Chapter Text
December 21, 2016
Katherine Grant's Metropolis Home
Front Walk
"Oh," breathed Kara as she stepped out of the town car. Her last visit to Metropolis had only been a few months ago, but the changes to Katherine Grant's home and property were legion. And not all of it was holiday decorations, although that alone was enough to stop all communication from Cat through the Daat Kyashar.
The spruce trees at the public end of the drive were stately sentinels but no nod to the season existed there. The six closest to the house, on the other hand, were cheerfully lit by strings of white Christmas bulbs to show off their crimson and gold finery.
Strings of smaller lights wound around and through the railings of the Victorian mansion's wraparound porch. Each pillar boasted fresh greenery tied with red and gold velvet ribbons. A massive, clearly bespoke wreath hung on the front door haloed by the golden light of the outdoor sconces, offering every visitor a warm welcome.
Even without the benefit of snow, the scene was magical.
"It's just like Diehard," Kara whispered reverently.
For Cat, that was the straw that broke the camel's back. A flash flood of disbelief rolled through the Daat Kyashar.
"Like what?" she asked, aghast.
Kara frowned, genuinely perplexed. "Like Diehard? You know, my favorite Christmas movie?"
"That ridiculously violent Bruce Willis fantasy that made Alan Rickman a household name is your favorite Christmas movie?"
Cat stared at Kara and wondered if this was all another weird dream. Perhaps they were still aboard the jet and that last decadent cannoli they'd shared before leaving Rome was giving her the first of her prophetic Scrooge dreams -- though she was at a complete loss as to what lesson this one was trying to impart.
Kara frowned in earnest now. "Yes," she snapped, mildly irritated. "Why? What's yours?"
And that was when Cat realized she didn't have a leg to stand on in this discussion. Her two favorite Christmas films - depending on the year - were Meet Me in St. Louis and Home Alone, both only loosely connected to the season.
The contrition that threaded through her unvoiced apology tasted like brûléed grapefruit.
Never mind, she sent grouchily.
Kara chuckled and took Cat's hand as the flickering images of little Margaret O'Brien murdering fake snowpeople faded from their connection.
"How long has it been since the house was decorated like this?" she asked as they strolled up the walk, curious.
Cat gazed at the tasteful display, recognizing some of the elements, but not all.
"Christmas was my father's favorite holiday," she explained quietly. "I know he'd begun scaling back after I graduated from college and wasn't coming home every year." Cat told herself the chilly night air was making her eyes sting. "The tradition died with him," she said. "Mother and I - well, we'd say we saw no point in doing it without him but the truth was we couldn't bear to come face to face with our grief. Mother turned her sights on Thanksgiving, making that the focus of her year."
Kara squeezed Cat's hand gently. "And you?"
Cat stopped on the walkway and gazed up at Kara. The night was clear and cold and Kara's eyes were so blue, so filled with devotion.
"I stopped celebrating it entirely," she admitted. "Oh, I sent the obligatory cards and gifts, tolerated the office's cheery fervor for it as much as I was able." She cupped Kara's cheek with a gloved hand and kissed her, needing the touch of her lips more than she realized.
"Carter changed how you felt about it," Kara said when they parted.
Cat nodded. "I went through the motions at first and told myself I was doing it for his benefit, not mine. Then, the divorce made celebrating anything almost impossible." She shook her head, tears glittering in her eyes. A watery, sentimental smile trembled on her lips. "I began looking forward to Christmas again when I realized Carter's joy was so like my father's. It was as if he was celebrating with us."
Kara opened her mouth to reply but turned instead to look at the front door quizzically, laughing when she realized what was about to happen.
"Brace for impact," she whispered to Cat.
The sound of faraway thundering footfalls made Cat chuckle. "We've been spotted, haven't we?"
"Yep," said Kara. She positioned Cat about eight inches further to the right of where she was standing, then fully faced the door, readying herself.
The pounding got closer and closer, louder and louder, until they heard twin exasperated cries of "STOP RUNNING!" just before the door blew open. Carter launched himself at Kara from the porch.
"Mom!" he shouted in mid-air. Kara caught him easily and returned his enthusiastic hug. "You're back," he added, relieved.
Alex and Eliza arrived at the doorway just as Cat's amusement began to fade.
"Carter?" she asked. When she put her hand on his back to comfort him she felt something through the Daat Kyashar - like an overstretched rubber band snapping back into place. She and Kara traded glances.
So did Alex and Eliza.
"Is everything okay?" asked Eliza uneasily.
"Yes," said Cat, though she didn't seem 100% certain of that. "This is the furthest we've been from Carter since the Daat Kyashar brought him into the bond. We didn't realize-" She pursed her lips. "When the naissance phase finally ended, we thought things like distance wouldn't affect us anymore."
Alex's eyebrows dove into a sharp frown at the same time Eliza's shot upward in horror.
"It's okay," Kara said hurriedly, trying to reassure them. "It's not dangerous anymore. Not for any of us. It's just kinda--"
"Annoying," said Carter, finally loosening the death grip he had on Kara. She set him down and he immediately turned to hug Cat, sighing when she folded him into her arms.
When he pulled back, Cat ruffled his mop of brown hair and pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead.
"Were you in pain?" demanded Alex, already well on her way to blaming herself for whatever suffering he'd endured.
"No. Not pain." Carter scrunched up his face. "It was like... Like not being able to remember the words to a song you once knew by heart or having a word on the tip of your tongue that you just can't think of." He grinned at his aunt. "Frustrating, but survivable."
"Survivable?" asked Katherine. Maggie and Astra followed her to the doorway sporting almost identical disapproving looks. "Has something happened?" When no one answered, Katherine looked sternly at her daughter. "Cat?"
Cat stared back at her mother, wondering how to explain.
Eliza came to the rescue.
"Let's go inside before we all freeze to death," she said, putting an arm around Katherine to guide her back into the house. "Someone will get the luggage from the car--" she began, snickering when three brunettes took off down the walkway at a run. She wondered if they'd fight over the biggest suitcase. "--and we'll get some tea or cocoa started to warm us all up, okay?"
That was Carter's cue and he started to run across the marble foyer toward the kitchen before Katherine and Eliza both reminded him to walk - although in slightly different tones of voice.
"And then someone will explain to me why my grandson described something as 'survivable' on my front porch?" Katherine asked sternly.
Eliza, her arm still around Katherine's shoulders, gave her a brief squeeze. "We'll talk later," she whispered, glancing over her shoulder worriedly.
Lost in their thoughts, neither Cat nor Kara took any notice and mutely followed their respective mothers inside.
---
December 21, 2016
Katherine Grant's Metropolis Home
Formal Dining Room
Finishing her tea an hour later, Cat felt calmer.
Her mother seemed to have dropped the topic of what had happened on the front porch and was, instead, intent on hearing about her and Kara's trip to Italy. Kara, still alert and buoyant, handled the heavy lifting there, charming everyone with stories that all seemed to center around food for some reason.
Sarcasm is a second language for you, isn't it? sent Kara, glancing across the table at her.
Eighth, but who's counting? Cat hid her cinnamon-flavored smirk behind the rim of her teacup. And I love listening to you talk about food, darling - as long as you don't tell the whole table how we shared that first cannoli you bought.
Cat selected several exceptional and energetic scenes from their first night in Rome and replayed them for Kara through their bond.
That was a very good night, she added. One might even say crème de la crème.
The piquant flavor of Kara's blushes was as refreshing as the tingles they brought, though Cat could never quite decide what they tasted like. The faintly sweet, pleasantly tangy nuttiness was completely alien to her.
I am talking to your mother! Kara growled. Then she grinned smugly. Who just asked you a question, by the way.
Forgetting herself completely, Cat straightened in her chair and half yelped, "What?"
Katherine raised one eyebrow. "Looks like jet lag may be setting in," she noted, lips curling in a knowing smile. "I just asked whether your trip was productive. Were you able to rein Giani in?"
Kara's laugh at Cat's expense tasted different in the Daat Kyashar than did her joy. Instead of fresh-picked strawberries - an utterly delightful flavor - it tasted more like a strawberry mimosa - sweet, bitter, and bubbly.
Cat pursed her lips and began to reply, but Kara preempted her.
"Trust me, he has been successfully reminded where his loyalties should lie. She had him eating from the palm of her hand in less than two hours," she gushed.
Eliza looked between the two of them, aghast. "Wait - are you saying the business portion of this business trip concluded in under two hours on the first day you were there? What did you spend yesterday and today doing?"
"Eating, it would seem," said Katherine drolly.
"And how," muttered Alex under her breath. Maggie almost spit her last sip of cocoa across the table.
Cat raised an eyebrow at her future sister-in-law. "Would you waste two unexpectedly unencumbered days in Rome and the opportunity to spoil the woman you love at Christmastime just to return to this country two days early?" she asked. "Because I certainly wouldn't." She leveled a snarky force-10 glare at Alex. "And I prefer the word celebrating."
"I bet you do," said Alex, snickering.
"Okay, you can stop now," groused Kara, cheeks rosy with embarrassment. "Carter will be back any second."
"I'm here!" said the teenager in question, standing in the doorway. "And Mom?" He looked pointedly at Kara. "I'm not scarred for life yet, and I live with you two. I doubt a few euphemisms will be the tipping point, so relax, okay?"
"O-okay," replied Kara, blushing harder.
Everyone chuckled.
Katherine was just about to suggest retiring, but Carter put the kibosh on that.
"Before everyone decides to go to bed," he began, holding up a stainless steel mixing bowl, "we have to draw for Secret Santa. There are only three shopping days left until Christmas!"
"Secret...Santa?" asked Astra. Until now, she'd been content to drink her cocoa and listen to the easy banter of the humans around her. She always learned so much from them. But Carter's mention of shopping made her worry she'd missed something.
"Yeah!" Carter held the bowl up over Eliza's head. "Each of us has to pick a name out of this bowl and buy a present for whoever we get. That way we don't fill Gramma Katherine's fancy living room with boxes and wrapping paper."
Having recently learned the confusing (and frankly, contradictory) mythology surrounding the imminent human holiday, Astra recognized this assignment as a variation on the traditional rituals. One she was quite relieved by.
"I see." She nodded at him, secretly grateful her required participation had been lessened. "Proceed."
Carter rolled his eyes. "Yes, ma'am," he said sarcastically. "We'll start with Gramma Eliza. And remember, if you pick your own name, you have to put it back and pick again. Okay?"
All around the table, women tried to hide their indulgent smiles.
Eliza rooted around in the bowl and chose one of the folded slips of paper. She smiled softly when she saw the name, completely delighted, then refolded it and held it to her chest like a poker hand.
"Thank you," she said to Carter and he moved to Katherine.
Cat observed everyone's reactions as he went around the table, stalling only once at Maggie when she picked her own name.
Her mother looked completely flummoxed by the name she'd chosen while Astra looked at hers, nodded once, and put it on the table, covering it with her hand.
Alex grinned evilly at her name (which significantly narrowed down Cat's assumptions about who she'd picked) and Maggie just smiled at her second pick, clearly pleased.
Kara grinned when she saw hers, but Cat knew she would grin no matter who she got, so that told her nothing. Neither did the Daat Kyashar. Kara had already walled the name behind a barrier by the time she thought to look.
Cat simply glanced at hers, then curled her hand around it, already thinking of gift ideas.
Carter picked the last name out of the bowl and quietly cheered, "Yes!" before shoving the slip of paper into his pocket.
"Cool," he said, looking around the table. Excitement danced in his eyes, reminding Cat of her father all over again. "Don't tell anyone who you picked, okay? We'll exchange the gifts Christmas morning."
"After breakfast," added Katherine sternly. "I'm guessing at least four people sitting around this table require a moderate amount of caffeine to be functional. I happen to be one of them."
"After breakfast," repeated Carter sardonically. "While you all are drinking your gross bean juice, I'll be having donuts." He waggled his eyebrows at everyone. "If you think I'm excited now, wait until you see me on sugar and carbs!"
"Donuts?" asked Kara eagerly.
Cat snickered at her, then looked at her son inquisitively. "And just where will you be getting these hypothetical donuts?"
"Mom and I are gonna make 'em!" he said triumphantly.
"We are?" squeaked Kara, eyes round. Clearly, this was news to her.
"Yep." He swept his gaze around the table. "So start thinking about what kinds you want. We're only taking suggestions until noon tomorrow."
"Raspberry filled with vanilla sugar on the top," said Astra instantly.
Everyone stared at her.
Defiantly, she stared back. "They are my favorite so far."
"How many flavors have you tried?" asked Maggie, genuinely curious. It was interesting to see an adult discovering such ordinary things. It reminded her to be more mindful and not take so much for granted.
Again, Astra did not hesitate. "Twenty-eight."
Kara was appalled. "There are twenty-eight flavors of donuts?!" She glared at her aunt. "And you didn't take me with you??"
Knowing laughter erupted around the table.
---
December 21, 2016
Katherine Grant's Metropolis Home
Formal Living Room
"If you're about to tell me that Kara - and by default, Astra - are from the same planet as our so-called Superman, you're too late."
Katherine gestured for Eliza to sit, then followed suit, appreciating the fire in the fireplace. They'd moved to the formal living room for just this purpose. The smaller of the three Christmas trees in the house stood in the corner beside the mantle, bedecked with blue and silver decorations.
Eliza, too, gazed at the cozy tableau and sipped from another cup of tea. Katherine had switched to brandy. Not her usual nightcap, but what were holidays for if not for indulgence?
"I thought so," said Eliza, smiling. "After all, you're not a stupid woman, and Kara's not...suited to deception."
Remembering Kara's last visit, Katherine said, "That's an understatement. Oh, she starts out plausibly enough. When she visited me in October, she told me she happened to be in the area and thought I might have a few photographs or mementos for Cat's upcoming Lifetime Achievement award."
Eliza's brows drew together. "That sounds reasonable..."
Katherine rolled her eyes. "It was eight o'clock on a Saturday morning, Eliza, and she looked as if she'd just walked out of a laundry ad - all sunshine and smiles in a sweater set the color of safety vests." She pursed her lips. "No one looks that good after getting off a red-eye. No human, anyway."
"Now I see where Cat got her powers of observation from," said Eliza, laughing.
"And I see where Kara gets her sun-drenched smiles from," replied Katherine, suppressing her own smile. "But none of that explains Carter's comment on the porch. What was survivable? Surely, he wasn't missing his mothers that much. They were only gone for three nights."
Eliza carefully put her teacup on the gilded, marble-topped coffee table that looked like it might cost as much as her house.
"He was missing them, but not in the way you're thinking, not in an emotional way. The physical distance was the problem - one none of us knew about until Cat and Kara returned tonight."
Katherine frowned. "None of you? I don't understand. Why are you - the collective you - involved in this?"
"I'll do my best to explain," promised Eliza, "but you're going to hear a little more about your daughter's sex life than usual."
"I'm an author and publisher," scoffed Katherine. "The last time I was squeamish about sex was while editing AA Gill in 1999. He won the Literary Review's Best Bad Sex in Fiction award that year, I believe. Besides, if this evening's foray into innuendo is any indication, Cat's sex life seems...robust and fulfilling. And well-known."
Eliza side-eyed Katherine. "Didn't you start that conversation?" she asked slyly.
"I assure you I have no idea what you're talking about," said Katherine, a smile pulling at her mouth.
"Whatever you say," said Eliza, and for the next twenty minutes she walked Katherine through a summarized history of the Daat Kyashar, and how it had manifested first in Cat, then in Carter.
"When the naissance phase ended, we all thought physical distance wouldn't affect them anymore," she said, reaching for her tea. "Tonight, we learned that wasn't accurate. Physical distance is no longer dangerous for them, but Carter experienced a nagging sensation of disconnectedness."
"And that's what he characterized as 'survivable,'" said Katherine.
Eliza nodded. "I'm sure we would have seen signs of something concerning long before tonight if it wasn't. Thank goodness it was benign. Otherwise, Alex would have blamed herself for not catching it sooner."
"She puts too much pressure on herself," clucked Katherine. "I don't see why. She's only human, after all."
"Don't tell her that," said Eliza, chuckling. Then her face fell. "Besides, we - her father and I - were the ones who started that particular struggle. Putting too much pressure on her, I mean. And I never realized..." She let that thought go, not seeing the value in worrying about something she couldn't change. Instead, she looked directly at Katherine. "Cat helped me see it, finally. I'm so glad. Now I can begin the work of making amends. To both of them."
"Both of them?"
"Different girls, different pressures, same result. Jeremiah - my late husband - and I were oblivious. We thought we were helping!"
Katherine dismissed Eliza's self-recrimination as overblown. "Surely, you were just doing--"
"The best we could?" asked Eliza. "Absolutely. One hundred percent." Sadness washed away the sparkle in her eyes. "Sometimes one hundred percent isn't enough. Sometimes it's not even close."
Katherine frowned pensively. "Would you like to talk about it?" she asked.
Eliza blinked, not expecting the invitation. She didn't want Katherine to feel beholden, but the thought of talking to another mother about these things was tempting. "It's a long story," she warned, hedging just in case Katherine was only being polite.
Katherine smirked. "I happen to think they're the only ones that matter," she said. "Please go on."
So, Eliza told her about that first day with Kara. How they hadn't warned 16-year-old Alex, or even consulted with her. How they taught Kara to hide in plain sight. How they unconsciously pressured Alex into being Kara's human role model. About the problems that resulted from those decisions. About all of it.
"So, I have one child with untreated PTSD and a brand new form of body dysmorphia who buys her right to belong with the most incredible acts of kindness, and another who believes she alone holds the universe together and has the sleep deprivation to make that seem plausible." Eliza gazed into the bottom of her long-empty tea cup. "That's what 'doing the best we could' got us."
"At least you were acting out of love," said Katherine. She shifted uncomfortably and scowled. "The best I could do was antagonize my only child out of jealousy."
Eliza's head snapped up. "You're wrong," she said sternly.
"Excuse me?" said Katherine, rearing back as if slapped.
"You're wrong, Katherine," repeated Eliza, gently this time. "That's something you told yourself to justify your behavior." She covered Katherine's hand with her own. "Cat told me she was a daddy's girl growing up. You must have felt like you were on the outside looking in..."
Katherine deflated, sagging against the back of the couch. "It seemed like they'd founded their own country, with their own language, their own rituals..." She shrugged sadly. "I was only ever a tourist there, tolerated for expediency's sake. I didn't belong."
Eliza squeezed Katherine's hand and gave her an understanding half-smile. "And after Jefferson died?" she asked.
Mortified by a sudden rush of tears, Katherine shook her head. "Cat closed their country's borders and fled. I couldn't follow, so I laid siege and tried to get a reaction from her - any reaction."
Eliza shook her head. "You pretended to despise her because you knew you couldn't bear it if something happened to her and she died, too."
It wasn't a question, so Katherine couldn't offhandedly deny it. Of course, it was true.
"Why are the simplest things so difficult to see?" she asked, removing her glasses to wipe the moisture from her eyes.
"Humans crave complexity," said Eliza. "And drama. It fills our acres and acres of spare time leftover from securing our survival." She winked at Katherine and chuckled at her bemused expression.
"Now, we should go to bed," she added, rising from the sofa and collecting her empty tea cup. "I have a feeling the next few days will be busy now that our stragglers have arrived. We'll need all the energy we can muster."
Eliza gifted her with one of those ebullient beach beauty smiles that made her eyes crinkle and held out her hand. Katherine could only sit there and stare owlishly up at her.
"I'll take your glass to the kitchen," the blonde offered. "You go on up."
Katherine handed Eliza her snifter.
"Thank you. Goodnight, Eliza," she said.
"Goodnight, Katherine. Thank you for letting me talk your ear off." Eliza turned before she could see the flush of color rise in Katherine's cheeks.
Katherine stared at the fire for a little longer and wondered what had just happened. When was the last time she'd blushed? She honestly couldn't remember. Had she had too much brandy?
Then she rolled her eyes at herself. It wasn't the brandy; it was hosting a house full of blissfully happy lesbians for Christmas.
Lesson learned, she thought, scowling.
---
TBC