Letters to Cat

Dearest friends, family and frenemies*,

Cat and I would just like to take a few minutes to sincerely thank you for everything you’ve done for us the past few years. No relationship exists in a vacuum (believe me, I’ve lived in one) and since letting ours breathe it has highlighted how fortunate we are to have the love and support of each of you every step of the way. From our rocky beginnings, to Cat’s injuries and ultimately my leaving National City, I’ve always had the light and love of those around me to push me to new heights and to remind myself that the love of this woman next to me is a gift given to me by Rao himself. And even when things looked darkest, and I didn’t think I’d ever find my way fully into her heart, it was you who were there to be my sun, my beacon to show me the path. And I like to think you guided her to me in a few small ways too.

You know, destiny is a funny thing. I think that –

Destiny, Kara? You can consider that our new d-word, because talking about destiny takes away too much from our own good taste and excellent decision-making. That’s right, you were all our witnesses. I saw what I wanted, and I went for it, in signature Cat Grant style.

Okay, so maybe the drama along the way helped with perspective. That much I will concede. Let destiny, Rao, Martha Stewart, and any other omnipotent forces note though, that Kara and I are choosing a life together: a marriage, our son, and this suddenly very expanded family that I find myself a part of. Thank you all, for all that you’ve done. Especially for sharing our special day.

Anyway, family or not, you have the rest of our thoroughly deshabillé honeymoon to collect any belongings you may have left behind at our home. Anything remaining when we return will be donated to charity. Or burned.

Carter darling, we both miss you terribly. I hope that Alex and J’onn aren’t teaching you advanced firearms yet, though by the time you see this you’ll be heading to your father’s. Please work out any new DEO ninja skills on him to get it out of your system. This also applies to any weird alien science you’ve been studying there.

What Cat is trying to say is thank you for taking Carter while we’re away! In spite of Cat’s demands, she trusts you both implicitly. Vasquez is on standby if you need her. No all-night poker tournaments, Susan! We’re grateful for you both. And frankly, I think Carter’s thankful to get away from us for awhile. We may have been a bit unbearable in the weeks leading up to the wedding.

Perfection makes demands of all of us, and Carter understands that. What he’ll be more pleased to hear is that we have another week of sun, sea, and … Scrabble all to ourselves before he has to be in our company again. I don’t want to hear another ‘gross, Mom!’ when we’re all together again.

We love you all! We’ll bring you back tacky beach mementos! Check the envelope for the first official wedding snap, James was kind enough to FedEx it to us because he knows I couldn’t wait!

All our love, hugs and thanks, and a very pointed glare*

and

*Lois, these comments were added for you. I’m sorry, but Cat wouldn’t let me seal the envelope and send unless I included them. But I saw you both drunk on champagne and hugging at the reception so you don’t fool me.

If I know you, and I do, you found this on the bar as you were finally pouring your favorite single malt.  You’ve no doubt spent the evening making sure Carter is all packed up and helping him try on his tux one final time just to make sure he can get the cufflinks on himself.  He looks so handsome in it.  I’m sure he’s tucked up in his room with some video game you don’t approve of. This is the home stretch, darling.  We’ve tackled the engagement, the planning, and now the rehearsal dinner.  It's all over but the crying, they say, although there’s been plenty of that today, I’m sure.  I don’t know.  I wrote this this morning while you were in the shower.  I was already missing you. I’ll just remind you, as we both fall asleep under the same moon, but not in the same bed, that this was your idea.  I never took you for much of a traditionalist, but I seem to have awoken a lurking romantic in you. (Your words, not mine.) And you have insisted, quite persuasively, that the brides should not see each other before the wedding.  So, I’m probably falling asleep in a hotel room right now while I should be off taking shots of Alderaan Rum with Alex and Vasquez, and missing you so much I can hardly breathe.  On Krypton, tradition dictated that couples stay up all night talking out their plans for marriage and family and watch Rao rise over the Jewel Mountains.  I’ll make sure we fulfill that particular tradition in a few days when we can see the Alps from the balcony of our chalet. We’ve shared sunrises and sunsets and plans and gifts and time and space.  I figured one night away from you before I give you my entire self would be the least I could do.  But as I smell your shampoo from the open bathroom door and imagine tomorrow in a hundred different ways, my heart burns with desire to never be apart again.  I’m pouring that burning onto this page, with a pen you gave me… has it really been over a year ago now?  I’m willing you to feel my longing across this city we both love.  Feel my arms around you and my breath against your neck, my hands on your hips, our feet hopelessly tangled. Tomorrow, all those vows I’ve already made to you in this burning heart of mine will be made out loud for the world to hear, just know that I’ll whisper them into your ear each night as we fall asleep if I ever give you reason to doubt their veracity.  But there’s one thing I won’t be able to tell you out loud tomorrow, so I wanted to be sure to tell you here, on this page, where so many of our secret truths have been told.  When we join hands and become wives, you will become a member of my house, an El, truly and officially, and forever.  A tiny piece of you will become Kryptonian… alien… mine.  Carter too.  What’s ours becomes Krypton’s, and Krypton becomes yours too. You already possess every quality that the House of El holds dear: strength, bravery, justice, hope, truth, and that’s just scratching the surface.  You already are an El in everything save name, and tomorrow, I hope to bestow her name upon you as well, if you accept.  The choice is yours, of course, and the answer will change nothing for me, you have my word.  My love for you goes far beyond names we have or keep.  But Catherine El-Grant does have a certain ring to it, even if it never turns up on an official document. Sleep well and deep, my love.  Dream of me and our life to come.  When I see you tomorrow, your beauty will doubtless render me speechless.  I need only find voice enough to say “I Do.” El Mayarah Zrhemin,

I’m sorry for not being here when you woke up, but I knew you’d find this immediately, the coffeemaker being your first stop each morning.  I’ve gone out for pastry and ‘acceptable’ coffee.  In the meantime, you’ll have to do with this terrible shade-grown French-pressed medium roast that you keep laying around.  I’ll be back soon with your regular neighborhood latte in hand.

I did what you asked.  I was ready to give you an answer last night, but you pressed my favorite finger against my lips and said, “Sleep on it, please.”  So I did.  Granted, it was a few (very pleasant) hours before we actually slept, but when I woke up this morning to the vision of your bare curves outlined in sunlight, my answer remained exactly the same.

Yes, Cat.  Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.

Your place, our place, Melrose place... Cat I would live on the moon with you if you asked me to. I wanted to suggest it.  I dreamed up a dozen ways to bring it up.  I just didn’t want to assume... or crowd you.  You like your space, and Carter’s space and I respect that space, always.  But how can a girl say no to an offer like that?  My home is wherever you are.  You aren’t taking my power or my independence or my agency by telling me you want me close to you.  You’re telling me you want to be a family and I can hardly breathe for happiness.

But … I did plan this whole day, complete with gourmet lunch and an afternoon martini break, so, indulge me for a few hours, okay?  Let’s at least go look at the Georgetown place, if only to make out in that sunroom for a few minutes?  Who knows, you may find a new calling in real estate investment.

Say the word and I’ll start moving all of my delightfully eclectic DIY furnishings from my hipster paradise into your perfectly curated luxury townhome.  I hope you like pastel ceramic and decoupage.  

Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you with regular morning bagels and magnificent sex.

All my love.

Your new roomie,

Kindwoman?  I mean, despite your opinion of my branding abilities, I do have something approaching taste, or aesthetic or, at the very least a sense of drama.  Surely Stargirl or Powergirl would have suited.  But I will admit, you do have a knack for naming things.  I still call Barry ‘The Blur’ at every given opportunity, so we’ll stick with Supergirl for now.

I digress, of course.  I was crestfallen to find I’d slept through your departure.  I’d hoped for those few final intimacies I’ve come to love so.  Pinning you to the sheets to prevent you from leaving the warmth of my bed, watching the soap bubbles run down the curve of your spine, the mingling scents of your shampoo and lotion and perfume. Dancing around each other in the kitchen, pouring coffee and toasting bread and rinsing dishes.  Those final, sweet, rushed kisses in the doorway when neither of us are ready to let go.  After I’d read your note and cried my disappointment out my bay window, I called in sick to both of my jobs, crawled back into the bed which still smelled like you, and focused on thinking outside the box.

Enclosed, you’ll find the fruits of my labor.  What I found, in thinking outside the box, was ultimately going to put me in a smaller one, and I couldn’t be more happy.  Goodness, Cat, cost of living in Washington is a bit outrageous.  If I can’t get a job at the Post, maybe the rent control lobby is looking for someone.  But I’ve narrowed it down to four postage-stamp sized, box-shaped studios in Georgetown and Arlington that I think will suit.  If I can make my loft in NC into a home fit for a Cat Grant overnight, surely I can give the top floor of a DC brownstone the same treatment.

If you can manage to free up an afternoon next weekend, I thought we could check them out together and you can help me decide.

I’m not being subtle here.  I don’t need to write the words.  This took very little thought, only a heartfelt, teary conversation with Alex, a logistics discussion with J’onn and the promise of a monthly game night with the boys.  I’ll miss them, but at my speed they’ll never be far, and it’s time to fly on my own.  My heart belongs elsewhere.  They all understand and send their love.

I realize I may have skipped a couple of steps.  You suggested a talk and I know this went far beyond that, but I know what I want, Cat.  Change is in the air, and for once in my life, I’m not afraid of it.

I’ll be in DC to look at apartments on Friday, even if you’re unable to get away.

Hug Carter for me.  He’s a part of all of this too, but we’ll get to that, I’m sure.

See you soon.  I love you.

When presented with a challenge you certainly rise to the occasion.  Every memory of that night, every smile, every word, every gentle touch and soft kiss and new sight is burned onto my heart like a brand.  I can’t stop thinking about you.

I thought I’d have that Romantic-of-the-Year award all wrapped up after Gianni’s cannoli.  And then you… took me to space, Cat.  There are tears in my eyes even as I write this.  I’ll never know how you managed it.  Even the actual aliens I work with every day couldn’t have authorized a civilian piloting a two-man shuttle into orbit.  You really are the most powerful woman in the world.  It’s exciting and inspiring, and so damn sexy I can’t even close my eyes without seeing your strong, sure hands on those controls.

I can still see every star, burning through the galaxy, as though lighting up just for us; every crater of the moon so close I felt like I could touch them; the glowing gem of the earth, blue and white and ours.  And Rao, Cat.  You found Rao, piercing through the dark and reminding me that even if my home is gone, it will never be forgotten.  I wish we could have stayed there forever, just you and me, between my worlds.

I know you wanted me to stay over.  And god, I wanted to, Cat.  Every cell in my body remembers your touch, your kiss, your love.  But I’m trying to do this right.  We promised to start over, go slow, begin again.  I need you to know, really know, that I’ll be your champion, your hero, before I can be your lover again.  I want you, Cat Grant, from here to Krypton and back.  Think you can be patient with me just a little longer?

Write soon.  I miss you.

Buona notte, Catarina.

Ti amo,

You’re not the only one who’s killed a forest full of trees in a vain attempt to get the words just right.  I stayed up all night after receiving your letter, trying over and over to thank you properly for the gift you’ve given me.  Your forgiveness is more precious to me than a thousand red capes.  I still miss mine, by the way, my shoulders get chilled in the downdrafts when I don’t have it on.  I believe I may be closer to earning it back.

I’m sure by now you’ve heard that I paid Adam a visit in Opal City and said all of the things I should have said that horrible night.  I realize it probably didn’t make things any better.  In fact, it’s likely I may have made things worse, but as I figured I had lost you already, I thought things couldn’t go much further downhill than they already had.  I do hope I didn’t cause you further harm.

I’m glad you took the time to process your hurt.  I meant it when I said you did not have to respond.  I never expected you to reach back out, though my heart is full to bursting because you did.

A few months ago, I probably would have been angry at the thought that you could think, for even a moment, that I could move on from you, but I’ve given you no reason to believe that you can depend on my loyalty.  I’m so happy for the chance to prove it to you all over again.  I won’t mess it up this time.

I do miss you, Cat.  Every second of every minute of every day is full of me missing you.  Time crawls, my days are hollow and dull.  All of the things that used to bring me pleasure, food, my friends, my writing, it’s all just… shades of grey.  But now you’ve told me you still love me, in spite of all of it, and the whole world seems a bit brighter.  I love you too.  Always.  Even through our separation, my love for you burns hotter than my beloved sun.

You’ve asked about starting over.  Every bone in my body yearns to fly across the country now and take you into my arms and forget any of this ever happened, but that isn’t the way forward, I think.  No.  Instead, my love, I’m going to go back to the beginning.  To all those steps we skipped in the whirlwind trauma that drew us together.

Cat Grant, will you allow me to take you to dinner?

I am so very sorry, for all of it. You asked if I was heroic enough for this and the answer, it seems, was no. I thought it would all be fine.  I thought we’d have our “grand coming out” as you so eloquently put it, and we’d get through the initial awkwardness, then have dinner.  I really did believe love would see us through.  But, that naïveté I’ve always fought so fiercely when it came to you reared its ugly head and all my heroism failed me. You deserved more than I gave you that night.  More protection, more defense, more backbone from the woman who has sworn to love you, than what I showed.  Adam was cruel, to you, and then to me, and instead of standing up for us both, instead of standing up for the love we share and believe in, I fled.  There is no piece of me, hero or woman, that does not regret that. Instead it was Carter, darling, brave, sweet Carter, who took my place as your champion.  I heard him, you see, through that door I slammed so dramatically, defend you with every breath.  I saw him through the wall, with his tiny fists balled up at his sides, telling his brother all the things I couldn’t… didn’t.  I stood on the other side of that wall and let the fear and tears win.  Then I flew away.  Like a coward. You’ll find my cape enclosed.  Please give it to him.  He’s earned it.  He’s my hero, and yours.  I’ve resolved not to wear it until I can prove myself worthy of it again. And I will prove I am worthy of you, Cat.  If it takes the rest of both our lifetimes to do it.  I will fix this, I promise.  Opal City isn’t far.  I’m ready now. You’ll be pleased to know that Alex read me the riot act.  You’ve made quite the impression on her and for all your joking about her killing you, she would sooner strangle me than see you hurt.  She tried, by the way, and nearly succeeded. You needn’t respond to this letter.  You have every right to be angry.  I don’t expect your forgiveness, nor will I ask for it.  All I ask is that you remember, occasionally, that I love you.  And maybe spare a fond memory for me, once in awhile, amongst the not-so-fond ones. I'm sorry.

With all the broken pieces of my heart,

A few weeks ago, I would have likely thrown some kind of tantrum at the suggestion that my love doesn’t include the “whole person.”  But I know you, Cat Grant.  I know that look in your eye when your heart is telling you one thing and your head is telling you another.  The look you certainly wore when you wrote those words.  I know the meaning behind your rhetorical questions, and I’ll answer every single one, whether they require an answer or not.

Does my love include the whole person?

Catherine Grant, I lost my world and flew across the stars to follow the only family I had left.  My love includes entire planets.  It includes you and Carter and your mean old mom and a flipping goldfish colony if you tell me it’s important to you.  Nothing about us has ever been casual or temporary, going back to that 10:15 appointment that changed my entire life.

But the road is wide and goes two ways.  I’m a package deal too.  Alex is headstrong and fiercely protective.  And she doesn’t hold a candle to our mother, who will adore you and feed you and then calmly remind you that she knows best.

J’onn will read your mind and the boys… well the boys already love you… in their own way.

We’re a messy little found family and we’re ever growing.  A snowball gathering misfits on its way down an endless mountain.  You’ll need to brace for impact.

Because you’ve decided to follow my lead, I’ve decided to take it.  Alex and I had a long talk.  She knew, of course, just as you said she would.

It wasn’t an entirely pleasant evening.  Our first knock-down-drag-out since ‘The Night That Shall Not Be Named.’  A true all-nighter.  We watched the sun rise over the city in tense silence.  She’ll come around.  You need to understand that she was privy to every frustrating moment I ever had with you, all those days fueled by tears and ice cream when I thought you hated me and I couldn’t help but want you anyway.  She witnessed every one.  I may have said some unkind things about you.  She picked me up, dusted me off and sent me back to CatCo stronger the next day.  I hope you can forgive her for being… less than enthused.

Winn tells me she bought a plane ticket to D.C. on her DEO laptop.  You can expect a visit.  Go easy on her for me, please?  I expect you’ll find you have more in common than you think.  Just… talk to each other.

I’ve made arrangements to have the entire weekend off.  I’ll knock on your door in time for dinner Friday if you’re still up for telling Carter.  I don’t expect it to be all sunshine and puppies.  (I can bring a puppy if you think it might smooth things over.)  He’s had you to himself for so long, and I know firsthand how difficult it is to share you.  But there are things you still don’t know about the time you were missing and we… well… bonded.  My place in his life, and whatever title comes with it, will depend entirely on the two of you because I’m all in, Cat.

Adam and public appearances will come.  I’m ready.  But in these things, I’ll follow your lead.  My initiative only takes me so far.

It does, however, include more of those “interesting” phone calls.  And I’ll be just presumptuous enough to pack my book of poetry this weekend… just in case you’re feeling brave.

Counting the minutes,

I know I said it dozens of times last night.  In your office, in the car, in your beautiful home, against your lips in your enormous bed and on our favorite balcony before I had to tear myself from your intoxicating presence at first light. But once more can’t hurt, and there’s something about seeing the words written out, in too-expensive ink, on velvety linen paper that makes my blood sing.

I love you too, Cat Grant.

I love the command you have over the people under your influence.  I love the set of your shoulders and the steel in your spine when you know you have all the answers.  I love the arch in your neck when you look up to see me approaching from above.  I love the fire in your eyes when you have me helpless under your touch… or your words.  I love the bow in your lips when I say something “utterly Kara” and the flip of your hand when you want me to think you aren’t affected.

Rao, I love the sounds you make when I touch you.  The microbeats of your wild, human heart and the catch in your breath when I manage a rare surprise. When you’re astonished at what I can make you feel.  

I love the softness of your voice when you speak of Carter and the way your fingers flutter through your hair when you worry he’s growing up too fast.

I love your passion and your ferocity and the naked will with which you do… everything.

Falling for you was like hurtling uncontrolled across the stars.  Loving you, is like being powered by my beloved sun.  It starts afresh each day.

I love your desk too.  I wrote a love letter to it as well, but I think I’ll keep that to myself, at least for awhile.  I only hope it forgot all about that “lovely Army engineer” that first tested it, thorough and accurate as she was.  I trust you got the arrangement I sent.  Use it to hide the unfortunate scratch marks I left.  I hope that desk is as good at holding memories as it is at holding you.

I’ll see you soon.

With love,

Reminders of you are everywhere.  There are the obvious ones.  The dent in my wall, the crack in my window where you whispered all those things you wanted to do while my city, our city, bustled on outside. I’ve replaced the sheets you made me tear. That’s two new sets now, but worth every cent and trip to Bed, Bath and Beyond.  But it’s the more subtle reminders that set my heart racing.  The scent of your perfume on my throw pillows, my spare robe hanging behind the bathroom door, the faintest brush of your coral lipstick on my headboard where… well, you remember.  I’ve left those, just to remind myself it’s all real.

I fear there were some things said that night that may need… clarification.  I said something in the heat of the moment and I am worried it may scare you.  Not that I didn’t mean it, but that maybe I didn’t mean it yet… or that I did but you weren’t ready to hear it… or that you may think I throw that word around lightly.  I don’t, but… You just looked so beautiful and felt so beautiful and I so love the way you make me feel, Cat.  It just came out.  Please don’t overthink it.

I have enclosed two small tokens.  The first is a selfie of me in full home improvement mode, fixing my wall and installing the eighth new pane in that particular window.  You do not spend thirteen years on this planet as me and not learn a thing or two about construction.  The other is a painting, well, two paintings.  One of you, in my bed, bathed in moonlight as you slept.  I couldn’t get past the slope of your shoulder, the curve of your hip, the dip of your neck.  I kissed each one as you slept, before curling myself back around you.  The image wouldn’t let go of me until I put it on canvas.  The second is the same spot in my bed, this time with only the wrinkled sheet in the sunlight, but the spectre of you remains.  Can you see yourself there?  They’re small, just hasty watercolors, but I hope to add to the collection as you spend more nights occupying that space.

I ache for you until your next visit. I’ll fill my time with work and rescues, making you proud and getting ready to see you again.

But, you know, you may summon me whenever you like.  I’ll come if I am able.  You don’t even need to wait until you leave the office.  I have plenty of perfectly good fantasies involving that very large, very sturdy wooden desk featured so prominently in your DAA website photo.  Surely your assistant is competent enough to give us a few hours of privacy.

One final thing.  I think we may need to have a discussion about boundaries.  I know you think bestowing stocks on me to make a point or a joke is cute and funny, but I am capable of simple math, Catherine.  $11,000 worth of salable stock is not a joke and you will either take it back or I swear I’ll donate it to Lois’s favorite charity.  Understood?  Good.

I’ll see you soon, but not soon enough.  And this time you better let me make you coffee.

Yours, more each day,

Three lines.

One night of the greatest pleasure I have ever experienced and I wake up to cool sheets that still smell of you and three lines on my nightstand?

I’m holding it in my hands because it’s the only way I can be sure it wasn’t all a dream.  I am overwhelmed by my memories.  My fingertips and lips still tingle at the thought of you.

This is the part where I admit that you were right.  I was being overprotective, or hesitant or maybe it was my own insecurity using you as an excuse.  You told me you were ready and I took your choice away.  Thank Rao you are Cat Grant and you don’t let anyone make your decisions for you.

But I must say… you undersold yourself, Catherine.  Miss ‘Pillow Queen of All Media’ turns out to be the exact opposite.  

As I sit here, sipping that recommended Gatorade, I find myself analysing the few words you left me this morning.  As adept as I thought I was at reading you through the lines of your pen (or, well, mine. Is it weird how much I like that you used my pen?)  I find myself unsure.  Your handwriting is rushed, hurried.  Maybe you lingered too long before leaving my bed, or maybe you wrote it as an afterthought.  The flourish in your signature tells me you are confident and proud.  I guess I find myself searching for proof that last night wasn’t just a means to prove me wrong.  What I really want to know is… are you happy, Cat?   Do you feel as happy as I do now?  As full and bright and electric?

You left your cane, by the way.  It’s still on my couch, where you tossed it carelessly before shoving me against my wall.  I’ll keep it safe for you, but that injured leg didn’t cause you any problems last night.  Something tells me you don’t need it anymore.

I’ll come to you as soon as I can get away again.  Until then…

“I burn, I pine, I perish.”

If I’m carbon neutral, it’s only because you take my breath away.

I’ll plant a tree for every piece of you I want to keep close.  Willow for how you inspire me.  Heather for the dreams I have of you.  Magnolia for your beauty.  Rosewood for your grace and spirit.  Cherry for how sweet you smell and the way you blossom under my touch.

I guess I didn’t realize the things I was whispering against your impossibly soft skin weren’t English.  You overwhelm me, Cat, and I suppose I can’t help but slip into my native tongue.  There are not exact translations for many of those words.  Sweet nothings mostly, but there was that one moment, you remember the one, just before we had to stop.  With my lips against that delicious little dimple, I couldn’t help but tell you all the ways I’d imagined making you feel special and worshipped.  All the things I’d dreamed we’d do together.  I called you :zrhueiao, (beautiful) and mishidh, (paradise).  And, since we’ve talked about full honesty, I may have whispered khighi into your ear.  Don’t get mad.  It’s the closest thing to “Cat” Kryptonian gets.

I’ll make sure to bring my very special picnic blanket and basket the next time I come.  I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.  Rome, Athens, Iceland, the Maldives, all perfect picnic places.  Or we could just go to that little park we can see from your balcony.  I’ll feed you grapes and read you filthy poetry under one of those cherry trees, they should be just about to bloom…

As for the rest… I know I’m not exactly what you dreamed for yourself at this time in your life, but I’m really not as young and unbreakable as you believe me to be.  I’m not looking for that perfect moment or that youthful fantasy.  And breaking you, even in a moment of true pleasure, would actually break me.  I want to take care of you.  I won’t apologize for looking out for your comfort or preventing your pain.  I just… don’t want to rush this.  

If you really believe that our time together is too tempting while you’re recovering, or that we can’t trust ourselves to stay within your physical boundaries, I’ll stay in National City until you’re a little better.  You’re improving by leaps and bounds and I know it won’t be long.  We can’t risk your healing process for a night of indulgence… as glorious as we know that would be.

Soon, i:jev, (my joy)

Congratulations.  I’m afraid the blush you’ve caused is permanent.  Both Alex and Susan commented on it yesterday.  Job well done.

Don’t think for a moment that my blushing at the thought of all those delicious whispers into my ear means I plan to shy away from this… us.  I believe you fancy me a shrinking violet.  I can see why.  I’m clumsy.  I fidget and giggle.  I do that when I’m nervous.  And oh, did you always make me nervous.  You still do.  My heart races and my stomach flips and it’s all I can do to keep my hands to myself.

If I’m reading accurately between the lines, you appear to be… anxious.  It seems you are a bit unsure of yourself when it comes to physical affection.  That’s okay.  You lead in the boardroom… I’ll take over in the… well, you get the idea.

Sex wasn’t really necessary on Krypton.  I was born from a birthing matrix, a genetic codex that created scientifically perfect children.  So, at twelve, while human children would be getting ‘the talk’ and awkward sex ed classes, I was taught about gene splicing and the marriage of well-matched families.  I’m sure Kryptonians were affectionate, even sexual, but it wasn’t instinctual and certainly not done with the same joy and abandon humans find in the act.  My long-awaited point is that I have… taught myself about human approaches to love and… done considerable… reading.  And while that sounds terribly clinical and cold, the truth is, I really do know how to enjoy myself.  I think I can help you enjoy yourself too.  And now my blush is back, just so you know.

Don’t worry, Cat.  I promise you I will not let you delegate your part in this to me.  You consider yourself some sort of Pillow Queen?  No.  We’re going to be partners in this, equal ones.  I’d offer to bring some of my more useful books, but I think in your case we just need to throw the instruction manual away and just… have fun.  Trust me, if you’re as good at the rest of it as you are at making out on your couch, we haven’t got a thing to worry about.  

It’s a shame this part of your life always came with such outside motivations and rewards.  You seem never to have experienced pleasure for pleasure’s sake.  I must say I’m disappointed in John Stamos.  He certainly dropped the ball with you.  If he didn’t take full advantage of the gift he was given, well… then he really is just a beach bum.

I already know how responsive you are.  You simply need the right… incentive.  That’s where I come in.

Did you just call me a tease?  No matter, keep getting better.  I’ll see you soon.

I’ll be there as soon as I can.  I am as impatient as you are to spend my time on more pleasurable things.  I wish I could blame my delay on a heroic rescue or precautionary quarantine or world-ending crisis.  But the truth is, I have to work.  

We poor stringers are paid by the word and I'm already on thin ice with Snapper having stretched the deadline of my last two assignments.  He was as relieved as anyone to hear you were alright and I think he gave me a pass on some of my slacking off, but I do need to keep my job, waiting lips notwithstanding.  And now he seems to be punishing me for my absence.

I had hoped to address the concerns of your previous letter in person, however since we are once-again forced to be apart, pen and paper will have to do.  So… Sit down and pay attention.

Whether you are recovering or sleeping or running an empire, you are stunning and perfect and breathtaking and how many times am I going to have to tell you this before you own your beauty?  Even without a speck of fancy makeup or an ounce of hairspray, you are everything I could ever want in a woman, so stop fretting and just get better. You’ll always be safe with me.  And I know we talked about impossible promises, but this one I’m sure of.  When you are in my presence, not a curly hair on that brilliant head will come to harm.   You are mine, just as much as I am yours, and I take care of what’s mine. I know none of this will be easy and I know we still have much to discuss.  We’ll wait until you’re feeling stronger.  Having you drift off mid-sentence while lecturing me on the complexities of what we’re facing was enough to tell me we have to take our time.  But being accustomed to superspeed makes ‘taking it slow’ a bit of an extra challenge for me.  On top of which, I can feel you beginning to talk yourself out of this, out of some kind of misplaced altruism or societal ageist insecurity.  Don’t.  I’m a big girl, Cat Grant.  Don’t make my decisions for me.  Hold onto that jealous streak, if that’s what keeps you with me, but I won’t let you push me away without a fight.

If anyone should be feeling completely out of her depth, it’s me…

You asked me what I’m sure you think was a rhetorical question.  It’s funny you should mention superpowered kisses.  I do have one, little-known, little-used power tied to my kiss.  Clark had to use it on Lois once, years ago, and he’s warned me of its danger too many times to count.  You have my word I won’t use it on you, unless you ask for it, but if there is ever something you’re desperate to forget, I may be able to help you.  I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.  Nothing about being with me will be normal, even though that’s all I’ve ever wanted. Yours and ready to shout it from the rooftops,

This is not the way I had imagined you waking up this morning.  This morning of mornings.

An impersonal letter left on the nightstand next to your reading glasses doesn’t ring of the chivalry and romance I had dreamed of the number of times I had imagined this.  And no, you don’t get to know how often that was.

I’ve been called away, as you will find happens with me, more often than either of us will like.

I couldn’t bear the thought of waking you.  You look so beautiful when you sleep (I’m allowed to say that now, you know).  You should do it more often.  The sunlight that I so adore has found an eternal home in your messy curls and on the soft skin of your cheek.  I watched the sun rise on your features and I haven’t looked away since.  I’m allowed to look now, maybe even to touch.  I gave myself permission to trace the little crease-mark the pillow left across the corner of your eye where it disappeared into your hairline.  I let my fingers curl in between yours like they did last night as I watched you drift off on the sofa next to me.  You may not remember me carrying you to bed, but that memory is branded on my mind. I couldn’t forget the way you tucked yourself against me.  I won’t tell you how I nearly dropped you when you brushed your nose against my neck.  I’m sitting there now, watching you sleep, writing a too-long missive and remembering the way your lips felt against mine.

As I sit here, writing to you on your own stationary, the memories of last night wash over me in waves.  I’ll never forget that moment, when the hurt and anger, frustration, pain and fear, all fell away the moment you said, “Come here, Kara.”  And I did.  I couldn’t stay mad with you wrapped in my arms, solid and warm and alive.  Or the moment I lifted you from your bed, finally unhooked from all your tubes and wires and carefully set you on the balcony, where we could enjoy the city together, as we’ve done so many times before.  The hours we talked blend together into one long moment of truth and care and promises not to promise.  But the moment that stands out most is the moment I said, “I’d like to kiss you, Cat.” and for an eternity you didn’t answer, and instead you pressed your lips to mine and I fell off the edge of the world.

I’m sorry you’re still in such pain.  I’d take it away in an instant if I had that kind of power.  My power lies elsewhere.  I long for the day when you’re stronger, when I can take you flying, in any number of thrilling ways.

So, I’ll give you one last kiss, because I can do that now, and leave the way I arrived, though infinitely lighter of spirit and mind.

Time will stand still until I can see you again.

I’m sorry I called you a dummy… and a monumental idiot… though I maintain in that moment they were not entirely inaccurate.

I have to go, but I leave my heart behind.  Guard it well.

Truly yours,

Stay put.  You dummy.  I’m coming.

I swear to Rao, Cat Grant, if you get on an airplane, your ‘idiot doctors’ will be the least of your worries.

God knows nobody ever questioned your commitment to a goal.  I’m overreacting?  Says the woman who threatens to pull stars from the sky to eliminate the light by which we see her vulnerabilities.

And after everything, every stroke of my pen and soft word and hopeful plea, you still actually believe I might be dating?  You monumental idiot.

You talk about power like it’s a commodity to be bought and sold and you lament having given so much of it to me.  You fear I’ll wield it like a weapon and damage you even more than I have after you’ve spent years bludgeoning me with yours.  Power, I have, Cat.  It’s those confessions you fear so greatly that I truly crave.

I’ll give you mine, when I see you.  That should be only a few hours from your receipt of this letter (which I have spent a fortune to send via urgent messenger).  I have to see a man about a cape, as I don’t know how long I might be away.

Keep that apology close.  Halley’s Comet was nothing compared to the asteroid belt surrounding Daxam.  I’ve seen comets that would obliterate earth before you could say ‘fall on my sword.’

Why do you make it so impossible for anyone to

No. Soon.

I’ll thank you not to throw everything I’ve lost back in my face like so many drinks at a rude date.  You couldn’t possibly know what it’s like to lose absolutely everything.  Your family, your home, your culture and language.  I lost the very air I breathed and the sky over my head.  But, of course, as always, you have the inside track on promises I can and cannot make.

I’m always very careful about not promising people that I’ll remain safe and whole.  I have no reason to believe that is true, but don’t tell me I can’t protect the people I care about.  I know better than anyone what the word promise means.

Adam came back to you, Cat, not that you’re especially grateful for that particular gift, whatever my part in it.  My parents aren’t just going to show up at my office one day because someone wrote them a letter.

You’re worried that someday, in an undefined future, Carter may not want to tell you about his day?  If that’s loss… you know what, never mind.  Explaining it is futile to someone who values their own pride above someone else’s pain.

The truth is, I didn’t hear you that day.  I can’t explain why.  D.C. is far away.  Even my own hearing has limits.  I don’t know where I was or who I was with that afternoon.  The bar where Mon-El and M’gann work is noisy, the DEO is entirely lined with lead.  I’m deaf to the outside world there.  If I was at CatCo, I would have heard you call for me, I’m sure of it.  And I would have come, without hesitation or second thought.  I won’t pretend to know how terrified or lonely you felt in those moments, when you believe I had abandoned you.  I’m sorry I wasn’t there and sorry your faith in me is so irreparably shaken.  

I only found out what happened hours later, and I did come, Cat.  I came for you.  I was too late.  By the time I arrived you were already under lock and key.  If you think I didn’t try everything in (and beyond) my power to get to you, then there is no point in me trying to convince you.  You’ve likely already made up your mind.

You seem to think I keep some kind of velvet rope around my heart and you have been left off the list.  I’m not sure what I’ve done to give you that impression, but such a rope does not exist, and certainly not for you.  Consider that door closed now.  Our “ongoing conversation” as you have so flippantly named the pouring out of myself to you, has come to an end.  We are not the people we have come to believe the other is, and nothing is more heartbreaking to learn.

We’ll keep things running smoothly here in National City.  You shouldn’t find the need to visit anytime soon.  Your agents will keep you safe as I have failed to do.

Hug Carter for me.  I’ll miss him.