“No, no, no.” Kara’s heart slammed hard against her ribs, crashing around in her chest like it was on the verge of ripping clean through her indestructible skin. Kara slipped her arms under the frail form, delicate in her hold. “Come on.” She brought one hand up to a pale, chilled cheek, tapped it as roughly as she dared. Her eyes wouldn’t stop stinging, watering so that her vision blurred and she had to blink away hot tears. “Come on, Cat.”
Her voice cracked, trembled, and for the first time in longer than she could remember, Kara felt deeply, distressingly afraid.
She had taken too long, too long, and Kara couldn’t bear it.
She forced in a steadying breath, closed her eyes. Forcing herself to shut out everything around her, she listened. Waited. Prayed.
A strangled cry clawed up and out of her throat when the gentle, fluttering, and terribly faint sound of Cat’s heartbeat touched her ears. It was there. It was fading, too fast, too soon, but it was there, and that meant that there was a chance. There was still a chance.
“Okay,” Kara breathed, trembling. “Okay, just hold on, Cat. Hold on for me.”
Pressing Cat close to her chest, Kara kicked off the ground hard enough to crack the concrete and shot toward the desert location of the DEO. The hospital was too far. The city was too far. The DEO was her only option if she hoped to save Cat’s life.
She flew as fast as she dared, as fast as she knew was still safe for Cat, and kept her ears tuned to that quiet heartbeat. When she touched down at the DEO and swept inside, Alex was at her side in seconds.
“Help her,” Kara choked out, her voice strangled and messy. “Alex, please.”
Alex squeezed Kara’s arms, pulled her back as a med team took Cat’s limp form on a stretcher and wheeled her away. “Okay, Kara, okay,” Alex soothed, running her hands up and down Kara’s arms. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Alex.”
“I know,” Alex said, squeezing her again. “It’s going to be okay.”
Kara held onto those words, was desperate for the confidence in Alex’s voice to sink beneath the surface and soothe, but it didn’t. It never did.
The stark white sheet was cool against Kara’s cheek as she laid her head next to Cat’s unmoving arm, careful to avoid her IV. She had been sitting in this uncomfortable metal chair next to Cat’s bed for longer than she cared to think about, and after nearly blowing out her powers getting to Cat and then getting Cat safely to the DEO, she was exhausted. Still, she refused to move.
Alex had tried to get her up and out, to get her to move around, stretch, eat, sleep, but Kara couldn’t. She couldn’t. She felt like she was glued to the seat, to the bed, to the beautiful, strong beat in Cat’s chest that still, somehow, had yet to wake her. She didn’t plan on going anywhere until Cat Grant could go with her.
Kara wasn’t sure when she had fallen asleep, but the shifting of Cat’s arm had her jerking awake. Wired in seconds. She bolted upright so quickly she nearly dizzied herself and when her eyes met the soft green of Cat’s, blinking slowly and looking at her as if she wasn’t sure if she was alive or dead, Kara felt a wave of relief rush rapidly through her.
“Cat,” she croaked, and Cat blinked again.
“Su–” Cat winced, swallowed audibly, and Kara jumped to get her some water. After a long drink, Cat sighed and nodded. She glanced down at the tubes and wires coming out of her, at the bed she was in, and then up and around the room. “Well, National City General is looking decidedly more classified these days.”
Kara blinked through sudden tears as a laugh bubbled up in her throat and pushed through. “Miss Grant.” She cleared her throat. “Cat, I ….”
Cat turned toward her, her cheek turning to rest against her pillow. In a bolder move than Kara would have expected, perhaps fueled by the morphine drip Kara had demanded she have, Cat reached out and ran her fingers gently over Kara’s cheek. Her index finger traced along Kara’s jaw, shaky, and then Cat slipped her hand down and dusted her fingertips over the crest on Kara’s chest.
“Should I make my thank-you card out to Supergirl?” She licked over chapped lips. “I’m assuming it was you who saved my life?”
Kara felt the words like a punch to the gut, like a fist around her throat, choking the life from her. All she could hear was that faint flutter of Cat’s heart, slipping away. All she could feel was the light weight of Cat’s limp body in her arms. Her eyes watered, burned, and Kara realized she was shaking her head.
“It wasn’t you?”
Kara closed her eyes. “It was me.”
“You don’t seem too happy about the fact,” Cat teased, and Kara’s eyes snapped open. She caught Cat’s hand at her chest, squeezed her fingers as tightly as she dared.
“Cat.”
“Supergirl?”
Kara closed her eyes again, let out a shaky sigh. “Please,” she whispered. “Can we just … can you call me by my name? I need … I need to hear you say it. I need–”
Drawing a heavy breath, Kara forced herself to calm down, to stop.
“I wasn’t aware that I knew y–”
“Please,” Kara said, cutting Cat off. She squeezed her hand again as she opened her eyes and looked at Cat. Held her gaze, soft, steady. “You know my name.”
She watched, only slightly nervous, as Cat’s lips parted, as her eyes widened only a moment before softening. Cat’s shoulders caved, every last bit of tension leaving her body, and she gave an almost imperceptible nod. “So I do,” she said, the words so quiet they were hardly more than breath, and Kara felt the first of several tears crest and fall.
“I almost didn’t make it, Cat,” she choked out, a sob breaking through the words. She held a hand over her mouth, that crippling fear she had earlier felt seeping into her bones again and rattling her. “I almost didn’t. I took too long, and I, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Cat.”
Slender fingers wrapped around her wrist and pulled her hand away, pulled it down, pulled it close, and Kara nearly sobbed again at the sound of Cat’s easy, gentle sigh.
“Oh, Kara,” she whispered, stroking over Kara’s fingers with her own, rubbing her thumb in soothing circles around the center of Kara’s palm. “Look at me.”
Kara blinked through her tears, forced in a gasping breath, and once more, made herself calm down. When she met Cat’s gaze, an ease washed over her, a calm that only Cat Grant had ever been able to provide. Cat rubbed her thumb over Kara’s palm again. “You made it,” she said, “and that’s all that matters.”
With a trembling sigh, Kara shook her head. “I was so scared.” She admitted it there, in the quiet, empty medical bay where only Cat would ever hear, ever know, and Cat’s mouth tugged up at one corner. The small beginnings of a simple smile.
“Then you were in good company.”
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” Kara said, and Cat sighed. Squeezed her hand again.
“I’ll do my best, Kara,” she said. “I will certainly do my best.”