Written for the Super Santa Femslash fandom exchange.
Prompt from @bridgetteirish: “Cat’s therapist convinces her to hire an elite matchmaker to help find her companionship. Kara must watch as Cat goes on dates with all the wrong people.”
Summary: The secret to happiness is human connection.
Cat blinks at Dr. Schuman. They’ve been discussing Cat’s reluctance to allow Carter to spend his entire winter break on a school-sponsored backpacking trip. She expected Dr. Schuman to wax poetic about Carter following in his mother’s adventurous footsteps, but her comment feels like a non-sequitur.
Dr. Schuman settles back in her chair, her willowy frame enveloped by the rich leather. “Something is missing,” she repeats, emphasizing each word more than the last. “You’ve returned from your sabbatical with little to show for it and a company and city in crisis. What have you gained, what have you learned in the last year?”
Cat flounders, her mind trying and failing to produce an answer. She thought they’d covered all of this, thought that her first visit back to refill her Lexapro prescription and vent about the toll the alien invasion had taken had been enough. Dr. Schuman hits hard, always has in the years Cat has been seeing her, but she’s fair in her assessments and very rarely wrong. Not that Cat would ever admit that to her.
Dr. Schuman doesn’t let her form an answer before she’s speaking again, leaning forward now, her folded hands gripping her knee for balance. “Human connection. Isn’t that what you told me you’d found in Bhutan? The key to a life well-lived?”
Cat re-crosses her legs and purses her lips, but remains silent.
“Honestly, when you called me and started going on about love as the be-all, end-all, I thought you might’ve been drunk.”
Cat scoffs and rolls her eyes at the implication.
“But when you came to my office and I saw you were serious, I thought you’d made a break-through in your time away. Yet here we are, talking in circles about all the same things we were before you left so abruptly.”
The press of the leather sofa and Dr. Schuman’s intense gaze make Cat shift in her seat. Her silk blouse sticks uncomfortably against her back. “So what do you propose?” She hates sounding so unsure, but everything the doctor is saying makes sense, to some degree.
Dr. Schuman smiles, showing her teeth in a brief flash. “Human connection. And I don’t mean Carter, lovely as he is. He’s forging new friendships and finding new adventures since you’ve been back. You would do well to do the same.” She smiles again, close-lipped this time, with a gleam in her eye that Cat has only rarely seen. “You said it yourself, Cat: you need companionship in your life, otherwise what kind of life is it?”
There’s an idea niggling around Cat’s brain when she leaves Dr. Schuman’s office. It’s with her the whole ride to her building. By the time she steps into the elevator, she’s dialing her assistant and making plans.
“Yes, Miss Grant?” Eve sounds out of breath and the high timber of her voice grates on Cat’s ears. It’s been almost a year and a half, but Cat still expects Kara’s voice on the other end of the line.
“Get Roderick Nash on the phone.” Cat watches the numbers in the elevator climb as it takes her up to the penthouse. “See if he’s available for dinner Friday evening.” She hears Eve’s intake of breath, the other woman poised to reply, but Cat presses on. “Mmm, eight o’clock? At Via Trenta.” The restaurant is the right kind of upscale to set the particular mood Cat is looking for.
“O-oh! Alright. Yes, of course, Miss Grant. What should I tell him the meeting is about?”
“No meeting.” Cat purses her lips and quirks an eyebrow at her reflection in the polished chrome finish of the elevator doors. “Just dinner.”
She can practically feel Eve’s hesitation through the phone. “Oh, um. May I ask why? In case he asks!”
Cat smiles. “He is still single, isn’t he?”
“But Miss Grant,” Eve gasps. “He’s a Libertarian. You hate Libertarians.”
“Mm, not true.” It might be true. “And besides, even if it were, it will make for a lively debate or two.” A thrill runs up Cat’s spine, just for a moment, and her smile turns to a pleased grin. “Now, Miss Teschmacher, start dialing. Chop chop.”
The elevator opens into the penthouse and Cat hangs up the phone, ignoring the seed of doubt crowding the back of her mind.
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