You’re at the beach, having been invited by Alex to come with, so she could show off her older sister to the ‘popular kids’. Alex called you hot in that flat, ‘I am your sister and stating a fact’ tone, and made you bite your lip and cause the brunette to roll her eyes and add, “Okay, so maybe you’re more adorable than hot, but you’re still really pretty”, and you didn’t have it in you to refuse her not-so-politely-put request. You knew Alex was having a hard time, what with having her ‘weird, geeky brother’ following her around, and, quote, ‘make everyone pity her for having her own baby brother show her up in class’, unquote.
Kal-El, or Kalven as he was better-known in Midvale, was quiet, and didn’t know what to do with himself after having been home-schooled by Kara before he was old enough for middle school. You knew he was having a hard time making friends after so long spent with you – you, who acted like a third parent to him, a sister and a teacher all in one – learning all you knew, because Earth was far, far behind Krypton had been, and his brain was faster than any human’s was simply by his heritage. Oh, he wasn’t uncultured, or unlearned in Earth’s social norms – he’d enough friends online who he talked to on Skype every evening, fellow genii and nerds, like Lex, Winn and James, though apparently James wasn’t ‘a nerd like me’ – but he was shy, and not confident around large crowds, simply due to lack of experience.
Kal-El wasn’t at the beach with you and Alex. It made your heart squeeze painfully both in knowing and understanding why Alex didn’t want him there.
“Kara! Come play!” Alex called from the volley-ball net. Her friends want you over, calling your name too, and you go to join, smiling, long legs brushing the white sand of the beach – because unlike Alex, you wore a sun-yellow bikini and neon-green silk wrap, unphased by the cold – only to freeze as you hear tires squealing on tarmac, and you could see it in your head, the car rolling, hear the crush of metal and it isn’t just the sharp tang of gas in your nostrils that tells you that the tank has ripped.
Then you hear the baby.
You’re off like a shot, only barely remembering not to go too fast, but you’re practically flying over the sand anyway. The heartbeats are like hummingbird’s wings in your ears, and you remember the visit to the zoo when you, Alex and Kal-El were young- younger. It had been amazing, and fantastical, and the amount of birds…we didn’t have birds on my planet, she told Alex in a whisper, and the little girl had giggled quietly in reply.
Your reach the car, and you know there isn’t much time. Forgoing hiding your powers, you jump onto the car’s side, ripping the door off and unbuckling the baby, speaking to the young Latina in the front, telling her to get unbuckled – but then there’s a lack of a heartbeat and your insides twist, because you know she’s dead, and there’s not enough time.
Alex is calling your name as you hurriedly jump off the car, baby in tow, running towards her and all the children who followed her.
“Get back!” You shout as you hear the flames lick at the fuel tank, already curling your entire body around the screaming baby boy-
The car explodes, and Alex’s scream will haunt you for years yet.
You’re lucky. So, so lucky. Because the children who saw you fly, who saw you survive the explosion at close range, save the baby, swear never to tell a soul, swear never to ever mention it even once. You fabricate a story with them, right there beside the wreck as the beach’s lone lifeguard, Toby, heals her with a magic that everyone there already knew about too.
Those children already keep secrets. Yours is just another to add to the pile.
Waiting in the police-station, however, wearing Donnie Hendrix’s oversized sweatshirt and Liza H’an’s spare set of board-shorts, waiting for someone to return with a set of your own clothes, turns out to be pretty unfortunate. You’ve actually been away from Midvale around a year now, travelling the world, and in that time – that amazing time, where she’d discovered so much more than she ever hoped for, discovered J’onn and Astra – there’s a new police officer.
He’s an ass, and a flirt. And he thinks Kara is gorgeous. Enough said there.
The baby is on her lap, asleep, and you really want the officer – Rich, he says his name is – to shut up, because the baby is a light sleeper, and he’s already woken up twice from the officer’s overly-loud come-ons. The mother of the baby had been identified from the dead nanny’s phone, the SIM-card having survived, even if it’s owner hadn’t. She’s on her way from National City now. The nanny had apparently been picking the baby up from the father’s home, over an hour away, while the mother worked. Kara’s hearing had helped her understand the reason for that was a restraining order.
And before they told her, that the baby boy was called Carter Grant.
The door opens, and you know who it is before you look up, because Astra is the only one who sneak up on you. The officer stops speaking, instead staring at her aunt, jaw dropping. Astra looks at him like he’s a fly under her boot.
“Kara, the Brave One is home with thirteen stitches in her arm, and is wrapped up in tight bandages, due to the stitches needing to be removed once she has healed. She has a brace around it, rather than a cast.” Astra announces, and you nod in relief, eyeing the bag she’s brought. “These are clothes,” she confirms, before handing you them and taking Carter from you deftly, glaring at the officer.
“There’s a bathroom-” he starts, before Astra glares at him harder, causing him to pale and for the tiniest scent of piss to enter the air. He leaves, and you change at super-speed, folding the sweatshirt and board-shorts at human-pace, before taking Carter back, who has awakened again.
“Hey,” you soothe, holding him closely, hand on the side of his head, pressing him to your neck. “You’re okay, shh…”
“You are good with him.” Astra says quietly. You glance at her, catching the longing look before she can hide it.
“Aunt Astra…” You knew she couldn’t have children, but you’d thought that what she’d said before about having you was enough, was true. She shakes her head though, sitting down, and you join her, sitting where you were before. You focus on Carter again, and he doesn’t seem to be calming down, so you sing a little – some songs you wrote over the years, some in English, some in Kryptonese.
It’s when you’re singing in the latter that Carter’s mother arrived.
“Where is he?” She demands on the other side of the station, voice worried and scared and angry all at the same time, the panic tamped down enough that you don’t immediately tense, though Astra still does all the same, standing, you quickly joining her, song tapering off as you listen.
“Just through here, ma’am, with the woman who saved him.” Chief Dooley assures, before standing and leading her towards them. “Kara’s a good girl, always has been – I seen her grow up here myself, from when she was a little girl. Couldn’t speak much when she first arrived – different language an’ all that – but she’s doin’ well good now, looking to be a journalist, ‘liza, her ma, says. She’d do well in that company you run, Ms Grant.”
Ms Grant?
Your eyes suddenly go very wide.
Her voice is harsh, and uncommitted as she replies, “Well you certainly wouldn’t.” Then the door opens, and Catherine Jane Grant, CEO and Founder of CatCo Worldwide Media is looking around the room – her eyes soon finding Carter in your eyes.
“Carter,” she breathes, her eyes gaining a sheen as she rushes over, taking him from your arms and cradling him as he starts, then recognises her, wrapping his arms around her neck. She pins you with the most grateful look you’ve had ever seen in her life. “Thank-you.”
“It was nothing,” You whispers back shyly, biting your lip and feeling hot all of a sudden. “Really, nothing at all. I’d do it again – though obviously, we never want this to happen again-” you stop as Astra’s hand rested on your shoulder, biting your lip till it bleeds.
Ms Grant nods, before turning her attention to Carter, just bathing in his presence, silent. You look to Chief Dooley.
“Thanks, Chief.”
He smiles sadly. “It’s nothin’, kid.” He looks to Ms Grant. “Ma’am, do you have any way to reach Miss DiMarco’s relations?”
Ms Grant looks up, suddenly very distraught, “Yes, I have a home phone number. She- she lives with her partner.” She rattles off a number that Dooley notes down solemnly, before tipping his hat and leaving the room.
“Who will look after you when I’m not there now, Carter?” Ms Grant murmurs, and then Astra speaks.
“Kara could. She’s searching for a job.” You look to Astra with wide eyes, silently asking her what in Rao was that for?
But Ms Grant seems to think that’s a plausible idea, pinning you with a look that has you blinking in confusion. “Maybe…you’d have to be willing to live in National City, and drive for over two hours, back and forth over state-lines.”
“I- I can do that, those things. I can do those things.” You loved National City, you could drive – you’d once driven Kal-El and Alex all the way to Toronto.
“Payless trial run for two weeks, starting tomorrow?”
You swallow, before drawing your shoulders together, nodding. You could do that.
Ms Grant stares at you with an unfathomable stare.
“Excellent.”
In less than ten years, when you’re Supergirl, and Carter says to your wife that the best part about your superheroine identity was your legs, you know for certain – even if he’s pulling a joke, which is phenomenal – that you need to tell your son you’re a superhero.
Even if he already knows how you met his mother.