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Cat looks at the horizon and feels the shiver down her spine, and relaxes her posture once she notices her white knuckles. She can’t be happy for achieving her goal, she simply can’t. Trying not to go back to her office and walk towards the desk of assistant number two… Kara. She sighs, because she notices everything about the younger woman and the goal of this whole torture was to stop noticing, stop needing, stop wishing things were different. Well, now things were and she hates it.
The first sign was Kara’s eyes. Her eyes, always so expressive, always so warm, always sparkling - because one thing or another - suddenly started to look dull, as if there was a fog over them, something away from this world that she now - at this point - could no longer defeat. She could see some glimmer of what they once expressed, when Kara talked to Lucy about Metropolis, when Kara would discuss art with James, or when the IT guy whose name she never seemed to remember showed her some new toy. She was still there, somewhere, just not for Cat and it was infuriating, so she made her pay. More menial tasks, more running around, more pressure, more disdain, more of all she wished she felt but couldn’t.
The second sign was her voice. Once she had pretended to hate how cheerful Kara sounded, to hate how she would almost squeal when she was incredibly happy, or how her tone could reflect her emotions so vividly. Because emotions are weakness, especially in such a cut-throat environment. So when all she could hear in response to a biting remark was “Yes, Miss Grant,” “Immediately, Miss Grant,” “As you wish, Miss Grant,” with the tone of someone she could no longer recognize, she knew.
The third sign was her body language. Throughout the years Cat had made sure she learned how to read people, it was part of her job. Paying attention to movement, changes in tone, hearing almost inaudible whispers, detecting changes in breathing patterns. And she knew. She knew, even before Adam, that there was something in Kara. That while she actually seemed a happy person, there was vulnerability, sadness, even need. And she knew that there was a need for her too, she was just too cautious and too coward to acknowledge it. So when she first noticed Kara’s straight back, lips in a line, hands tense around her agenda she knew that the girl was mad, and it made her happy. So she ordered the IT guy to move to another floor, she made sure James was not around, she even ordered Lucy to go on trips to Metropolis to make sure assistant number two would learn, that she would be even angrier, to make her feel every bit as hopeless as she had when she had realized what was going on. She saw that anger in her, and she savored that little victory, the same way she would enjoy a truly fine bourbon. The same way she would slowly eat a piece of cake, just to prolong what felt like victory.
And then came the icing of the cake, the final bite. Siobhan, so eager, so independent, so ambitious. And she made her assistant number one, because in her mind it was the right thing to do, because she couldn’t stand that Kara had so much to do with her routine, with her life.
But then everything went to hell. It was a Tuesday and before even setting a foot in the office, her day has already been hell. A 6:30 AM call from Carter’s father had ruined her mood, and she saw herself hating once again the man she once hoped would be by her side for the rest of her life. So - for the first time in weeks - she decided to accept Kara’s coffee, she needed it, it was her favorite, it has always been and now she could not wait for the elevator to stop, so she could enjoy Noonan’s finest and see if she could make Kara’s eyes sparkle, if she could make her smile, if she could see her shoulders relax. The elevator stopped and ringed, and she was preparing herself to cave, to take Kara’s coffee, and to call her to the balcony, to talk. Because at this point she needed it almost as bad as breathing. Except for the fact that now, at the entrance of her office was Siobhan with the cup of coffee that she had been accepting just to torture Kara, too acid, too dark, too bitter.
And on that Tuesday, Cat noticed the last sign. Kara was next to assistant number one, no coffee in sight, just her serious expression and empty eyes. She did not even had her pen anymore, probably gotten used to receive her orders directly from Siobhan now.
And Cat froze. Because she had pushed too hard, and she had won. It was an empty victory, it felt like defeat and it tasted like Siobhan’s coffee, bitter and sour.
She walked towards her office and closed the door in Siobhan’s face. No coffee, no orders, no bark. Just the door. She sat down and inhaled profoundly, trying to make the lump in her throat disappear, trying to swallow the anger and the sadness, and every other single emotion that was overwhelming her. She looked at the ceiling, and then heard the door. Just for a second she hoped.
“Miss Grant. Would you like me to cancel your appointments?” Assistant’s number one voice interrupted her thoughts and what little hope she had faded.
“Out,” she said in an almost inaudible whisper.
Since the other woman didn’t hear anything she started to walk towards her, Cat stopped looking at the ceiling and said loud and clear “Out!”
She closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing. She felt too overwhelmed, too exposed, too raw to think clearly. She stood up, served a glass of whisky seeing the now empty box of M&M's, it was always Kara the one that would make sure there were enough. She squeezed the glass and walked towards the balcony. She needed to relax, to think, to plan, to figure out how to solve this, how not to feel empty anymore.
So now that her plan worked out, she leans against the railing on the balcony, and pays attention to her surroundings. The city is starting to come to life, full of people running to work, the honks of the cars, the noise, the smells and the little dots walking down the street indicating that most people are awake, that it’s a brand new day. It’s a brand new day, and yet it feels like many other days before, full of sadness, and anger, and despair. There have been days when she had felt all of these things at once before, like her graduation day when her mother had better things to do so she didn’t attend, like the day she decided to ask for a divorce, like the day she felt exposed and afraid because of the hacking. But this level of pain? It’s ironic that she can only compare it to the day she decided to stop fighting for Adam.
She feels the change, the way there seems to be something heavy between them. She knows Kara is standing at the door, hesitating, always hesitating, especially now. And a part of her wants to laugh, laugh in her own face for noticing, for seeing every single detail, for knowing .
"What are you doing here?" Cat asks looking at what little is left in her glass, trying to keep calm and refusing to look at her, she knows that she can't face what she has done. And she tries to sound harsh, for both of them, because maybe the solution to all this is Kara leaving, Kara facing new challenges, Kara growing. But then again, the worry comes. Whoever ends up being her new boss, are they going to overlook the disappearances? the disheveled state after a ‘run to the photocopy machine’? Will they even notice these things? Will they realize that what makes this young woman this nervous, this cautious can’t even be said out loud? That there’s a before and an after the truth?
“What happened?” Kara asks, and for once her voice sounds firm, secure. And for a second Cat hesitates, because she truly believed they had reached the point of no return, so her question changes.
“Why are you here, Kara?” She still does not look at her, and she hates how vulnerable she sounds, how this younger woman has all the power in the world and, what’s even worse, has all this power over her.
“I’m your assistant, I’m here to assist,” she replied. And Cat laughed, it sounded bitter even to her own ears and she shook her head.
“Go, Kara. Leave me alone.” At this point this was the only thing she could do, because Kara actually deserved better.
"You do realize that you can't actually hurt me more than you already have, right?” Kara said and this time her voice was hoarse, and matter-of-fact, so Cat swallows what’s left of her whisky.
“Why are you still here?” She asks again, now looking at the bottom of her empty glass.
“You can’t push me even further away, Cat. The next step is firing me, and I'd be okay with that.” Cat felt the shiver down her spine. This was it. Finally Kara would be Supergirl 24/7. “I will stay here anyway, looking at the horizon and hearing and feeling the things you can't control. The things you insist on pretending that don't exist. Like the way you heart beats faster when I'm near, or the way you try to keep your breathing under control, or that little grimace you try to dissimulate after you drink her coffee."
Cat trembled and finally turned and looked at Kara. There she was, bright eyes, pained expression, full lips, pink cheeks, and the wind moving her hair.
Without glasses.
And Cat had to admit, she still saw Kara. Not Supergirl, not her powers, not her fame. Just Kara, Kara and her unshed tears. So she walked towards her, because now? Now there was only one option.
So she just caressed her face, and when she started to cry, she dried her tears. And for the first in all the years they have known each other, they forgot about the office, about work, about every single thing that isn’t them. And Cat also feels her tears, and suddenly Kara’s soft hands are on her face too.
“Do you want to stay?” Cat asks, a tremulous whisper, product of her insecurities and everything she has done wrong.
“Yes,” Kara whispers back, and in the moment their lips come together, and Cat realizes.
She must have done at least something right.