Chapter Text
Kara pinched the bridge of her nose and stared past her mirrored reflection into a chasm her soul could not break free from. This world had given her a family; yet taking that chance to visit her home had held so much promise…and more risk than she thought possible. She had made a bad decision. Not necessarily a wrong one, but a decision that had far-reaching consequences. That’s the thing about momentum. It demands movement. The worst was halting all the momentum she had built with Cat.
She chose the false hope of Argo City. No one held it against her for wanting to leave, to find that place of belonging. Alex, Winn, J’onn…and Cat just wanted her to be happy. She promised to take them all with her in her heart, but she would never forget the feeling of regret as her mouth betrayed her, inviting Mon El to go with her – not her sister, not her own Kryptonian cousin, not the woman who had her heart, but him. Technically, it was for transmission purposes, so he could go find a way back to the future. At least that is what she told herself and what she told Cat, her mouth dry with the taste of burnt and bitter ashes. The long stretch of silence sat like lead in the pit of her stomach. “Be safe, Kara” was Cat’s response. Simple but final, loaded with more than even she knew.
The time she spent on Argo was more like a dream, real but lucid like. Hazy. Sluggish. It was more like a walk-through of childhood memories and nostalgic rather than her chance to make new memories of Krypton, it was no longer her home.
Weeks had slipped by since her return from Argo, and the world had been saved — again — yet she couldn’t bring herself to face them. A few brief messages, ensuring everyone was safe, exchanged between them had stretched into something too close to avoidance. Avoidance turned to shame, then to guilt. It seeped into all aspects of her life back on Earth. Her nightly patrols blurred together. Every article drafted at CatCo came out lifeless. She avoided plans with her friends. The brightness and positivity she was known for, that “Sunny Danvers” smile, had dimmed into something…brittle.
Her apartment was littered with evidence of stalled attempts: half-finished paintings of Argo City she wanted Carter to have, a bouquet that had wilted before she could summon the courage to deliver it, a pile of books she’d found for Cat about Kryptonian political systems she thought she might find fascinating. She couldn’t face them. Not when the memory of her choice — Mon-El — still rang in her ears like a betrayal.
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Alex finally snapped. The Wizard of Oz played in the background, and words that always made Kara cry…‘there’s no place like home’… seemed to fall flat. She had hoped the movie for their Friday night hang would bring Kara to face her emotions – leaving the piece of home she had longed for her whole life, and Alura, Kara’s Mother, was alive, though neither decided to become permanent fixtures in each other’s new lives – yet she sensed that trauma would need to be unpacked later. The more pressing issue was clearly Cat. Kara only ever turned this sullen, this quiet when it was about…her. Alex was surprised about how acerbic she had thought of the situation. Sure she was very wary of one Cat Grant, until she saw a glimpse of what Kara had always claimed to see in her. Part of her always knew and hated that Cat had this type of ability to hurt Kara – ‘though she really wasn’t the one the blame here’ she had to reminder herself.
“That’s it! You can’t keep sulking in here forever, Kara,” Alex said, arms crossed, gaze sharp enough to cut steel. “It been like what, 6 or 7 weeks. You’re punishing yourself, sure, but you’re also punishing them. Cat. Carter. Do you think they don’t notice you avoiding them”
“Oh, I am well aware they must know I am avoiding them.” Kara all but yelled. “I hurt them.” Kara’s voice cracked. “I left them. And then I had the nerve to bring him with me, not my sister, not my cousin, not—” she swallowed hard “—not the woman who mattered most”. Alex took the statement for what it was, but it still hurt a little. “And now I’m still hurting them.” Kara finished, helplessness dripping with each word.
Alex softened, but only slightly. “Then stop hiding. You don’t earn trust back by wishing for it. You earn it by showing up. Even if they slam the door in your face.” Alex saw something shift in her sister’s demeanour, though she received no reply. She planted the seed, it was the most she could do, other than forcing her into her pickup and driving her to Cat and Carter’s doorstep herself. She had to stop herself from following through with the thought. She was trying to step back and let Kara be her own person.
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That night, Kara found herself standing on the granite steps of Cat’s Kalorama home, her hand stuffed into the pocket of her coat like an anxious teenager stopping her from pressing the doorbell. She almost turned back three times, but Keira’s familiar bark behind the door froze her in place.
The door opened to reveal Carter, taller now, shoulders filling out, the beginnings of his mother’s no-nonsense stare.
“Oh….Hi Kara.” His tone was neutral. Not exactly welcoming, but not hostile. Just… flat.
“Hey, Carter.” Seeing him in person brought her unexpected relief. “You’ve grown again” she continued, a smile brought by the thought. But seeing his hesitance, she faltered, “I brought—” She fumbled with the bakery box in her hands. “those cinnamon scrolls you like.”
Carter’s eyes flickered to the box, but he didn’t reach for it. “Mom’s busy.” He stepped aside reluctantly, and Keira took that as her cue to barrel into Kara’s legs, tail wagging so hard her whole body shook. Kara crouched instantly, grateful for the unconditional love, burying her face in warm fur, now halfway through the open door.
“Keira!” Carter half-scolded, but the pup ignored him, licking Kara’s cheek with exuberant joy.
“Kara.”
The voice froze her in place. She looked up to see Cat stopped midway to the doorway and the living room, immaculate in a cream blouse and pencil skirt, tablet in hand. Behind her, Olivia Marsdin sat on the couch, notes spread across the coffee table. Lois Lane perched in a chair, pen poised, already halfway through an interview transcript.
Not the reunion Kara had pictured.
“Ms. Grant.” She said reflexively, and rose slowly, Keira still nudging her hand. “I—I just wanted to stop by. To see you both. I know I don’t deserve—”
Cat cut her off with a raised hand, sharp but not unkind. “This isn’t a great time, Kara. As you can see, I’m in the middle of something.” Her eyes flicked toward Marsdin and Lois, then back, cool and unreadable.
Lois stood up and yelled loud enough to say “We can finish up here Kitty…” but was cut off by Cat “No.” came a stern warning with a hint of a plea if Cat’s intonation was to be dissected, “we really need this to be finalised and released by tomorrow” she finished more firm than she had started.
“Of course. I shouldn’t have just… shown up.” Kara’s throat tightened. She turned toward Carter, desperate for something more, anything. “I’ll, um, leave the scrolls in the kitchen. For later.”
Carter only nodded, already edging back toward the stairs.
The silence stretched. The only sound was Keira’s insistent tail thumping against the wall as she pressed herself closer to Kara. Cat finally spoke, voice measured.
“Thank you for the thought. We’ll… talk another time.” It was said pleasantly enough, not biting, but non-committal.
And just like that, Kara was standing on the porch again, the box of cinnamon scrolls she had brought from Carter’s favourite bakery in National City still in her hands, Keira whining softly from inside as the door clicked shut.
The night air bit at her cheeks, sharper than any enemy’s strike. She told herself she’d expected this — the cool dismissal, the distance. Alex was right. You don’t get momentum back by wishing. You have to fight for it, step by step.
But Rao, did it hurt to all but confirm she’d already lost them.
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The cinnamon scrolls sat untouched on Kara’s counter, their sweet scent turning her stomach every time she walked past them. She’d brought them home because Cat hadn’t wanted them. Because Carter hadn’t wanted them. Because maybe, in some twisted way, she wanted to punish herself with the reminder.
Her phone buzzed. Alex's face flashed at her. She didn’t answer immediately, just stared at the screen, thumb hovering, heart pounding as though answering would mean confessing how thoroughly she’d failed.
“Hey,” she managed at last, voice thinner than she intended.
“Well?” Alex asked without preamble. The way she said it — blunt, but soft at the edges — made Kara want to both collapse and lash out.
“It was…” Kara swallowed. “Short. Cat was busy. Carter barely looked at me. Except Keira. She nearly knocked me over.”
A beat of silence before Alex replied, “Dogs know things we don’t. She remembers.”
“I don’t deserve her remembering.” Kara’s voice cracked. “Or them. Alex, I walked up those steps and I thought maybe — maybe some piece of what we had would still be there. But it’s gone. I could see it in Cat’s eyes. Cool. Detached. Like I was just another reporter showing up at her door.”
“Or,” Alex countered, “she’s just protecting herself. You hurt her. She’s not going to roll out a welcome mat after one doorstep visit, Kara. Trust isn’t a switch you flip. It’s a wall you rebuild. Brick by brick.”
Kara pressed the heel of her hand to her eyes, the memory of Cat’s poised voice slicing through her. We’ll… talk another time.
Before she could reply, another voice joined the conversation.
“Kara?” Eliza began.
“Hi, Mom.” Her throat tightened instantly.
“Alex filled me in.” Eliza’s tone was calm, grounding, as though she were sitting across from Kara with tea and that steady look only a mother could give. “Sweetheart, you don’t get to decide whether you’re forgiven. You only decide whether you keep trying. Do you hear me?”
Kara nodded even though they couldn’t see it. “I hear you.”
“Good,” Eliza said gently. “Because you’ve always been stubborn. Use it. Show up again. And again. And when words fail you, let your actions speak.”
Kara laughed softly, humourless. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It isn’t,” Eliza replied simply. “But nothing worth it ever is.”
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Two days later, Kara found herself back in Kalorama, berating herself with every step she took toward the door. Why are you here again? They told you to leave. They didn’t want you here. You’re making it worse. Rao, Kara, you’re making it worse.
But her feet kept moving.
Cat answered the door this time, silk blouse replaced by a loose sweater, hair swept into a casual knot that somehow made her look softer than the last visit, but no less untouchable.
“Kara.” her acknowledgment was wrapped in hesitation.
“Hi,” Kara managed, fumbling a breath. “I…I know you’re busy, and I probably should have called, or texted, or—or sent a messenger bird, do they still do that?” Kara winced at herself, words tumbling faster than her brain could catch them.
“You really haven’t lost your knack for nervous babbling, Keira.” The nickname hit like a lifeline thrown across a chasm. Kara’s knees nearly gave out with the sheer relief of it. Though a renewed bout of tail thumping could be heard just next to Cat.
“What am I saying is…I was in the neighbourhood and thought I’d stop by again…to say…hello?” She half expected the ‘are you asking or telling me’ spiel.
“Kalorama is hardly on anyone’s way,” Cat replied dryly, one eyebrow lifting. “But go on.”
Kara flushed. “Right. Well. I wanted to see how you both were doing. It’s been a while – which is entirely my fault... but how’s, um—” her eyes darted to the hall “—everything? I missed you.” She rushed out the last part before she lost her nerve.
For a moment, Cat simply looked at her, expression unreadable, until the corner of her mouth twitched — not quite a smile, but not dismissal either. “Everything,” Cat continued evenly, “is moving along as could be expected. I imagine the same could be said for you.”
Kara grimaced. “Yes. Well. I mean…the world’s not ending today, so that’s progress.”
Carter’s voice drifted from the dining room, interrupting her “Mom, I can’t figure out what to do for this stupid history showcase project. The rubric doesn’t even make sense.” His voice carried that blend of teenage indifference and sharpness that sounded so much like his mother.
Kara’s ears pricked instantly. Without thought, she stepped forward before she could stop herself. “History project – like a model replica?” she asked excitedly.
Carter appeared in the hall, tall and lanky, textbook under one arm, laptop balanced precariously on the other. He froze when he saw Kara. His face lit for half a second before shuttering back into something careful.
“Oh. Hey. It’s nothing,” he muttered, slowly turning back around.
But Kara, desperate for an opening, latched on. “Maybe I could help? I mean, I’m not saying I’m great at history, though I do know a lot about ancient civilisations.
“Mesopotamia” he replied before slowly turning around halfway, getting invested.
“I’m like obsessed with Mesopotamia. Did you know their word for st…”
Cat’s voice sliced in “Carter will figure it out. He needs to learn to stand on his own two feet, rather than expecting others to swoop in and solve things. People are rarely dependable.”
The words hit Kara squarely in the chest, more brutal than a shout. She faltered, heat rushing up her neck.
“I didn’t mean…” she began, but Cat was already smoothing the moment over, tone light.
“Anyway, we were just about to head out” She reached for her coat on the rack, efficient, dismissive.
“Oh. Of course.” Kara stepped back, throat tight. “I won’t keep you.” She glanced at Carter, who avoided her eyes, then looked down at Keira. “Bye, girl.” Kara whispered.
“Thank you for stopping by,” Cat said, tone polite, final.
Kara nodded, retreating. Keira whined at the threshold, nails tapping against hardwood, before Carter nudged her gently back. Kara’s hand twitched with the urge to reach out, but she forced herself down the steps, shoulders stiff. The door closed gently behind her, not slammed — which somehow hurt more.
On the other side, Carter’s voice carried in the hallway. “Are we actually going somewhere? Or was that just an excuse?”
Cat’s answer floated through the wood like a blade wrapped in silk. “It’s Sunday. I thought we might catch a movie. That new Marvel thing. Maybe grab a burger after.”
Kara didn’t wait to hear his reply. The words rang in her ears as she walked down the steps. They felt like a dismissal, like being erased from a life she used to belong in. A life she’d walked away from. She stood on the sidewalk a moment longer than she should have, staring up at the house, the ache in her chest sharp and raw. But as she walked away, resolve hardened beneath the grief. She would not let Carter grow up believing everyone left. She would not let Cat’s cynicism become prophecy. She would make it right.
Somehow.
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Later, when the house was quiet and Carter had retreated upstairs, Cat sat with her untouched glass of Rioja wine and allowed herself to feel what she hadn’t let show at the door.
Oh sure, Cat had managed closed the door with deliberate grace, spine straight, but every muscle in her body was coiled tight. She refused to let Kara see her tremble. Because tremble she had. From the moment she opened the door and saw that face again — earnest, awkward, painfully hopeful. The face that haunted her more nights than she cared to admit.
She had practiced this moment in her head for weeks, ever since she heard the whisper that Supergirl was back. A thousand variations: cold fury, cool dismissal, calculated indifference. Never once had she imagined her hand would ache to reach out and touch.
When Kara left for Argo, Cat had told herself it was inevitable. People left. Husbands, lovers, colleagues. Even children grew up and out. But hearing Kara invite him to go with her — Mon-El — had carved something raw and jagged inside. Not just jealousy, though there was that. It was the certainty that Kara had chosen someone temporary, someone already halfway gone, over the family she’d built here. Over Cat. Over Carter.
She’d unravelled quietly, as Carter watched. He didn’t say much, but she saw him pull inward, shoulders hunching, his easy grin fading into something more guarded. He had overheard enough — Lois’s voice on the phone, or whispers in the press — to know there had been another man. And in his boyish, protective way, he’d taken it as a betrayal too.
Now Kara was back, tripping over words, bringing bakery peace offerings, eyes full of longing. Cat hated how much she wanted to let her in. Hated that her pulse still quickened at the sight of those blue eyes, that Carter’s face still lit up instinctively when she walked into a room. Hated the dangerous hope that had tried to claw its way past her cynicism the moment Kara babbled about Mesopotamia.
She looked down and saw her own hands shaking as she picked up her wine, telling herself she was fine. She wasn’t fine. So she kept the wall. For Carter’s sake. For her own.
But the look on Kara’s face as she left…
Cat pressed her fingers to her temple, willing the memory away. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold the line. When she finally closed her laptop that night, she caught herself staring at the half-written email sitting in her drafts folder. The one addressed to Kara Danvers.