Matumaini Mema

1

A/N: So, I'm a sucker for wanting to do it when someone asks me for a new story so this is the first chapter of the SuperCat I'll be writing when I'm finished POTUS.

The title of the story is Swahili for "Good Hope". As you can probably imagine, I don't speak Swahili, so any mistakes with translations are owned by Google Translate ;-)

Also, just so you know, I'm not putting any warnings on this for now but I'll update, if I feel like need to, as I go.

Cat Grant, international correspondent for the National City Tribune, looked up from her book and blinked tired green eyes. She glanced around the cabin of the rickety plane carrying her from Nairobi to the troubled Matumaini Mema Safari Park, noting that most of the others in the small group of passengers were asleep. It was Cat's first time in south-east Kenya, but she'd covered other stories in-country over her twenty-year career as a journalist, so she was, by no means, a novice.

It had taken a while, but she'd finally convinced her boss that she could make something of a story on the poachers who were steadily causing the decline of elephant and rhino numbers in the area, and she hoped that bringing some attention to their plight would encourage conservationists to call for action.

So, she'd packed a suitcase, booked a room at the park's only resort and asked them to organize a private guide who could show her the sights, including the more potentially gruesome results of tusk poaching, and who was knowledgeable about the problems in the area. Now, as the plane touched down and bumped along the rough landing strip, the journalist had to seriously ask herself if she'd made a mistake coming alone. Maybe she should have accepted young Olsen's offer to be her photographer. Oh well. Too late now.

The plane came to a stop and Cat gathered her things, waiting not-so-patiently for the door to be opened so she could finally escape the flying death trap. She quickly checked her cell phone, unsurprised to see that there was no cellular signal, but her eyebrows lifted when the device informed her that a Wi-Fi signal was available. It required a password though, so she decided to wait for that for later.

Climbing down the steps of the plane, Cat lifted her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. It was approaching sunset and the blue sky was painted with various shades of pinks and oranges, backlighting white, fluffy clouds. "Wow," she murmured, as she stepped out of the other passengers' way, pulling her iPhone back out of her pocket to quickly capture the majestic beauty.

It was warm, about eighty-five degrees, Cat estimated, and the air was buzzing with sounds of wildlife, including mosquitos. Cat slapped at her neck to efficiently dispose of one and sighed as she realized her bug spray was in her suitcase and not her backpack.

"Hello hello! Welcome to Matumaini Mema," a young man called out and the group of travelers turned toward him, most of them tiredly returning his bright smile. "Please come this way. Come, come!"

Cat rolled her eyes at an older woman who was gingerly creeping across the rough ground in a pair of four-inch heels.

"Fred," the woman whined. "I thought you said this was a luxury resort. I was expecting at least some pavement."

"That's what the brochure said, Maggie," Fred replied, obviously resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "This is why I bought you those new hiking boots you refused to wear."

Maggie pouted but she nodded contritely. "I'll put them on when we change in our room."

"Bad idea, Lady," Cat muttered under her breath as she looked down at her own well-broken-in boots but then she startled a little as a quiet voice along with a little chuckle echoed her sentiments.

"There's always one in every group."

Cat's head swiveled quickly to the left to find a woman she hadn't noticed before, leaning against the fuselage of the small plane with her arms crossed. She was tall and blonde with stunning blue eyes and she was dressed in the khaki uniform favored by the resort. Cat scowled but the woman's smile just broadened as she held up her hands in mock surrender. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I thought you knew I was here."

"You're American," the journalist blurted, and the woman's blonde eyebrows lifted.

"How'd you guess?" she drawled dryly. Then she straightened and held out her hand. "Kara Danvers."

"Cat Grant," Cat replied, shaking the woman's hand. It was slightly calloused and told Cat she was used to manual labor. For a moment, the journalist wondered how old Kara was. Early thirties maybe?

"Kiongozi!"

"Sorry..." Kara said as her head turned in the direction from which the voice had come. A woman was beckoning to her. "Almasi needs me. Nice meeting you, Cat. Excuse me."

"You too," Cat said as the tall woman jogged away to converse with her colleague. The journalist moved to join the rest of the group then.

"My name is Adamu," the young man was saying. "And I'm a representative of the owner of the resort. I am here to ensure that all your needs are fulfilled. Now, I know you have all travelled a long way. We will immediately show you to your rooms so you can freshen up before dinner, which will be in one hour in this building behind me." Adamu looked down at the list on his clipboard. "Frederick and Margaret Thornby?"

"Here!" The couple held up their hands and a smiling staff member rushed forward, indicating they should join him to point out their bags from the pile that had been unloaded from the plane.

"Mr. And Mrs. Thornby, room number one," Adamu said. Then he looked at his sheet again. "John and Mackenzie Strode, room number two. Kate and Michaela Johnson-Groves, room number three. Catherine Grant, room number four. And last, but not least, Jackson McCabe room number five." The man smiled. "Your personal aides will provide all the information you need. Please gather back in the dining room in..." He looked at his watch. "Fifty-five minutes."

The guests identified their bags and followed their aides to their rooms, which were all in fact spacious, grass thatched huts with king-sized beds and fragrant linens. Everything was spotless and Cat looked around in satisfaction. She'd stayed in places ten times worse than this while on other stories, so this was a very pleasant surprise.

Cat quickly showered and dressed in a fresh t-shirt and shorts, taking the time to spray herself a defense against the tiny, flying vampires outside, before grabbing her camera from her backpack and heading out. It was almost dark now and she captured a few shots of the last strains of sunlight causing deep shadows to fall across the plain that was slowly disappearing into the darkness. She walked further away from the buildings but a voice she recognized this time made her stop and turn around. "Probably better not to wander too far," Kara said as she strolled toward her. "The lights mostly keep predators away but it's not safe in the dark."

"I'm not a safari virgin," Cat replied, a little snippily.

Kara just looked at her for a moment. Then she shrugged. "I guess you know it all then," she replied, then turned and walked toward the dining room. "Don't let your dinner go cold. We don't have any microwaves here."

Cat frowned and shook her head, then followed the younger woman into the spacious dining area. Some of the other guests were already there, walking along the buffet table to fill their plates, but Cat wasn't there to socialize, so she chose a table near the back of the room, noting the sign displaying the WIFI connection details. She took out her phone and connected it, wincing at the sudden influx of emails and messages that almost vibrated the device out of her hand. She was busy reading through things when a plate was suddenly placed in front of her, filled with pieces of chicken, roasted potatoes and an assortment of roasted vegetables. Then the other chair at her table was pulled out and Kara dropped into it, placing her own plate down and then setting bottles of water down between them. Cat also realized that there was music playing now and some of the couples had started to dance.

"Hi," Kara said as she picked up her fork and dug in with an appetite that didn't at all match her slender, muscular body. "I see you're making an effort to be friendly with everyone."

Cat ignored the teasing. "Do you always eat with the guests?" she asked mildly, eyebrows raised. "That's not usual for staff."

"Oh, I don't actually work here," Kara said, glancing up from her plate and then going back to eating. "I got filthy earlier helping Almasi, so I borrowed a uniform so I could go home and change." Cat realized that the younger woman was now dressed in a black tank top, black zipped hoodie and green, multi-pocketed cargo pants. "I just meet my clients here. You needed a guide, right?"

"YOU'RE my guide?" Cat asked, surprise coloring her tone.

"Yep," the younger blonde replied. "I'm yours for the next week, Cat Grant, intrepid reporter." She chuckled then. "The looks of incredulity are always funny when I tell people I'm their guide. Folks are always like... but you're so young... or... you're too pretty to be out here alone... or... why aren't you married?" She rolled her eyes. "Please don't be one of those, Cat."

"I'm not," the journalist replied. "I was just surprised that you didn't tell me sooner."

"And spoil the big reveal at dinner? That's the best part!" Kara grinned. "Hey, you should really eat. I wasn't kidding about the microwave thing."

"Right, thanks." Cat nodded and picked up her fork. She was genuinely starving, and she made quick work of the lukewarm but tasty meal. The chicken was moist, the potatoes perfectly crisped and the vegetables were seasoned in a way that made her mouth water. "Damn, that's good."

"Right?" Kara agreed. "Unfortunately, I'm not a brilliant cook, but I promise not to poison us when we're out there." She chucked a thumb toward the darkness. "I tend to keep it simple on the trail."

"Understood," the older woman nodded. Then she speared a potato, waiting a moment before speaking again. "I shouldn't have been snippy with you a few minutes ago when you were trying to warn me. I'm just... people tend to..." She trailed off and sighed.

"Think you're a delicate flower and that you don't know your ass from a hole in the ground cos you're a woman?" Kara casually asked. She let her eyes meet her client's and Cat knew that her guide totally understood. "It's obvious to me that you're not delicate, Cat." They gazed silently at each other for a long moment but then Kara's attention was drawn away by a young man walking by, carrying a rifle slung over his shoulder.

"Kiongozi," he said with a grin.

"Ndio?" Kara responded.

"Bado unapenda blondes?!"

"Nyamaza, Asshole!" the younger blonde said with an eyeroll. The man laughed hard and sauntered away toward the lookout post at the edge of the resort.

"Why do the staff call you Kiongozi?" Cat asked.

"You noticed that, huh," Kara grinned. "It's guide in Swahili. Most of my friends here call me that."

"And why did you call THAT guy an asshole?"

"You ask a lot of questions, Cat," the younger blonde chuckled.

"I'm a journalist. It's my job," Cat smirked.

Kara looked back at her, tilting her head a little. She took a breath then. "He asked me if I still like blondes. I told him to shut up. He's been teasing me mercilessly ever since a kid from a family I guided a while back, developed a crush on me. She was pretty obvious about it."

Cat sniggered and shook her head. "How old was she?"

Kara sighed. "Eighteen."

"What do you mean by obvious about it?"

The guide cleared her throat, a blush coloring her neck and creeping up into her cheeks. "I sometimes stay here at night if there's a vacant hut. One night I'd been drinking with some of the staff at a birthday party, and I came back to the hut to find her… unclothed inside my mosquito net, if you catch my meaning." Kara looked down. "I tried to let her down gently but... her father assumed..." She sighed. "I got fired as their guide and almost arrested. Luckily, since she was eighteen, there was no legal reason to hold me when the parents didn't believe that nothing had happened."

"Shit," Cat said softly.

"Yeah." Kara put her fork down and blew out a long breath as she leaned back in her chair. It had been a couple years prior, but the false accusations still hurt. She squared her shoulders then and finished eating. "We should talk about tomorrow. I assume you want to get going as early as possible?"

"Yes, that'd be great," the journalist replied. "How early can we leave?"

"I have a quick errand I need to run early in the morning, but we should be able to leave by about nine. That ok?"

"Perfect," Cat replied. "It'll give me some time to call home first."

"Husband?" Kara asked casually. She opened a bottle of water and took a swallow.

"Um... no... my husband died six months ago," the reporter replied quietly.

The guide took a breath. "I'm so sorry, Cat."

"I was too… until I discovered at the funeral that he'd been having an affair with a woman half my age... and I'm only forty," the journalist shrugged. "Anyway, I want to call my son and make sure he's ok before we head out. I'm assuming there won't be signals of any sort, out on the plain."

The younger blonde chuckled softly. "You assume correctly, although I do carry a sat phone for emergencies. In fact, we should probably go over some stuff now. I know this isn't your first time, but I probably do things a little differently than other guides you may have had."

Cat nodded. "Ok, go ahead."

Kara nodded in return. "Rule number one. When it comes to safety, ALWAYS do as I ask and don't question me. Sometimes I need to make split second decisions that could save our lives. Rule number two, we carry one hammock, two sleeping bags and one mosquito net, and we share. Not only is it safer to be together, it'll also be warmer. The temperature can drop twenty degrees at night, but long-burning campfires can draw predators, which is worse. I understand if this is a deal breaker for you and I can recommend another guide, if you want me to."

"It's not a deal breaker," the older woman replied with a twinkle in her green eyes. "Just keep your paws to yourself."

Kara rolled her eyes and then grinned. "I'll try. Rule number three, under no circumstances are you to wander off. We should always be within visual distance of each other, especially during bathroom breaks. You don't want to get caught alone with your pants down. Literally."

The journalist chortled. "Got it."

"And lastly, rule number four, if we're attacked or being stalked by a predator, stay behind me and trust me to handle it. I've been doing this a long time and I'm good at it."

"That's it?" Cat asked.

"That's it," Kara confirmed. "The rest we can work out as we go. My plan is to have you back here the evening before your flight back to Nairobi. If we don't make it back in time, you'll miss the plane and have to wait here another week for the next one.

"Understood," the journalist nodded. "Where will we be going?"

The younger blonde unzipped one of her many pockets to pull out a worn looking map. Then she moved their empty plates aside and spread it out on the table. "Here," she pointed. There was an area circled and Cat leaned in close to get a better look. "This is the area where poachers are most active, and I normally avoid it when guiding. If you really want to see what's happening, this is the place to see it. We'll drive three hours to this village..." She pointed at another mark on the map. "Then hike in the rest of the way. Where we're going... there are no roads."

Cat nodded. "I'll need to get photos to go along with my article. How close can you get me to the poachers?"

Kara leaned back in her chair. "If we can find them, I can get you close enough to get faces, if that's what you want."

"I don't expect you to put yourself in danger, Kara," the journalist replied. "But the closer, the better."

The guide nodded. "I've lost friends out here to poachers, Cat, and the police can't seem to do anything to stop it. Maybe your story will help."

Their eyes locked and held for a long moment. Then Cat spoke softly. "Maybe we can get justice for your friends, as well as the animals."

Kara nodded sadly but then she tilted her head a little. "Uh oh. Incoming," she murmured.

"Ladies! How are you doing?!" A man, who Cat remembered from the plane, approached their table, glass of scotch in hand. "Why are you all alone?"

The journalist frowned. "I'm pretty sure that there being two of us doesn't make anyone alone, Mr. McCabe."

"Oh, call me Jack," the man replied. He was dressed in tight jeans, a white shirt and a brown tweed jacket with leather patches at the elbows and shoulders. His overgrown beard was brown and peppered with grey. "And you're Cat Grant, right?"

"That's right," the journalist replied, but Jack's eyes had already moved and were now blatantly devouring Kara.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend, Cat?" he said.

The younger blonde looked in his direction. "I'm Kara Danvers," she said.

"Kaaaraaa Daaanvers," Jack repeated, as if tasting the words. "Cat, would you mind terribly if I stole Ms. Danvers away for a dance?"

For a second, Cat was shocked at the man's forwardness. "Actually, I WOULD mind," she replied. "Kara is MY companion tonight." She glanced at her guide to find surprised blue eyes gazing back at her and she suddenly realized what she'd done. "But, since she's more than capable of making decisions for herself, it's completely up to her." She didn't look back at Kara. She merely waited to see if the younger blonde wanted to dance with the guy. He was good looking, she supposed, if you squinted a little… but much too old for the guide.

"Cat's right," Kara said, almost purring. "I'm all hers tonight so she's the only one who'll get a dance, I'm afraid."

Cat swallowed reflexively but held her borderline glaring gaze on the man who was now having second thoughts about having approached them to get laid. "Understood," he finally said. "Have a good evening."

When he was out of earshot, Kara rolled her eyes. "The seventies called and asked for his sexy professor jacket back," she said. Cat dissolved into helpless laughter but then, to her utter surprise, Kara got up and held out her hand. "I promised you a dance."

The journalist's green eyes lifted. "Kara... um... you don't have to…"

But the guide just shrugged, hand still outstretched. "It's just a dance, right? Everyone else is."

And she was right, Cat noted. Even Jack had managed to lure a pretty staff member out onto the floor so, with a slight blush, she got up and took the younger blonde's hand, allowing herself to be led to the group. "I've never danced with a woman before," she chuckled as Kara's hand rested gently on the small of her back.

"No? Well, it's easy," the guide smiled. "I'll lead."

"Ok." Cat put her hand on her dance partner's shoulder and then slid her other hand into her gentle grasp. Where Kara's palm wasn't calloused, the skin was soft, and the journalist let her thumb wander against it for a moment. Then she looked up into Kara's face, even more aware of their height difference, now that they were practically breathing the same air. "You're tall," she stated.

"Nah, you're short," the guide deadpanned. "Normal people are my height."

Cat laughed, shaking her head. It seemed like she couldn't stop smiling around her new friend. "Do you always insult people like that?" she shot back.

Kara grinned so widely, the journalist thought she might split her cheeks. "Only people I really like. I'm kinda like a pre-teen boy in that way."

"That's ok then," Cat decided, moving a little closer and finally letting herself relax after a long and draining day.

Xx

"Yes, Baby. I'll be here about a week and then I'll be coming home. Where I'm going, there won't be any cell signal though, so Carter, don't be worried if you don't hear from me for a while."

Kara spotted Cat's rucksack, with sleeping bag tied to it, sitting on the small porch outside her hut as she strolled toward it, so she carried it back to her Jeep to throw it in the back. She was pleased to find that it wasn't overly heavy, and that Cat was a light packer. By the time the guide got back to the hut, the older blonde had wrapped up her call and was tucking her phone and laptop into a drawer. No point in bringing them with her.

"Morning," Kara said with a smile. "Get to call home?"

"Spoke to my son," the journalist replied as she stepped outside and then locked the hut behind her. "He was just going to bed." She rubbed between her eyes. "Please tell me there's coffee somewhere."

"Yeah, in the dining room. They're setting up breakfast in there now." Kara started walking and Cat followed her. "I'm going to grab a cup and then run my errand. We can get going as soon as I get back."

"Since you've already grabbed my bag... thank you, by the way... maybe I could just go with you?" Cat shrugged. "Unless it's something... personal?"

"Not at all," the guide smiled. "I just have to run by my house. I forgot to repack my headlamps after I cleaned them."

"Alright," Cat nodded. "Sounds good." A few minutes later, she was holding her hat firmly on her head as Kara sped along a bumpy dirt road toward her home. "Is this what the whole drive is going to be like today?" she asked as she tried to not spill her coffee.

"Nah, I can drive faster out on the main road," the guide replied as she let go of the wheel to tie her long hair up into a ponytail.

Cat suddenly feared that they wouldn't make it to the village at all. "You're a terrible driver," she commented, but with a teasing smile.

"Now who's being insulting," Kara chuckled. "I'll have you know that I'm a very good driver. It's the roads that suck."

"Hmmm... somehow I think I'll be wearing this coffee by the time we get to your place."

Kara just sniggered and made a sharp right turn into an almost hidden driveway. "We're here. Come on in," she said as she brought her truck to a stop and quickly hopped out. "You can meet Bozo."

Cat followed her friend bemusedly, looking around at the neatly kept yard and small but well-maintained wooden house. "Is Bozo a pet?" she asked.

"Oh no, he's not a pet. He just lives here with me."

The journalist wasn't sure what to expect but, when something fluttered out of the corner of her eye and landed on her shoulder, she startled. Then a voice announced into her ear. "Bozo."

"What the f..." Cat exclaimed but then she started laughing. "So, Bozo is a parrot."

"Bozo," Bozo agreed.

"An African Grey. He's an old friend of mine," Kara smiled as she lifted the bird off the journalist and set him on her own arm. "He keeps me company. In fact, he's smarter than a lot of humans around here and a better conversationalist."

"Bozo," the parrot nodded.

"Mvulana mrembo," the guide murmured, stroking his feathers gently.

"Pretty boy," Bozo replied.

"He's bilingual?"

"It's more a call and response thing," Kara shrugged. She set her feathered friend down on a tree branch and then headed toward her front door to quickly unlock it and move inside. Cat followed her, looking interestedly around at the unique African décor.

"You have a lovely home," the journalist said. She paused to look at a photograph on an end table. "Are these your parents in this picture?"

"Yes!" Kara called from another room.

"Do they live in the States?"

There was a brief period of silence. Then the guide came back into the living room. "No... they're dead actually," she replied. "They were killed a long time ago." Then she smiled slightly and lifted her hand to show Cat two dangling head lamps. "Found them."

The journalist took a few steps closer to the younger blonde. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Thanks," Kara replied. "But I was only thirteen when they died. I've been twenty years without them at this point. I learned to take care of myself. And on that note, we should get moving. Burning daylight, right?"

"Right," Cat agreed as she followed her guide outside and back to the Jeep. "How long have you been living in Kenya?" She grabbed the edge of the door with one hand and her hat with the other as Kara floored it down her driveway.

"About twelve years," the guide replied, eyes on the road. "I moved here right after college."

"What was your major?

The younger blonde chuckled sheepishly. "Journalism actually."

Cat blinked. "That's a far cry from your chosen career," she commented mildly.

Kara shrugged this time and looked at the sky. "I realized I like being outdoors." She'd settled the Jeep into a less frantic pace and Cat relaxed a little. It gave her a moment to look at the younger woman's profile... the strength of her jawline, the straight line of her nose, the definition of her cheekbones and her eyes... those gorgeous blue eyes that had captured the journalist more than once. Kara Danvers was beautiful. And now she was smiling a little. "Why are you staring at me?" she asked quietly.

"Sorry... I didn't mean..." Cat took a breath. "I was just thinking... wondering how someone like you ended up as a guide in Kenya."

Blonde eyebrows shot up. "Someone like me?"

"Yeah," the older woman replied gently. "I can picture you as a journalist, or as a model, frankly. What drew you to this career?" Kara's jaw clenched a little and as she focused back on the road, Cat got the distinct impression that she'd inadvertently intruded into a taboo subject. "Sorry," she said then. "You of course don't have to answer anything you don't want to."

"No..." The guide's lips inched up into a small smile. "It's ok... just... let's talk about that another day, ok?"

"Sure," Cat agreed amiably. "So... does this rust bucket have any tunes?"

Kara gasped in mock outrage. "Delilah is NOT a rust bucket! How dare you?!"

This time the journalist's eyebrows shot up. "Delilah? Really, Kara?"

The younger blonde clenched her jaw. "I could just leave you by the side of the road, you know," she stated. "I don't need the money THAT badly." Then she gave Cat a side-eyed look that made her laugh helplessly.

"You're adorable," she said, patting her guide's thigh. "Seriously though. I like Delilah. She's more comfortable than I thought she'd be, especially on these roads."

"Custom shocks," Kara advised, somewhat smugly. "It's why your teeth and eyeballs aren't rattling right now." She glanced at the older woman with a grin. "And yes, she has tunes." She flipped the sound system on and tuned the satellite radio to a popular American channel, but she kept the music low. "Noise pollution isn't good for wildlife," she added. "There are cheetahs in this area calling out to their cubs. Have to be careful not to drown them out." She looked out her side window then and suddenly slammed on the breaks, reaching across Cat to help keep her in place as she pulled the truck over and turned off the engine. "Look," she said, pointing.

"Holy shit," Cat breathed as they quietly watched a lioness with two cubs move through the tall grass on the other side of the road. "That's..."

"Amazing," Kara breathed softly. "She's teaching them how to hunt. Look at their tiny teeth. Well, tiny by lion standards," she added with a little laugh.

"Awww… tiny growls," the older blonde grinned.

"Actually, I think that was a yawn," the guide chuckled. "But they're super cute when they growl…. Super cute and super dangerous."

"The cubs?"

"Not the cubs themselves but as soon as they feel threatened, they'll call Mom and she'll easily bite important parts off you."

Cat nodded. "Just like a human mother," she said as she snapped a couple of pics.

Kara shrugged. "I wouldn't know. But anyway…" She started the engine, as the animals disappeared into the brush, and pulled the Jeep back out onto the road. "I'll try to keep the slamming on of brakes to a minimum, but I want you to see everything I see, ok?"

"I'd love that," the journalist replied. "Thanks, Kara."

The younger woman smiled but just nodded and focused back on the road. Cat found herself enjoying their time together, even if it was for a reason potentially more dangerous than just a vacation. Truthfully, since her husband had died, Cat had been struggling a little, but getting away from National City, even if it meant leaving her son behind for a little while, brought some fresh air to the journalist that she greatly needed.

And meeting Kara was definitely a bonus.