Chapter 10
It feels strange to wake up in her own bed.
Cat wakes slowly to the sound of her alarm—she stretches her legs, then her back, then lifts her arms over her head and pushes until her muscles just start that delicious burn. She lowers her hands and scrunch them in the sheets, breathes in the soft barely-there scent of her laundry cleaner, her own shampoo, perfume. She’s comfortable and warm and safe so why, she wonders, letting her hands trail across the covers and delighting in the feel of the smooth fabric sliding against the skin of her palms and fingertips, why is she confused? Why does it feel like she should be somewhere else? Why does it feel like she’s missing something?
Cat’s eyes flash open and she stares up at her ceiling.
Kara.
She sits up in her bed and searches the room for any signs of the other woman. There are none. The other side of her bed remains rumple free—she’s still half stuck in sleep, so she doesn’t consider why she thought Kara might have slept in her room—and there is no indication that Kara has been in her room at all. Except…yes, yes she was because Cat might not remember falling asleep but she does remember, through a haze, that there were two hands on her shoulders and a kind, blurred face leaning in towards her and a soft voice that told her it was time to go to bed. She remembers—oh, she remembers that Kara smells the way warmth feels and her skin prickles all over when she realises that Kara had lifted her into her arms and carried Cat to her room.
Cat smoothes her hands over the edge of her sheets. She pulls at the edge, tugging it neatly across her lap and she folds and straightens and folds it again. Her fingers do not stop as she considers her next set.
Is Kara even still here?
What did she think about the night before? There was nothing untoward about it, just a warm intimacy that was hushed and friendly.
What will it be like in the office? That thought gives Cat pause—she is more than capable of pretending like nothing had changed. Her work means more to her than anything else, save Carter, and she will not have that ruined by anything. Not, she admits, looking over at her bedroom door, that Kara would ruin anything. No, that woman is too good. And she understands what Cat’s work means to her.
Cat purses her lips thoughtfully.
Now that she knows Kara’s warmth, knows the way Carter lights up next to her not as a reflection of Kara’s light, but one of his very own, now that she knows the weight of Kara leaning against her, how her hair feels between her fingers, how she smiles at Carter and how it feels to have that smile turned on her, and knows what it is like to be carried in her arms—now that she knows how her own body reacts to nothing more than an innocent touch, Cat finds herself on quite unfamiliar ground.
She doesn’t know what to do next.
But it will all become clear with a little more information.
That has been the truest thing in Cat’s life for many years. If she just has the patience to wait long enough, everything becomes clear. Her husbands strange moods? She hadn’t had to wait too long to figure that one out actually—he was cheating. Her second husbands strange moods? That took a little longer, but as it turned out he was unhappy and lonely and, oh, also cheating. It came from a place of loneliness rather than spite, true, but still. Ice caps melting? Global warming. Her mothers abysmal behaviour? So many reasons.
So, with half a decision made—wait—she does as she always does and she showers and dresses for the day ahead, clads herself in a smart suit, admires the blouse and the way her jacket sits and across her throat like armour she drapes a necklace all fine-looped chains. She primps in front of the mirror until she’s perfect.
Then she goes to wake Carter.
Carter who is, in fact, not in his bed.
He was—the sheets are kicked down to the end of the bed and his lamp is still on, so Cat crosses over and switches it off and she tugs the sheet up too, until they are neat. She makes a note to talk to her son about the very few rules she has. One of which is that he must make his bed in the morning. Every morning.
She thinks back with a little smile of the time that her son—her clever, clever boy—had stomped his little foot the third time he was punished for not making his bed and had loudly declared, even though his lower lip trembled, that it “wasn’t fair” because she had never told him which morning he had to make his bed. How was he to know that she’d meant every morning? It was less a tantrum, more a misunderstanding—as soon as she had corrected herself, he had calmed down and wiped at his runny nose with his sleeve and, with only four notable exceptions, he’d made his bed every morning ever since.
Five.
Five exceptions, now.
Today makes one more and she can think of only one reason that Carter would forget something so engrained.
Cat makes her way down the hall to the kitchen and she smiles at the scene that greets her.
It’s a mess. There is flour here and there, empty packets and streaks of batter. There are bowls upon bowls and plates and she would be horrified if it weren’t for the fact that in the centre of it—flour in his hair and his little face set firmly with concentration—is Carter.
He’s standing at the kitchen island and mixing something in a large bowl. A very large bowl that Cat doesn’t recognise as one of her own and he grunts as he tries to push a wooden spoon through the mixture.
“Kara,” he whines without looking up. “Help.”
“What’s wrong?” she asks, and she steps out of the pantry—yet more flour in hand—and there isn’t enough time for Cat to control the stutter of her heart or her slight gasp.
Kara is sleep tousled and golden. She’s stripped off the sweatshirt from the night before and, in long flannel sleep pants and a tank top, she’s something straight out of one of Cat’s very private dreams. Barefoot, hair up in a messy bun, long strands tickling at her neck, and glasses firmly in place, Kara is the most beautiful woman Cat has ever seen and the thought makes Cat’s stomach lurch.
Of course Kara is beautiful. She’s a very beautiful woman, Cat isn’t blind—of course she’s noticed. It’s what is behind the realisation that surprises Cat—behind the admiration, the acknowledgement, and yes, okay, the arousal, there is something that is settling. Her thoughts—her plans for the day, her half formed questions to ask Carter this morning, her requests for breakfast—stop. Her heart rate that had been steadily ticking faster, slows. Steadies. Her eyes—moving from Kara’s hair to her toned, toned arms, to that sliver of skin offered, tantalising, to Cat when Kara’s shirt rides up, to her bare feet, to her smile, to her hands—return to Kara’s face and she is loathe to look away.
For a moment, there is just Kara.
There is something anti-climatic about it.
She needs to understand, needs to explain it to herself, and she grabs at the first explanation that settles in her mind, the first memory of something that felt like this, and it is too small, it’s not right, but it’s right enough that she lets it play out. It’s something like, she thinks, the frustration of searching for her keys, a feeling that builds and builds with every place she checks and then it just…stops. Disappears once she’s found them. Much like that, here is Kara. No, Kara is no lost set of keys, but she still elicits the instant feeling of victory, of success—fruition, her mind supplies, and she thinks it fits quite well. Connotation is a foundation of the world she has created, and fruition? Fruition comes with fulfilment, success, something new and anticipated and sweet—the way that victory is supposed to taste on your tongue.
Something shifts inside her and Cat can’t—won’t—go back now that she sees Kara.
The only way, then, is forward and Cat Grant, CEO of CatCo WorldWide Media, has never been a slouch in going for the things that she wants.
Her eyes rake hot over Kara’s figure, lingering on the bunch of her biceps, the sweet curve of her lips, the warmth in her eyes, oh god the length of her legs and the almost indecent cut of her hips where the sweatpants sit low on her hips…
Yes, she thinks. I want Kara.
As if she had said it out loud, Kara jerks her head up to face Cat and her smile flickers for a moment before, strangely and utterly lovely, it grows even more bright.
“Miss Grant,” Kara greets her sweetly, eyes crinkling under the force of her smile. “Good morning.”
“Cat,” she corrects.
Kara swallows—Cat’s eyes dip to the hollow between her collarbones, catch the throb of Kara’s pulse, the movement of that golden skin, and she burns to feel it for herself.
“Cat,” Kara whispers, eyes wide, and Cat lifts her gaze, unhurriedly. She wonders if Kara can feel her gaze phantom light on her skin, a preview of the way Cat wants to touch her. Her fingers tingle. Kara’s eyes are all dark and wide and feverishly hot. And then she blinks—holds her eyes closed for a few seconds—and looks down at the pancake mix. “Would you like some pancakes, Cat?”
“Please.” There’s something Cat wants more, though. Craving it. Something hot and delicious and—
“There’s coffee too,” Kara grins, recognising the look in her eyes, and Cat throws her an adoring look before she can stop herself. Not, she admits within the privacy of her own head, that she would have.
Breakfast is a hurried affair—they all have to leave soon, Carter for school, Kara and Cat for work—and Kara pours out pancake after pancake onto plates. Mother and son watch, with something like horror and admiration respectively, as Kara swallows down nine.
“My god,” Cat breathes. Carter laughs. Kara blushes.
“I…” Kara just shrugs and smiles a little sheepishly. Then she catches sight of the clock. “Oh! Carter! You gotta get dressed—you’ve got school!”
Carter yelps at the time and Cat goes to help him—she packs his bag for him and puts some money in his wallet for lunch and he blushes a bright red when he runs back into his bedroom in a towel, wet curls plaster to his forehead. She makes a quick exit.
The kitchen is spotless—a thermos of hot coffee waiting on the corner of the island closest to her, and Cat picks it up and sips from it with a pleased smile—and, with only five more minutes to get Carter out of the house and into the car, she turns to call for Kara to hurry.
“Ka—”
“I’m here,” Kara hops around the corner, tugging on one of her flats. She has showered too, and dressed, and she is neat. Impeccably so. Not a strand of hair out of place. Cat feels an impulsive sense of loss that she didn’t get to enjoy the messier side of Kara for longer.
“That was quick,” she says, and reaches out to needlessly straighten Kara’s blouse. She can’t resist. She is, however, careful not to touch skin.
“I didn’t want to make Carter late. Or you.”
“Hmm.”
“Mom, I have a presentation can you check my bag,” Carter yells, the end of his sentence muffled, and Cat takes a step toward him. Kara stops her, takes the bag gently from her hands.
“USB, speech, palm cards,” she yells back. “What else do you need?”
“My tie! And blazer! I can’t find them!” A few loud thuds accompany the statement, meaning he’s probably thrown some shoes from his cupboard.
“Your shoes aren’t hiding them, Carter,” Kara chastises. She fiddles with her glasses for a moment and Cat wonders at how obvious she is, but for the sake of her morning, she goes easy on the woman and reaches into her purse to pull out a hand mirror. Cat checks her lipstick and teeth and fights the urge to look over at Kara, who has the opportunity to dip her glasses and look. Properly.
“Did you check your moms study?” Kara suggests, loudly.
There’s a moment of silence, then, “Got them!”
“Your hat too. It’s in the kitchen.”
“Thank you!”
“Are we all set then?” Cat asks and she clicks her hand mirror closed, lifts her eyebrows at a sheepish Kara. “I’m sure I’ll be getting a neighbourly warning about volume control before eight a.m. so thank you for that,” she says in a way that does not mean thank you at all.
“Sorry, Miss Grant,” Kara apologises so earnestly, and Cat softens.
“It’s Cat,” she insists. Again. “Until we are in the office.” She can see the words forming just behind Kara’s lip—this isn’t professional—and she damns herself for reacting as she had, for making such a final demand that has been proving so hard to get beyond. She halts what Kara means to say before she says it, reaches out to grip Kara’s elbow. She manages not to gasp—Kara is so warm, her skin is so soft beneath her fingers and Cat thinks, distantly, that surely it shouldn’t feel this way. It should feel…and her mind won’t supply the word, veers away at the very last moment, so Cat feels like she’s just hanging there, foolishly gaping—and then her thumb drags up across the sensitive, soft, soft, soft patch of skin there on the inside of Kara’s elbow and Kara is the one to gasp. Sucks in her breath and holds it, eyes wide and a little confused.
“I know,” Cat says. “It’s not professional.”
“You know?” Kara is quieter than Cat, whether because of the volume reprimand or because Cat’s hand is on her skin Cat can’t be sure.
“Yes.”
“But…” Her eyebrows bunch and she shakes her head slowly.
“It was a mistake to do that,” Cat admits and Kara’s eyes widen further. “I asked for a chance to prove that this is no trick, that I mean what I say when I tell you I’d like to move past that.” Kara inclines her head in a small nod. “I was wrong. And,” she wants desperately to look away, to play it off as less than it is. She shakes her head, lips pressed together, and blows a small laugh out her nose. “The truth is, I’ve missed you.”
“Oh.”
Right in front of Cat, Kara goes from confused to bright. She loses the last of her unease—presumably from being here, in Cat’s home, with Cat, and not knowing why exactly—and it’s beautiful to see those Kara smiling back at her.
“I missed you as well.” There’s a moment—Cat’s fingers tighten a little, her thumb brushes over her skin again, Kara lets her, sways a little towards her—and then Kara tilts her head to the side, fixes Cat with a curiously blank look and offers, “We could go back. To like it was before.”
“No.” Oh Cat considered it. It would be the easiest and perhaps best thing to do. “I despise going backwards, Kiera,” she says with a quirk of her lips and a raised eyebrow that Kara, having sat in on many meetings and just as many reprimands, is well and truly familiar with. So it’s no surprise that she sees, too, the ways in which it is lacking any real punch behind it and that the quirk of her lips reads something like amusement.
“Of course, Cat.”
“Oh good, you remembered. I was beginning to think you couldn’t be trained.” She looks away from Kara—whose eyebrows shot right up and who threw her head back to laugh—and there, at the end of the hall, is Carter. Staring at them. “Oh! School!”
“Uh yeah,” Carter says with a frown. “We have to go.”
Kara snaps into action, grabbing his bag and her own, and she walks out to the hall and looks to the elevators, then to Cat, then to the stairs. “Meet you down there,” she says cheerfully, and practically skips her way to the stairwell.
Cat rolls her eyes and clicks her tongue and she steps onto the elevator with Carter, using his helpful hands to hold open his purse. She searches through it, looking for her lipstick. “Meet you down there’,” she mimics, rolling her eyes. “I’m a fast runner.” She makes a loud sound of derision in her throat and Carter faces straight ahead and does his best not to grin.
Work is much the same as it always is. Except, Kara is working harder again. Not that she ever slacked, but there is that anticipation element—she’s barely a breath into calling for Kiera when she appears in front of her, coffee scalding in one hand, tablet in the other, and a stream of adjustments to the schedule coming from her mouth.
“Carter will be calling in an hour to tell you about his science presentation.” She grins and reaches up to adjust her glasses. “It’s about water pollution, it’s a pretty big deal. He did a great job.”
“You helped?”
“No, no I just looked over it.” Kara rushes to explain. “My sister loves science, I may have asked her a couple of things and she said that his reasoning was all solid. And I…I may have had a few pointers but he did all the work, I promise.” Cat lifts a hand to stroke her lips, telling herself not to smile. Kara gulps and looks down at her tablet, searching for something else she can tell Cat. “Oh, I also noticed that the meeting you had scheduled for next week has been moved up to this afternoon. I had it moved back to four,” Kara tells her and Cat’s head snaps up with a glare.
“You did what?”
“Miss Grant—“
“Kiera, just because you and my son had a sleepover it does not mean that you can make changes like that.”
“Miss Grant,” Kara says firmly. “That is not why I did it. I moved it back so that you had two hours to prepare for it. Jackson cancelled his meeting with you at two and I’ve blocked that off as well.”
“Why on earth would I need that much time to prepare?” Cat asks her, confused.
Kara pauses, takes in a breath, and continues without answering. “Lucy is free then so I went ahead and asked her to bring up the contracts that you will be going over, just a refresher, and there are some other files as well. I’ve had the minutes from all the previous meetings with them printed.”
“Why?” Cat asks again.
“Because I don’t think you should hire him.” Cat’s eyes widen and all the fury she’d let go of when Kara changed the schedule comes running back. But Kara pays no mind and she charges her way around the table and spins Cat’s computer around so it’s facing her and she talks quickly as she logs out of Cat’s account and into her own. “He’s a sleaze, Miss Grant. He’s got a terrible reputation and I didn’t know anything about it until I overheard what they called him. Mr Handsey,” she tells Cat.
His name, Cat knows, is Mr Hansel and the nickname isn’t clever at all but she understands what it means.
“He’s worked with a lot of people and everyone I’ve asked has told me that they weren’t comfortable working with him. There are a lot of rumours going around with the other assistants. I don’t know how much is true or how far he’s gone but it’s enough that he’s had seven assistants in the past year and they’ve all either quit or asked to be relocated.” Kara pauses and, quietly, she says, “Two of them by me.”
“You?”
“You, technically.” Kara’s gaze slips sideways. She takes in Cat’s blank expression—not a good sign—and she’s already made a mess of this so she continues. “Do you remember Anna May?” Cat blinks slowly. “Five five, tenth of August, she was wearing a really nice black pant suit and you complimented her on her shoes because she brought you a coffee.”
“Yes,” Cat agrees, a face flashing to the front of her mind. Kara had a knack for that—recalling things in just the way that Cat could follow. And her memory… Cat frowns at the girl, suddenly curious how much Kara was keeping from her.
“You liked her. You helped her get a job in one of the Central City branches.”
“I see.”
Kara stands up from where she was bent over Cat’s computer and she spins it back to face the woman, who notes that the document she has opened has twenty pages to it. “None of the girls lodged any formal complaint about him but I’ve been putting together some statements from people who have complained about other stuff. The girls want to stay anonymous but I think I can get you something concrete.”
“I see,” Cat says again, voice cold. “Get me the information you’ve put together. And contact the assistants—if one of them comes forward, I’ll be able to fire him without him claiming unfair dismissal. Not,” she says with a shrug, “that I care if he does. It’s just a headache I don’t need.”
“Miss Grant,” Kara says, and she gulps and steps back when Cat glares at her. “I’m sorry.”
“You knew about this and you didn’t tell me, Kiera, I think it will take more than a sorry to forget…this.”
“I wanted to have something substantial before I came to you with it, get enough information for you. But then your meeting got moved up to today and—”
“And now I have another problem to fix. Thank you so much for your incompetence.”
Kara locks her hands together in front of her and tries not to tremble. Cat sounds furious—furious, controlled, and, somewhere deep beneath it, hurt.
“I wanted you to have all the information first. I didn’t want you to make a decision if I was missing something.” She feels like she’s repeating herself. She also feels like Cat isn’t listening.
“That is always my decision to make.” Cat purses her lips and this time when she looks at Kara, her fury is even more directed. She’s found a target in Kara, it seems. Later, in Mr Handsey, but for now her assistant—Kara—kept this from her, could have made her look like an idiot, could have put other girls, other assistants in danger and she’s furious. “He’s been harassing people. I rather think that’s enough grounds for dismissal, don’t you?”
“Of course I do!”
“Then—,” Cat looks down at her computer and says tightly, “Kiera, get me the documents you prepared.”
“Anything else?”
Cat puts her glasses in place and, ever so coolly, says, “Get out.”
//
Winn and James don’t understand why Kara is so upset by this turn of events—they pat her clumsily on the shoulder and Winn tells her that he’ll try and dig up some more dirt for her and Miss Grant to use and James tells her that he’ll go and help Lucy draft up a severance to get it all going faster and it’s all helpful but she can’t tell them that she visited Cat two nights before and sat and drank with her and she can’t tell them that Cat took her home last night and that Cat is softer and sweeter and she’s clever and helpful and kind and her fingers working through Kara’s hair felt like heaven and that at one point, Kara had forgotten herself and had let Kryptonian ease over her tongue and fill the space and in that moment, Cat’s apartment had felt like the closest thing to home she’d felt in a while.
She can’t tell them that. Or how now, now she has so quickly and thoroughly not only disappointed Cat but hurt her somehow, Kara isn’t too clear on the details of that but she knows that she heard it in her voice.
So instead, she does her job and she does it well.
At one minute to five, Cat calls her into her office with a very restrained “Kiera”.
It’s the first time Cat has spoken to her since that morning and apprehension hits Kara full strength—her knees lock in place and her hands tremble and sweat beads between her shoulders and at the small of her back. She can’t make her legs hold her weight so instead she’s just staring nervously through the glass windows of Cat’s office when Cat looks up and glares at her. “Now, Kiera.”
“Yes, Miss Grant?” she asks breathlessly, hurrying in. She can’t quite feel her legs moving and she hopes that’s just nerves—she hopes she isn’t floating and she risks a quick look down but no, she’s okay, her feet are touching the floor.
“Has all the paperwork gone through for the Hansel incident?”
“Yes, Miss Grant. Lucy pushed it through so that it would be done before close of business. She’s staying to finalise some things but she e-mailed me to let me know. You should also have the e-mail.” Kara waits as Cat clicks through her inbox and then the woman hums and nods. “Was there anything el—“
“Stay there,” is all Cat says, and she fixes Kara with a cold look that freezes her to the spot. Cat doesn’t look away until Kara nods—and she does, quickly—and then she returns to her computer.
Kara waits for ten minutes. She stands there, and it doesn’t occur to her to clear her throat or fidget or ask any questions. Cat is making her wait—Cat wants her to wait, and wait, and when she’s ready and when she’s finished planning what she wants to say, only then will Cat look up at her and say it.
Finally, Cat stands. She makes her way around her desk until she’s standing in front of Kara who, to her credit, doesn’t flinch.
“Balcony. Go.”
Kara goes. She opens the door and spins in place, holding it open for Cat to walk through as well. She closes it behind them—there is a dark mood surrounding Cat, Kara sees it in the tension in her shoulders and the way she holds her glass close to her mouth instead of lowering it down at all, and the sharp click of her heels against the tiles.
“Sit.”
She wipes her hands on her dress—her trembling, clammy hands—and sits.
Cat hooks a thumb into the pocket of her pants and she paces along the balcony for a short time. Kara follows with just her eyes. Left. Right. Left. She pauses. Takes a long sip from her glass. Right again. Then, she turns and faces Kara.
“What do you think of me?” she asks.
“Excuse me?”
“Your impression of me, Kiera. What is it?” She’s just shy of tapping her foot impatiently and her eyebrows are lowering with every second Kara doesn’t answer.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Kara admits, a little shaken. There are a lot of ways she could answer.
“I want you to tell me the truth.”
Cat’s eyes flash with a challenge and Kara responds. Her shoulders straighten and she sits upright. “You’re Cat Grant,” Kara says firmly, and her eyes roam over Cat’s face trying to figure out why she’s doing this—not what she wants to hear, there are so many possibilities, but if Kara knows the why then she’ll know what Cat needs. Not that it matters. Kara won’t lie—she doesn’t want to, and also Cat Grant can sniff a lie out a mile away—but she wants to know what truth Cat wants. “You’re an amazing writer and business woman. You’re a great mom. You’re successful and smart and—“
“Enough.” Cat holds up her free hand. “I understand.”
There’s a flatness to her tone that worries Kara.
“Miss Grant?”
“You can leave.”
“No.” Cat looks faintly surprised but that too fades quickly—their mess of a relationship has changed too rapidly over the last few days for her to really be surprised that Kara says no to her. “What do you want to hear? I know that if you have to ask it’s not the same, but reassurance is not the same as a lie.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Cat’s voice is clipped and cool and Kara frowns.
She sits still for a few minutes, picking apart the whole thing and trying to see it from Cat’s point of view. Then, quietly, she says, “You have built an empire, Cat.” The woman smiles but she doesn’t look pleased. “I just wanted to help you protect it.”
“Protect it.” Cat sniffs, shakes her head. “Kiera, you should never protect men like that. My empire is not built on the same premise of others—I am not in the business of tolerating men who cannot keep their hands to themselves. Do you understand?”
“I—yes, but—“
“Enough.”
“No,” Kara says for the second time. She lifts a hand to her forehead, touches two fingers to the point above her eyebrow where a headache is suddenly throbbing and she sighs—why doesn’t Cat understand? “I wasn’t protecting him. I would never,” she says and Cat turns away a little so Kara stands and makes her way the short distance to the other woman. “I would have told you the second I found out about him, the very second.”
Cat’s eyebrows lift lazily and she takes a long, slow pull from her glass—she wants so much to show Kara that she doesn’t care about this, about what has happened, but she does and Kara doesn’t know why. “So why didn’t you?” she asks, like she is bored.
“I thought you would want something substantial. Something to back you up. I thought you would want proof.”
“And seven women all making the same complaint isn’t proof enough?”
“It is.” Kara sighs and looks away. “I didn’t mean to blindside you with this, Miss Grant. I was preparing everything so you would be able to look it over before your meeting.” Cat just presses her lips together and Kara reaches up to adjust her glasses. “I’m sorry,” she says again and then, taking a risk, she asks, “What do you think I meant? My description of you, what do you think I meant?”
“I’m a business woman first and foremost. Heartless. Driven by the bottom line. Don’t worry,” Cat waves a hand. “I’ve heard it all before.”
“That is not what I said.” Kara’s voice is steel and Cat turns sharply towards her, utterly unsurprised by the force and confidence in Kara’s eyes but not expecting it here, now. “That’s not what I said at all.” Cat rolls her eyes. Kara frowns. “For someone who made her career off listening to and understanding people,” she says, “you’re not doing it very well.”
Cat snaps her head around and the rest of her body follows. She steps closer to Kara, glower in place. “What did you say to me?”
“I said you aren’t listening.”
“I don’t have to listen to my assistant.”
“Then why did you ask?” Kara shoots back and they stand toe to toe, neither of them backing down. Until, unexpectedly, Cat does. She lifts her gaze just a little, away from Kara, and nods.
“What did you mean?”
“You’re amazing,” Kara breathes. “You care. A lot. About what you write about and who. About making a difference. And, and you’re smart and driven and you don’t take no for an answer. You fight for what you want. You’re fair above everything else. And Carter? Carter loves you. How could any of that amount to heartless? How could any of that amount to, to impersonal or cruel?” Kara blinks her eyes quickly and she clenches her jaw shut tight. “You’re Cat Grant,” she says again, and at her tone, Cat wilts and folds herself into the second chair and turns her head to rest in one hand. “Cat?” Kara whispers. The woman doesn’t look up. She’s near to tears, Kara realises, and she thinks about it for a split second before she kneels next to her and, as Cat had for her the night before, she places a hand on her knee and looks up to Cat’s face. “I know you care about your employees, Cat. I know that you care about these woman. You didn’t fail them.”
Cat lifts her head, tilts it the smallest bit. Nothing about her expression changes but she doesn’t look away from Kara’s earnest eyes.
And she is earnest. Earnest and desperate. This is an opportunity, Kara realises, not only to reassure Cat but more than that, this is her chance to show Cat that Kara can see her.
She would be a fool to think that Cat Grant, possibly one of the smartest people Kara has ever met, hasn’t started to put together that Kara is Supergirl—she’d found her out once and now Kara suspects that it is just good manners that has stopped Cat from confronting her again. This is her chance to show Cat and it’s important for reasons that Kara doesn’t dare look into right this very moment that Cat sees herself the way that Kara does.
It’s important that Cat knows Kara can see her.
“You did not fail these women,” Kara tells her. “You have made a company that women want to come to. Two years ago, I told my sister I wanted to be your assistant and do you know what she said to me?” Cat shakes her head. Her shoulders tighten—readying herself for an insult, Kara thinks. “CatCo has done some great things for women in STEM. You’ll do good things there.” Cat blinks. “It might not sound like much,” she admits, “but Alex isn’t very forthcoming with praise for most things. From her, that’s a glowing endorsement. And I, it was important. To me. All I’ve ever wanted is to do good things. I thought, if I was useful to someone like you, I could help you do great things. And I have. Every day.” Kara’s fingers stroke softly for a moment. “Working for you is a dream come true. You are changing the world.”
Cat looks at her lips as she speaks, faintly bewildered.
Kara squeezes her knee gently. “You can’t stop people from making their own decisions. And they did have their own reasons for not coming forward. They might not know you the way I do,” she says and she can’t believe that she said that, even if it is true, and she hurries on, “they might not know how much you care but they know that you do. This… It wasn’t about CatCo not having the right reporting policies or about you not making it clear that harassment is unacceptable. You’ve done that. This isn’t on you.” She squeezes Cat’s knee again. “It’s not on you, you don’t have to take it on.”
She’s run out of things to say, so she just rests her hand warmly there and Cat’s eyes roam over her face. Kara tries to show her, with her eyes, her expression, how fervently she believes everything she just said.
After some time, Cat’s eyes slip closed and she sighs.
“Olsen told you. About…about the woman who died.”
Kara closes her eyes as well. Her heart pangs at the thought of it—a woman, killed by her own husband, a young Cat Grant dealing with the guilt of knowing—and she nods. “He did. I was having an ethical dilemma. I couldn’t talk to you,” she admits, and after a slight hesitation she lifts her other hand from her lap and reaches to touch the back of Cat’s. She holds her breath when the woman draws her hand away, but she just turns her hand and opens it and Kara rests her hand in Cat’s. “I never meant for you to think that I don’t trust you, Cat. I do. All I wanted to do was help.”
“It would have been fine,” Cat admits, “if the meeting hadn’t been moved up.” Kara smiles with relief. Cat doesn’t hate her. “You didn’t tell me about Max.”
Kara blinks. “Max?”
“Maxwell Lord. When he was harassing you.”
“I…” Kara wants to draw her hand away but she’s afraid that Cat will read into that—read that Kara doesn’t trust her, and that’s the last thing she wants Cat to think.
“But he wasn’t really sexually harassing you, was he?” Cat continues. “He wants something else from you.” Kara nods. “He really does want you to work for him.”
“Yes.”
“Hmm,” is all Cat says and then she lifts her head with a slight sniff. “Classic Max. Can’t find himself an exceptional assistant so he wants to take mine.”
Kara smiles. She recognises that for what it is—Cat drawing back a little, away from Kara, from what they were getting too close to talking about again—and she doesn’t begrudge her for it. She welcomes it. Plus, it’s only fair—Kara has Supergirl; Cat has Cat Grant, CEO. She gives her a few moments and then she falls back into the role she knows Cat needs from her.
“Is there anything I can do, Miss Grant?” Kara asks, and she’s wholly unprepared for the heat in Cat’s eyes when she looks down at her, kneeling next to her. Cat’s hand closes tightly around Kara’s. “Cat?” she asks quietly.
Cat stares at her for a long while—Kara waits.
“Carter is giving me his transcripts tomorrow,” Cat tells her matter of factly.
“For the Supergirl interview?”
“Yes.”
“That must be very exciting,” Kara says, smiling gently. She’s not sure exactly what Cat is trying to say, just that the wild hot look in her eyes hasn’t faded and instincts are pinging in the back of Kara’s mind telling her to go slowly and softly and carefully.
“Do you think I should use them?”
“Me?” Kara’s eyes widen. “I—well, yes. Carter wants you to have them. And you might be able to write something really interesting with what she gave him.”
“I could write something interesting with the babbling of a three year old, Kiera,” Cat says with a roll of her eyes and Kara dips her head in a nod, hiding a grin. Cat’s hand tightens on hers. “What I’m concerned about is whether Supergirl actually wants me to have them. She could have agreed just to make Carter happy.” Cat’s eyes are boring into her when she looks up. Kara licks her lips and picks her next words carefully.
“She knew what she was getting into when she signed the papers. You might have surprised her in your first interview but Supergirl has grown in the last few months. A lot of that is thanks to you.” Kara tilts her head. Swallows. “Perhaps that is her thank you?”
Cat’s grip on her hand loosens a little. “You should come by this weekend. I’d like you to write up the transcript with me so I can organise them into an article.” She smiles a little. “I will pay you overtime.”
“Oh no, that’s not necessary. I’ll just eat all your food.”
“Making me pay out of pocket?” Cat clicks her tongue. “Diabolical.”
Kara laughs and pushes up onto her feet. She smiles down at Cat for a long moment, not bothering to say anything, and then her phone beeps. Cat looks away and Kara tries not to feel the loss of their shared moment too keenly.
She sighs when she sees Alex’s name on her phone.
“I’m sorry,” Kara says. Cat looks back at her. “I have to go.”
“Big plans for a Friday night?”
“Not really.” She wiggles her phone between her fingers, flashes the screen towards her boss. “I need to see Alex, that’s all.”
“Alex.”
“My sister. She needs my help with something.”
“Your help,” Cat repeats. She doesn’t sound pleased. “The same sister that had you breaking down in my office last night? The same sister you said hurt you?”
“Well, yes but,”
“It has barely been a day. Ignore her.”
“I can’t.” Cat scoffs and lifts her glass to her lips—it’s empty, though, and she looks very faintly uncomfortable when she lowers it again. Kara knows that she’s just looking out for her, even as strange as that sounds she does know that it’s true. Gently, she says, “With all due respect, Miss Grant, it’s my decision to make.”
“Yes. You’re right. I…apologise.”
Kara guesses at how vulnerable Cat is feeling after the day she’s had and what they’ve shared tonight and she gentles her tone further. “Thank you. For last night. But my sister needs me and I should go.”
“Yes. Have you finished the tasks I asked for?”
“Of course.”
“Then have a good evening. Give your sister my worst,” she adds and the comment makes Kara snort. Cat doesn’t quite smile when she hears it but it’s something close.
“She won’t like that.”
“All the more reason,” Cat insists. She fixes Kara to the spot with a considering look. “Kara. After you’ve dealt with your sister…you’re welcome to come over again tonight. If you would like.”
Kara looks as surprised as Cat feels by the offer.
“I’ll think about it. Thank you, Cat.”
//
“I know you don’t trust me right now,” are the first words out of Alex’s mouth, and Kara sees the uncertainty and the shame and the fear in her eyes and she can’t stand it so she scoops her big sister up in a hug. It’s been a long day—she needs one too. Alex relaxes with a sigh and brings her free hand up to press against Kara’s shoulder. “Hey,” she murmurs.
“Hey. Now tell me what is happening.”
“Okay.” Alex clears her throat and draws back with a nod. “Lord Tech is under attack.”
“Again,” Kara rolls her eyes. “By who?”
“Actually, interestingly enough…” Alex licks her lips. “Your uncle.”
Kara flinches—she reaches her hand out to the railing and grips it tight. Faintly, she hears the metal give under her fingers. “My uncle?” He’s supposed to be overseeing Astra’s passing—he shouldn’t be—he shouldn’t—he can’t be doing this.
“Whoa, whoa, we haven’t actually seen Non,” Alex is quick to say, and Kara sucks in a deep breath. “Just his second hand man and a few others.”
“Okay.” Kara nods. “Okay. Sounds like he got tired of waiting and decided to bend the rules of observation a little.” She sees Vasquez mouth ‘observation’ to Alex and smiles, a little sadly. “The mourning rituals. For Astra.”
“Oh.” Vasquez nods. “I’m sorry, Supergirl. For your loss.” It’s a few weeks late but Kara appreciates it just the same.
“Thank you.” Kara folds her arms over her chest. “I’ll go chase them away.”
“Do that. I’m taking a team in the chopper to join you.” Alex grips her shoulder and squeezes. Hard. “Be careful.”
“You too.”
She flies as fast as she can, the air popping around her in a loud crash that sends a ripple through the space around where she had been and it’s invigorating to push herself like that—just the thing to do before a fight.
Alex was right—Non isn’t there. But his right hand man is and he hovers above Lord Tech and directs his men. There are bodies scattered over the floor and Kara swallows down her horror. Too late, she was too late, she should have come faster—she shakes her thoughts away and crashes her body into his, slamming him into the ground.
“Kara,” he laughs. “You’re too late.”
“Not too late to hurt you,” she grunts and slams her fist into his face.
He gives back as good as he gets and Kara tries to control herself when he flings her away. She doesn’t want to do any more damage to the complex or the people who might still be alive in there. She crashes into him a second time—the sound of them colliding is loud and violent—and she’s winning, she is, but then he laughs and nods somewhere behind her.
“I would release me, if I were you.”
“Yeah, well, you’re not me,” Kara snarls, but she looks over her shoulder anyway. Two of her DEO agents are being held far, far above the ground and the team can’t get off a clean shot. Or save them if—when—they fall.
“He has a message for you, Kara Zor-El,” he says calmly, even as his face purples. She considers letting him choke.
“If Non wants to give me a message, he can tell me himself.”
“He’s mourning the death of his wife, our general.” His face is appropriately sorrowful—Kara tightens her grip. “The wife,” he grunts out, “your sister killed.” He grins when Kara pales.
“What is his message?” Kara asks. The words feel flat on her tongue.
The man pries her fingers away from his throat—somewhere in the distance, Kara can hear Alex barking commands and she wants to fly to her side and take her somewhere, anywhere but here, anywhere that is free of these people who know, who want to kill her sister—and he tears himself out of her hold. “When Myriad is operational, you will know what true pain is,” the man says. “Non will take away those you care for the most and then he will destroy every other person on this planet and you will watch. And then, Kara Zor-El, he will kill you.” He risks moving a little closer—Kara doesn’t even think of attacking him, her whole body feeling like it is filling slowly with lead. “Your sister will be the first,” he promises, and then he shoots up into the sky.
When he is far enough gone that Kara cannot follow, his henchmen release the DEO agents who fall and fall, screaming, and Kara catches them in her arms and lowers them to the ground. They slump, weak-kneed, and press their palms and foreheads against the rough ground.
“Thank you, Supergirl,” one of them says in a voice almost too shaken up for words.
“Of course.”
“Kara,” Alex snaps. “What the hell was that?”
“They had our men,” Kara tells her, pointing to them, and the agents stand. Still shaky, but they put their hands on their guns and tell Alex they’re ready to move out again. Ready to chase after the hostiles.
“Bullshit. We would’ve thought of something. You just gave up.”
Kara shakes her head, clenches her jaw shut tight. “Not here.”
Alex’s eyes flicker over Kara and then she nods. “This was a loss. Faheem, take your team and help Maxwell Lord with the clean up. I’ll have another team come from base. You can assign them where they’re needed. I trust your judgement.” Her agent nods and points to five other agents, who jog with him back to the entrance of the lab. “Kara, you’re flying me back to base for debrief. You are going to tell me what happened here.”
“Yeah.” Kara rubs at her forehead and glances around at the mess. She makes a note to fly back over later and help them with the large blocks of rubble. “Okay.”
It’s late—almost midnight—when she gets Kara’s text.
Thank you for your help last night, Cat. And for the pancakes.
You made them.
True. Then thank you AND you’re welcome. There is a slight pause—Cat rolls her eyes down at her phone and wonders what she could say next because she does, perhaps, want to continue talking to Kara—and then she gets another message. Maybe I can come over this weekend? There’s something I’ve been meaning to give Carter.
A present? From you? I’m glad you didn’t tell him - I would never have been able to get him to sleep.
There is a long wait until the next message, which comes across tinged with guilt.
Oops.
Cat sighs and stands. Switches off her study lamp and makes her way to Carter’s room first. She thinks for a moment that he is asleep, but then his phone buzzes next to his head and the sheets shift.
“Carter,” she says reprovingly. “It’s late.”
“It’s Kara,” he replies, and good god, she can hear his pout.
“Say goodnight and go to sleep. Now, Carter.”
“Fine.” He types a short message and the sheets wriggle and twist as he makes himself comfortable. A hand sneaks out from underneath and places his phone on the nightstand. “Happy?”
“Ecstatic.”
She has another message waiting for her when she reaches her bedroom.
Shall I tell you if he actually goes to sleep?”
No one likes a tattle, Kiera. Then, quite without consideration, she sends another message. Are you alright? She doesn’t answer, so Cat tries again. Shall I call you?
Actually…
Cat waits for her to continue.
I’m downstairs. Can I come up?
Cat blinks in surprise.
Yes. Of course.
Kara scuffs a sneaker against the carpet in the front hall. She’s got her hair tied up and glasses on and she’s wearing sweatpants again and a white t-shirt. Cat closes her arms around her own waist—it’s cold, but Kara doesn’t show it at all.
“Bit chilly tonight,” Kara says in lieu of a hello when she sees Cat shiver. She closes the door quickly and lifts her bag a little. “Where can I…?"
“Your room.”
“Thanks.”
That’s all they say for a while—their hushed tones still feel too loud for how late it is, how still it feels—and Kara takes her bag to her guest room and Cat makes her way to the kitchen. She’s been nursing the same glass of scotch for an hour now and she pours one for Kara.
“I thought, y’know, since you offered,” Kara says from the entry to the kitchen. “And because I was coming over anyway. For, for the transcripts, to help,” she says, impossibly awkward, and Cat takes pity on her.
She sets the glass in front of her with a quiet clink and nods to it.
Kara doesn’t even blink—she grabs it and throws it back, swallowing it down. It shouldn’t—but Cat has to bite her lip and she grips her own glass a little more tightly. It’s surprisingly hot to see Kara Danvers down two fingers of scotch.
“Another?”
Kara rolls the glass between her palms. “It’s alright,” she says, but she doesn’t say no so Cat pours her another. This time, Kara savours it as it is meant to be savoured and they stand there for a while, in the kitchen with the lights out.
“Is everything alright with your sister?” Kara sighs. “Ah. Still a touchy subject.”
Kara lifts a shoulder.
They have a good view out the large windows and Kara’s eyes don’t settle once as they sweep from side to side. Cat wonders if she is here because she wants to be or because there is a reason—she places her glass in the sink after finishing it off quickly and she looks over at the other woman.
“Carter,” she starts, and Kara shakes her head.
“He’s okay.”
Neither of them talk about why Cat is asking or how Kara knows.
“Kara,”
“Please,” she interrupts softly, “Don’t send me away.”
Cat’s breath halts in her lungs—she fights against the never that struggles free—and her eyes burn as she tries to imprint the way Kara looks on the backs of her eyes—she is hunched and miserable and quiet and small in the dark of her home. And even so, flecks of light illuminate her. Even so, there is some restrained strength in the way she grips her glass. Even so, she is looking at Cat with eyes wide and vulnerable and pleading and Cat cannot look away.
“No,” she whispers. “I won’t.” Kara’s eyes flutter closed and Cat continues. “I was going to say, I have work I want to do tomorrow.” She guesses that Kara will not be sleeping, from the way the woman has been hoarding the last few drops of her drink, making them last overly long, and she says, “Make yourself at home.” She suspects that otherwise, Kara would stand in the centre of her kitchen the whole night long.
“Thank you. Sleep well.”
“You as well.”