I wrote, spell-checked, and posted this from my phone, so please forgive any errors. Feel free to point them out though, and I'll fix them as soon as I have access to the internet from an actual computer.
I'm still working on the next chapter of The Next Step, but this got stuck in my head and I had to write it out. Mostly while at work, whoops.
"Ah, Supergirl. How nice of you to drop in." It's a lovely night, and Cat had been enjoying the solitude of her balcony and the warmth of a fine scotch for an hour or so, unwilling to head home to an empty apartment while Carter is with his father. A visit from her superhero is the perfect cap to the evening.
"Well, you seemed so content watching the city, I thought I'd ask if I could join you." There's a depth in Supergirl's voice that hadn't been there a few months ago, and Cat knows it's from all that the woman has seen, all that she's
faced to protect the city and the world. It's no wonder she craves a quiet evening, after all that's happened lately.
"Should I pour you a glass?" By now she knows alcohol doesn't affect Kryptonians, but that doesn't stop her from offering. Sometimes just having someone to drink with is calming all on its own.
"You don't have to do that, Miss Grant," comes the expected refusal, tone more awkward than Cat's used to hearing from the hero. It's one of Kara's most distinctive tells, and again she wonders how she's supposed to pretend the trick with the second Supergirl had ever fooled her.
Taking another sip of her scotch, Cat studies the younger woman carefully, noticing the differences between the confident hero the city knows and the hesitant girl in front of her now. "Are we back to 'Miss Grant' then? After the mess with Myriad, I'd thought we put that silly formality aside. You saved my life, multiple times in fact, don't you think it would be acceptable to call me Cat?"
The stuttering mess of superhero is pure Kara, and the older woman can't help the small smirk that crosses her face at the sight. It's always refreshing to be reminded of her power over a superhero who could throw her into space. The specifics might not compare, but she'll take what she can get.
"I didn't want to presume," is all she says, but the flush on her cheeks gives Cat pause. It's more than just Kara's usual reluctance to push forward, a trait Cat has tried to eradicate over the years. No, this is embarrassment, and something more.
It's enough to make Cat's investigative instincts kick in, mind working in overdrive to think back over their previous conversations and interactions even as she studies every move of Kara's tonight. Whatever is embarrassing the younger woman, Cat is going to figure it out. She has a few ideas, but rushing ahead to any kind of conclusion would be premature and limit her focus, so she pushes those thoughts away to focus on Kara. She can't let her own half buried desires skew her perspective, she needs to be impartial to get her answers.
As she studies the hero, Cat wonders if tonight is the night she should push for answers on her identity. She's been pretending for so long that it's starting to chafe, and as far as they've come since Myriad, maybe this time Kara will trust her.
Argumentative won't be the way to go, she knows that much after the debacle that was her last attempt, but maybe their friendship will give her an angle. By now it should be obvious she cares about making sure Kara is happy, that's she's just interested in helping.
"You've called me Cat before," she points out to see what Kara's reaction will be. The last time Kara had used her name, they'd been facing the end of the world together, a situation full of heightened emotions and responses. Maybe bringing that time up will bring up echoes of those feelings, echoes that she can study with a clear head tonight.
And as if on cue Kara's flush deepens, her eyes drop to the side and away from Cat, and the older woman has her first clue. "That was- I was afraid of what was happening. I'd already failed to save one person that night, I was afraid of losing any more. I was afraid of losing myself, and then you saved me." There's more to it than that, obviously, and Cat is as intrigued by what Kara hasn't said as she is touched by what she did.
"Well, if the fact that you saved me means you've earned the right to call me by my name, and I've saved you, does that mean I get to know your name in return?" It's not how Cat had intended to broach the subject, but she couldn't pass up the opening. It's non-confrontational, references their shared experiences, and only puts a slight amount of pressure on Kara.
"Miss Grant-" Kara starts, and Cat knows what her answer will be.
"Cat. No matter what denial you're about to offer, I'm not interested in keeping this formality between us any longer." As much as she wants Kara to just admit who she is, Cat needs her to know the gesture isn't just a ploy. She honestly cares for Kara, for Supergirl.
"Cat, I can't tell you," Kara says almost desperately, and suddenly Cat realizes something. Between the emotions in Kara's voice and the way she'd phrased her denial, it's clear that she wants to tell Cat. Wants to, but can't.
"And what if I were to guess, what then Supergirl?" Cat tosses back, aiming for nonchalance. She doesn't want to push, but she does want the truth. She wants Kara to be honest with her, to trust her with this part of her life. "Do I get a prize for that?"
"Why can't you just leave it alone? Why do you always have to push?" Kara's voice is almost cold now, a marked difference from her previous desperation, and it makes Cat shiver in response. She doesn't know where she's misstepped, but obviously she'd said something wrong.
"Investigations are what I do," she reminds the younger woman, mind racing as she tries to consider how her words will be heard. "Knowledge is power, and I have to keep up with you somehow."
"Some secrets aren't yours to know. My life is my own, and I have good reasons for keeping it that way, for keeping my secrets," Kara says before Cat can explain herself, can explain that she has to keep up so she can help Kara rather than hold her back. During the Myriad fight they'd been equals, Cat taking pride in the way Kara had matured and grown over the months since she'd come out. They'd needed each other, and Cat won't fall behind when Kara could very well need her again in the future.
"Secrets like that do nothing but build walls, and while I'm the last person to begrudge a person that, not all walls are beneficial. Some protect you, yes, but others hold you in. Hold you back, even." Rarely does Cat entertain self-doubt, no matter how often it rears its head, but in this moment, looking at how Kara continues to tense with every word, Cat lets herself wonder if maybe she's overstepped yet again.
"My entire life is dependent on holding something back, Miss Grant," comes the cold response, formality slipping back into Kara's voice with a distance Cat had hoped would never be between them again. "Holding back my identity, holding back my strength, holding back my anger and emotions. Those walls that keep me in? Maybe those aren't to protect me, maybe they're to protect you."
An image of Kara, infected and angry and throwing her off the balcony springs to mind, and Cat knows it brings a flash of remembered fear to her face when Kara flinches back.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," the hero says brokenly, and Cat wishes she were sure enough in this situation to comfort her. "You just always have to push, you can never just let things be."
"I've told you before, I push the people I care about," Cat says evenly, knowing she'd said those words to the woman as Kara, but needing her to understand. She may be pushing again, she may be going about this all wrong, but she needs Kara to know that she truly does care.
It should be a victory when her words get no denial, a sweet confirmation that once again she's uncovered what no one else has managed. Even if she won't ever publish what she knows, she's still a woman who loves getting what she wants. But the look of pain on Kara's face robs any joy from the moment. She can't be happy, not when that expression tells her just how wrong she's been tonight.
Kara's voice is surprisingly even when she speaks, and Cat realizes she's withdrawn behind yet another wall, shutting her out. "Do you ever stop to think that you might push those people away? That they might not appreciate never being good enough for you?"
And that hurts, because Cat has thought of that. She has wondered if she's too set in her ways, too hardened by her mother and the harshness of the world to ever connect with someone the way they deserve. It's a constant, if forcibly muted, fear. And it's one she hadn't expected Kara to use against her. She's earned it, she knows she has, but Kara has always been kinder than she deserves.
"You have a point, Supergirl," she stresses, hoping that the uncharacteristic retreat from an answer she already knows will be enough for the night. As much as Cat wants Kara to trust her, she hadn't wanted to push her into it. She isn't even sure it counts as trust when it isn't freely given.
"Don't," Kara says in defeat, and Cat knows she's failed once again. "You know, you've guessed my secret again, and I know I'll never fool you twice. Don't patronize me because you didn't get what you wanted from that."
"What I wanted was for you to trust me," Cat admits, matching her earlier retreat with similarly uncharacteristic candor. "I'd gotten tired of this farce, of pretending it wasn't achingly obvious who you are. You asked if I was afraid you'd get tired of never being good enough, but maybe I got tired of the same."
"You were going to fire me," Kara says in disbelief, and Cat hates that she's clearly hurt the woman, regrets her actions those months ago. She'd gone after what she wanted with no regard for consequences, and this is where it's gotten her. "You expect me to trust you when you threatened to take away the most important thing in my life?"
"I was never going to fire you," Cat admits, aiming for confident to mask the regrets and doubts swirling through her mind. "I wanted a reaction, a confirmation. You obviously cared about your job, so I used that."
Kara looks surprised at the admission, but beneath the shock is clearly anger and disbelief. "You told me I could clean out my desk, you told me I knew what I had to do. If you weren't going to fire me then what was your plan, because it seemed very real to me."
"I didn't exactly have a plan, what with your ridiculous stubborn streak about admitting what I already knew. It became a challenge, the answer became the goal and nothing else mattered." The honesty comes easier now, but Cat still can't help feeling uncomfortably exposed. Explaining her actions is not a normal occurrence, and the addition of emotions swirling in her chest adds to the discomfort.
"And here you are again, pushing me for an answer," Kara scoffs, and Cat winces at the hurt in her voice. "You want me to trust you, but you just admitted all I am to you is a goal, an achievement. You want to control my image, and apparently my life as well, and I don't get a say. So forgive me for finding it hard to trust you right now."
Pieces of Cat's failure, not just tonight but over the past months, are falling into place in her mind. All the times she's pushed, or dropped pointed hints, never considering how Kara must have taken them. She'd acted as if she'd earned Kara's trust, as if she deserved it, all while hurting the younger woman a little more each time.
But admitting to her failures isn't something that comes easily to Cat. "I wanted what was best for you, best for the city," she rationalizes instead, knowing it's the truth even if it cannot justify her actions.
Kara actually laughs at that, a tired scoff devoid of amusement. "But you're the only one who thinks that me being out there 24/7 would be best. I need to have something that keeps me human. How could I ever connect with the people I save if I can't see myself as one of them?"
"But you're not one of us," Cat says in honest confusion, because she's tried so hard for so long to be different, to push herself farther than anyone else. If she rises far enough, she can outrun the self-doubt and crushing criticisms no amount of therapy has been able to erase. Wanting to be merely average is nothing she can comprehend. "You're Supergirl, you're a hero. You're practically a god amongst men."
"No, I'm a person," Kara says with a sad smile, as if she knows why Cat doesn't understand. "I'm a young woman with a job, and rent, and bills every month. The fact that I can fly doesn't make me better than anyone else, and those little things so many take for granted, those mean more to me than you could ever know. I thought myself a god once, and that was the worst thing I could have done."
"How could that possibly make you a better person? Bills, and lattes, and conference calls, how can they be more important than saving people?" This time Cat truly wants to know, wants to understand where Kara is coming from. She's pushed too much already, all for her own gain, it's time to stop and actually listen to what the young hero is telling her.
"Because they save me," comes the simple answer, spoken with honest emotion. "Thos things remind me of who I am, who you are. They ground me, because no one can fly all the time, not without crashing to the Earth."
"I don't understand that," Cat admits, returning Kara's honesty with some of her own. "I wish I could, but all I can see is the greatness you are capable of."
"I know. And do you know what that's like? Knowing the person you've counted on for guidance and advice can't understand something that's so much a part of who you are?" The previously buried emotion in Kara's voice is clear enough to read now, and Cat realizes with a start just what it is. It's hurt, but it's more than that. It's pain that can only come from a deep betrayal, which means Kara's feelings towards her are deeper than the older woman could have thought. "You're the only person in my life who thinks I don't give enough. Every other person that I know cares about me usually tells me to slow down. You used to tell me that. Now I feel like you care more about my image and your sales than you do my well-being."
"That's not true," Cat insists, hating the thought that she'd been so wrong for so long. She'd pushed Kara away long before she'd known what she was doing, and now she realizes just what she might have lost in doing so. "I have my faults, many of them, but not caring about you is not on that list. You're important to me, Kara, I promise you that. I've made mistakes, but I promise I truly did want the best for you."
"You've got a funny way of showing it," Kara says bitterly, and Cat thinks her honesty might have come too late. "I can't do this, I can't argue anymore tonight. Do I still have a job Monday?"
"You will always have a job with me," Cat promises, hoping that Kara will believe her on at least that much. She may have ruined any chance of something more between them, she can admit that and deal with those emotions later. But she can't stand the thought that she could lose anything they've gained over the past months, that they slide backwards from the progress they've made.
Kara doesn't say anything to that, just nods with something like relief crossing her face almost faster than Cat can see before taking off into the night sky. And as she flies away, Cat can't help but wonder if this is where she'll always end up.
Alone with the consequences of her actions, with only the cold comfort of her drink to face down the night.