me make this clear, there will be no heroics.

"This is no Marvel comic. You disobey, and they won't hesitate to come down on you like a ton of bricks.

"If you're more trouble than you're worth, they will lock you away or terminate you, and all it would take is for them to push one button, and that chip in your head will stop you in your tracks," Strickland said.

"No running off and doing your own thing. I get that, but what exactly will I have to do?" Christen asked, and Strickland hesitated.

"Keep your country safe, keep your secret, take care of business, and keep your opinions to yourself," the doctor informed her.

"I might look like a grown woman, but I'm mentally a sixteen-year-old kid that just lost everything I ever knew," she reminded, her lips trembling.

"You'll have to adapt. After we finish testing your aptitude, you'll go to a military base, have to wear this watch at all times and go through basic training just like any other recruit.

"If you make it, you'll be taken to the others. You'll get a whole different kind of basic training and will be inducted into the team if nothing goes wrong," Strickland informed her as she finally got her hand to stop bleeding.

"That was stupid," she said, and Strickland smirked.

***

The doctor was a striking woman with the same dark hair as Christen, with eyes a similar shade as hers used to be. Heck, they could almost be mistaken for sisters.

"Very astute," the doctor grouched as she put on a plaster with some impatience.

"Will I see you again?" she asked, liking this doctor and suspecting they could be great friends.

"I'm the official doctor for the team and the lead scientist on your project; you will soon tire of my face, but let us not put the cart in front of the horses. You still have to learn to walk without those two stunning crutches," she teased, and Christen laughed.

"They saw my butt; I was so embarrassed," she said, and Strickland glanced at the men standing just out of earshot.

"They enjoyed the view but don't get any ideas; as you said, you're sixteen," she teased, and Christen blushed.

"That injection was a sedative because you need rest, and we'll conquer the world tomorrow. I'm glad Alexander saved you."

Their eyes met, and she seemed sincere.

"You look a bit young to have been a doctor for long, but you speak as if I'm your kid or your little sister," Christen asked sleepily.

"I'm thirty-six, and I got my first Ph.D. when I turned fourteen, but I had a little accident with a sample of stripped-down Alexander DNA some twelve years ago—pricked my finger with a needle.

"I didn't end up being Supergirl, but my asthma disappeared, and I no longer need my glasses. The aneurysm in my brain that had threatened my life since I turned four had healed. I don't get drunk, and I don't age," she shrugged, the shadows in her eyes denying her flippant answer.

"The government declared me dead that day; none of my work will ever be published, and I don't exist, just like you.

"I can never have a relationship with a guy, and I was about to get married to a man I still love. You can't even sleep with someone human because your DNA could change or kill them," Strickland revealed, and Christen gaped at her.

"What kind of life is that?" she asked, and the doctor shrugged.

"One where you don't get put to sleep like a dog."

"You'd think they'd want to know what made you the way you are," Christen asked, and Strickland grimaced.

"Do you really think big pharma will allow us to heal all diseases and stop human aging? It is a trillion-dollar-a-year industry that gives the government their revenue for off the book's research, like keeping you alive for five years while fiddling with your DNA," the doctor revealed, and it was only logical.

"Sleep. Tomorrow is a big day."