So. This is awkward.

In Cate's defence, she's just a single mom doing her best. It's not like she was a terrible parent. She just—isn't perfect. And okay, when she heard Sam rambling on about his favourite teacher, her first thought hadn't been, "Oh, and is your Miss related to a beautiful girl with terrible TV-taste and the most lovely fucking laugh she's ever heard?"

Okay. Maybe it was. So what if she hasn't gotten you out of her head after, like, ten years. It's not like she could date around. She's a supe with compulsion powers, for one. And a kid. Not exactly the most appealing pitch.

Sam fidgets—not out of nerves, but because he runs on rocket fuel. Luke named him. (It was the least Cate could do, really—the fact that his little brother was still fighting to resurface in his memories would've split Cate open if she hadn't literally done just that. Giving birth, and all.)

She hadn't talked to you, since—well—Sam. Even after Luke snapped and burst into flames in the middle of God-U; his kid was still here. His baby boy. The least she could do was not stay with the woman she cheated on him with.

It's not like she had to take a paternity test.

Yet, here you are. Here she is. Sam frowns, legs kicking under the table, and Cate has to hastily chastise, "Hey, none of that." as if her voice isn't strained and God, you know she's a liar and a cheat, already. You know all about her sordid, horrible history, ever since she returned your memories out of guilt and cut everyone off entirely. Including Indira. She can't have you think she's a bad mom, too.

Cate is constantly split between letting guilt and her crushing need-for-love rule her life. Without Indira, she has Sam, to do that unconditionally. She tries not to feel guilty about that too.

"Sam— Sam speaks well of you." She smiles, voice tight. Sam slinks down, head buried in his arms. "Mom." He whines, cheeks flushed—like he should be the one embarrassed. If only he knew.