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Kara looks so young.
Physically, nothing’s changed, still the same young woman who’s been through years of difficulty, who’s risen to the challenges in front of her no matter how relentless the world is at doing so, who’s become the bright young reporter Cat always knew she could be. All that villain had managed was to change her memory, not her very self.
It’s something they’ll be able to fix, eventually. Cat’s certain of it. But for now, there’s something in the set of Kara’s expression that makes Cat think of that sweet, wide-eyed wreck that first applied to be her assistant. Younger, even; Kara’s sister had looked almost as though she’d been struck in the chest when she’d gotten a glimpse of Kara’s face. Her other friends are helping how they can, though they are not accomplishing as much as they could with Supergirl at their side.
More importantly, they’re occupied with keeping National City safe from the threats that wish to capitalize on Supergirl’s absence, leaving the DEO overrun and unable to work on getting Supergirl back.
The president’s rather busy with addressing the potential of a crisis while Supergirl is out of action, something that would ordinarily keep her occupied as the press secretary, but Cat’s time off to visit National City and check up on her new editor-in-chief has been approved for months. She wouldn’t go back on that for anything. Work-life balance is important.
Especially since her job will be much easier if she doesn’t have this problem waiting for her when she goes back to DC. Besides, she’d already meant to spend this time with Kara.
“I don’t understand,” Kara says for what feels like the thousandth time. “I—not that I’m not grateful for all your help, Ms. Grant, but I just —”
“Cat, please,” Cat says with a wave of her hand. “You are not just an assistant, Kara. You are National City’s premier superhero and editor-in-chief of CatCo. Act like it.”
“It just doesn’t make any sense,” Kara says, cheeks pink. “It still feels weird hearing you say my name correctly, and now you’re telling me you know I’m — you know where I’m from? You promoted me instead of firing me? I mean, I’ve had dreams more believable than this. Really stupid dreams.”
“Yes, I’m sure you have,” Cat says with an eyeroll. She’d been very proud of Kara for finally getting some measure of self-confidence; she’d also forgotten about quite how annoying the lack of it had been. “Look, there’s quite a lot of video footage. Perhaps that will jog your memory.”
Things are rarely that easy, but Kara’s enraptured by the footage of herself, anyway. She’s still wearing the Supergirl suit, so Cat doesn’t know why she’s so struck by the footage of herself doing various heroic things in it. If anything, the video loses some of the charm that comes from being around Kara in person, even when she hardly remembers herself. That light, that inimitable determination. It’s part of why Cat had planned to come see her. To support her, yes, but just to see her, too.
“I should be asking how you faked this,” Kara says, not tearing her eyes away from the screen to meet Cat’s gaze. “But that is me, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Cat says, relieved that they don’t have to rehash the argument over whether this is a simulation again. “Do you remember it at all?”
“No,” Kara says, face falling slightly. “I’ve flown before and everything, but I never thought I’d be a hero like my cousin.” She freezes, looking at Cat. “You, um, knew that too, right?”
“Yes, Kara,” Cat says, a little less patiently than before. “It’s not exactly a difficult leap of logic. Those glasses do not disguise either of you as well as you think.”
Rather than looking hurt by the sharpness of Cat’s tone, Kara relaxes further. “Okay. Good. I just…I don’t like not knowing all of this. What if I tell someone something I shouldn’t?”
“The world already knows that you, Kara Zor-El Danvers, are a Kryptonian, and that you’ve protected them all this time,” Cat says. Kara’s eyes go wide and terrified at that, but Cat barrels forward before Kara can interrupt her to ask how on Earth they found out and if they can fix it, say it’s a hoax? That had been some of Cat’s greatest work, and she will not allow Kara to destroy it when she doesn’t know any better, especially when it won’t even work. “And you aren’t talking to someone. You are talking to me.”
“Ms. Grant,” Kara says, then winces. “Cat.” She looks back at the screen. Rather than the bright-eyed wonder of before, an all-too-familiar doubt bleeds into her expression. Cat pushes down the urge to—snap her out of it, somehow, instead letting her think. “I remember applying to work for you. I don’t remember much else. I don’t know what you know about me, or how we’ve become…” Her cheeks go a little pink. “Um, whatever it is that we are. What if I say something to offend you, or I tell you something I don’t realize is still a secret?”
“Ridiculous. You don’t need to worry about that,” Cat says, willing her voice to be patient, aware it comes across just a shade or twenty too forceful. “I already know everything there is to know about you. The only thing you could possibly do to offend me is to tiptoe around whatever it is you want to say, so be yourself without reservation.”
Kara beams at her. It’s nearly the exact look Kara gave her when Cat first told her that she was satisfied with her work. Cat had ignored the pink in her cheeks then, both far too busy for a new paramour and far too aware of how poorly sex and romance blend with a woman’s career. (Also, she hadn’t been exactly certain if Kara was aware that how she felt about Cat was not the same way that straight women felt about the women they admire. An occupational hazard of being a trailblazer in her industry; Cat grew quite used to it.) It’s more than a little difficult to avoid returning that look now.
“You’re really important to me, aren’t you?” Kara asks, voice soft.
Cat stands up to her full height, somewhere between flattered and offended. “I would hope so. Did you expect something else?”
“Um, not exactly,” Kara says, cheeks even pinker. “It explains the editor-in-chief thing. I’m not even a reporter!”
Cat frowns. “Yes, you are. I thought so from the moment I saw your application.”
“What?! I —”
“We are not having this discussion again,” Cat says. “Believe in yourself, Kara. You earned everything that you have. Stand by it! The world spends so much time trying to convince women and girls that the things they’ve created aren’t things they deserve. Don’t fall for it.”
“Okay, okay,” Kara says. Her tone is oddly indulgent now, like Cat is someone she’s compromising for and not someone she believes. “But you can see my point, right? I wake up after having been your assistant for less than a week and I find out we’re together and you’ve all but given me the company. And also I became a superhero? That’s really —”
“Kara,” Cat tries to interject.
“ — still kind of unbelievable, I mean, I spend so much time trying not to use my powers and hide being anything but Kara Danvers and now you say the whole world knows —”
“Kara, we aren’t together,” Cat says. Her own face feels very warm. She hasn’t blushed like this since…well, not for a very long time. She should say more, she knows, but she has no clue what. I wouldn’t be opposed is far too forward for a woman who doesn’t remember years of their history. The fact that you assumed that seems very telling is far too confrontational. You don’t need to be embarrassed will do nothing to help despite being true.
“Um,” Kara says, and then flies backwards through the wall in an attempt to get away from the awkwardness of the conversation ahead of them.
Cat sighs. “At least fly back to your apartment,” she says at a normal volume, knowing Kara can hear her even if she’s already miles away. “There are villains about. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
She imagines Kara’s face at the last one, pink and surprised and fond like it was before she’d fled. Cat hopes Kara gets her memories back quickly so she can appreciate it fully.
Querl sticks his head in through the door and frowns. “We’ve synthesized a potential antidote. Where is Kara?”
“She went home,” Cat says, and does not look at the Supergirl-shaped hole in the wall. “I can bring it to her.”
Querl looks at her for a long moment. Cat doesn’t flinch; she’s faced far scarier evaluations than those from one of Kara’s friends. Eventually, though, he nods and goes to fetch it. Hopefully the time it will take Cat to get to Kara’s apartment — traffic is always terrible on days like these — is enough time for her to cool down, and for Cat to figure out what to say.
She’d meant it when she said Kara was important to her, after all. Well, implied it in her response to her being important to Kara, at least.
Cat shoots a message to her driver and takes the antidote Querl gives her as she walks out, still pondering what the best way to tackle this would be. Perhaps a little forwardness is warranted. Certainly it feels like she’s spent enough time waiting, even if it’s all fresh to Kara.
Hm. For once, she hopes there’s even more traffic than she’s anticipating. She wants to get this right.