Chapter 2
“Mr Olsen.”
If she were another person, someone might say that Cat was pacing. But she wasn’t someone else. She was Cat Grant and those with a tendency for puns—horrible things, in her opinion—might say that she doesn’t pace. She prowls. Though the cat puns irk her, she can’t deny that she likes it when her prey squirms and that’s exactly what’s so irritating about Mr Olsen. He refuses to squirm. Well. She can still try.
“What part of ‘get an interview with Supergirl this afternoon’ was so difficult to grasp?”
“Miss Grant, with all due resect, I have no control over Supergirl.”
“Clearly.”
“I let her know what you were after. She said she would think about it.”
“Think about it,” she repeats. Slowly. “Now, that’s interesting.”
“Miss Grant?”
“I find it interesting,” she continues like he had never spoken, “how little you care for your job. And how little she seems to care about protecting your job. You can let her know that the same rules apply from our first…interview.” She holds a grudge still. She’d been kidnapped, which was the height of rudeness. “If she doesn’t arrive, The Planet can have their photo journalist back.”
He presses his lips together tight in a meagre smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Carter will be here in twenty minutes, Mr Olsen. You do not want to be the one to make me tell him that Supergirl won’t be here. Do you?"
“No, Miss Grant.”
“Hmm.” She lifts her hands, flicks her fingers just barely, and he’s gone.
And then he stops. Of course. Just outside her office, at her assistant’s desk.
Cat wonders just what about the situation she hates the most—that her abominably cheery, ill-dressed assistant is distracting her photo journalist from doing his job, that said assistant has some connection to Supergirl beyond their similar cheekbones and hair colour (some friendship perhaps?), or the way she leans in towards Olsen with that smile directed at him and only him, happy and hopeful and reassuring all at once, eyes crinkling at the corners under the sheer force of it.
It’s the fact that she has a connection to Supergirl, an unknown connection, that bothers her. Cat hates the unknown.
Supergirl knew her name, Cat remembers.
What could be so special about Kiera—an assistant, a young woman, admittedly pretty but how awfully cliche if blonde hair and batting eyelashes and a coy flush of the cheeks were all it took to intrigue a hero—that Supergirl calls her by her first name? Smiles at her? Shakes her hand—is nice to her?
Cat takes a seat at her desk and glares thoughtfully at Kara until the clock strikes a quarter to five and then she begins to plan how to let Mr Olsen go. Carter is on his way up to her office and Supergirl is nowhere to be seen. He’s failed her and Cat has no room for failure in her office. Carter will be disappointed. And Kara is still sitting there unflinchingly like she can’t feel Cat’s eyes burning into the side of her face.
“Hey Carter,” she hears Kara say. “How was school?”
“Good.” He’s holding tight to his backpack and won’t look at Kara. Cat suspects that has more to do with hoping Supergirl is around than not liking Kara.
“That’s good.” Kara holds out a plate to him—when had she picked that up?—and he takes it with a smile.
“Thanks, Kara.”
“No trouble. I thought you might not have time to get a snack if you came straight from chess. Did you win?”
“Twice,” he says and Kara beams.
“Kiera! The files I asked for?”
Kara grabs a sheaf of papers and gives Carter a small smile, walking in with him. “Miss Grant,” she says, laying the papers on her desk. “I’ve finished the work you asked for, was there anything else you needed?”
“No.”
Kara nods. “Carter, can I get you anything?”
The boy shakes his head. He had moved to go stand by the wall of windows, eyes fixed on the sky. “No thanks, Kara.”
“Okay. I hope you get your interview.”
“I don’t think she’s coming,” he says with a shrug.
“Don’t think like that, Carter. You said she spoke to you on the train, right?” Kara crosses over the room to him and, though Cat watches her like a hawk, she doesn’t stop her. Because Carter turns away from the windows to look at her—right in the eyes and that’s rare enough that Cat doesn’t have the heart to put a stop to it. He nods. “She’s probably fighting some alien or, or holding a building on her shoulders or helping her cousin with something,” she tells him, and reaches up to adjust her glasses. Gives him a fond smile. “I think you should give her a little time. I think she likes you, Carter, I’m sure she’ll come and talk to you when she can.”
“You think so?”
“Who wouldn’t?” Kara asks, so genuinely Cat smiles down at her computer for a moment. The girl may have broken one son’s heart but she looks after the other so carefully Cat doesn’t know what to think for a moment. “Maybe think some more about the questions you want to ask her and then, when she gets here, you’ll know exactly what you want to ask.”
He brightens and wraps his arms around her waist in a tight hug.
Cat has to watch, she must, because her son is not the most affectionate of people and to see him initiate a hug is always a surprise. And a joy. No matter if it is with a sneaky, heart-breaking, unfashionable, too-cheerful assistant.
Which is why she sees the small hesitation before Kara settles her hands very carefully on Carter’s back and presses her fingers lightly against him in the barest of hugs. And the flash of emotion—too quick to read, but deep and intense—that crosses her face when she looks down at him.
“Thanks, Kara.”
“Of course!” Kara says, as cheery as ever. She adjusts her glasses one more time and looks out the window, searches the city sky line. “Good night,” she says, mostly to Carter, but she flicks her eyes over to Cat at the last second and, in a moment of weakness, Cat nods very slightly.
//
Carter sits on the floor to work on his homework. Cat’s comments of “Carter, there’s a perfectly good couch right behind you” go ignored, always have, so she leaves him to it. She knows that he would be more comfortable at home—she bought him a large beanbag that he curls into to read and write and play his video games and she knows it’s his favourite place—so the fact that he’s here speaks volumes.
He doesn’t want to leave. Just in case.
It’s bad luck—or purposeful timing—that he’s gone down to the security booth to get some information on the break in with Leslie Willis when she arrives.
There is a sound. Barely a sound, if she’s honest. Something lands, very softly, on the balcony to her office. But more than that is the feeling of someone watching, her instincts prickling, and Cat looks up and out the window.
She’s standing there, the super 'S' emblazoned on her chest. Confident as always and apparently uncaring that she’s an hour late.
Cat makes her way over to the door. Stares through it at the woman for a long moment.
Supergirl could break the door. She could break open the lock, tear it from the door. Knock the bulletproof glass with a tap of her finger. But she doesn’t.
It unnerves Cat. All that power, and she’s held back by something. And no one knows what it is.
She opens the door for the hero but doesn’t move, so Supergirl has to step in past her and if Cat didn’t know any better, the hero was holding her breath as she edges past without touching her.
Then, in a burst of speed, the other woman is in the centre of the room and arms folded over her chest. She nods. “Miss Grant.”
“Supergirl.” Cat greets her with a smile. Then a frown. “You’re late.”
“Couldn’t be helped, I’m afraid.”
“Urgent business to take care of?” She returns to her desk and looks up expectantly, shares a smile with the woman. Supergirl won’t tell her. Just smirks and tilts her head to the side. “Not even a hint?”
“Our relationship isn’t at that point I’m afraid.”
“Hmm.” She shouldn’t be so pleased, hearing those words. Our relationship. “I’m disappointed.”
“I apologise, Miss Grant.” Supergirl doesn’t sound sorry, though. Just reserved. A perhaps a touch amused? “That’s not why I’m here.”
“Right,” Cat drawls. “Allow me to understand. I ask you for an interview and I get put off for an entire week. Carter asks for an interview and you manage to fit him into your busy schedule within a day. Ah,” she holds her hand up before Supergirl can speak. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”
“Of course,” Supergirl agrees smoothly.
“I’m thrilled that you agreed to be a source for his assignment. You should know that I’m taking care of any privacy disputes. Nothing he writes will be re-sold, published, or shared at all so feel free to spill all your secrets.”
“And you aren’t benefiting from this arrangement at all?”
Cat narrows her eyes. “Are you accusing me of using my own son to get a story, Supergirl?”
Smooth as silk, Supergirl returns with, “I’d never accuse you of such an underhanded tactic, Miss Grant,” and before Cat can feel the sting of that, she sees Supergirl’s smile and recognises what this is. Teasing. They’re bonding. “You’re the epitome of integrity.”
“Yes, yes, enough flattery. We both know I would do such a thing for a good story.”
“We do.” Supergirl nods and in the face of the confirmation, confusingly, she relaxes. Her arms fall out of their tense pose, uncross from over her chest and fall loose at her sides. “And while I know that you have the responsibility of reporting the truth, Miss Grant, I do ask that you are careful with what you choose to publish. I have enemies and I wish to keep National City and its people safe.”
“Its people, or yours?” Supergirl just stands there. “You do have friends, don’t you? Family? Other than Olsen, I presume.”
Supergirl cocks her head to the side like she can hear something. And then, “Carter is coming.”
She can hear him. She could probably hear him anywhere in the building, Cat realises. Supergirl can hear her heart start to beat faster, just like it always does when she remembers that this woman, this young pretty woman, who looks soft and sweet and gentle, is not human and all, nor soft, nor gentle.
“Don't think I didn't see that deflection, Supergirl. But luckily for you, I have something more important things to discuss and I'll make it quick and painfully obvious so that even your brain, addled as I'm sure it is from one too many punches, can understand. There are ground rules for this interview,” Cat says, low and quick, hurrying the words out before Carter can arrive and interrupt them. Supergirl might be more god than human, but Cat is a mother. “You will not hurt him. You will not tell him any information that could reveal your identify or make him a person of interest to your enemies. You will not tell him anything graphic. Do you watch movies, Supergirl?”
“Yes, Miss Grant.”
“PG-13. Nothing more graphic than that.”
“If he asks a question that has a graphic answer?”
“You don’t tell him. Tell him it’s a matter of national security, I don’t give a damn. My son will not be put in danger. I won’t allow it.”
“I understand. I would never put him in harms way. And if harm finds him, I will do whatever is in my power to protect him from it.”
It sounds an awful lot like a vow, and though she knows it is meant to reassure her, Cat is not reassured.
“Why?” Cat asks, steps around her desk, closer to the hero. She looks at the other woman closely and she’s annoyed when Supergirl looks back, inscrutable. “You barely know him.”
“All children deserve to be safe, Miss Grant,” Supergirl tells her with all the stern voice and strong jawline of a hero. That sadness in her tone, however, is as human as Cat has ever heard.
“You have a weakness for children,” Cat says. Realises. That’s a weakness that can hurt so many people. Ruin so many lives.
“I don’t consider it a weakness.”
“It is." Supergirl doesn't react, not that Cat can see, but something shifts between them. Gets a little colder, a little darker. Then Supergirl takes a deliberate step back, turns away a little, and that's as telling as any reply. "I’m not saying it’s a bad thing,” Cat says, purposefully light. The mood had become too heavy and at any rate she’s reassured, as much as possible, that Supergirl won’t hurt Carter. “I am saying that if he gets so much as a paper cut…” She lifts her eyebrows and, to her surprise, Supergirl breaks into a wide smile.
“I’ll take good care of him, Miss Grant.”
“Supergirl," a young, terribly excited voice breathes out. They turn toward the open doors, where Carter is now standing, and he rushes in to stand next to his mother. “You’re here for the interview?”
“I am. I’m sorry for being late, Mister Grant. It was unavoidable.”
“I understand.” He nods back, so serious. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course. Consider it a thank you for your assistance on the train.”
His eyes light up at that—a thank you. From Supergirl—and then he looks sidelong at his mother. “Mom,” he hisses.
“Oh. Oh yes.” She picks up her computer from her desk, disconnects the charger, and makes her way to the door. “If you need anything, Carter,”
“I’ll text you,” he says and he even spares her a smile before his eyes return and lock on to his hero.
“Alright. I’ll be right out here.”
At Kara’s desk, she supposes. It is closest to her office if something goes wrong.
She looks down at the desk and huffs, moving Kara's things carelessly to the side. Not that she would purposefully break anything but if something were to break, well. It’s not like she’s breaking someone’s heart. And it's all so kitsch really if a few things were to go missing or spontaneously break, she'd be doing Kara a favour.
She didn’t think they would've noticed, Carter and Supergirl, they’re busy talking. But then a mug is falling and a hand catches it before it can shatter against the floor. And Supergirl is giving her a reproving look.
“What?”
“No need to break your assistants personal items, Miss Grant.”
“Yes, well—“ but there is no excuse and no time for an excuse because as quickly as Supergirl was there, she was gone again, back into her office.
Cat watches as Carter gestures to the couch. Supergirl sits and he takes the opposite couch. Sets out his papers neatly. It takes him a moment to get all the edges lined up as he wants them and Supergirl doesn’t shift an inch, just waits and watches. They talk for a while and then he hands over the first sheet and a pen and, when she signs, he takes the page back with slightly shaking hands. He pulls out the recording device Cat gave him and sets it between them on the table and, when Supergirl nods, he clicks it on.