Chapter 2: National City University

In the present day, Kara finds herself engrossed in a conversation with a new intern named Nia at CatCo. The lightness of their chat contrasts starkly with the sudden eruption of a scene nearby. Another CatCo journalist, Siobhan Smythe, is in a heated argument with a woman.

Kara frowns as she observes the confrontation from afar. The woman, clearly distraught, is being berated by Siobhan, who insists she should accept that her daughter has run away.

Interrupting her conversation with Nia, Kara briefly mentions their meeting around lunchtime before excusing herself. Her heart stirring with empathy for the woman. Kara walks over her, her thoughts briefly wandering towards Winn and his romance Siobhan last year, a choice she still finds perplexing.

With a gentle smile, Kara approaches the woman who looks up at her. "Hi, I'm Kara Danvers," she introduces herself, extending her hand for a handshake. "I'm a journalist here."

The woman reciprocates the handshake, attempting to mimic Kara's smile but struggling to mask her own pain.

Kara's concern is palpable. "I'm sorry about Siobhan," she offers sincerely. She senses there's more to this story and asks, "Can I help you?" She's genuinely curious about what might have prompted Siobhan's outburst.

The woman's nod carries a glimmer of hope in her eyes as she introduces herself. "I'm Regina Williams." She explains that she's exhausted all avenues in her search for her missing daughter, Izzy Williams. Kara's sympathy deepens as Regina reveals that Izzy has been missing for a couple of months, with no contact whatsoever.

As they talk, Kara leads Regina to her desk, wanting to lend a compassionate ear. "My daughter's name is Izzy Williams..." Regina begins, her voice carrying the weight of a mother's worry. She recounts how they had a disagreement and how Izzy believed that she never trusted her. And instead of going to her father's house, Izzy had vanished, leaving Regina desperate and searching. "I've called everyone I could think of, but no one has seen her. I know something is wrong."

Kara's sigh echoes Regina's concern. She probes gently, asking if Izzy has run away before.

Regina's troubled gaze drops, and she admits her fears of rejection, worrying that Kara might also turn her away like others have. She instead reveals that it was her ex-husband's birthday recently, and Izzy hadn't even called him. Something must have happened, and Regina firmly believes it.

Listening carefully, Kara takes the missing person's report from Regina's hands. Her sympathetic smile reassures the distraught mother. "Okay," Kara assures her, "I'll try to get to the bottom of this." Her promise holds sincerity, and her heart aches for Regina's pain.

However, Kara's noble intentions don't escape the notice of her editor-in-chief, Snapper Carr. He swiftly confronts her, reprimanding her for making promises she might not keep. "Miss Danvers, we don't have time to play detective here," he chastises. Kara stands her ground, suggesting that she'll work on it during her free time.

Snapper's exasperation is palpable. "If this starts interfering with your assignments, consider yourself out of a job," he warns, his stern gaze fixed on her. Kara remains resolute, determined not to let this mission jeopardize her position. "Now get back to work," Snapper concludes before departing.

Returning to her desk, Kara gazes at the missing person's report. Isabelle Williams, blonde, 18 years old, disappeared about two months ago, at 10 pm on a Friday. The date strikes a chord within Kara, reminding her of the day Mon-El died. The pain resurfaces, and Kara squeezes her eyes shut, struggling to steady her breathing. "Focus, Kara," she mentally admonishes herself, forcing herself to push through the turmoil.

Opening her eyes, Kara studies the name of the cop who wrote the report: Maggie, Alex's ex. A flicker of hope ignites. Perhaps Maggie has uncovered something since then. Without hesitation, Kara picks up her phone, dialing Maggie's cell number and proposing a meeting at Al's Dive Bar.

Kara Danvers gazes at the orientation pamphlet in her hands, surrounded by a sea of other 17 to 18-year-old freshmen who appear to know where they're going. The initial excitement of starting college had given way to a three-hour-long, seemingly pointless lab safety training session. Kara's urgency to use the restroom during the session resulted in her losing track of the student group she had been following.

As she finally pulls out a campus map from the pamphlet, her thoughts drift from the tedious lab training. She's enrolled as a marketing major, although she's not entirely convinced if it's the right path for her. One thing is clear though: she's determined not to follow in her adoptive family's footsteps and become another Dr. Danvers.

Kara unfolds the map, her focus so engrossed in finding her way that she fails to notice a waiter approaching. The tray laden with a multitude of beverages meant for a catered event ends up colliding with her.

The tray crashes to the ground, glasses shattering and liquid splattering everywhere. Kara exclaims, "Oh!" and instinctively crouches to help, her genuine apology hanging in the air.

The waiter, frustrated and clearly upset by the mishap, retorts, "I got it!" He gathers the larger glass fragments onto the tray, brushing off Kara's attempts to assist.

As he straightens up, their eyes finally meet, and Kara is struck by recognition. "Mon-El?" She gasps, her voice a mixture of shock and disbelief. She hasn't seen him in almost six years, not since... Her thoughts trail off.

Interrupting any potential conversation, Mon-El walks away, heading back to the catering truck. Kara, however, isn't willing to let the moment slip away again.

"No wait!" she calls out, hurrying after him, desperately hoping he hadn't recognized her earlier. "It's me! Kara," she says, aiming for a friendly smile. But the response she gets catches her off guard.

"I know who you are," Mon-El says curtly, his bad mood evident. "No move, please, you're wasting my time." His words sting, like a figurative knife to her heart. Memories of their close bond as children flood her mind, making his dismissive demeanor even more painful to bear.

Kara watches him walk away for the second time, her emotions a turbulent mix of hurt and confusion. Why was he treating her this way? They were practically inseparable as children.

The sting of his reaction doesn't abate, and Kara finds herself blinking back tears. She tries to reason with herself, reminding herself that their friendship was a distant childhood memory. Yet, the tears persist. "Come on, Kara, don't be ridiculous," she murmurs inwardly, trying to suppress her emotions. But her internal struggle does little to halt the tears streaming down her cheeks.

Her phone's vibrations in her pocket jolt her back to the present. Kara hastily wipes her tears and clears her throat before answering. "Hello?" she says, trying to sound collected.

On the other end, a hyper-enthusiastic Barry starts gushing about an incredible opportunity for CCU Science majors at Star Labs plus there's an event at Dr. Harrison Wells' house that night. Iris's less enthusiastic response suggests Barry might have dragged her into it.

"Wow, Bear, that's amazing," Kara replies, attempting to muster enthusiasm she doesn't quite feel.

Barry's perceptive tone, however, catches her off guard. "What's wrong, Kara?" he inquires, genuine concern in his voice. "It can't be that bad already, it's only the first day," he tries to reassure her.

With a sigh, Kara concedes, "No..." Her emotions get the better of her, and she sniffs, her voice cracking. "It's not the school." She looks across and observes Mon-El, who is now angrily dabbing paper towels onto his wet uniform. "I, uh..." she starts, her voice faltering as she gazes at her old friend's back. She decides to call it a day and makes up her mind to head back to her dorm. "I bumped into Mon-El, Barry," she whispers.

A soft, empathetic "Oh..." escapes Barry's lips on the other end, understanding the significance of the encounter. The memories and emotions stirred up by that unexpected meeting with Mon-El weigh heavily on Kara's heart.

In the present, Mon-El finds himself amidst the vibrant ambiance of LCorp's celebration for the launch of Biomax, a groundbreaking medical technology that has outpaced Lord Technology's similar product, slated for release next month.

The excitement is palpable as Mon-El contemplates the imminent opportunity to meet the CEO herself, Lena Luthor. With a rehearsed plan in mind, he envisions how he will introduce himself, carefully weaving charm into every word to earn his place within her inner circle.

As he mentally rehearses his lines, he becomes momentarily distracted and accidentally bumps into a waiter.

Just in the nick of time, he witnesses a tray teetering dangerously on the edge, about to cascade to the floor. Reacting swiftly, Mon-El taps into the reflexes he honed during his days as a waiter. With precision, he reaches out and rescues the tray, saving the assorted appetizers from an unfortunate fate.

Turning his attention back to the waiter, Mon-El finds himself receiving an unexpected round of applause from his coworkers who had witnessed his remarkable save. A modest smile graces his lips as he acknowledges their recognition, but his gaze locks onto someone in the crowd whose approval he least expected – Lena Luthor. His heart races, and nerves take over, but he knows he can't let this moment slip away.

Lena approaches him with a smile that's as captivating as it is business-like. Mon-El's heart skips a beat as he realizes he's standing face to face with the woman he has been working so hard to get close to. "Miss Luthor!" he exclaims, trying to keep his composure despite his inner excitement.

Lena's gaze remains fixed on him as she inquires, "Yes, and your name is?"

Mon-El's nerves get the best of him, and his response falters, "Uh...M-Mike...uh Michael...um Mik-Michael Matthews." He winces internally at the awkwardness of his introduction, mentally chastising himself for the stammering mess he's become.

Her laughter is warm, and she extends her hand for a handshake, intrigued by his bumbling yet endearing demeanor. "Where did those reflexes come from? Are you some sort of superhero?" she playfully teases.

Mon-El quickly regains his focus, not allowing the mention of his learned reflexes to trigger thoughts of Kara, and responds, "Uh...no," laughing nervously. "I-I was a waiter for many years, and it I sort of acquired the skill." He redirects the conversation, hoping to keep the focus on the persona he's crafted.

"Well, I'm glad to have you on my team, Mike Matthews," Lena says before gracefully stepping away. Mon-El's shoulder relax with a mix of relief and elation. Yes, this is progress. He mentally applauds himself for successfully navigating the interaction. Maybe he's getting closer to achieving his mission and returning home. To Kara.

For the remainder of the event, Mon-El engages in polite conversation with Eve, though his attention is divided. He scans the room, taking note of the dynamics between Lena and her CFO as well as her head engineer: James and Jack.

As the night deepens, Mon-El completes his duties of packing up a catering truck, the weariness of the long hours evident on his face. He pats the truck's door, a silent sign that everything's set for departure, and releases a sigh of exhaustion. He makes his way across the campus towards the parking lot, fingers deftly untying his bow-tie, eager to shed the vestiges of his professional facade. Inadvertently, he steps upon a scattered debris of broken glass, the sound echoing his earlier mishap.

His brows furrow as he gazes down, the glass reminding him of his earlier blunder. "Damn it," he curses softly under his breath, the memory of how he treated Kara still gnawing at him. He berates himself for his rude behavior and clenches his fist, shaking his head at his own immaturity. "Nice going, Goofus," he scolds himself bitterly, frustrated at how poorly he handled the situation.

The weight of his actions becomes all the more apparent as he retreats to his cramped one-bedroom apartment, shared with a roommate whose possessions appear to be in perpetual disarray. He eyes the mess around him with mild disdain, inwardly acknowledging that his own financial struggles contribute to this less-than-ideal living situation. Collapsing onto a worn sofa bed in the living room, Mon-El contemplates the need to apologize to Kara. The thought gnaws at him through the restless night, plaguing his attempts to sleep.

Dawn arrives unceremoniously, heralded by the rude awakening of a bag of belongings tossed in his direction by his roommate's girlfriend. Mon-El's groggy eyes meet hers, a silent understanding passing between them. "I know," he grumbles as she gives him a week's extension for the rent, before departing with a roll of her eyes.

The morning routines of Mon-El's life continue as he showers, dons a NCU Jitters-logoed black polo shirt, and trudges to work, clocking in at 6 am to manage the university cafe.

The morning rush buzzes with the fervor of new students, the Class of 2012 making their presence known. The bustling line finally subsides around 9 am, as most classes commence.

Mon-El seizes a brief moment for respite, about to remove his apron when he spots Kara walking into the cafe. Determined, he intervenes as a coworker approaches her table, signaling that he's got it.

Moving with a sense of urgency, he approaches her table, wiping it down meticulously. He can sense Kara's sigh, her impatience evident. As she attempts to leave, Mon-El gently grabs her arm, a plea in his eyes. She pulls away with a restrained anger, stopping in her tracks, her arms crossed in defiance.

"Wait," Mon-El implores, his voice laced with genuine remorse. Yet, Kara's anger remains palpable, her hurt evident in her gaze. "I'm sorry," he blurts out, his words hanging heavily in the air, garnering attention from those nearby.

Motioning for her to follow him outside, Mon-El leads her a short distance away from the crowd, his face a mixture of humility and regret.

"Yesterday," he begins, the weight of his guilt evident in his tone, "that wasn't about you." He frowns when Kara scoffs, the pain of yesterday's confrontation still fresh. "No, seriously," he insists, "It wasn't." He tries to explain that his behavior was rooted in his personal struggles, the turmoil he's currently facing. "I-I'm not at a good place right now, and I was in a bad mood so I-" he attempts to rationalize.

Kara's patience wears thin, her voice rising in frustration. "Mon-El, that's a tired excuse. How is it that you haven't changed at all these last few years? When you're having a bad day, you always take it out on me!" Her words pierce the air, leaving no room for evasion. "What have I ever done to you for you to treat me like crap? Huh?"

Mon-El's gaze drops to the ground, his inner turmoil intensified by Kara's accusations. Her anger fuels his self-reflection, forcing him to confront the past he's been trying to outrun. He watches as she starts to walk away, her strides carrying her further from him. But her steps gradually slow, and she pivots, her gaze intense as she faces him once more.

"Why?" she demands, her voice breaking through the tension. Mon-El's throat tightens, his gaze locked onto her, unable to escape the pain he sees in her eyes.

"Why did you destroy our friendship all those years ago? What did I do? Why is it that you get so angry with me, and in the next second, you're a sorry and basically teddy bear? Do you like fucking with me?" Her voice resounds with years of pent-up frustration, her anger raw and real.

Mon-El flinches at her words, his heart racing as he's faced with the consequences of his actions. His voice trembles as he attempts to respond, "I-I...I ju-just wanted you to be happy." The truth escapes him, a whisper almost drowned by his own vulnerability. Kara's puzzled expression gives him the courage to elaborate, the weight of his confession propelling him forward.

"That doesn't make any sense!" Kara exclaims, her frustration at his vague words, evident. She refuses to accept his explanation as valid, wrestling with her own emotions and the turmoil of the past. "You never answer my questions, Mon-El. Why?!" Her voice resonates with a mixture of hurt and exasperation.

His resolve strengthening, Mon-El lifts his gaze to meet hers, tears welling in his eyes as the floodgates of his own pain burst open. "K-Kara, it does make sense," he insists, his voice low but firm. "You would have ended up like me," he admits, the vulnerability in his words cutting through the tension. He takes a shuddering breath, unburdening his soul.

"I didn't want you to end up like me," he repeats, his voice laden with the weight of his past. "T-the Danvers wanted you. The Wests wanted Barry...but no-nobody wanted me." The truth tumbles out, raw and exposed, his voice trembling. "I couldn't hold you, and Barry, back."

Mon-El's admission hangs in the air, a profound silence settling between them. And then, almost as if the words are ripped from him, he adds, "You didn't need me." His voice breaks on the last word, his heartache palpable.

Kara's frown deepens, her compassion outweighing her anger. Her eyes, filled with concern, lock onto his. The pieces of a painful puzzle are finally falling into place, revealing the depth of his insecurities. "Mon-El," she begins, her voice gentle, "You're... an idiot." Her words are laced with both exasperation and tenderness, her emotions a mix of frustration and forgiveness.

Without hesitation, she pulls him into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around him with the strength of years of longing. Mon-El's defenses crumble, his arms instinctively encircling her in a return embrace. Tears prick at his eyes as he holds onto her, the ache of missing her unfurling in the warmth of her presence.

Their private moment is interrupted by his boss's brash voice, a reminder that reality beckons. "Hey Romeo!" The shout jolts Mon-El back to the present, his cheeks flushing with mild embarrassment. "Your break is over," his boss adds with a teasing tone. Mon-El releases Kara from their embrace, a small smile gracing his lips as she wipes away his tears.

Kara chuckles softly, her eyes reflecting a sense of understanding. "I hate what you did," she confesses candidly, her honesty unfiltered. "But, I want to move past it and focus on the here and now." Her lower lip catches between her teeth as she bites it in thought, her gaze unwavering.

Mon-El nods in agreement, his determination clear. "I won't mess it up this time," he pledges, his voice imbued with sincerity and a hint of optimism.

The following day dawns, and Mon-El, now under the guise of Mike Matthews, punches in his time card, bracing himself for the day ahead.

Almost immediately, Eve informs him that Lena wants to meet him in her office. He gulps, nervousness enveloping him once more. What could Lena possibly want to discuss with him? The elevator ride to the top floor feels interminable, his mind racing through various scenarios. Has she uncovered his deception? Has his lackluster performance given him away? The thought that Lena, known for her intellect, could have seen through his façade troubles him deeply.

As the elevator doors slide open onto the grand top floor, Mon-El steps out, the imposing Lcorp logo in the center of the expansive office catching his eye. He adopts a respectful posture, hands clasped behind his back, and proceeds to Lena's office, escorted by someone who looks like they could double as a bodyguard.

Lena is engrossed in a phone call as Mon-El enters, her finger raised to signal a momentary pause in their conversation. He waits in tense silence until she hangs up, a warm smile gracing her features as she addresses him. "Mike Matthews," she greets him, her tone both cordial and intriguing. Mon-El musters a nervous smile, attempting to gauge her intentions.

"Mr. Matthews," Lena continues, opening a manila folder and sifting through its contents, "I see you've been working here for a month and a half." She looks up at him, an air of expectation lingering.

Mon-El swallows the lump in his throat, a mixture of anxiety and anticipation welling within him. "Uh...yes m-ma'am," he stammers, his voice betraying his nerves.

Lena's demeanor remains composed as she closes the folder, her next words delivered with a touch of amusement. "Well," she nods, rising from her seat, "You're not very good at being an intern, Mike." The words send a chill down his spine, his worries seemingly confirmed. He manages a somewhat apprehensive "Oh..." in response, the nervousness now palpable.

However, Lena doesn't let the tension linger. "But, how are you at organization?" she queries, and Mon-El finds himself momentarily taken aback. Her reasoning unfolds as she references his past as a waiter, connecting it to skills like multitasking and effective communication. He listens intently, her words guiding him through the uncertainty.

Lena pauses her stride, leaning against the front of her desk, her gaze steady on him. Mon-El struggles to find words, his mind racing. Before he can utter a coherent response, Lena's voice fills the room again. "How would you like to be my assistant?" she asks, a surprising proposition that leaves Mon-El momentarily speechless. He stares at her, his mouth agape, his mind racing to process what he's just heard. Lena reveals the reason behind her offer, mentioning her previous assistant's dismissal for spying and the desire to ease Eve's workload.

He stammers, his throat dry, "I...uh...yes." Mon-El clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure. "I-I took a class in communications," he adds, the words tumbling out with a hint of embarrassment.

Lena chuckles, her laughter putting him somewhat at ease. She rises from her desk, smoothly making her way back to her seat. Picking up her jacket, she continues the conversation. "Well then, Mr. Matthews. I'll see you tomorrow morning." Her fingers dance across her phone, connecting her with Eve. Mon-El listens as she instructs her assistant to acquaint him with his new responsibilities. Lena dons her jacket, preparing to leave.

"Go make some magic, Mike," she encourages him, stepping into her personal elevator. With a soft click, the door closes, leaving Mon-El standing in her office, the weight of the unexpected offer settling upon him.

As the reality of the situation sinks in, he exhales the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Holy shit," he whispers to himself, astonishment coloring his tone, the turn of events leaving him utterly surprised.