She's been in Detroit for about a month.

At least from the moment she woke up to find herself lying in the middle of a busy street, getting rained on, with a stream of cars heading in her direction, several blaring their horns in panic. It was a miracle no one actually hit her.

The folks at the diner have been really nice during those four weeks, especially the waitress who took her in, gave her a name, and a job. Linda doesn't quite suit her, she thinks, but at least it's better than "Nameless blond found on doorstep".

It seems patience is the name of the game.

Four weeks of taking orders, filling coffee cups, frantically searching the Michigan State Police board for descriptions of missing people that could be herself. For all Linda knows, she has a large family somewhere waiting for news of her safety. She likes that image; lots of tall, blond people eager to welcome her back into their arms. It beats the alternative - that no one is looking for her because she doesn't have any relatives.

The bald guy has made a return appearance, claiming "his" booth, second time this week and she bites back a grin. They're strangers, of course, but there's a faint ping of familiarity, as if they knew each other in another life. That's probably why she feels more comfortable around him than many of the people she works with. Which ... isn't completely fair, because most of them have been absolutely wonderful during all this.

She just wishes she could remember.

Maybe, if she tries extra hard this time, something will emerge. Something tangible, besides the bracelet around her wrist. And if wishes were horses, she'd be living on a farm right now, Linda berates herself mentally.

Someday.

But today, she has customers to serve, and new friends to interact with. She'll just have to be patient and wait for the answers to come, no matter how much she wants them right now.

Someday.

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It's been an interesting week.

Stuck in suspended animation for eighteen years and finally being set free, saving some bald guy trapped in a car, terrorizing playgrounds across the United States looking for her baby cousin, and then finding him where least expected -- and all grown up -- before losing the ship that brought her. Which at least is better than taking out half of Kansas with a nuclear explosion. Right? That's what she's been telling herself for the last four weeks. Even if that ship was one of the last links she had to Krypton.

And the crystal that Zor-El told her to protect with her life? Also missing. It didn't walk away on it's own. Kara thinks the humans have stashed it somewhere, but she's been scouring the country without finding one hint to it's location. But she will find it, even if she has x-ray every building in the United States, and then the world.

At least Earth has malls, which are kind of cool.

Kara super speeds her purchases back to the farm, feeling oddly proud about folding and putting them away in her little closet in her own room. It doesn't seem like home yet, mainly because home is -- was -- twenty three galaxies away, but she does have a large, overprotective cousin who thinks he should be looking after her instead of the other way around.

From the sounds generated by her new hearing ability, Kal-El Clark is down tossing hay into the back of his truck for distribution out in the fields. Maybe she can go attempt to be helpful and get some more teasing in. Kara bounds out of her room, and down the stairs three at a time, most of her attention centered on figuring out the cell phone in her hands.

But when she opens the kitchen door and steps outside, it leads somewhere else.

[several hours after this]

She's curled up between two stone gargoyles, ignoring the rain. He's not her parent. Not even close. Cousin? Yes. They're family - she'll always cop to that as the natives say. Kal has that responsibility gene down pat, feeling like he has to take care of everyone else, regardless of who they are. And that's what makes Kal --well, Kal. Or Clark, as he keeps insisting.

Kara isn't hiding. Only human children hide. She's just cooling off. Like when a volcano erupts and all that lava comes pouring out to destroy everything in its path, and then afterwards everything goes back to normal. It just so happens that Kal doesn't know where she is, that's all. Not like he keeps her informed of every little place he visits.

After another half an hour of remaining huddled on the ledge of the Gotham Public Library, she admits a cautious defeat. Okay, so she is hiding, and her big, overprotective cousin isn't going to be happy when she finally goes home. Not like that's anything new. Kara tries so hard to fit in, but no matter the effort, she has to hide who she is and not tell anyone, unless she's with the rest of the capes, and even then not all of them know that Kara Kent and Kara Zor-El are the same person.

Which is totally beside the point.

The point is that she's sick of hiding, so now she's hiding. Yes, it does completely make sense. If you put a dam somewhere, sooner or later cracks will appear in the foundation, and eventually the barrier will fall apart and let everything behind it explode. Like a volcano. Or a nineteen year old girl who misses her parents even though one of them was secretly psychotic.

In the morning, when the rising sun has burned away the last remnants of rain and lent an oddly peaceful glow to the otherwise standoffish city, Kara uncoils from her huddle. Early morning residents might see a flash of blue and red as she zips by, on her way back to Smallville.

She's ready to stop hiding.