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Kara can tell they’re talking about her. She knows, even though her senses are blunted and her reach doesn’t carry beyond the room. There are whispers and low voices, puffs of air she can’t attach any meaning to. She knows she’s asleep; is sure of it. Her body is slack and unresponsive. The world around her is empty and dark but it seems her mind hasn’t sunk fully into the blackness.
She can almost smell the light from the heat lamp above her. The yellow sun has a taste to it and even though she can’t open her eyes, she can imagine the glow settling on her skin. She can feel it in her bones.
Time seems to drag, or else speed up too fast. She can’t be sure where she is. She has a sense of Alex always being there beside her, but she can’t hear her voice. She can hear Eliza, soft and distant. And at times she is convinced she hears her mother calling for her. Telling her to be safe, to be careful. That her cousin will need her. You need to be strong for him, Kara.
It could be that the world has ended. That she is the only person left in existence. That she is marooned somewhere dark and deep, all alone.
Kara wakes up. She thinks she wakes up. Eyes in a squint, she feels around. Convinced she’s in her pod. No. Remembers where she is, who she is now. The light streams in from her apartment windows. The Phantom Zone is far away. She is safe. This is her bed at home. She stares up at the rudimentary heat lamp. The machinery above her was clearly installed in a hurry. There’s a loose screw, and one of the lights isn’t the same wavelength as the others. She sits up to smack it until it flickers back. Then she hears the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat.
“You’re an idiot.”
The shock reminds her she can fly again, and she has to stop herself from floating clear off the bed.
“What?”
She doesn’t manage to say anything else, squinting to make sure she’s not imagining the woman in the figure-hugging skirt, blonde hair longer than she remembers.
“I took the liberty of drinking most of your scotch,” Cat says. She’s sitting on a chair dragged from the kitchen, nestled close to Kara’s bed. Feet tucked beneath her. “Your sister has abominable taste.”
“Miss Grant?” Kara has to remind herself she really is in her apartment. She wonders what day it is. What year it is. She’s sure she hasn’t tumbled back through time. “Um…”
“Don’t worry,” Cat hums. “I’ll do her a kindness and replace it with something that isn’t gutter swill.”
“How…” Kara doesn’t know where to begin. “Um, how did you drink that much scotch so quickly?”
“Dedication,” Cat says, standing up, straightening her skirt, looking down for her heels. She frowns when she can’t find them. “That military stronghold is worse than a hospital. You can thank me later for insisting they bring you back home.”
“You…what?”
“I know you hit your head,” Cat’s nonchalant tone seems forced, but it doesn’t waver. “But please try to speak in full sentences so I don’t have to inform your sister of some new horrifying symptom.”
Kara looks around then. “My sister…”
“Left an hour ago. Tried to argue that I leave instead, which was about as effective as her attempts to keep me out of Area 51.”
Kara is sure she did hit her head. Or rather, that several somethings hit her all over. One of those somethings had Kryptonite. She thinks. She sees something green when she closes her eyes. It’s hard to rearrange it all in order. Especially with Cat here, instead of where she’s supposed to be. It takes Kara a moment.
“Why aren’t you in DC?”
“Out of all the pressing questions?” Cat says. “I took a sabbatical.”
“A sabbatical…” Kara says slowly. “From your sabbatical.”
“Don’t get clever,” Cat says. “You don’t have any idea do you? You just rush in like John Wayne, mounted up with more balls than sense.”
“What?” Kara says. “Balls?”
“You don’t remember,” Cat sighs. “Of course my task has to be more difficult.”
Kara realizes she’s starving. She heads to her kitchen and is a little stunned by how full of groceries she finds it. She remembers being out of milk. Out of bread. She certainly didn’t have a crisper full of vegetables. Juice. Several fancy-looking pre-made salads with…
“Quinoa and kale?”
“If I’m doing the shopping, I’ll get what I like.”
“You bought the food?”
Cat sighs. Kara is standing with the fridge still open, so Cat marches over and closes is. Then she goes to fiddle with the French press and some coffee grounds.
“I don’t remember telling you I was Supergirl,” Kara says. “By the way.”
“Don’t insult me,” Cat says, pouring hot water into the coffee.
“I’m…not?”
“Oh please. You have the same face, Kara. Let’s not pretend I haven’t known for years.”
“Look, I know you’re angry at me for something,” Kara says carefully. “But given that I can’t remember the last…whenever. Could you at least tell me what I did?”
“Of course I’m angry,” Cat says, turning on her. “You can’t begin to know how angry.”
“Ok, good. Fine.” Kara glares at the coffee brewing on the counter, for want of something else to stare at. “Great.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“You said that already.”
“Because it’s true!” Cat says. “Of all the reckless…it’s like I never mentored you at all!”
“Well, you managed to disappear right when I needed you most,” Kara snaps. “So yeah. Sure. That sounds pretty accurate.”
“What?”
Kara lets out a breath, trying to swallow her anger, she looks away. But Cat won’t back off. She looks Kara directly in the eye.
“Oh no, don’t clam up just when this is getting interesting.”
“I’m not saying anything you don’t know,” Kara says, but her voice goes small. “How can you… I mean, you just left.”
Cat doesn’t seem able to form a response. The anger, the tension in her shoulders, seems to seep out of her. But what’s left is something slack. Like her rage was the only thing holding her up. She leans against the kitchen counter.
“Why did you have to go and complicate everything, Kara?” She isn’t looking up. She’s looking at her hands.
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” Cat says. “You can’t go rushing in to save me. Not every time. You didn’t even know what you were dealing with.”
Kara remembers the green, above all. And the pain, sharp and thick. It fills the corners of her memories, all the cracks and crannies that she would otherwise be able to tug back at to remember.
“I went to DC?”
“You flew to DC.”
“Did you…” Kara closes her eyes. “You were screaming, I remember screaming.”
“Yes,” Cat’s voice wobbles. “I had it under control.”
“Sounds like you didn’t.”
“You can’t just…” Cat throws her hands up. “You have to—”
“I didn’t have time!”
“Oh, so you remember now?”
“I remember…the need.”
The green, she realizes, wasn’t Kryptonite. It was Cat’s eyes. Wide with terror, right before Kara swooped in and saved her.
“You nearly got us both killed.”
“No,” Kara remembers differently. There was an explosion, or was it an implosion? A device so small, you almost didn’t notice it. “I had to get to you.”
Cat looks pained, like she doesn’t want to hear such a declaration.
“I thought I had it under control,” is what Cat says next. Her voice lacking the authority it usually has. “I was trying to…they were going to hand it over.”
“Instead they decided to take you hostage.”
Cat shoots her a glare, but it lacks bite. There’s some guilt to her expression.
“I didn’t call for you, Kara.”
“I came anyway.”
“Why?” she looks at Kara closely. “You don’t even remember, do you?”
Kara realizes that Cat has begun to gather her things. Heels back on, she loops her handbag over her shoulder. Kara rushes towards her. She wants to hold her by the shoulders, but she hesitates.
“You’re leaving?”
“Well, you’re awake now. You seem perfectly fine.”
The heels don’t have the same punch here in Kara’s apartment. Cat’s posture is more rigid. The clipped tone and cool expression seems more a mask than ever. Cat swallows, once. Her hand grips the edge of her handbag tightly.
Kara moves forward, lightly taking the bag off her. Her hands brush Cat’s shoulder. Cat closes her eyes.
“Please,” Kara says. “Don’t leave.”
She wishes she could remember. She wants to gather Cat up in her arms, like she must have when she darted in and flew her away from danger. She remembers only the sense of urgency. The fear of losing her.
“How long was it?” Kara asks.
“I don’t…”
“I mean, how long have you been in my apartment?” she says. “You filled the fridge.”
Cat looks up at the ceiling, like she is determined not to face this head on.
“Two weeks,” Cat’s voice doesn’t crack, but the effort of saying it seems to drain her. “A week and a half in that ugly government building. Half a week…” she breathes out and looks away.
“I’m ok,” Kara says.
“You weren’t ok, Kara,” she says. “Jesus Christ. You don’t seem to understand how close it was.”
Kara studies her face carefully, noticing the dark circles. The tension carried in a clenched jaw.
“I’m starting to.”
“Do not do this again,” Cat says. “I forbid it, you hear me?”
“Cat,” she says softly. “I will always save you.”
“Kara—”
“No, you can’t ask me to—”
Cat yanks her forward, and the kiss that follows starts with a tinge of fury to it. But it slows to something sweeter when Cat realizes Kara is kissing back. Kara feels warm, feels the joy of it carry down every one of her limbs. When Cat pulls away she doesn’t have any of her usual bluster. She looks scared and small, but her eyes are warm when they meet Kara’s.
“I…” she starts.
“Yeah,” Kara says.
The phone rings then. It isn’t enough to make them pull apart, but it reminds them they’re not alone in the world. Kara realizes it’s Cat’s phone. She shakes her head.
“Please leave it.”
“It’ll be your sister,” Cat says, reaching down for her handbag. Kara takes a step back.
“Oh.”
And then Cat answers, delivering the good news to Alex. She doesn’t sound quite so commanding or calm, because Kara tugs her close again before the call is even over.
“Is she coming?”
Cat murmurs the affirmative, but she doesn’t make any move to gather her things.
“This is going to be complicated,” she says instead.
“As long as it’s something,” Kara says. “It is, right? You’re not gonna just go?”
“I can find a reason to stay,” Cat says. “Don’t you think?”
Kara leans into her and Cat reaches up. Brushes Kara’s hair out of her face. On tiptoes, she kisses Kara’s forehead. But after a moment, Kara is overwhelmed by the smell of coffee wafting towards them. She remembers they never did finish making it.
“What....” Cat pouts, as Kara pulls away. But when she sees Kara take hold of the French press her eyes brighten in understanding. Without speaking, Kara pours the last attempt down the sink. Cat moves to retrieve the milk from the fridge. And together, they make the coffee.