Chapter Text
Cat Grant was going to die. Of this much she was certain.
Having faced her own mortality on more than one occasion, Cat had often wondered how she would react, when it finally happened. After the multitude of disgruntled former employees, the very public lambasting of many a popular public figure, the publishing of powerful secrets which often led to the collapse of entire companies, the left-leaning stance of her magazine, she had plenty of people that wanted her dead.
She had always thought, or perhaps hoped, that if or when it happened, she would maintain her composure, level her killer with that classic Grant glare and have the last word with a pithy one-liner before it’s over. After all, she didn’t spend decades building this facade just to have it erased by a goon with a gun at the very last second.
Unfortunately though, that’s exactly what was happening.
Cat could barely focus on breathing, so the chances of thinking up a scathing, yet witty remark for the man in front of her were minimal.
He had burst through her office door in a red-faced rage and shot at her before she could even glance up from her computer. The bullet had missed and shattered one of the televisions mounted on the wall behind her, sending glass shards skittering along her desk and into the plush carpet beneath her feet. Absurdly, her first flicker of realization at the circumstance was coupled with her annoyance at the massive cleaning bill she’d undoubtedly have to pay.
This train of thought was immediately shelved when Cat looked up from where she had ducked behind her laptop screen and met the eyes of this would-be assassin.
The man was clearly insane. He had the appearance of someone who’d never had an easy moment in life, who had aged gracelessly and now looked fifteen years older than they actually were. The five day old stubble on the man’s neck did nothing to hide the tide line of dirt where his skin met his jacket. His finger-less gloves looked like they were never meant to be finger-less, but had just become that way through wear. There was a grease stain on his off-white t-shirt, and rather embarrassingly, his fly had been left undone. His disheveled appearance did nothing to take away from the man’s ability to terrify.
It was the eyes, Cat vaguely noted. They were wide, red-rimmed, unblinking. The whites of his eyes starkly contrasted with the dark of his irises, which appeared almost black in the dim lighting of the office, and evoked the sense of a trapped animal, desperate, and passionate in its will to survive.
“You fucking bitch.”
Spittle flew obscenely from the man’s lips as these words were rasped out, the volume increasing with each syllable until the word ‘bitch’ echoed, and petered out, leaving an awkward and deafening silence in its wake.
“Inside voice please.” Cat’s usual confident tone was gone, the words felt clunky in her mouth. “If you want to talk like adults, we can, but first, tell me who you are.”
He stared blankly at her as if the words didn’t really register for a beat or two, then leapt into action, crossing the office in just a few long strides and rounding the corner of her desk with the butt of the gun clenched tightly in his fist. She could only watch helplessly as he raised his arm and backhanded her, striking her across the mouth with the cold metal. The blow was hard and Cat tumbled from her chair with a sharp cry, blood spattering across the carpet as she fell awkwardly on her elbow. The sight of her own blood shocked her into awareness, where before there had only been a sort of disassociation with her current predicament. Her stomach swooped dangerously and for a moment she had to focus on not being sick. All she could feel was fear, and pain where her tooth had cut into her lower lip. His boots came into focus before she felt a hand grasp her hair tightly, pulling her upwards and forcing her onto her knees. He was so much stronger than her that she didn’t even entertain the notion of fighting back. He was close enough now that she could see the beads of sweat on his temples, the grey hairs on his chin, the red veins in his eyes, and the sneer of disgust on his mouth. His rancid stench filled her nostrils and her stomach recoiled once again.
He stepped back a few paces, never breaking eye contact, raised the gun still clutched in his hand, and pointed it straight at Cat’s face.
It was at this point that Cat felt certain she wouldn’t survive this encounter, and her mind became a jumbled mess of disconnected thoughts. She thought of Carter, with his father this weekend, tucked away in bed, his Supergirl bed sheets keeping him safe and warm. Would he feel it at all when she died, as she was sure she would feel it intuitively if something ever happened to him? She lamented her stupidity for working so late with only a dithering old night-guard to protect her. She remembered her father and how he had always smelled of peppermint and how that scent still held a degree of comfort for her now. She considered any escape routes and quickly ascertained that short of running to the balcony and flinging herself off the side in the hopes that Supergirl would just happen to be flying past to catch her, there were none. Lastly, she thought of Kara, and how glad she was that in a fit of consideration, she had sent her home hours earlier, despite her willingness to stay and help her work. God, how she would never forgive herself if any harm should befall that sweet, wonderful woman. It provided her with a degree of comfort to imagine the last moment she and Kara had shared; Kara poised at her office door, hideous green sweater draped over one arm, stack of paperwork grasped in the other, glancing back over her shoulder to say goodnight. She could picture perfectly the way her glasses had slipped down her nose slightly, the loose strands of wispy hair that had escaped her fishtail braid at the back of her neck, the wide, unrestrained and reverent smile that Cat knew was reserved only for her.
Her incoherent inner rambling was soon replaced with a blessed blank mind when the man’s filthy hand trembled, and he uttered four words which she was sure would be the last words she ever heard.
“This is for Supergirl.”
There was something oddly beautiful about the moment before death. Cat became so much more aware of her body and the life bursting inside it. She could feel her heart in her chest beating wildly, she could hear her blood thrumming in her veins, she could feel every muscle strain as her fists clenched tightly, she saw in exquisite detail and slow motion how her killer’s fingers squeezed the trigger, the last image burned in her mind as she closed her eyes and braced for the impact of the bullet entering her brain.
But it never came.
She couldn’t be certain which came first, or which was louder, the crack of the gun firing or the almighty crash which smashed every single one of her balcony windows.
When Cat opened her eyes, astounded and entirely grateful to be alive, she was met with a closed fist hovering inches in front of her. It unclenched slowly and out dropped a single bullet, thudding quietly onto the floor. She looked up, expecting the red and blue of Supergirl’s suit, the gentle fluttering of her perfectly coiffed hair, the stoic, yet kind expression permanently etched onto her features.
But there was no suit, no perfectly coiffed hair, no stoic expression. Instead there was a green sweater, falling haphazardly off of one shoulder, a messy fishtail braid, and a face she didn’t recognize at first, having never seen it so twisted in anger. There were no glasses perched on the end of her nose, but there was no denying that Kara Danvers was standing in front of her.
Kara Danvers had just caught a bullet in her hand. A bullet that was meant for Cat’s head.
Cat looked past Kara to the man who had quickly lost his bravado, and was now stood gaping like a fish with his gun raised uncertainly between them. When Kara stepped forward threateningly, he stumbled backwards towards the balcony, tripping over the door frame, shooting rapid fire towards her, each bullet cascading limply to the floor, useless. By the time his clip was empty, Kara had stalked to within arms reach, and his face displayed nothing but abject terror.
It was no surprise really, if Supergirl was looking at her like that, she would be terrified too.
Cat had never seen such a thunderous expression, on either Supergirl or Kara Danvers. Her eyes were glassy, her mouth set in a firm line, her brows creased in pure hatred. Cat could only imagine how much more impressive a sight it would be if she was wearing her usual costume.
The man who tried to kill her seemed to think better of fighting back, and threw his gun to the floor, lifting his hands up in supplication. But before he could sink to his knees and surrender, Kara had grabbed him by the neck, hoisted his entire body in the air one-handed, and slammed him into the ground, his head making a sickening crack as it met the hard tile on Cat’s balcony floor. Cat could see that the man was knocked unconscious instantly, perhaps even worse than that, judging by the spatters of blood that had fanned out around him, but in that moment she couldn’t bring herself to care.
However, when Kara made no move other than to tighten her hold on his neck, slowly squeezing the life out of him, Cat decided she had to act. Supergirl doesn’t kill, it’s part of what makes her so noble and benevolent, and Cat wouldn’t let her give that up for some lowlife who smelled like he had never used soap.
Cat struggled to her feet, her body suddenly feeling foreign to her.
“Supergirl.” Her voice was tremulous. Kara didn’t react.
“Supergirl,”she blurted, panicking now, the man was getting paler by the second, “let him go!”
Cat limped over, the blood rushing back to her feet making her stumble. She laid a hand gently on Kara’s shoulder, trying not to startle her.
“Kara, look at me.”
Reluctantly, Kara loosened her grip on the man’s neck, but she didn’t let go or redirect her glance.
“He would have killed you.” Her voice was thick with-something-Cat couldn’t put her finger on it. Some emotion that she never wanted to hear in that beautiful voice again.
“Yes, but he won’t hurt anyone else now. You can let go.”
Gradually, Kara drew her hand back and rested it on her knee shakily.
Cat knew she needed to call someone, sooner rather than later, but her priority at the moment was Kara. She, seemed to have withdrawn into herself, breathing shallowly and refusing to look at the man she had almost killed, or at Cat.
Very slowly, Cat sank to her knees in front of Kara, running her hand down her arm lightly and grasping her fingers between her own. She used her other hand to lift Kara’s chin from where she was staring, unseeing, forcing her to meet her eyes.
Kara’s eyes were strikingly blue, and wet. When Kara hurriedly searched Cat’s face and found her lip, swollen and bleeding, the tears she had been holding back broke free, spilling over gracefully onto her cheeks.
“Ms. Grant-“ her voice broke almost immediately, quickly turning to sobs, “-I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry Ms. Grant, I should have been here, I- I should have got here sooner.”
“Shhh Kara, it’s okay, I’m okay. You saved my life.” Cat couldn’t bear to see Kara’s face so contorted in pain, so she pulled her into her arms, gripping her as tightly as she could, guiding her face into the crook of her neck and letting her cry. She could feel hot tears splashing onto her collarbone, and that almost made her own floodgates open, but she refused to break down in front of Kara, not after she had already been made so vulnerable today. Cat rubbed a hand against Kara’s back soothingly, and buried the other hand in her now ruined braid, brushing her thumb against the soft downy hairs at the back of her neck. She could feel Kara’s hands clenched into her dress tightly.
“It’s not okay Ms. Grant-" she breathed out between sobs, “-I could hear your heart, it was beating so fast, and I didn’t come! I’m sorry. I thought you were having another nightmare. I should have been here.” At this, a fresh wave of tears came, but Cat was preoccupied by what Kara had just said. How did she know she suffered from nightmares? She made a mental note to bring that topic up at some point later.
After a few more minutes of crying, Kara pulled back and wiped her eyes and nose with the sleeve of that hideous sweater. Looking up at Cat’s face, her resolve almost broke again.
“I’m so-“
“Shush Kara," Cat cut her off by placing a finger against her lips, “It may not be office hours right now but you’re still breaking my number one rule.”
Kara huffed out a tiny chuckle at that, a small, beautiful smile gracing her features.
“There’s my sunny Danvers.” Cat smiled back at her, grimacing when she pulled at the injury to her lip.
Kara’s eyes slowly drifted over Cat’s face, fixating on her mouth. She lifted her hand and oh so tenderly wiped at the line of blood that had dripped down her chin, before settling her fingertips on Cat’s jaw, softly rubbing the sensitive skin under her ear.
Cat was in awe at how someone so incredibly gentle, soft-hearted and docile could easily rip a person apart with their bare hands. Looking at the crying girl in her arms, it was hard to accept that she was the same person who flew around the city rescuing people and arresting criminals. It was also becoming increasingly difficult to ignore her feelings with the way Kara was looking at her, with such devotion and admiration that she felt like the only woman in the world. She needed to stop this, whatever it was.
Cat extricated herself from Kara’s arms and stood up, suddenly becoming all too aware of the masses of pain she was in as Kara stood up along with her.
“I assume you have some secret government organization that will come and clean up this mess?” Cat gestured down at the unconscious man who had been all but forgotten in the past few minutes, as she stepped around him and back into her office, putting distance between herself and Kara.
“Uhm, yes, of course Ms. Grant, I’ll call them right away.” She picked up Cat’s office phone and immediately fumbled and dropped it again. It was incredible just how quickly she could revert from Supergirl into floundering, naive personal assistant Kara Danvers.
“They’ll be here in five minutes,” Kara stated as she returned the phone to its cradle. “I’m sorry Ms. Grant, but they’ll want to bring you in for a health check and to sign some paperwork.” Kara reached a hand up to fiddle with her glasses, only to remember that they weren’t there and she dropped her hand back down to her side awkwardly.
Cat had been afraid of that, all she really wanted was to go home, run a hot bath, and decompress. What felt like hours had passed in what was actually only fifteen minutes. She had faced her own mortality, been pistol-whipped by a rogue gunman, been rescued by a superhero only to discover that that superhero had been her own personal assistant all along, then shared an emotionally charged and potentially romantic moment with said superhero/personal assistant. For one ridiculous moment Cat felt her emotions get the better of her and she felt tears spring to her eyes, but she managed to blink them away before Kara could notice.
“That’s fine, Kiera,” Kara blanched at the deliberate use of that name, “but tomorrow, we need to talk about tonight, and our friend in blue.” Cat kept her tone light, but they both knew that there would be a difficult, heavy conversation coming in the morning.
Hours later, when Cat had been poked and prodded to within an inch of her tolerance level, been x-rayed and told she had a sprained wrist, been interrogated and made to sign a non-disclosure agreement, then had a bag thrown over her head and been driven home by a nondescript black SUV, she let herself settle down in bed and cry. She gave herself five minutes of weakness, before shutting off her emotions and building that wall back up. She couldn’t allow herself to be vulnerable, not with anyone, not with any would-be assassins, nor with Supergirl, and especially not with Kara Danvers.
The most disturbing part of the evening for Cat, had not been finding out that she had known Supergirl’s secret identity all along, it hadn’t even been the near-death experience, it had been the utterly appalling realization that in what she believed to be her final moments on this earth, her last thoughts had been of Kara Danvers. Nothing had ever frightened her more. And, starting tomorrow, those feelings would have to stop, she would do whatever it takes.