Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Clark looked up at the red neon sign above Victoria May's, pausing for a moment to gather some strength. His wife's hand slipped into his and he gave it a gentle squeeze before turning his gaze towards her. Looking down into her eyes, he couldn’t help but smile at her knowing expression.

It said, ‘You’re Superman… You can handle Taco Tuesday.'

‘Do we have to do this?’ Jon asked, chewing on the sleeve of his hoodie.

Jordan looked just as apprehensive, gaze fixed on the diner door like he was trying to force his x-ray vision to come in.

Both of his sons looked like they'd rather be anywhere else. 

‘Come on boys,’ Lois pleaded, ‘this is the first chance we’ve had for some family time in months. Can we at least try and have a nice, normal night out together?’

‘But everything's not normal. Lucy's still missing. Ally’s still out there,’ Jordan pointed out. 

‘And your Grandad and the entire DOD is searching for them,’ Clark reminded them. ‘There’s nothing more we can do right now. Besides, you guys love Vicky's Tacos!'

His son's rolled their eyes at each other and Clark felt a twinge of guilt at their reluctant expressions.

He had no doubt this was the right move; they needed a night off from all the bizzarro world craziness, and he was beginning to realise, if they waited until there was no danger on the horizon, it might never happen.

Still, he understood their reluctance.

Both boys had good reason to want to avoid their neighbours right now. They'd been dealing with a lot of scrutiny these last few months, and Clark had missed a huge chunk of it.

Lois had gone over everything that had happened in the 33 days he'd been missing. The knowledge filled him with regret. His family had been struggling... and he hadn't been there to help. 

Jordan had even started training with Sam in his absence. He'd done an amazing job as a hero, even saved Kyle's life... but stepping up had already cost him his relationship with Sarah. 

And Jonathan – well, he'd become the town pariah after the football season was cancelled. Not to mention, he'd been left thinking that his Dad hated him. 

Of course Clark didn't hate him!

He loved both of his sons more than life itself. He was just... scared. Jon risked his life taking that experimental space drug. And Clark’s fear of what that meant was causing him to react in ways he wasn’t proud of.

He knew he had a lot to make up for. And as hard as tonight might be... it was a first step towards showing his sons he was here for them. 

Besides, with everything going on, their family's lives had started to become hot Smallville gossip. They needed to do some damage control, and this was a perfect opportunity to show up to something as a normal, nothing to hide family. 

'Fine, whatever,' Jordan grumbled.

'Let's just get this over with,' Jon sighed.

Clark sighed at the sad irony of it all. They’d moved back to his home town in the hopes it would bring them closer together. That it would be a quieter life. 

Turns out trouble seemed to have a way of finding them wherever they went.

Lois finally made the first move, crossing the street and pushing open the diner doors, his sons following obediently. 

The mouth-watering smell of fresh Tacos hit Clark immediately, filling him with a sense of olfactory nostalgia. It was almost enough to make his concerns melt away.

Almost.

Sharon Powell took another swig of whiskey from her flask to calm her nerves. She’d been waiting for this day for so long, she could hardly believe it was finally happening.

In fact, for the past few months, this was basically all that she’d been living for. She’d just about given up completely when Johnny found her in that bar, consumed by grief and hatred, drinking herself into oblivion every night. He’d listened to her when no one else gave a damn anymore, shared her anger and her pain. He’d given her a reason to fight, a way of taking back some power after feeling so utterly powerless.

Now, the day they’d been preparing for was finally here – they were going to get real justice for her son.

‘You okay sweetheart?’ Johnny asked.

He watched her carefully as he checked the straps at her side. Sharon nodded, giving him a look of steely determination.

‘Oh, I’m ready,' she said.

‘Good, 'cause there's no going back now.'

Johnny leaned forwards, reaching a hand through her hair and tipping her head back.

‘There’s been no going back since I met you,’ she breathed, his face drawing closer to hers.

The distinct sound of a machine gun being cocked beside them interrupted their lustful haze.

Sharon turned to see their so far unpleasant partner scowling at them in disapproval.

‘Can you two just keep things professional, please? This isn’t a Bonny & Clyde movie.'

Johnny rolled his eyes. ‘Kurt, I’m no amateur, alright? I know what I’m doing.' He turned his attention back to the bomb vest he was securing around her waist.

Their partner didn't seem remotely convinced. Uncomfortably hunched over in the back of the blacked-out van, he was meticulously inspecting several automatic weapons that Johnny had already checked five minutes ago.

‘You’d better hope so,’ Kurt said, ‘If the boss finds out we messed this one up, we’re all dead meat.’

‘How are we going to mess this up?’ Johnny retorted, ‘Even Superman’s not going to see this coming.’

‘Superman’s not the priority here. We get them to hand over the X-K and the other kryptonian – that’s the mission. Our little surprise for the man of steel is just a contingency.’

There was something about Kurt's tone when he mentioned Superman that seemed a little off. The way he kept his eyes trained on his gun, the nonchalance in his voice sounding just a little too forced... but Sharon decided to brush it off for now.

Whatever the man was hiding, as long as it didn't get in the way of her own mission, she couldn't care less. Besides... if their boss really did have a secret agenda that involved hurting Superman, well, that suited her just fine. 

She’d had a lot of time to go over the events of last year in her mind, and it wasn’t long before her resentment turned into blind rage. Superman, Lois Lane, the General – they’d all known her son was dead, how he’d died, who was responsible… and they’d kept her in the dark, wondering if he was still coming home, begging for answers.

Sharon had seen Superman’s fluffy speech for the Smallville Gazette last year, about how proud he was of Smallville. The whole thing made her sick. She could see right through the charming smiles and cheesy platitudes now.

The truth was, he and his people were dangerous. They were the reason her son was dead, and General Lane and his daughter had been covering that up.

‘I say let him come,’ Sharon said, her voice brimming with vitriol. ‘He’s just as guilty as the rest of them.’

‘Damn right he is,’ Johnny said, looking satisfied with his handiwork as he stepped back from the green tinged bomb. 'How's that feel?'

Sharon stood up slowly, doing a couple of cautious twists from side to side, making sure she had enough room to manoeuvre around without the vest slipping too much. They didn't want to leave room for someone to easily yank it from her body.  

Johnny whistled. 'Looking good babe.'

He held out his hand, inviting her to do a twirl for him, and Sharon did so with a devilish grin. Johnny beamed back at her before finally turning around to their store of weapons, grabbing a pistol and tucking it into the back of his belt. Then he lifted one of the machine guns and rested it against his chest. 

Their partner, weapon already raised, opened the van’s back doors and looked back at them expectantly. 'Are we ready?' 

‘For Derek,’ Sharon said, with conviction.

All three of them stepped out of the van, Johnny pausing just outside the door to help her down. Eyes wide, they scanned their surroundings for any sign of movement.

Thankfully, the street was completely deserted, shadows already beginning to envelope their path as the evening dusk descended. 

It was time.

Finally, everyone responsible for her sons death would pay for what they’d done.  

Jon's heart twisted in his chest as soon as the diner doors were open. 

All eyes were on him within seconds, animated conversations quickly turning into hushed whispers. He knew some of what they were saying could be about the rest of his family... but he was pretty sure most of the hate filled glares were meant for him.

His parents were obviously a bit taken aback by the blatant judgment coming from every table in sight, but his dad shook it off quickly, jaw setting in stubborn determination.

Jon knew that look, he'd seen it enough times lately. His dad wasn’t backing down on this, no matter what happened.

He felt a bit guilty admitting it, but people questioning his dad's perfect reputation felt... kind of satisfying in a way. The truth may not be what they thought... but his dad hadn't exactly been a model parent so far this year, and Jon was tired of being the only one calling him out on it.

Coach Gaines voice boomed towards them, breaking him out of his thoughts with a jolt.

Of course he'd be the first person they had to talk to.

Jon was surprised the whole football team weren't lined up at the counter, ready to give him a hard time. 

‘Hey, it’s the mysterious Kent family. When did you come out of hiding?’  

His old coach was perched at the counter, generous plateful of overstuffed tacos in front of him. He held a half-eaten one in his hand, it’s contents looking about ready to spill as he turned towards them.

Jon looked up at his dad, who was already putting on an impressively breezy smile as he said, ‘No hiding, Coach. Just been a busy few months at the farm. How've you been?’

‘Oh, well... coaching a disqualified football team isn’t quite how I pictured finishing out the year.'

Jon bit his lip, making his own stubborn commitment not to bite, even with the coach staring right at him. He did not want to make things any worse.

‘I'm sorry, it must have been really difficult finding out so many of the boys were using,’ his mom said, her tone just empathetic enough to veil the pointed comment.

Jon felt a swell of gratitude for his mom's subtle defense, but he knew it was pointless. Pretty much everyone in town saw the whole X-K thing as his fault. It didn't matter that half the football team had been using the stuff... he was the one who'd been caught with the supply. They'd made up their mind what that meant about him. 

‘Yeah, well… nothing’s been the same since Edge opened those mines,’ Coach added. ‘I mean, space drugs? It’s not like there’s a test for that...’

‘Uh, so, how are the Tacos tonight?’ his dad asked, unsubtly swerving away from the topic.  

Thankfully, the Coach accepted the exit route. ‘World’s finest Kent, you know that!’ he beamed. ‘Weren't we still in high school when Vicky first started up Taco Tuesdays? Now we’ve got people driving over from New Carthage, just to get a taste.’

‘Smallville's always had more to offer than people think,’ Clark said. ‘You remember those amazing wood sculptures Mr Grantham used to make with chainsaws?’

As his dad started enthusiastically sharing Smallville stories with the coach, Jon glanced over at Jordan. With an exaggerated nod towards the counter, his brother peeled away from their parents, and Jon followed discreetly behind him.

They headed over to the till, where a waitress stood with her back turned.

‘Hey, can we get two large cokes please?’ Jordan asked. He started pulling out one of the stools, then fumbled, almost knocking it over in shock as the waitress turned around.

‘Omg, Nat?!' Jon blurted out. He couldn't contain the amused smile that broke out on his face.

Nat froze, looking uncharacteristically embarrassed for a second, but she quickly composed herself, giving them both a threatening look.

‘Wha… what are you wearing?’ Jordan stammered. 

All the waitresses in the diner wore a pastel pink dress with a white collar, and, well, admittedly... it wasn’t exactly Nat’s style. She looked seriously uncomfortable in it, a faint blush creeping across her face.

Jon's eyes darted from the dumbfounded look on his brother’s face to the death glare Nat was directing at him. He brought the sleeve of his hoodie up to muffle his own laughter. 

‘Don’t!’ she warned them both. ‘Yes, I am wearing a ridiculous uniform. Yes, I am working in a small town diner and serving Tacos. No, I do not feel good about it. So please, just... don’t make it worse.’

‘But... I mean... why are you doing this?’ Jon asked.

Natalie looked around warily before leaning over the counter, her voice barely a whisper. ‘I needed money to buy some materials for my suit. I couldn’t keep stealing from my dad, he was going to notice eventually. Besides he didn’t have everything I needed.’

‘Does your dad know about this?’ Jordan asked.

‘Not yet, but I guess he will soon,’ she said, gaze drifting behind them

Jon followed her attention over to where their mom and dad stood, still awkwardly trying to break away from the conversation with Coach Gaines. The man continued shovelling in bites of Tacos between words.

‘Yeah sorry, it looks like your secret might be out,’ Jon confirmed, rolling his eyes slightly. ‘Our parents are all about honesty lately.’

‘That’s okay. I knew I couldn’t live this double life forever,’ she sighed. ‘Two cokes, right?’

Natalie handed them their drinks, straws bobbing in the bubbly liquid.

They headed over to their usual booth about halfway down by the window, sliding in next to each other. Once their parents finally broke free, they crossed the room to join them, taking their seats on the opposite side with a sigh of relief.

‘Well, that didn’t go too badly,’ his dad said.

‘One down,’ his mom added, ‘Just... the rest of the town to go.’

Jon looked around, noting the sea of faces that still kept sneaking glances their way. Yeah... they had a way to go before that was going to stop. Guess he couldn't blame them. It wasn't like there was a whole lot of excitement going on in Smallville. 

‘Hey, is that Natalie?’ his dad asked. His mom followed his gaze curiously. 

Jon felt his brother eyeballing him in panic. He was never good at lying on the spot. 

‘Yeah, um, she started here a while back I guess.' Jon shrugged. 'No big deal.'

‘That's weird,' his dad said. 'John Henry never mentioned anything.'

‘Well, good for her!’ his mom added, ‘It's great to see her going for a bit of independence.’

His dad smiled at his mom in that sappy way he often did, and Jon quickly snatched a nearby menu, hiding his face behind it in case they were about to kiss. He'd seen enough of that for a lifetime.

‘So, you boys know what you’re having?’ 

He slowly raised his head at his dad's dumb ass question. ‘Uh… Tacos.’ 

Jordan snorted, accidentally blowing bubbles back down his straw. 

Their dad raised his eyebrows way too dramatically, his mouth hanging open in faux offense. ‘You should know by now, Vicky May's has a full range of taco options! Hard shells, soft shells, three different kinds of meat. All the fillings you can imagine. You’re spoiled for choice!’

Ugh, why was he so embarrassing!

And yet, Jon was having to feed off a half smile in spite of himself. As unbelievably cringe as his dad could be, he kind of preferred him like this. It was better than the bitter scolding treatment he'd had from him lately anyway.

It was hard to tell whether it was the nostalgic conversation with Coach Gaines or just the 'magic' of Taco Tuesday, but his dad seemed to be in a better mood than he'd been in months. Suddenly he was back to the corny, slightly awkward, and embarrassing version of their dad that they’d always thought he was... until they'd found out he was Superman.

In some ways, Jonathan realized he missed just thinking of him like that.

'Anything but the beef & bean for me,' Jordan said sheepishly.

Jon frowned for a second, then snorted a laugh, the memory of that first Taco Tuesday rushing back to him. The beef & bean had provided... disastrous consequences. He’d never been so glad their farmhouse had two bathrooms.

His mom bit her lip against a barely contained grin as his dad's face twisted in disgust. Of course... that had to have been even worse for him. He had super smell! 

Jon locked eyes with his dad, and something about the look that passed between them broke a damn within him. Jon felt himself laughing uncontrollably, and his dad started chuckling just as much from across the booth.

His brother smacked him on the arm, but it was too soft to be anything but playful, and he could see the smile teasing at the corners of Jordan's mouth. 

Jon had been dreading this, but he had to admit, it was kind of nice doing something ‘normal’ again, even with all the dissaproving glares.

Everything felt so hopeless lately, and he'd been struggling to believe it would ever get better. As he continued to talk and laugh with his family in their usual booth, he could feel a little bit of that hopelessness lifting. 

The little bell over the diner door rang out, and his dad’s head pick up automatically. The smile immediately dropped from his face when he clocked whoever had entered.

Jon twisted round to see who it was. Standing in the doorway with an equally uncomfortable look of surprise on her face was Mrs Cushing, with Sarah and Sophie at her side.

Sophie bounded up to the counter, plopping down on one of the stools and saying something that made Nat smile. Sarah briefly glanced in their direction, spotted Jordan, and immediately tugged on her mom’s arm, urging her to follow Sophie to the bar.

Jon could see the hurt and rejection all over his brother's face as he slumped down on the bench next to him, descending into one of his trademark emotional spirals

Lana's gaze lingered for a moment before she turned away, following her daughters without so much as a nod of acknowledgment in their direction. His dad's face bore a similar hurt look to Jordan's for a second, but he quickly covered it, grabbing his menu and pretending to be reading intently.

'I think i'm gonna get the Pork Carnitas with extra cheese, how about everyone else?' he said.

His dad's tone was just a little bit too tight. His mom gave him a knowing look, placing her hand over his reassuringly.

‘She’s just doing what she thinks is best for her family,' she said. 

‘I know,’ his dad sighed. ‘I just wish what was best for her family didn’t mean staying away from ours.’

‘She’s seriously overreacting,’ Jon offered, and he thought he saw a hint of gratitude in his dad’s eyes.

‘Maybe. But for now, we just have to respect her wishes and keep our distance.’

‘Can't we just get our food to go,’ Jordan muttered.

‘I know this is hard, sweetie,’ his mom said, ‘but you two are going to bump into each other sometimes. You'll have to get used to it eventually.’

‘I just don’t get why Ms Cushing wouldn’t just tell Sarah the truth. She knows I could protect her!’

‘It’s not that simple bud,’ his dad said. ‘Lana doesn’t want Sarah to have to lie to her father or her sister, and she has every right to protect her from that. This is exactly why I didn’t go around telling people when I was your age. Our secret comes with a lot more consequences than you realise.’

Jon caught his brother's sideways glance, but he diverted his attention, looking innocently around the diner again. He'd had more than enough heated debates with his dad lately, especially when it came to the importance of their families secret. He was staying out of this one.

The little bell over the door rang out again, but this time it was his mom who seemed to tense up when she saw who stepped through the door. His dad looked confused by her flustered expression.

‘You okay?’ he asked.

She didn't take her eyes off the woman who'd walked in, responding in a low voice. ‘I hadn’t gotten the chance to tell you yet... it's Sharon Powell. She's been struggling a lot with everything that happened last year... the loss of her son, not knowing what happened to him. She came into the Gazette while you were away, and... well, sort of threatened us.'

‘Lo-is,’ his dad hissed. ‘Why wouldn’t you tell me that?’

‘In case you haven’t noticed, there’s been a lot going on, Clark. It just completely slipped my mind.’

The woman, who Jon now felt safe to assume was Sharon Powell, stood by the diner door, accompanied by two men who looked like complete opposites of each other. One was tall and well-groomed, with short hair and a fancy-looking suit. His face seemed blank and emotionless, no trace of humanity. The other had messy blonde hair and a thick layer of stubble, eyes dancing wildly around the room like he was high on something.

Before anyone had time to react, the two men held what looked like machine guns up in the air.

Whatever they wanted, it didn’t look like they were just here for the Tacos.

‘Alright folks, this is a hold-up!’ the wild-looking man said.

Screams rang out throughout the diner. Jon saw Lana grabbing Sarah and Sophie, pulling them into a crouched position behind one of the tables. Natalie immediately ducked behind the counter, and the rest of the diner shielded themselves protectively in their booths.

Coach Gaines was the only one who didn’t move. He just sat there in shock, letting his half-eaten Taco slip slowly from his hand.

The screaming stopped abruptly, replaced by a fraught silence, interrupted only by occasional whimpers. 

Jon's eyes flew to his parents in panic. He could see the tight grip his mom had on his dad’s hand like she was trying to keep him from jumping into action. His dad’s jaw was clenched, neck muscles taught, like he was fighting every instinct not to race over and tear the guns right out of their hands. 

The wide eyed man stepped forwards, an amused look on his face that told Jon he was loving his moment in the spotlight. 

‘Alright people, listen up! All you gotta do is stay quiet, don’t do anything stupid, and this ‘ere Taco Tuesday ain’t gotta end bloody, alright?’ 

The man paused as though waiting for a response from the crowd, but he was met only with silence. Seemingly, that was confirmation enough.

He continued, gesturing towards Mrs Powell. 'Now sweetheart, do you wanna take your jacket off and show the nice people you're pretty vest?’ 

The woman looked around at the terrified faces of everyone in the diner, and Jon thought he saw a flicker of doubt cross her features, but she obliged quickly, fumbling with her buttons.

Beneath the fabric of her jacket, a bomb clung to her chest, surrounded by a maze of boxes, wires, and tubes. Gasps of fear travelled through the room at the sight of the unstable looking explosive device. Jonathan felt dread begin to set in, but not just because of the bomb.

Some of it's tubes seemed to have a strange green liquid inside... and it was glowing. 

Jon heard his dad's low grunt and saw faint traces of pain appear on his face. He watched him grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes tight for a brief moment, before snapping them open, eyes darting urgently towards Jordan.

Jon turned to see the blood immediately draining from his brother's face. He looked like he was struggling not to cry out. Jon didn’t know if his parents could see it, but he could feel his brother trembling with pain. 

Trying not to draw any attention to the action, his mom grabbed the coat she’d slung next to her on the booth, and passed it under the table towards him. Jon looked over at her in confusion and she nodded her head towards Jordan insistently. Trying not to question it, Jon lifted the coat up and covered his brother as much as he could. Instantly, Jordan stopped shaking, and he started to become more lucid 

Jon realized gratefully that his mom's favourite coat must be more tham just a fashion statement. It was blocking the effects of the kryptonite somehow.

His dad carefully survey every inch of the room, before tilting his head like he was using his super-hearing. His whole energy seemed to have shifted into something single minded. Confident. Jon almost couldn’t believe he was the same geeky small-town guy he’d been laughing with only seconds earlier. 

‘Yes, that’s right, this is a bomb,’ the wild-haired man continued his speech. ‘Now, if everyone does exactly as they're told, then my beautiful lady here won’t need to let go of that hair trigger under her finger, got it?’

The gunman’s stiff counterpart raised his weapon menacingly, pointing it around the room for added emphasis. 

So much for a nice normal night out as a family, Jon thought.

Chapter Text

As soon as Sharon Powell and her companions entered the diner, Lois felt her body tense and her senses heighten.

Half her mind went into full ‘Lois Lane mode’, running through all the possible ways this could play out, all the options for escape. The other half fixated on the wellbeing of her children.

Jordan was looking horribly pale, tucked under the coat she'd had her dad modify years earlier, after one too many kryptonite-related emergencies had lead to them discussing a more proactive back-up plan.

Jon was looking frantically from her to Clark, desperate for any sign they had a plan. Thankfully there was no sign of Natalie over by the counter. Lois just hoped the young woman, who she'd started to think of as an extended member of their family, was smart enough to stay hidden.

From Clark's frustrated expression and the way he was scanning the room, Lois was sure he was also attempting to formulate a plan. It seemed he was coming to the same conclusion as she had… there were no good options here.

For now, they were stuck.

She gave his arm a squeeze, noting the tension in his muscles that gave away a level pain he was trying to mask.

When Clark didn’t immediately leap into action, Lana looked over at them in confusion. If Lois wasn’t mistaken, she even saw annoyance set in as the seconds passed by without him taking any action. She held her daughters protectively in her embrace, her youngest Sophie crying softly into her coat. 

Their friend wasn't the only one looking at them as though expecting they might make a move. After all, they did have a bit of a reputation for getting into and out of situations like this back in the day. 

But Lana knew much more than the others.

Clark returned her gaze with guilt ridden apology. Lois knew, in her husband’s mind, the lives of everyone in that diner rested squarely on his shoulders. But even without the kryptonite in the bomb, that hair trigger under Sharon Powell’s finger would have given him pause to hesitate.

A wave of her own annoyance spread through her. Truth be told, Lois was getting tired of Lana’s reaction to Clark's secret. 

Apparently, the only person who wasn’t happy to just wait for her and her family to do something was Coach Gaines. He seemed to have shaken himself out of his initial shock and was now standing in a defiant position, facing the gunmen.

‘What the hell do you people want?’ he barked at them in his best intimidating coach voice.

The wide eyed gunman scowled, taking a step forwards and squaring his shoulders. He glanced down at the Coach's jacket.

‘Football coach, huh?’ he said. ‘You know, I always hated the football players in high school. They’d walk around with their chests puffed out, thinking they were better than everyone else. I guess that’s you too, huh?’

The man waved his gun in the Coach’s face as he spoke, jabbing a finger at him with his free hand. 

‘You think you’re invincible just because you get to boss around a bunch of kids, win a few games? Well guess what? You’re not.’

With that he lifted the butt of his gun, smashing it viciously into Gaines' face. The coach cried out, hands flying up to cradle his nose. From the crack of bone and the blood pouring from between his fingers, Lois had to assume it was broken. He staggered backwards, almost knocking over his bar stool.

The man's wild eyed attacker lifted his weapon again, as though moving in for a second strike, and before Lois could stop him, Clark was on his feet.

To her surprise, he didn’t get far.

As soon as he'd stepped out of their booth, he wobbled slightly, grabbing the table beside him for support.

‘Stop,’ he said, his voice strained. ‘You’ve made your point.’

The green stuff inside the bomb couldn’t be full strength kryptonite or he’d be on the floor by now… but it was still messing with his equilibrium, maybe even more than she'd realised.

‘I’d sit back down if I were you, Mr Kent,’ the calmer of the two gunman warned.

The well dressed man stepped out from behind the others, aiming his gun steadily at Clark's head.

Lois doubted the weapon would do her husband any real harm, even with the effects of the bomb’s radiation throwing him off. Still, better they not test that theory, especially in front of a room full of witnesses.

She grabbed his belt and gave it an insistent tug. Clark held up his hands submissively and sat back down in his seat.

The wild eyed man finally lowered his gun, allowing the Coach to retreat to his seat at the bar. Vicky May reached over the counter, handing him a wad of tissues, one eye fixed on the intruders.

Lois saw Lana eyeing Clark with concern. An apologetic look crossed her face as she caught eyes with Lois. At least she seemed to have realised Clark was struggling now.

Of course, now they had the full attention of all three intruders.

Lois could see the gleaming recognition in Sharon Powell’s eyes as they met Lois’ own.

‘Lois, so glad you’re here,’ Sharon cried out gratefully. ‘We were hoping you might be. It will sure make this next part easier.’

The wild eyed man turned his gun towards their booth, re-focusing on their mission. ‘Ms Lane, I assume you have your daddy’s phone number to hand?’

Lois’s heart sank. What did they want with her dad?

‘He’s a busy guy,’ she said carefully, not wanting to set them off, but unable to resist the urge to somehow stall. ‘I can’t imagine he’ll pick up.’

The man seemed to find her response amusing.

‘Oh really? I heard he’d retired! You’d think he’d have a bit more time for his little girl,’ he said, his head cocked to the side in mock sympathy. He cocked his gun suggestively, pointing it directly at her. ‘Unless you think we need to make a bolder statement here?’ 

To the man’s surprise, Lois barely flinched. She was much more concerned about her husband, who she could feel straining from the effort not to throw himself at the man pointing a gun at his wife.

She gave him her best ‘trust me’ look, and he relaxed slightly. He’d learned by now to trust when to let his wife to do what she did best. They really were a partnership, and she knew they wouldn’t have gotten out of plenty of the scrapes they’d been in if he never let her take the lead.

‘Hey, look at me lady, not your husband,’ the man barked at her. ‘Unless you’d prefer I point this gun at him? Or how about your kids?’

‘Okay, okay, i’ll call him,’ Lois said quickly, standing up at the mention of her sons.

She sliding past Clark, giving him one last insistent 'stay put' look as he clenched his teeth in response to the man’s threat against his children.

Jon and Jordan shook their heads in horrified protest as she slid out of the booth. 

‘It’s okay boys, I’m going to be fine,’ she reassured them.

Her cell phone was already in her hands, and she gave it a little wave in the terrorists direction, making it clear she intended to comply.

‘You don’t need to hurt anyone else. Just tell me what you want me to do.’

‘Dial the number. Set it down on the table and put it on speaker,’ the well-groomed gunman said calmly.

His gun, and his attention, was surprisingly still focused on Clark. As though he wasn’t convinced her husband was going to stay put.

It worried Lois that he was intuitive enough to realise Clark might be a threat.

She dialled her dad’s number and set the phone down on the table as directed. The wide eyed gunman stepped back, running his hands over Sharon’s hair affectionately. He seemed happy to let his partner take over now that she was doing as she was told.

Unsure if she was hoping her dad would pick up or not, she bit her lip as the phone's call tone blasted from the speaker. Sharon paced impatiently back and forth, the wide eyed gunman watching her carefully.

After just a few rings, her dad answered.

‘Lois? I was just on my way over to the farm. I got a lead on Lucy’s location.'

He sounded relieved, eager to finally bring her sister home. It felt cruel to have to burst that bubble.

‘Uh, that’s great dad, but I don’t think we’re going to be able to do anything about that tonight,’ she said warily, not breaking eye contact with the well dressed gunman.

He stepped forward, holding out a hand to indicate she wasn’t to say anything more.

‘Good evening General,’ the man said, sounding almost diplomatic. ‘You know, you’re a very difficult man to reach.’

‘Who is this?’ her dad demanded.

‘Who I am doesn’t matter. All you need to know is how to keep your daughter and this diner full of people alive.'

‘Lois? You still there? What's going on?’

She looked up at the well-dressed gunman for permission to respond, and he nodded. 

‘We’re at the Smallville diner. There are a few nice people here with guns and a bomb,’ Lois explained. ‘A pretty nasty looking one with green tubes,’ she added, gently emphasizing the kryptonite’s color but trying to make it seem casual.

‘Okay honey, just sit tight,’ her dad replied, before returning to the terrorists. ‘What do you people want?’

It was at that moment, Sharon apparently couldn’t contain herself any longer. The woman leapt forwards, shouting directly into the phone. ‘I want justice for my son you lying piece of sh*t! You kept what really happened to him from me, let me stew in the torture of not knowing… and now you’re harbouring his killer without a trial or a sentence? He should be charged with murder and executed!’

The wild eyed man squeezed her hand encouragingly as she let out months of pent-up rage.

The more professional of the gunmen rolled his eyes at Sharon's outburst. Lois assumed the guy wasn't working with his comrades by choice.

‘The kryptonian named Tal-Rho is one of two things in your possession that we would like you to hand over,’ he clarified for the General, like he was brokering a business deal. ‘The other is the stockpile of X-Kryptonite the DOD has been procuring over the last few months.’

‘You really think the DOD is going to hand over a murderous alien and a dangerous substance to a bunch of criminals?’ her dad responded.

The business-like gunman seemed unphased by his attitude, as though he had expected nothing less. ‘I think you will seriously regret it if you don’t.'

The wide eyed gunman butt in. ‘Look, General, I’m sure you’re thinking Superman’s just gonna fly in and save the day like he always does. But we can promise you, Superman ain’t gonna be any help to you this time.’

That sent a wave of murmured concern through the diner. Lois locked eyes with Clark, his eyes darkening at the sound of his alter ego's name being dropped. So it wasn't a coincidence. The kryptonite in that bomb was meant for him.

‘You have until 9pm to deliver the X-Kryptonite,’ the well dressed man added calmly. ‘Or we will start killing hostages.’

With that he hung up, not giving her dad another chance to protest. The man tucked Lois’ phone into his pocket and gestured for her to return to her booth. She headed back to her husband’s side, relieved to be out of the woods for now.

But the exchange had also given her even more reason to be anxious. 

Clark stood as she approached the booth, wobbling ever so slightly again. It would have been barely perceptible to anyone else, but she knew her husband's movement's well enough to see the irregularity. She slid back into her spot at the window side, where Clark seemed to want her. As though that would somehow keep her safe.

Lois looked up at the clock on the diner wall. It was 8.30pm. Did they really expect her dad to be able to deliver what he was asking in 30 minutes?

There was something in the man's eyes that told her he didn't even  are. Even as he'd laid out their demands, there had been no sense of urgency. His partners might be stupid enough to believe Tal-Rho and X-K were all they were there for, but Lois suspected the man had another agenda.

She looked up at the boys and smiled as reassuring a smile as she could. As long as they were still together, they were okay. She knew they would figure a way out of this.  

‘I guess we’re just going to have to wait around for a while then!’ the wide eyed gunman said, striding towards the kitchen and sniffing the air suggestively. ‘I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving.’

He climbed up onto the counter and jumped over it, causing Vicky to shriek in fright. Lois braced herself, expecting to see Natalie being pulled up from behind the counter next. But nothing came.

She must have snuck into one of the back rooms, Lois thought, praying they wouldn't realise anyone was missing.

The wide eyed gunman grabbed a plate full of tacos that had been ready to serve, before they’d brought the Mexican themed night to an unbrupt stop.

‘Ummm…’ he said, chowing down on a soft tortilla and not even bothered to wipe away the juice that dribbled down his chin. ‘I always did love Taco Tuesdays.'

Lois tried to hide her disgust, casting her gaze over the room at the sea of still terrified looking faces as they watched their captor enjoying a one-man feast. The idiot was clearly getting off on the power he had to do whatever he wanted.

Sharon seemed a little more self-conscious. She rubbed her arm nervously, looking up at the clock on the wall and then walking further up the diner, pacing back and forth near the entrance.

Clark sighed with relief as the effect of the Kryptonite decreased with the change in proximity.  

Okay… so they had 30 minutes to come up with a plan and execute it. They’d dealt with worse, hadn't they?

The well dressed gunman headed over to one of the windows by the entrance, using his gun to push open the blinds and peer out into the empty street.

Once it was clear they'd backex off, the rest of the hostages slowly began whispering to each other.

Lana reassured her girls, looking around at the people she’d just recently been appointed to lead. Lois could see the internal conflict her friend was grappling with, between her protective instinct as a mother and her duty to act in her new role as mayor. 

Lois knew the feeling well. She turned her attention back towards her own family, thankful to see the color was returning to Jordan’s face. Clark seemed a bit more relaxed now that the gunmen were out of earshot. Both of her boys were looking across the booth at them in stunned silence.

‘So what are we going to do?’ Jonathan asked finally, voice low.

Lois didn’t want either of her sons to be involved in a discussion like this, but she was starting to accept there was no way she could shield them from the danger her family seemed to magnetically attract.  

Besides, she knew they were going to need as much help as possible if they were going to stop these maniacs without anyone else getting hurt.

This was something they were going to have to figure out together.

As a family.

Chapter Text

So that’s what REAL kryptonite feels like, Jordan thought to himself grimly.

His mom's coat still lay draped over him like a blanket, partly shielding him from the bomb's green liquid. He had no idea how it was protecting him – was it made of lead somehow? No, it didn’t feel heavy enough for that. Maybe it was some kind of experimental material from the DOD? Or could it be Kryptonian?

Whatever it was, he was just grateful he felt better… but the bomb’s effects were still sending light waves of nausea and the occasional twinge of pain through his system, causing him to have to hide a wince every now and then as his family tried to formulate a plan beside him.

It wasn’t technically his first encounter with kryptonite – after his dad’s exposure to synthetic kryptonite gas had caused him to pick up some kind of kryptonite virus last year, he’d been given a window into what this might feel like. Even so, Jordan felt completely unprepared for the onslaught of pain and sickness that he’d felt as soon as the kryptonite bomb was revealed.

Watching his dad, who had managed to retain his composure so far, he was embarrassed and somewhat terrified to acknowledge that it probably wasn’t even a strong form of kryptonite he was being exposed to… which meant next time it could be much much worse.

Jordan shivered at the thought.

His brother must have felt his body’s slight tremble in the booth next to him and quickly turned his head, giving Jordan a concerned look. He gave him a weak smile back and mouthed ‘I’m fine’, encouraging him to return to the hushed whispers he’d been exchanging with their mom and dad for the last few minutes.

After gobbling down an obscene amount of Tacos and driving Vicky out of the kitchen and into the safety of one of the booths in the back, the wild-eyed man picked up a plastic mixing bowl and made his way around the diner, barking orders for everyone to place their cell phones inside.

Jordan doubted anyone would have dared to use them anyway. Everyone in the diner was terrified – the kind of fear that was likely to keep them obedient. Most of them simply sat in their booths in silence at first, afraid to even draw attention to themselves by speaking.

Thankfully, a few families began to exchange hushed whispers as the minutes went by, and now there was a low but steady background murmur that helped mask the content of his own family’s discussion.

Jordan wished he could do something other than just lay there under the protection of his mom’s coat. He felt completely useless, and that’s not something he was used to feeling anymore.

Having powers like Superman had dramatically changed how he felt about himself. He’d been so lost and confused before about his place in the world. Now he had something that made him confident, powerful… he could help people, help his dad and his mom when they were in trouble.

Jordan's entire role in the family had been shifting ever since that first ocular blast. He knew that hadn't been easy on his brother, but he had to admit it felt good not to be the one everyone needed to take care of anymore.

Now he realised just how quickly all of that could be taken away… by a glowing green rock.

Jordan shifted his attention back to his family, who were leaning in towards each other across the table, trying to look like they were simply comforting each other and not masterminding an escape plan.

‘How are you doing sweetie?’ his mom asked, noticing the pain on his face.

‘I’m okay,' he croaked.

All three of them looked sceptical. His Dad's eyes gave away a look of undeserved guilt. Jordan noticed how pale his complexion was, the  tension in his jaw; as though he were silently clenching against an invisible pain.

Maybe the kryptonite is effecting him more than he’s letting on after all, Jordan thought.

‘Really, I can barely feel it now,’ he reassured them, fighting to suppress another wince. ‘Can we just take these guys out and go home?’

A look passed between his dad and mom that didn’t exactly fill Jordan with hope.

‘I don’t think it’s going to be that simple, bud,’ his dad said despondently, and his mom gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

‘Why?’ Jonathan asked, looking at his dad in frustration but making sure he spoke quietly enough that no one could hear outside their booth. ‘Why can’t you just use your heat vision or your cold breath on their guns or something?’

‘It’s not that easy,’ Lois defended for him, ‘not with so many people here to see it.’

‘Are you serious?’ his brother exclaimed as quietly as he could, looking back and forth between them and then back to his dad. ‘You could melt their guns with heat vision, freeze Sharon’s hand over that hair trigger with your breath AND take all three of them out in 5 seconds! Why are we even talking about this?’

‘Jonathan, we’ve been over this,’ his dad replied, looking exasperated with Jon’s constant dismissal of their need for his secret identity to remain intact.

He glanced over to the gunmen warily as he spoke, and Jordan followed his dad’s eyes. The gunman with the short hair was eyeing them curiously from his spot by the window, and Jordan quickly looked back down at the table.

That guy gave him the creeps.

Jordan watched his dad gently rub his temples, clearly tired and in pain from the kryptonite exposure, even though he was trying to hide it. His brother didn’t seem too mindful of that, but Jordan knew his attitude was about more than just their current predicament.

Things had been pretty fraught since Jon had been caught with X-K. His dad disappearing for a month shortly after hadn’t exactly helped – Jon had way too much time to sit and stew over what his dad had said, and he clearly felt angry at him for the way he’d reacted.

Despite his own feelings towards Jon for lying to him about getting powers and generally behaving like a dick while he’d been on X-K, he could see his brother’s point. Their mom & dad had come down so hard on him for having X-K and not telling them who he got it from, but barely acknowledged the fact he had been taking it or bothered to really look at and address the reasons why.

It seemed like Jordan was the only one who could see his brother had been imploding ever since they came to Smallville.

‘Keeping my identity a secret isn’t just a life preference, Jonathan,’ his dad explained with a sigh. ‘Your mom and I have enemies who would come after you and your brother if they knew the truth about who I am.’

‘Besides sweetie, they have a bomb made of kryptonite,’ his mom added. ‘I doubt that’s just an unhappy coincidence. Clearly, they have some kind of agenda with Superman, and if they find out who your father is…’

Jordan watched his mom trail off. None of them needed her to finish her sentence.  

‘None of that justifies letting a diner full of people die,’ his brother retorted, looking his dad right in the eye like he was fully aware he was pressing his buttons.

Jordan swallowed a lump in his throat as he saw the anger and frustration flash across his dad’s face, but then he seemed to soften, and a sort of understanding look washed over him.

‘You know I would never do that Jonathan,’ his dad responded firmly, giving his brother a meaningful look. ‘But that doesn’t mean we don’t look at all the options first.’

Jordan watched his brother’s face drop from challenge into a sort of apologetic submission and turned his head towards the window. His dad sighed again and glanced at his mom once more, before picking up on some movement over to his right and turning his head quickly towards it. 

Jordan’s eyes followed his dad’s, and he watched the wild-eyed gunman walk out of the diner’s bathroom, wafting his hands in the air theatrically.

‘Woof, I wouldn’t go in there for a while,’ he said loudly, seemingly addressing the whole room like he was putting on a performance for their entertainment. ‘Those tacos were fierce, Vicky! Went straight through me.’

Jordan crinkled his nose in disgust. He couldn’t believe how much fun the guy seemed to be having at their expense. He was clearly unhinged and in this for more than just money – this was some sort of sick pleasure to him.

The other gunman was still standing near the door, gun up to his shoulder. Something about the way he stood and spoke reminded Jordan of his grandad – like maybe he was ex-military or something. He peered out the window expectantly, as though he had no doubt the DOD would be on their way.

Jordan was sure his grandad would be on his way, but he didn't know how likely it was he'd be coming through with their demands. He didn’t have the authority to release the X-K, let alone his uncle! He’d only recently been brought back on board to help with the search for Anderson.

Jordan suspected there would be some very heated debates going on between his grandad and the higher-ups at the DOD right now, and he had no idea what the outcome would be.

He continued scanning the room and his eyes caught Sarah’s from the booth her family was now sitting in. His heart clenched as he realized she looked terrified. He fought the urge to use whatever power he had left to just speed over there and fly her right out of the building, and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. No matter what had happened between them lately, he still cared about her more than she would ever know.

‘What about the lights?’ Jordan suggested, pulling himself back towards his family’s conversation with a renewed sense of urgency for this all to be over with. ‘If we could knock out all the lights, couldn’t you take them out without anyone seeing?’

‘It’s too dangerous,’ his dad replied. ‘If one of the gunmen gets spooked and starts shooting, there’s no guarantee I’ll be able to stop every bullet, especially with the kryptonite bomb slowing me down.’

He saw his dad looking over at Mrs Cushing, whose expression gave Jordan the impression she’d give anything to be in on their conversation. Ironic really, considering she’d decided she wanted their families to have nothing to do with each other.

Jordan wouldn’t admit it, but despite the danger, a part of him was excited by the idea that Sarah might find out their secret after all. Then she’d know why he’d had to lie to her so much, why he hadn’t been able to be there for her when she needed him.

‘Maybe it’s not about taking everything out fast… maybe we need to do this slowly, stealthily. Action in stages,’ his mom suggested.

His dad frowned, looking at her curiously. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, what if you use your heat vision just to take out the firing mechanism of the guns?’ she explained. ‘Just a really small blast, not enough for anyone to notice anything, but just enough to stop the gun from being able to fire if they try and use it.’

‘That would reduce the risk sure, but…’ his dad started.

‘…but what about the bomb?’ Jordan finished, nervous about the kryptonite elephant in the room that he and his dad were constantly being painfully reminded of.

‘Hmmm… that’s the hard part,’ his mom admitted, glancing over at Sharon like plans were still whirring through her mind.

‘Even if I did freeze her hand to that trigger, how do we know they don’t have some other way of setting off that device?’ his dad asked.

‘Stages,’ his mom sighed reluctantly. ‘Let’s focus on harm reduction for now. Tackle what we can until we can work out the rest.’

His dad nodded, seemingly accepting her logic was better than anything they’d come up with so far, but still looking dubious.

Jordan’s eyes drifted to the clock on the wall.

20:40

They had 20 minutes left before they’d know if the gunmen would really make good on their threat. Jordan glanced once more around the room, lingering briefly on the counter where Natalie had been standing.

He really hoped she’d found a good hiding place.

---

Natalie had been pouring a glass of cola for little Sophie Cushing when two armed men and a woman with a bomb strapped to her chest entered the diner. She’d frozen solid at first, cola spilling out from the glass as she continued to pour. Thankfully, her survival instincts had kicked in and she’d been able to unthaw, ducking behind the counter and shielding herself out of sight.

She stayed there low and silent, hoping they hadn’t noticed her when they arrived but sure that at some stage they would realize there had been a waitress standing behind the counter and pull her out from her hiding place and onto the diner floor.

Natalie listened intently as the gunmen delivered their over-confident introductions, fear gripping her chest. But Clark was there… this would all be over soon, wouldn’t it? She listened expectantly for the moment when Superman would leap into action, but all she heard was one of the men attacking the coach, and then Clark’s voice weakly defending him.

When she heard the other gunman telling him to sit back down and then Lois agreeing to call her dad, she knew something was seriously wrong. Even if what the man had said about the woman having a hair trigger under her finger was true, she was sure Clark would have done something a bit more ‘Superman’ by now if there wasn’t some other reason he was having to be cautious.

As she heard Lois making the call to her dad, she decided it was time to move. Hoping all the attention of the gunman was fixed on the phone call, she moved to the end of the counter and gently pushed the door to the back room, trying to make the movement as imperceptible as possible. She opened as small a crack as she could so that she could just about squeeze through and then gently pushed it closed behind her, sacrificing the ability to hear what was going on for the freedom to move around with slightly less caution.

Okay… okay… what do I do? She thought, her mind spinning wildly through her options, desperate to figure out what the priorities were.

She reached down into the pocket of her ridiculous uniform and grabbed her phone. As much as she didn’t want to, she knew she had to let her dad know what was going on first.

He was not going to be happy with her. She’d lied and said she was going to be at Sarah’s – now she was going to have to explain what she was doing at the diner in a waitress uniform. Oh well, it’s not like she was going to be able to keep her secret tonight after all of this anyway. With the Kent family unexpectedly stopping by, the cat was already out of the bag.

She knew she should have just told him, but her dad had been treating her with kid gloves ever since she arrived on this earth and she was so tired of trying to convince him otherwise. She understood that he was protective of her, but he had to realize that everything they had been through had caused her to grow up… fast. This fantasy he had of her relaxing into a ‘normal’ childhood again… it was just never going to happen. She didn’t even want it to. She knew too much now, and there was no way she could go back to just watching things happen, knowing she could help.

That was why she’d built the suit. Whether her dad wanted to admit it or not, she knew she was capable of stepping in when needed. All of the mechanical knowledge she’d learned, along with a seemingly god given flair for technology, gave her something that she knew she had to use. It was a gift, and after seeing how much people can suffer when there is no one there to protect them, she understood it was also a responsibility.

Maybe one day he’d understand that was her responsibility as much as his

She opened up her phone and briefly thought about calling, but decided a message was the safer option.

SOS. SMALLVILLE DINER BEING HELD HOSTAGE. GUYS WITH GUNS & A BOMB. CLARK IS HERE BUT CAN’T STOP THEM. DON’T KNOW WHY. I’M HIDDEN AND SAFE BUT THEY MIGHT HEAR ME SO DON’T CALL. FIND GENERAL LANE.

She wrote quickly, not worrying about forming full sentences at a time like this. She just needed to get the key information she knew to him and hopefully, General Lane would fill him in on the rest.

Once the message was sent, she returned to looking around the diner’s office. There must be something back here that could help them get out of this!

Natalie began eyeing up anything around her that she could take apart and her mind began visualizing plans of what she might create. 

Then her eyes drifted over to the set of coat hooks by the door, smiling as she remembered this is where she'd left her bag.

---

It was 20:45.

Sharon Powell continued to pace back and forth in front of the diner entrance and Clark gritted his teeth against waves of sharp pain each time she moved closer to his family’s booth. His heart was beating erratically in his chest, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before his steadily growing nausea overwhelmed his system. The kryptonite in the bomb might not be full strength, but the longer he was exposed, the more toxicity his body absorbed.

He could see Jordan attempting to hide his reaction in time with his own and he tried to squash down the guilt he was feeling in response to each poorly concealed flinch. He knew it wasn’t his fault exactly, but if it wasn’t for who he was, Jordan wouldn’t be experiencing this pain… and he knew first hand, it was only going to get worse if they didn’t get out of there soon.

Thankfully his son was somewhat protected by his wife’s coat, or his sudden deterioration might have given away their secret already. Man, that thing had gotten them out of some jams over the years.

He caught Lois scanning his face for signs of how he was doing and tried his best to mask the truth of his worsening condition, giving her a weak smile. She responded with a skeptical raised eyebrow, and he felt that all too familiar pull to cave into her knowing expression. Somehow, he fought against it, wanting to hold on to the illusion for now. There was nothing any of them could do about the kryptonite right now anyway, and he didn’t want to worry Lois or the boys any more than they already were.

Clark tried to focus on the task at hand. He just needed to take out the two guns right now, that was all. Simple, right? But the way he was feeling, if he wanted to use his powers, he needed to move fast. Unfortunately, the short haired gunman still had his attention split between peering out at the dimly lit street and then glancing back over to his family every few seconds. 

Or more specifically, to him.

There was something really unsettling about the way the man had been looking at him, almost from the moment he arrived. Clark had started to notice after the wild-eyed gunman attacked the coach and he’d tried to intervene. The man’s gun had been trained on him so fast, steadily and with precision, and it stayed there for what felt like much longer than necessary for a bumbling farmer from Smallville.

More worryingly, the man hadn’t stopped watching him since. He was trying to disguise it, making it look casual… but Clark could feel the man’s eyes on him in a way that felt like more than just caution.

It was like he’d come in with some knowledge that Clark could be a threat, or some agenda not yet revealed. What that might be unsettled him almost as much as the kryptonite.

Lois looked at him in confusion, clearly wondering why he wasn’t taking the action they’d agreed.

‘I’m being watched,’ Clark whispered, resisting the urge to point his head in the man’s direction and hoping she would clock on to who he was referring to.

Lois kept her eyes on his too, understanding the need to avoid drawing attention to them by looking over in his direction. ‘The guy by the window?’

Clark nodded gently, letting her see the anxiety in his eyes. He wasn’t used to being the center of attention when he wasn’t in the suit. Clark Kent always tried to be as forgettable as possible in public. This man’s constant curiosity about him felt horribly exposing.

‘Do you want me to create a diversion?’ she asked, and he thought he could almost see a flicker of excitement in those fiery eyes.  

‘Mom, no!’ Jordan exclaimed quietly from the other side of the booth. 

Jonathan looked at them anxiously too, but his eyes gave away a bit more conflict than his brother's. Understandably after everything that he’d just said about his dad's level of caution. 

Clark nodded reluctantly. He hated it when his wife put herself in reckless danger, but he knew they couldn’t just wait for something to happen to distract the man’s attention. It was 20:47. They only had 13 minutes until the gunman’s deadline. The guns had to be out of play by then.

‘Just enough to draw his attention for a few minutes…’ he said reluctantly. ‘Please, just don’t do anything antagonistic.’

Lois feigned a hurt look. ‘What, me? When have I ever been antagonistic?’

‘Oh, I forgot, you’re such a people pleaser,’ he scoffed, trying to keep his expression serious but failing to hide the light that sparked inside him at her playful tease.  

‘Watch me,’ she said, winking at him and giving him a gentle squeeze on the arm. She looked over at the boys and added. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything dangerous.’

With that, she stood up. Clark followed suit, stepping out of their booth and letting her slide past. He touched the small of her back lightly as she went, hoping the little bit of familiar contact would let her know he was right behind her.

All three of their captors looked up, guns raising threateningly towards her. Clark readied himself to move fast if necessary. Kryptonite or no kryptonite, if they made a move towards her…

Lois cleared her throat and said, ‘Excuse me, Mr…. what do we call you again?’

‘The name’s Johnny, Miss Lane,’ the wild-eyed gunman said confidently, as though he wanted her to know he had no worries about his identity being revealed.

He let his gun drop to his waist as he sauntered over to her, keeping it just high enough to make it clear he was ready to use it if she tried anything funny.

‘I have to go to the bathroom,’ Lois stated simply, and Clark fought the urge to laugh at the simplicity of her distraction tactic.

‘Do you now!’ the man exclaimed, clearly enjoying the opportunity to play with one of his captives. He stepped closer, invading her personal space and looking her up and down suggestively. ‘And you want some company in there?’

Clark fumed with rage, unconscious of his hands under the table bending the metal bars beneath. He saw his wife’s body tense and she crossed her arms slowly and pointedly. He knew his wife well enough to know her eyes would be dancing with fire right now at the man’s unsolicited advance.

‘Hey, back off,’ came Lana’s voice from behind him, and he turned around in surprise.

She was standing next to her booth with an expression of solidarity on her face, Sarah tugging insistently at her sleeve. Lois glanced back at her and gave her a grateful smile, before turning her attention back to her defiance of Johnny’s attempt to bring her down a peg. They might be on rocky ground as friends, but that didn't mean Lana didn't care about her. 

Sharon Powell moved towards them at the sound of her lover’s suggestive comment, a look of jealous discomfort on her face. As the kryptonite bomb came closer to them, a surge of pain ripped through Clark’s body so unexpectedly he couldn’t stop himself from grunting, and his eyes squeezed tightly for a moment.

Jordan slumped over in his seat, his eyes flickering like he was struggling to stay conscious. Jonathan tried to support him so that he was at least still sitting up, pulling the edges of the coat tighter to try and prevent any more of the kryptonite’s rays getting in than were unavoidable.

Clark didn’t know who else had heard his expression of pain, but he was sure Lois had. She spoke up quickly and loudly, clearly trying to bring the attention back to her.

‘Look, you’re obviously not a genius, but I’m assuming you aren’t quite dumb enough to let me go in there by myself and climb out the bathroom window?’ she retorted with a little bit too much venom in her voice.

Clark rolled his eyes, even as his heart rate quickened, and his head started to swim. Less than a minute. That’s all it had taken for her to antagonize the lunatic with the gun. His wife was hopeless.

And he was hopelessly in love with her.

‘Can’t Sharon just take me to the bathroom,’ Lois continued, nodding her head over to her former source. ‘Then maybe we’ll avoid any ‘mixed messages’?’

‘Maybe I just won’t let you go at all?’ the man said, clearly aggravated by her insult. ‘Think you’ll still be feeling so sure of yourself once you’ve wet your pants?’

‘Just take her to the bathroom,’ the short-haired gunman said impatiently, his attention finally turning away from Clark and towards his wife’s growing disagreement with the man’s so-called partner. He waved his hands toward Sharon and nodded in the direction of the bathroom. 'Stay outside the bathroom door, but hold it open so you can see what she's doing. I don't want that bomb leaving this room, understood?'

Sharon, who seemed equally eager to get Lois away from her lover, didn’t wait for Johnny to agree. She grabbed her by the arm and dragged her roughly towards the bathroom door. Clark watched his wife briefly glance back at him before heading inside, her eyes a mixture of hope and concern.

With the kryptonite further away, the pain and nausea he’d been fending off decreased significantly. He fought the urge to let out a loud and obvious sigh of relief.

Jordan sat up shakily as his own body started to return to some semblance of normal functioning. Both boys looked vaguely hopeful about their renewed window of opportunity, but also worried about their mom who was back there with a woman who clearly hated her. 

Clark tried to focus on the task at hand. The sooner he took out both of the guns, the sooner he could get Lois back in that booth and away from the spotlight. He glanced briefly at his observer to check his attention was still diverted to his unseemly counterpart before continuing with their plan. 

Using his telescopic vision, Clark zoomed in on Johnny, who was glaring at the well-dressed gunman, while pacing back and forth and looking around the room like he was itching for a fight. 

‘You got anything else to say there, Miss Mayor?’ Johnny spat in Lana’s direction. She shook her head gently and allowed Sarah’s hands on her sleeve to finally pull her back down into her seat.

Clark tried to ignore the man threatening his friend and focused a second time, zooming in closer to the gun itself. Finally, he shifted his focus a third time, allowing his X-ray vision to kick in and the outside of the gun to fade away, revealing the mechanics inside.

‘Sensible move,’ the man said, smiling like his ego had gotten the stroke it needed. ‘Let that be an example to the rest of you! You voted for this Mayor, right? You trust her? Well, now you should all do what she’s doing. Sit down, and shut up!’

Clark suppressed his growing anger towards the man who was attacking the people of his hometown, and concentrated on looking directly at the firing mechanism. He shot a very small and short burst of heat vision towards it, holding his breath to remain as still as he could.

It hit the spot he was aiming for perfectly, with only the tiniest puff of smoke leaving the very small hole. Johnny didn’t even flinch and no one else seemed to notice a thing either.

Clark felt relief and excitement rise up, but he pushed those feelings away, for now, trying to look as innocent as possible as he turned quickly to face the short-haired gunman, who was facing Johnny with an intimidating glare on his face.

‘Can you just try and keep your big mouth shut for two seconds and act like a professional,’ the well-dressed man said, his disdain for his comrade evident in his voice.

‘You know what, Kurt,’ Johnny exclaimed, turning to face his so-called partner defensively. ‘I’m getting a little tired of you talking to me like you’re the boss here.’

Clark somehow doubted the man’s real name was Kurt. His partner might be blaze about his own identity, but this guy seemed like he wanted to fly under the radar and he clearly didn’t trust his associates.

Trying to ignore their altercation, Clark focused his vision once more, this time repeating the process but with the other man’s gun. He inwardly celebrated and his whole body relaxed slightly as he successfully completed his mission.

Both boys seemed to notice his body’s subtle response and he glanced over at them. The three of them shared a relieved but wary smile.

Clark’s relief came abruptly to a halt when his hearing kicked in unexpectedly. The sound of an insistent beeping alarm was coming from Kurt’s direction... and with it came a phrase that sent panic through Clark’s body like a huge tidal wave, washing away any sense of achievement.

Warning. Kryptonian powers detected.

The other man touched something in his ear and twisted a dial on a device attached to his belt, before suddenly snapping his eyes directly toward Clark.

Unsure whether it was just the speed the man had moved or a sign of how much the lingering effects of kryptonite exposure were still slowing him down, Clark found himself completely unable to conceal the surprise and fear on his face.

Their eyes met for what felt like the longest moment, and Clark saw a flash of recognition on the other man’s face. A faint hint of a smile curled the corners of the well-dressed gunman’s lips.

Clark turned his attention to his son’s as quickly as he could and tried to look as naïve and useless as he was usually seen as. Dread grew like a boulder in the pit of his stomach as he felt the man’s eyes continue to bore into the side of his head.

Clark steeled his expression, refusing to give away any further sign he knew more than his innocent face would suggest, but he cursed himself for not being able to hide his initial response. He must have looked like a deer in headlights. A guilty man caught red-handed.

Kurt had clearly suspected Clark of something from the moment he arrived, and that device might have just given him all the proof he needed. He had no idea how much the man knew, or who he worked for… but whoever it was, they’d clearly sent him in with a mission that the hold-up was neatly covering up.

This was bad. Really REALLY bad.

He allowed himself another brief glance at Kurt, who was looking uncharacteristically happy. He seemed deeply satisfied, like a hunter who’d just found his prey.

‘What the hell are you smiling abount,’ Johnny questioned, looking agitated the man wasn’t paying full attention to their disagreement. ‘And what’s that thing on your belt.’

Suddenly the man’s face turned threatening again and he replied cooly, ‘That’s none of your business. The Boss says it’s need to know, and you most certainly don't.’

Johnny looked enraged, leaning forwards with his chin out as though he were about to either argue back or simply punch the man, but he hesitated, searching the other man’s eyes for a moment.

‘Fine,’ he conceded, stepping back a step. ‘You do your thing, I’ll do mine!’

Johnny waved his gun around the room, as if to emphasise his point, and elicited a wave of frightened sounds from the diner’s crowd.  

Kurt gave Johnny one last intimidating look before walking slowly back to his position by the window. Clark saw the man lift his cell phone and begin typing a message, probably to whoever this ‘Boss’ was. His throat tightened and his mind spun.  

‘Dad, what’s wrong,’ Jonathan asked, obviously picking up on Clark’s anxious expression.

Staring at the phone and fighting the urge to simply shoot it with his heat vision, Clark decided against the impulsive action. So far, the guy hadn’t actually seen him use his powers. He clearly had some kind of device that would detect them, and it had gone off when he took out the guns… but was there still room for doubt here? Was there still a chance he could convince him the device had gone off by mistake?

Clark turned to his sons. Jordan was sitting up on his own now and Clark could see the color returning to his face. Jonathan was still waiting anxiously for a response to his question.

‘This is much worse than we thought,’ Clark said heavily, and he saw the concern on their faces growing. ‘The guy by the window…. I think he knows who I am.’

‘What do you mean?’ Jordan asked, sitting up even straighter.

‘They recognized all of us when they came in. They were hoping we’d be here so that mom would call grandad, right?’ Jonathan replied, unable to accept the worst-case scenario unless it was explicitly stated.

‘No… I mean… he knows,’ Clark responded with emphasis that was impossible to misinterpret.

His heart clenched in his chest at the sight of the fear it produced on Jordan’s face.

‘At least, he thinks he does,' Clark explained. 'I don’t know exactly what he knows, but he has some kind of device that’s triggered when I use my powers. He just looked right at me after I took out the guns.’

Jordan’s jaw dropped and he shook his head in dismay. Even Jonathan, who was stubbornly trying to stick to his earlier attitude that the secret didn’t matter, was clearly rattled.

‘Then why isn’t he doing anything about it?’ Jonathan asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Clark sighed, looking around the room again as though taking in the full scope of the situation once more, outside of just this added threat to his family’s wellbeing. ‘All I know is we have to get you both out of here before he decides to test his theory.’

Jordan and Jonathan looked at each other, understanding the implication of what he was saying. If that man had really found out they were Superman’s kids… who knows what he would do to them both.

---

The man, known to the diner’s gunman only as ‘The Boss’, watched the sunset through his dank hotel’s blacked-out windows. The fading light peaked out from behind the tall Metropolis buildings, bathing his pale skin in a faintly orange glow. He stood silently; his eyes closed in anticipation. He knew he could still be proven wrong… but something about this information just felt RIGHT somehow. Like something, his intuition had been trying to tell him for years. He could almost taste the victory his discovery would inevitably lead to.

His eyes snapped open at the sound of his phone vibrating and he looked down eagerly. A faint smile appeared on his lips as he read the message.

20:53. Mr Kent is here. He’s definitely acting suspicious. He made one wobbly failed attempt at heroics. The kryptonite bomb must be affecting him even more than we'd hoped. I managed to create some distance from it to see if he'd try anything. Then the device activated a moment ago. I don’t know what powers he used to set it off, but it looked like he heard the alarm. I saw unmistakable fear in his eyes when I looked at him. Nothing concrete yet, but we will know for sure soon enough. 

The man sat down in the hotel chair, breathing in a long deep breath and stilling his excited mind. He needed to remain calm and clear-headed. He’d lost so many battles against his foe already – this time, there was no room for emotions to get in the way.

If he was right about this, he finally had everything he needed to end this war once and for all.

He responded to the message with a few choice words.

20:55 Good work. You have the go-ahead for phase 2. Don't screw it up. Or you will regret it.

There we go! Hope that was worth the wait and that my cliff hanger endings at least give you a reason to keep coming back when they arrive :D 

Reviews really do help me get motivated so please leave one if you are enjoying the story so far :) 

Chapter Text

Sam slammed his foot to the floor, pushing the jeep’s engine to it’s limit as he flew down the open stretch of country road.

It was 20:55. Lives were at stake, and he knew he couldn’t afford to waste a second.

His previous thoughts of Lucy took a back seat in his mind, as he tried to focus on this latest crisis, running through all the possible ways this could play out.

The worst-case scenarios filled him with dread.

He knew his daughter and son-in-law well enough to know they’d be working on their own escape plans, but this was clearly a lot more complicated than a simple hold-up.

When Sharon Powell had exploded with rage at him over the phone, it became clear to Sam that the woman was deeply unhinged. On the other hand, the man who’d outlined their demands seemed disturbingly calm and professional, like he didn’t care one way or another who lived and who died.

The combination of hot headed and unpredictable motives with what seemed to be colder, more rational ones, made it difficult to settle on a strategy for negotiation.

It wasn’t the first bomb threat he’d dealt with in his time at the DOD. Nor was it the first time his daughter had come up against a situation like this in her career, even before Superman made his debut. But this time, they had more to worry about than just his daughter’s safety.

His phone sat neatly in a holder on the dashboard, transmitting the DOD’s infuriating hold music around the jeep.

‘C’mon, c’mon,’ he muttered impatiently, gritting his teeth against the urge to curse.

Contacting General Hardcastle was obviously necessary after hearing the terrorist’s demands, but part of him wished he could have handled this more covertly. Reduce the risk of something being seen that couldn’t easily be explained.

After all, who knows how badly the kryptonite bomb was affecting Clark and the boys. Not only did he need to get everyone in that diner out of there alive, he also needed to divert attention away from any unusual reactions his family was having to the toxic alien substance.

‘General Lane, are you there?’ Hardcastle’s voice came from the phone’s speaker.

‘I’m here, what’s the decision?’ Sam demanded gruffly.

‘The special unit are on their way. They have been advised to take orders from you only,’ she reported.  

‘And the terrorists demands?’ he asked impatiently.

‘You know the answer to that, Sam,’ she stated flatly. ‘The substance known as X-K has proven to be extremely volatile and is much too dangerous to be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. And as for Tal-Rho… there is simply no way we are letting that monster out of his cage.’

‘You have to give me something,’ Sam argued desperately. ‘If I go in there empty handed, innocent people are going to die.’

‘The DOD does not give in to the demands of terrorists, General. Especially when the danger outweighs the current risk to life,’ she said matter-of-factly, like the decision was as simple as a chess move.

‘My daughter is in there,’ Sam replied through gritted teeth. ‘And my 15 year old grandsons.’

‘That is unfortunate, General,’ Hardcastle acknowledged. ‘But your personal relationship with the hostages does not change how the DOD responds to threats.’

Sam banged his fist against the steering wheel in frustration.

‘You don’t understand!’ he said desperately. ‘This is bigger than just a simple bomb threat. I have reason to believe that weapon is laced with kryptonite.’

‘So you have advised General,’ she replied dismissively. ‘But unfortunately, you’ve provided no evidence to back that up.’

Sam clenched his jaw but said nothing. He had no way of explaining how he knew there was kryptonite in that bomb without exposing the very secrets he needed to protect.

‘Look, if you can get full confirmation that these terrorists pose a threat to Superman’s life, then we might be able to re-visit this conversation,’ Hardcastle added, her tone slightly more sympathetic. ‘Until then, I have no doubt you will find a way to manage this situation with the resources at your disposal.’

The line cut off abruptly, leaving no room for further debate. Sam span the car to the left and down the high street leading up to the Smallville diner. He screeched to a stop just out of sight, taking a moment to prepare himself for what came next.

He glanced back at the metal box on the back seat, hesitating despite the time closing in on him. He knew if he did this there was no going back. The DOD would never trust him again once they found out he’d gone against direct orders and handed over even a small quantity of X-K. Nor would they be happy he’d kept a stock of X-K in the jeep, recognising its potential usefulness in out of this world emergencies despite the risks.

Hell, even Lois would be furious when she found out that part.

But there was no way that he was going to be able to reason with these terrorists without something to prove he was at least trying to comply with their demands. They’d threatened to start killing people, and Sam got the impression they weren’t bluffing. No matter who they targeted, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he could have prevented it.

20:58.

He grabbed his phone quickly from the dash, dialling another number.

‘General?’

‘John, what can you see?’ he asked.

John Henry Irons had contacted him shortly after his phone call with the terrorists. His daughter, Natalie, was inside as well. Thankfully she was hidden out of sight and had been able to send out a message. Sam was just grateful there was someone on this side of the diner doors that he could trust. Someone who already knew Clark’s secret and understood what was at stake.

He glanced up at the clouds above the building, satisfied when he couldn’t see the man’s suit of armour anywhere. They didn’t need anyone spotting the mysterious hero hanging around above a small-town diner.

‘There’s three of them,’ the younger man reported back. ‘Two with guns, and the woman with the bomb. It’s definitely a hair trigger detonator. And I can confirm there is kryptonite in the bomb.’

Sam’s heart sank. He’d known there was no way he’d misinterpreted Lois’ suggestion, but hearing it out loud felt like a crushing blow to his chest.

‘It looks like Jordan is protected by some kind of blanket?’

‘Lois’ coat,’ the General confirmed. ‘We had it made once it became clear she seemed to always be around when Superman was in trouble.’

He heard a small chuff of identification from the man from another world. No matter what universe they were in, his daughter always managed to find herself in the middle of the action.

‘There are about 25 civilians in there altogether,’ John continued. ‘No one looks seriously hurt. Yet.’

‘Good. Let’s keep it that way,’ Sam said, sounding much more confident than he felt. ‘Stay high and out of sight. Don’t move in unless I give the go ahead.’

‘What’s the plan here, General?’

‘Recon, for now,’ Sam advised. He honestly didn’t have a firm plan, and there was no point in pretending he did. ‘Let’s just see exactly who and what we are dealing with in there.’

He grabbed the metal box from the back seat and strode across the eerily quiet street towards Vicky May’s.

Natalie looked at the message from her dad again.

SIT TIGHT. STAY SAFE. I MEAN IT NAT, DON’T DO ANYTHING. I WILL HANDLE THIS.

‘Hedy, we have to do something,’ she whispered to her AI’s communication sphere, feeling a twinge of guilt for completely disregarding her dad’s request.

But he didn’t know everything she knew!

For one thing, he didn’t even know she had Hedy with her. She was feeling extremely grateful she’d ignored her dad’s lectures about the danger of taking the AI out of the house and had tucked her into her bag that day. Not to mention how lucky she was she’d been near the diner’s back room when these gun wielding lunatics had arrived.

Sitting there for the last 20 mins, knowing people she cared about were out there and she couldn’t help them, had been like torture. Especially with everything Hedy had been picking up.

She really was an amazing piece of tech. Lex Luthor might have been a psychopathic criminal mastermind on this world, but on her world, he’d been responsible for helping them survive once the kryptonian’s took over. Natalie squashed down another pang of guilt as she was once again reminded of the world she left behind.

All she could do now was try and use what she had to help the people of this world.

At first Natalie had Hedy focus on analysing and possibly even disarming the bomb if they could. But then the AI showed her the scans and data. Quickly she’d realised the situation was not going to be easily resolved. Sharon Powell held a very sensitive hair trigger detonator in her hand, and any attempt at interference from outside signals was also designed to set off the bomb.

As if the threat of a nasty explosion tearing through the diner wasn’t enough, the AI had detected an unusual radiation coming from the green liquid bubbling away inside the weapons connecting tubes.

It was kryptonite. That’s why Clark hadn’t been able to do anything.

Despite his likeness to her mother’s killer, Natalie had grown to care about Mr Kent and she didn’t want to see him get hurt. Not to mention the danger Jordan and Jonathan were in. The boys were like brothers to her now, and she had no idea what that bomb might be doing to them.

Her mind still reeling from the startling information, Hedy’s next discovery had been even harder to swallow.

An alarm had been activated by a device somewhere in the diner.

‘Warning. Kryptonian powers detected.’

Someone in there was gunning for Superman. That much was certain.

But why would they need a device to detect kryptonian powers? If they were using the hostages as bait to trap Superman, surely the kryptonite bomb would slow him down enough that they would see him as soon as he was on the scene.

Unless they were trying to catch a kryptonian who wasn’t dressed in red & blue.

Natalie felt sick to her stomach as she considered what that might mean. Whatever their real agenda was, it wasn’t as simple as terrorists making outlandish demands.

In fact, she was starting to wonder if the threat to the diner was nothing more than a distraction.

Then Hedy picked up one more communication. A text message from one of the gunman to their boss on the outside. A few of the words floated ominously through Natalie’s mind.

‘Mr Kent’…. ‘kryptonite’… ‘effecting him more than we’d hoped’… ‘I don’t know what powers he used’…

Her worst fears were confirmed.

Someone suspected Clark Kent was Superman, and they were trying to prove it.

Her dad had incessantly drummed into her just how dangerous this secret was when she’d first arrived on this earth, but after living with the Kent family these last few months, she’d begun to really understand how much their lives would be ruined if the world found out.

And this wasn’t just some reporter looking for a scoop. Who knows who this guy’s boss was and what he was going to do with the information. Did he want to reveal Clark’s secret to the world? Or was he just planning to use it to hurt him? Did they want to capture him? Study him? Did they want to take the boys too?

Images of Jon and Jordan being locked away and dissected by some lunatic in the name of science filled her with dread, but it also lit a fire of steely determination inside her.

‘Hedy, can you scramble the alarm’s signals?’ Natalie asked the AI device as quietly as she could.

‘I can lock on to the device’s frequency,’ Hedy confirmed. ‘I will be able to prevent the alarm from being triggered again.’

‘Do it, just keep blocking whatever it’s supposed to be doing,’ Natalie commanded. ‘Can you block messages being sent from his phone as well?’

‘I could block all nearby cell signals,’ the AI offered. ‘But I am afraid I’m unable to interrupt just one.’

Natalie bit her lip. Sure, she could rely on Hedy to get messages to her dad, but what about everyone else? As much as she wanted to stop this guy from getting any more information back to his boss, cutting off everyone’s ability to contact the outside world didn’t seem worth the risk.

‘Okay no, let’s not do that yet,’ she decided.

If she could stop them from gathering any actual proof, maybe that would give her dad enough time to work on a way to get them out of this.

‘Okay Natalie, interrupting the device’s signal now,’ the AI confirmed.

Natalie rested her head against the wall, silently wishing she could let Clark know it was safe to do something super now.

Assuming he still could.

Chrissy took a long drag from her cigarette, glancing nervously out at the street from her position in the alley next to the Gazette. She rolled her eyes at her own furtive actions, recognising her mother’s critical voice in the driver’s seat.

‘For god’s sake,’ she scolded herself, ‘You’re not a naughty schoolgirl.’

Yes, she’d given up smoking years ago, but that didn’t mean she had to feel ashamed of succumbing to the craving now. It had been an extremely stressful year, and she was a grown woman. She could make her own decisions!

Besides, she was going to give up again. Soon.

It was eerily quiet out in the high street, but that was pretty normal on a Tuesday night. Everyone who wasn’t at home was over at Vicky May’s for Taco Tuesday. In a town as quiet as Smallville, this was the closest thing they had to excitement on a weekday evening.

But Chrissy frowned as she turned her attention towards the diner. All the lights were down and there was no sign of the usual bustle of activity. The blinds were all closed and the neon signed had been turned off. She’d almost believe the place had cleared out, but as she watched closely, she saw occasional shadows of movement, indicating people were still inside.

Anyway, hadn’t she just seen Lois and her family go in there about half an hour ago, when it had been in it’s usual bright and inviting state?

Chrissy turned her head suddenly as she heard tyres screeching to a stop across the street. She instinctively tucked herself further into the darkness in the alleyway as she watched the jeep’s driver emerge.

It was General Lane, and he had a grim look on his face. He tightly gripped the handle of a metal box in one hand and looked around anxiously as he headed towards the diner doors.

Something weird was definitely going on here.

Wishing she’d grabbed her coat after all, she stubbed out her cigarette and trained her eyes firmly on the diner, her journalistic instincts kicking in as she suppressed a shiver.

She reached for her phone as Sam Lane knocked on the diner door, readying her camera to capture anything newsworthy.

It was 20:59.

The atmosphere in the diner was thick with anticipation and fear as the hands of the clock moved steadily closer to the hour. Kurt on the other hand, was uncharacteristically excited, though his fixed mask would never have revealed it.

He was generally a pathologically unaffected man. Life hadn’t been kind to him, and he’d learned at a young age that it was better to switch off, never to get invested in anything or anyone. That was until he met his boss. He’d seen something in the man’s eyes that he recognised in himself. A way of seeing the world that went beyond ridiculous notions of good and evil.

A visionary.

Despite a somewhat tumultuous career in the military, he’d never really felt anything close to meaning or purpose... but he found it then. The ideas his boss had for the world’s future; they were the only thing he’d ever thought worth fighting for. 

His boss didn’t trust anyone. Of course not, he was much too intelligent for that. But Kurt was proud to have become his go to man. His boss knew he was loyal to the cause. That he would lay down his life if he had to.

When the man had shared his suspicions about this bumbling farmer’s alter ego, it had been the single greatest honour of Kurt’s life. He’d trusted him with what might be the most important secret in the world.

And who knows what scientific advancements might be possible once they were able to study kryptonian physiology up close. Not just a pure kryptonian, but two alien human hybrids as well.

Most people might object to putting teenage boys under a microscope, even if they were tainted with alien DNA - but Kurt, like his boss, could see beyond what lesser minds might label as ‘immoral’.

He looked around at the faces of the pathetic Smallville locals who’d been mindlessly shovelling down their habitual tacos just thirty minutes before. Kurt was unsurprised that they each looked away furtively rather than let him catch their eye for too long. No one wanted to draw attention to themselves.

No one wanted to be selected as the first to die.

Sharon stepped away from the bathroom, practically dragging a protesting Lois Lane with her as she did. Of course she would be reluctant. The famous reporter wanted to keep the kryptonite bomb as far away from her husband and sons as she could.

It was revolting. She’d bred with an alien, exposing their world to cross contamination they had no idea the dangers of.

Kurt turned back towards the window he had taken position at, prying open the blinds just as General Lane came around the corner and began striding towards the diner.

‘He’s here,’ he reported simply to his party.

Sharon tightened her grip on Lois’ arm as though anxious to keep a firm hold on any extra leverage they had against the General. She looked hungry for whatever the man was going to say. Clearly she was idiotic enough to believe she might actually get to see her son’s killer finally put down.

Kurt knew there was no way that was going to happen. Of course, Tal-Rho wasn't of no interest to his boss. For the purposes of scientific study, the brother of the man of steel would be nearly as much of a prize as the real thing. Once their plan had run it's course, there may yet be time to secure his capture too, but for now, Kurt knew he was nothing more than a Trojan horse. A sacrificial chess piece, designed both to distract, and to initiate movement from the other side. 

He trusted the overall endgame here was the study of these alien beings, but he knew and accepted his boss’ feud with the man of steel was about more than just scientific curiosity. He hated what the man stood for. He hated the arrogance of an alien being who flew around in a red cape, claiming to be the world’s saviour.

Not to mention the fact it was the sickening hero’s fault his boss been driven underground. Superman and his unsufferable side kick – or to be more accurate, wife – Lois Lane, had done everything in their power to discredit and dethrone him, and unfortunately he couldn’t escape the damage they’d done to his reputation.

He had a plan for a very specific form of revenge. That was the priority of this mission, and Kurt accepted it, knowing that his boss' long term intentions for the disgusting family aligned with his. 

Besides, he'd seen what happened to anyone who made the stupid mistake of questioning him.

Johnny stood up and puffed out his chest as the General approached, lifting up his gun and grabbing Sharon for a disgustingly unnecessary kiss.

Kurt couldn’t contain his grimace. He was growing increasingly tired of having to work with these imbeciles. He understood his boss’ need for a trojan horse so that the real operation could be implemented… but did they have to be so… unsavoury? He consoled himself with the comforting knowledge that he didn’t have to tolerate them for much longer.

If all went according to plan, they’d be dead before the end of the night.

Kurt just needed to focus on Phase 2. Thankfully, if he could rely on his pathetic comrades for anything, it was their ability to create a suitable mess that he could use to his advantage.

The General finally stepped up to the door and knocked firmly.

Kurt pointed his gun towards the focus of his attention. If this next part of the plan was going to work, he needed the alien in closer range of the kryptonite bomb.

‘You,’ he said, giving Clark a warning look that made it clear he wasn’t asking. ‘Open the door.’

At the man’s stern command, Clark stepped out of the relative safety of their booth.

He gave his sons a meaningful look that he hoped said ‘stay put’ and dutifully headed towards the door, doing everything he could to hide his body’s response to the waves of pain that hit him hard as he moved closer to the bomb’s glowing poison.  

After Kurt caught his earlier exposed expression, Clark knew he had to do some serious damage control if he was going to have any chance of creating a seed of doubt in the man’s mind. Everything he did from this point on needed to look like the actions of a simple helpless farmer. And insignificant, human, mild mannered Clark Kent, would do whatever this man threatening him with a gun told him to do.

His eyes caught Lois’ for a moment and he wished he could somehow let her know what was really going on. They were filled with just as much anxiety as his, but she only knew the danger the kryptonite bomb represented. She knew nothing about the man’s much more disturbing agenda.

He opened the diner door, and Sam stared at him in surprise, clearly not expecting him to be the first face he saw. Clark clenched painfully against the fire coursing through his veins, hoping the slight tremble that ran through him could be passed off as fear. His father-in-law clearly noticed the discomfort on his face, and from his serious expression, understood the dire outlook of their situation.

The General stepped into the diner, surveying the room and taking in all the faces that were now staring up at him in hope. Clark could practically feel the rage bubbling off him as his eyes fell on his daughter, her arm still tightly held in Sharon Powell’s grip.

‘General Lane, you are right on time,’ Johnny said with a smug look on his face and a nod towards the clock above the counter. ‘Guess you couldn’t really turn down such an enticing invitation though, could ya.’

‘Do you have the X-K?’ Kurt asked, ignoring his partner’s mocking comment.

Sam lifted up the metal box he was carrying and placed it down on the table nearest them. ‘This was all I could get on such short notice.’

Kurt opened the lid to check the contents inside and seemed happily surprised for a moment, before switching to a darker expression.

‘You run the Department of Defence general,’ he said coldly. ‘I’m sure you could have flown your entire stock of X-K down here in minutes.’

‘Look, you seem to think I have way more power than I do here,’ Sam tried to reason with him. ‘I may be temporarily in charge of operations, but I don’t have the authority to release copious amounts of x-k into the hands of terrorists.’

‘Maybe you just need to be properly motivated,’ Johnny suggested, a wide smile appearing on his face as he pointed his gun towards Lois suggestively.

Sam tensed at the man’s clear eagerness to follow through on their earlier threats. He looked towards Clark again, scanning him up and down like he was trying to gauge just how affected by the kryptonite bomb he really was, and whether he’d be any help if this all went south.

As Clark felt the continued exposure to kryptonite slowly sapping away his energy, he couldn’t say how much strength he had left himself. If they didn’t figure something out soon, they’d have no reason to worry about an alarm detecting his powers.

He might not have any powers left to detect.

‘Believe me, you’ve got my attention,’ Sam told the wild-eyed gunman, his eyes drifting back to Lois. ‘But my superiors are not going to budge. There must be some other kind of agreement we can come to here.’

‘Oh, I think they might change their minds if this place becomes a bloody massacre,’ Johnny said threateningly.

Sharon stepped forward, finally letting go of Lois’ arm so that she could confront the man she deemed responsible for so much of her pain. Clark held his breath against the increase in pain to almost unbearable levels as she moved closer. He leant involuntarily against a nearby table, trying to make the action look as casual as possible and willing his knees not to give out completely.

‘You think you can just cover everything up. That what happens to small town folk is just insignificant. But now… whatever happens here. Whoever dies. The whole world is going to know it’s because the DOD failed. Because you cared more about the life of a kryptonian than the people you’re supposed to protect.’

‘I’m sorry about your son,’ Sam offered as sincerely as he could, ‘But what you’re doing isn’t the way to get what you want.’

‘Why don’t we just test that theory,’ Johnny said, looking around the room and placing a hand on his chin like he was trying to decide which item to order off a takeout menu. ‘Eenie meenie… I think the death of the Mayor would make a pretty good front page story.’

Clark’s heart started to race as Johnny raised his weapon towards his childhood friend. Lana looked at him pleadingly as she tried to comfort her panicked children.

He’d taken out the guns, he reminded himself. She wasn’t going to be shot.

Clark looked from his wife to his sons, willing them not to do anything stupid. He could see Jordan’s tormented expression as he looked back and forth between his dad and Sarah, desperate to do something more than just sit there while her mom became the target of the man’s homicidal threats.

Standing up despite the protests of his weakening body, Clark readied himself to act. Even if it meant exposing his secret, there was no way he was going to let any harm come to Lana if that gun did in fact go off.

‘Sorry lady,’ Johnny said, without a hint of actual regret. ‘Someone’s gotta be the first to go.’

The world slowed as Clark watched the man pull the trigger on the gun. Unsure if it was the heightened fear or his super speed kicking in, what should have been an instant seemed to last an eternity.

But nothing happened.

‘What the hell?’ Johnny screamed furiously, looking down at the gun in shock, before swivelling around to face Kurt accusingly.

The more intelligent man frowned in surprise and looked down at his own gun curiously. A look of realisation washed over him as he brought his finger up to trace the outline of a small round hole in the gun’s casing. A hole left by a burst of heat vision.

He looked up at Clark, that same flash of satisfied recognition on his face.

‘It looks like maybe Superman is aware of our situation after all,’ Kurt suggested, still staring straight at Clark with a faint smile on his lips. ‘I guess he thought taking out our guns would help keep everyone safe.’

There were a few murmurs from around the room and Sam and Lois shared a look Clark couldn’t quite decipher, like they were planning to make a move.

‘Looks like I’m just going to have to get my hands dirty then,’ Johnny said, moving towards Lana’s table and grabbing her away from her horrified children.

Clark’s vision started to swim as he stepped away from the table in an attempt to intervene, but to his dismay he found his legs wouldn’t respond to his commands. He nearly fell limply to the ground, only just catching the end of the table and pulling himself back up shakily.

Recognising Superman wasn’t going to be able to be the hero this time, Lois nodded to her dad and they moved quickly. His wife stepped up behind Johnny and kicked him hard in the back of the leg. At the same time, Sam grabbed Kurt’s gun, pulling him around to face him and punching him in the jaw.

Clark tried to focus on his wife’s battle as Johnny spun around to face her, but Lois was already lifting her leg again. She delivered a swift kick to his abdomen, knocking him to the ground.

The man cried out in fury as he pulled himself up, retaliating with a hard punch to Lois’ side. She buckled over, the wind knocked out of her, and the furious gunman seized the moment, lifting his weapon into the air and preparing to bring it down hard on her head.

Clark reacted instinctively. He shot a burst of heat vision towards the handle of the gun, his head immediately pounding from the effort it took to use his powers in his weakened state. The wild-eyed man screamed in agony, dropping the now glowing weapon and lifting his smouldering hands in shock.

Lois took advantage of the distraction and directed one last kick to the man’s crotch. He dropped to the ground writhing in pain.

‘Everyone STOP!’ Sharon practically screeched as she stepped into the middle of the room, holding the hair trigger device high in the air. ‘Nobody move a muscle!’

Clark fought desperately against the urge to vomit as the woman with the kryptonite bomb stopped mere feet from him. He could feel beads of sweat trickling down his face, and from the look on Kurt’s face, he knew his worsening condition was becoming impossible to hide. If he looked anywhere near as pale as he felt, it wouldn’t be long before it became obvious to everyone in the room that something was making him sick.

The sinister man looked surprisingly pleased despite rubbing his jaw where the General’s blow had landed. Like they’d all just given him the reason he needed to make his next move. Clark braced himself for the sound of the man’s device alerting him to his latest use of superpowers… but to his surprise, nothing came. Was his super hearing completely gone? Or was the device no longer working?

‘You all think I’m just joking around here?’ Sharon yelled furiously. ‘Oh, just that crazy lady from New Carthage. She’s just upset about her son, she isn’t really a threat… Do you want me to prove how serious I am about this?’

The room fell quiet again, her reminder of the bomb’s deadly presence in the room suddenly forcing them into obedient silence.

‘The only reason I haven’t blown you all to hell already is that the monster who killed my son is still sitting comfortably in his special cell, reading books and drinking cups of tea like he didn’t try and destroy the entire WORLD,’ she continued to tirade, turning her fury towards the General once again.

Clark felt a pang of guilt mingle in with the cacophony of unbearable sensations moving through his body. His brother was the reason this woman had been driven to this level of madness.

‘I want him DEAD,’ she practically growled. ‘But you take one more step out of line, and I’m just going to have to settle for taking out the people who made the cover up of my son’s death possible.’

Clark watched as Sam hesitated, before finally holding his hands up submissively. Lois followed suit, and Sharon glared at her threateningly as she brought the detonator down to her side, before rushing over to where her lover lay whimpering on the floor.

‘Are you okay, Johnny,’ she asked softly, lifting up his injured hand with her free one. It was covered in blisters.

Lana retreated back to where her girls stood crying uncontrollably, pulling them into her embrace and trying to reassure them everything was going to be okay.

‘The gun… it… it overheated or something,’ he said in disbelief. Then he turned to Kurt angrily. ‘Where the hell did you get these things?’

Clark’s attempts to mask his obvious discomfort were completely failing him. He gritted his teeth against the pain that was starting to overwhelm his system as the other man moved to stand in front of him, his eyes boring into him like a lion approaching an injured gazelle.

‘There was nothing wrong with the guns, was there Mr Kent?’ the man said accusingly, scanning Clark’s face and clocking his rapidly degrading pallor.

‘Look, I don’t know what you think is going to happen here, but there is no happy ending to all of this,’ Sam tried to reason with Kurt. ‘The DOD are on their way. Once they surround this building, no one is escaping here alive.’

The man smiled again, not taking his eyes off the object of his fixation. It was such an obviously unnatural expression on his face, it sent a shiver down Clark’s spine.

‘You still don’t get it, do you General?’ the man said sardonically. ‘Some things are worth dying for.’

With that the man pulled out a knife from his belt. Clark’s cloudy mind realised in shock what he was about to do, but before he could even attempt to convince the man otherwise, Kurt thrust the blade painfully into his abdomen.

Clark squinted down, half expecting the blade to be a crumpled mess. Instead, he saw blood covering the other man’s hands, and the knife’s blade disappeared somewhere beneath his shirt. Suddenly there was pain. Excrutiating, unbearable pain.

A low deep groan escaped his throat as the man ripped the blade back out of his flesh. Clark placed his own hands over the bleeding wound, looking up at the man in shock. Kurt’s cruel eyes dancing with satisfaction were the last thing he saw before his entire body went limp and he crumpled to the ground.

Clark heard his wife and sons calling out his name as the overpowering darkness of unconsciousness took him.

---

Thanks all who are bearing with me throughout this slowly updating story. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Plenty more action to come, and hopefully everyone will have their moment to shine :)

Chapter Text

Jon watched in horror as his dad’s body crumpled to the ground.

A slow, disconnected feeling washed over him, and he blinked several times, his mind struggling to accept the reality of what he’d just seen. Various indistinguishable movements danced in his peripheries. He could hear vague sounds of shock and distress, but they seemed faint and distant. Like a radio playing quietly in the background.

The only thing he could hear loud and clear was the steady thumping of his own heart.

‘Dad?’ his brother’s confused question drifted through his surreal haze. His movements felt impossibly slow as he turned to face him.

Jon realised dimly that they were standing now, though he had no memory of getting up from their booth. As he met his brother’s horrified expression, the growing sense of dread that had been working its way through him grabbed tightly hold of his chest.

‘He’s just faking,’ he reasoned with himself, hoping his expression conveyed the same to Jordan. ‘He has to be faking.’

Jon returned his gaze to where his dad had fallen, scanning him intently from head to toe for any sign of movement that might prove his theory. Maybe an eye would peek open slightly. Or maybe he’d just twitch a finger or do some other subtle movement. Give them some sign that he wasn’t as unconscious as he looked, that he was just biding his time.

Something. Anything. Please.

He held his breath as he willed it to be true, his body tensing as though he could physically force reality if he just pushed hard enough. Then his eyes drifted to the slowly spreading patch of blood soaking through his dad’s plaid shirt and he felt his breath leave him like a deflating balloon. A strange, pained sound came up from his throat so unexpectedly he almost didn’t recognise it as his own.  

‘Oh my god,’ he heard Mrs Cushing gasp sharply next to him, her hand flying up to her mouth.

She stood transfixed, along with the rest of the diner’s occupants. Their bodies seemed frozen like statues, either staring at the spot where his dad had fallen or eyeing the gunmen with hyper vigilance. Jon could see they wanted to help his dad… but they also didn’t want to attract any fatal attention.

He felt his brother grab his arm tightly, and he reached out his hand to return the unspoken request for contact. Lana glanced in their direction protectively, as though somehow wanting to shield them from what they were seeing, but her worried gaze offered no sense of comfort. Jon quickly turned his attention to the other side of the diner, desperately searching for his mom’s face.

Just as his eyes reached hers, she seemed to break out of her own frozen spell. His dad’s name came screaming up from her throat, ripping through whatever surreal feeling had been protecting him so far, and returning the world violently to full speed. Jon felt his heart rate triple as he watched his mom scramble across the room, collapsing at his dad’s side and lifting his head gently onto her knee.

‘C’mon Clark, wake up,’ she said urgently, pressing two fingers into his neck to identify a pulse, before her eyes drifted down to the still bleeding stab wound in his abdomen.

‘Mom,’ Jon choaked out, as something wet trickled down his cheek and he realised he must be crying.

‘It’s okay boys,’ she tried to reassure her sons, quickly taking off her sweater and placing it over his dad’s shirt in an effort to stop the bleeding. ‘He’s going to be okay.’

Jon tried to remind himself that this was his dad. He was different. He wasn’t just going to die, even with kryptonite around. He had super-healing, right? Any minute now he was going to wake up all flustered, and then they’d have to figure out some ridiculous cover story for how he miraculously got better.

That’s what he kept tell himself as he continued to stare at the widening puddle of blood forming on the diner floor.

‘What have you done?’ he heard his grandpa demand angrily, turning towards his dad’s attacker.

The man was silent at first, seemingly enthralled with the blood covered blade in his hand. He smiled to himself as he reached into his jacket pocket and took out a handkerchief, slowly and purposefully wiping the blood from the blade.

‘You knew the terms of our agreement, General,’ Kurt replied, as though stabbing his dad had been a simple business transaction. 

Despite his professional mask, Jon could see something darker had made itself known the moment the man had drawn blood. Something that had probably been lurking underneath the whole time. The man seemed unnervingly calm, but there was a look of deep satisfaction on his face that made Jon feel nauseous. Like a trophy hunter posing with their kill.

Even Johnny and Sharon seemed to have noticed the shift in their comrade’s behaviour, staying quiet despite their obvious agitation. Johnny cradled his injured hand protectively as he glared at their so-called partner, and Sharon simply stared blankly at his dad’s body on the floor, like she was processing the full reality of what she was now a part of.

‘Please,’ his mom pleaded, trying to supress the anger Jon knew must be thumping away inside her. ‘We need to get him out of here.’

‘He needs medical attention,’ Sam added, still regarding Clark’s unmoving body with an air of disbelief.

Kurt eyed his grandad curiously, as though analysing another piece of the puzzle. Jon watched nervously as the man leaned in and whispered in his grandad’s ear.

The General’s usually stoic expression turned dark and grim. He swallowed slowly, giving the man a regretful, wary look, but staying uncharacteristically silent.

‘Jon,’ his brother let out a terrified whisper, letting him know his super-hearing had successfully picked up the man’s secret threat. 

Jon’s stomach turned as their grandad glanced briefly in their direction with a whole new level of fear in his eyes. Watching the well-dressed man carefully fold the handkerchief and place it back in his pocket like a delicate prize, Jon began to realize he didn’t need super-hearing to work out what had been said.

The man had his dad’s blood. He already suspected who his dad really was... now it looked like he had a way of proving it.

As though somehow reading his mind, Kurt’s gaze turned towards him, and Jon saw an unmistakable flash of sickening excitement. Whatever this guy wanted with his dad’s blood, there was no pretending he and his brother weren’t a part of it too.  

Jon kicked himself for being so petulant earlier. Ever since his dad had come back from bizzarro earth, Jon had been wondering what it would be like if everyone just knew the truth. Now, with Kurt looking at him and his brother like specimens he’d like to keep in a jar, he finally understood just how dangerous their family secret really was. 

His dad had tried to tell him it wasn’t something to take lightly, but he was still so angry with him for the way he’d reacted after he was caught with X-K, and he was struggling not to push back against everything he said just to get a rise out of him. Sure, he got that he was going to have to deal with the consequences of what he’d done, but he couldn’t understand why his dad seemed to be so concerned with the subject of lying… and yet was totally avoiding why his ‘normal’ son might have wanted to use X-K in the first place.

Even his mom hadn’t dug too deeply into that side of things, and as much as he wanted to open up, he just didn’t know how to start that kind of conversation or how to explain all the things he was feeling. He felt so ashamed of it all - of being jealous, insecure, desperate, lost…

But wasn’t it their job to notice this stuff? Surely it didn’t take a detective to realise he might be feeling more than a little bit… invisible lately.

Not that his brother hadn’t always demanded more attention in some ways; his anxiety had meant he’d needed a lot of extra support, and Jon had been happy enough back then to let his own needs take a back seat most of the time. Of course, that was back when his life was actually pretty good, and he didn’t have much to complain about.

Now it was his life that was imploding, while Jordan was succeeding… and yet somehow, the attention was still on his brother. Everyone just expected him to continue getting on with things quietly; expected him to be the good boy, the one that just took it all on the chin.

With a whole month to stew on it while his dad was missing, his resentment had grown and festered - and despite a couple of shaky attempts at reconciliation, he and his dad hadn’t really found their way back to being on good terms.

Now he was terrified this lunatic was going to make sure they never got the chance to.

‘We can’t just let him die,’ Mrs Cushing added to his mom and grandad’s plea for reason. 

‘Every one of you in this diner is going to die if you don’t start taking our demands seriously,’ Sharon threatened, breaking out of her own silence, and holding up the detonator once again to emphasise her point.

‘What you think General? Worth having another run at your boss’ at the DOD now?’ Johnny asked with a mocking tone.

‘You have 1hr,’ Kurt directed to his grandad with an air of finality, grabbing him by the arm and shoving him towards the door. ‘Bring me the X-K and the alien prisoner, and your son-in-law might just have a chance to live.’

Jon felt torn between not wanting his grandad to leave but also hoping there was something more he could do out there than he could from in here. He watched anxiously as Kurt spun him around to face him one last time.

‘And if you fail…’ he said menacingly, ‘the next time it’ll be one of your grandchildren.’

With that, the man shoved his grandad the final few steps towards the door, and he reluctantly opened it. Jon watched him give his mom a firm ‘stay put’ look, before turning back towards him and his brother.

‘Don’t worry,’ he called out to them, without half as much conviction as Jon was sure he intended, ‘I’m going to figure this all out.’

Kurt finally shoved him through the open door, slamming it behind him and pulling down the blind. He turned back to the still motionless crowd like they were an unfortunate annoyance he had to put up with.

‘There will be no more heroics,’ Kurt instructed impatiently, ‘No more plotting, no more planning. You will do exactly as you are told, without hesitation… or you will regret it. Is that understood?’

There were a few stiff nods around the room, but no one dared make a sound or sudden movement. That was until a women Jon recognised as Doctor Frye stepped forwards, moving out of the small crowd slowly and cautiously, holding both hands up over her head. She was very clearly trembling.

‘Please… I… I’m a doctor,’ she managed to blurt out. ‘Will you let me take a look at him?’

The man glanced down at his dad with a look of disgust that made Jon’s stomach turn, before shrugging like it made no difference to him anymore.

‘Do whatever you want with him,’ he said callously, reaching his hand into his pocket like he just wanted to confirm the handkerchief was still there.

With seemingly no further interest in his hostages or even the man he’d just stabbed, he headed to the back of the diner, sliding into a booth where he was hidden from sight. Sharon and Johnny looked at each other and shook their heads in annoyance as they watched him go without a word in their direction. Jon wondered how long the two of them were going to put up with his blatant disregard and what might happen when they’d had enough. They didn’t exactly seem the type to just calmly talk things out.

Johnny nodded his head towards the diner windows, and they each took a post, peeking through the blinds to see if all the commotion had attracted any unwanted attention. Thankfully, Sharon chose a spot pretty far away from them. Jon wasn’t sure if it was dumb luck, or if Sharon was actively avoiding hearing what they might have to say. Unlike her partners, she seemed to still have the faintest flicker of a conscience.

As soon as their captors stepped away, the rest of the diner seemed to unthaw. The doctor was the first to reach his dad’s side, with Jon and Jordan only a few steps behind. She gave them and their mom a brave attempt at a reassuring expression before reaching her still shaking hands into her bag and pulling out some emergency medical supplies.

It wasn’t long before everyone in the diner was crowded around them in a circle. Jon looked up, feeling kind of annoyed that everyone was just gawking, but he softened slightly when he saw the genuine concern on their faces. He recognised most of them. Their neighbour Cobb Branden. Chuck and Aidy who ran the butcher shop. Malcolm’s dad, Mr Teague, from the hardware store. And was that Mitch, the fireman that Sarah’s dad worked with?

‘Is… is he gonna be okay?’ Chuck asked, seemingly echoing everyone’s thoughts as they watched the doctor expectantly.

Sarah crouched down next to his brother, placing her hand on his arm, but he didn’t even look up. His eyes were fixed on his dad’s pale face as he fumbled with the buttons of his mom’s coat, still trying to hide the occasional wince of pain from the ever-present waves of kryptonite.  

Jon anxiously realised what his brother might be about to do, but before he could process the thought, his dad began to stir to life, a weak groan escaping his lips.

‘Clark!?’ his mom said as softly as she could, trying to make sure the first sounds he heard weren’t full of fear.

‘Lois?’ he spoke in practically a whisper, his eyes flickering open and gazing up at her in confusion.

Jon felt a wave of relief wash over him at the sound of his dad’s voice, but it faded quickly as his dad’s expression turned pained and he groaned loudly, as though suddenly hit by a whole host of unpleasant sensations happening in his body.

‘Mr Kent, it’s Doctor Frye,’ the older woman announced, slipping on a pair of blue gloves.  

At the sound of the word ‘Doctor’, his dad’s head whipped around, and he looked suddenly panicked. His mom stroked his face gently, offering him words of comfort, and he squinted at the small-town doctor, eventually settling down somewhat once he’d accepted that she was someone safe.

‘I’m just going to take a look at your wound,’ she notified him as she set to work.

Doctor Frye pulled his mom’s jumper away from his dad’s wound, lifting his shirt to get a good look at the extent of the damage, before quickly pressing some kind of heavy-duty gauze down on top of it. Jon wished he had some understanding of how stab wounds were supposed to look. Was that a bad one, or not? Was it supposed to look like that or was his dad’s body somehow giving away that he wasn’t normal.

Thankfully the doctor didn’t seem to react as though anything was amiss.

‘Hold that there,’ the doctor instructed his mom, before turning around, seemingly in search of someone or something specific.

Her eyes fell on the diner’s namesake. ‘Ah, Vicky, do you have a first aid kit in the kitchen? I think we are going to need all the bandages and gauze we can get here. And some towels, as many as you can find.’

Vicky gave the doctor a frightened nod before heading off to the kitchen, and Dr Frye turned back to her patient.

‘Keep as much pressure on his wound as you can,’ she told his mom, as she reached back into her bag to pull out a stethoscope.

She placed the bell on his dad’s chest and listened intently. Jon didn’t exactly feel encouraged by her expression as she pulled it away. She reached for his dad’s hands, holding them as though checking their temperature and squeezing them gently to observe their colour.

‘Clark?’ she asked, and Jon realised that his dad’s eyes had closed again. ‘Can you look at me?’

‘Ummm,’ was all he managed at first, before slowly opening his eyes and trying to focus on where the sound had come from.

Jon watched the doctor eyeing his dad with concern as she held up a finger and asked him to follow it, moving it in front of his vision slowly. Once she was done, she took the stethoscope from around her neck and lay it back in her bag, before tugging the disposable gloves from her hands.

‘I’m afraid he’s lost a lot of blood,’ she explained as his mom looked at her expectantly. ‘His heart rate is extremely high, and I think he may be in hypovolemic shock. If he doesn’t get fluids and blood soon…’

Vicky returned from the kitchen, interrupting the doctor’s ominous statement, and handing her a green first aid kit and a pile of clean towels. Jon tried not to finish the doctor’s sentence for her, but his mind seemed to have an agenda of its own. She lay some of the towels at his dad’s side, soaking up the blood that had already pooled out. They were sodden in seconds, and she moved them out of the way, laying down a few more fresh ones.

‘Mom,’ Jordan said quietly, his voice suddenly sounding more pained than it had before.

Jon spun round and saw his brother reaching out with his mom’s coat in his hands, now fully exposed to whatever effect the bomb was having on him.

‘Jordan…’ his mom hesitated, still stroking his dad’s face softly.

Jon watched his brother with concern as he continued to hold the garment out with trembling arms, but he seemed to be handling the effects of the nearby kryptonite much better than before. Jordan gave their mom the kind of determined look that could only come from her very own flesh and blood, and she conceded to his silent point… his dad needed the protection more than he did right now.

‘To keep him warm,’ Jordan added, looking around at the curious onlookers self-consciously.

The doctor nodded her approval, and their mom took the coat from his brother’s hands, laying it over their dad’s body and positioning it so that she could still hold the gauze tightly in place. Jon thought he saw his dad’s colour considerably lighten, but he couldn’t be sure if it was just wishful thinking. When he heard his dad’s small, almost imperceptible sigh of relief, he knew the coat had to be doing something.

‘Just keep pressure on that wound,’ Dr Fry instructed again. ‘If your arm gets tired, swap out with someone else, and there are more gauze pads here when you need them. I’ll keep monitoring him, but right now there’s nothing more we can do… but wait.’

Lois nodded her understanding and gave the doctor a grateful smile, before returning her attention to their dad who was looking up at her with a bit more lucidity. Jon watched as the doctor stood up and gave the small crowd a suggestive wave.

‘Shall we give Mr Kent some privacy?’ she said, cocking her eyebrow at the sea of faces.

There were a few unintelligible murmurs in response as the small crowd gently dispersed. Jon watched as they sat back down in their booths, anxiety and exhaustion written all over their features. A few faces glanced up at the clock on the diner wall, eager for this to all be over soon.

‘Sarah, shall we get Soph settled in over there?’ Lana said, stroking her youngest daughter’s hair and tipping her head towards a booth further down.

Sarah gave Jordan a long apologetic look, but she did as her mom asked, her sister gripping tightly at her side.

‘I’ll be right back,’ Lana said, looking first at Lois and then to everyone else around them, as though wanting to reassure them that their mayor wasn’t going to just hide away in a booth.

Jon felt a flash of anger as he watched her leave. Less than an hour ago, she’d been acting like his family was to be avoided at all costs. Why should that be any different now? If anything, there was even more reason for her to think she was better off staying away from them.

He couldn’t help but feel like her concern was all for show.

‘What do we do now?’ Jon asked his mom, knowing it was probably a stupid question, but feeling frustrated with just watching helplessly.

‘Nothing,’ his mom responded firmly. ‘Your grandad is going to figure something out. I don’t want either of you doing anything stupid.’

Jon glanced at his brother, before nodding at her reluctantly. It wasn’t like he had any idea of what to do anyway, and he was becoming more and more worried about what the well-groomed gunman might have up his sleeve. He’d obviously come there to try and get some kind of proof of who his dad was… but what would he do once he had it?

Was the plan just to tell the world who Superman really was? That he had a secret identity this whole time? That he has a family?

No, Jon could see in the man’s eyes, it was something much darker than that. He wasn’t just testing for proof that he was Superman. He was confirming that he was an alien.

Jon hated that word, but he knew when the man looked at him, that was exactly what he saw.

Despite having no powers, no response to kryptonite… literally no identifiable kryptonian traits, Jon knew he wasn’t simply human. His dad’s DNA was in the mix somewhere, and they had no idea what kind of tests would prove that. Or what it might mean on a scientific level, to be a basically human kid with some kryptonian DNA. He was sure that any scientist wanting to understand how alien/human hybrid biology worked would be just as interested in him as they would his brother.

Jon knew that there were people out there that thought Superman should be more forthcoming in providing samples for various kinds of research. His mom had written plenty of scathing articles about the kind of people that seemed to see him as a potential test subject.

Although his dad seemed to accept it as a part of the natural curiosity people were bound to have when he made himself known, Jon could see the fear the topic always brought up in his dad’s eyes. Like being locked away in some secret laboratory was a nightmare he’d lived with all his life. A fear that now extended to his not so human sons.

Jon glanced anxiously over at the booth the well-dressed man had slid into, wondering how long it might be before that nightmare became their reality.

Chapter Text

Sam stumbled out onto the empty street, glaring back at the diner door as it slammed behind him. He straightened himself up, pulling his jacket stiffly back into place as he looked around for any sign that his ejection from the diner had been subject to an audience.

Thankfully, the street outside remained eerily quiet as the last of the evening’s light faded behind the lowest rooftops. Sam strode purposefully across the street, headed for the relative privacy of his jeep as he turned his thoughts towards the events of the last 10 minutes. A picture of Clark laying injured and bleeding out on the diner floor remained etched in the forefront of his mind, along with an accompanying repetition of the ominous words the well-dressed gunman had whispered into his ears.

‘A hospital wouldn’t know what to do with him.’

He had no idea how, but there was no denying that this man knew - or at least suspected - that his son-in-law was not just a simple, mild-mannered small-town farmer. Between the kryptonite bomb and the man’s suggestive comments, it seemed likely he had somehow stumbled across their family’s well-kept secret. That Clark Kent… was Superman.

And now, he had his blood….

As Sam reached for the door to his jeep a surge of anxiety clutched at his chest and his mind flashed back to the dark red pool of the stuff collecting beside his son-in-law’s lifeless body. What the man knew didn’t matter right now. Sure, if his secret got out, all of their lives as they knew it would be over… but Clark’s literal life hung in the balance in there. That was the priority – getting his son-in-law out of there and away from the kryptonite in that bomb any way he could.

The rest they could figure out later, once Clark was on the mend. Sam just hoped he wasn’t already too late.

He tried to focus on their options for a strategy here, but so much of what was going on still didn’t make sense. What was their end game here anyway? If the plan had simply been to kill Clark, why would they continue with their demands? In fact, why stage this whole diner siege at all? Why not just attack him at the farm?

No, there was definitely something more going on here.

From the way Kurt regarded his partners, Sam felt fairly confident that they weren’t working together by choice… which meant they were working for someone else. Someone with a much bigger agenda.

Sam slid into the driver’s seat, reaching for his radio tentatively and gritting his teeth. The special ops team Hardcastle granted him would be there within minutes, and he knew he needed to greet them with a plan… but this wasn’t like any other hostage situation he’d handled. He’d walked into that diner hoping for answers, but all he had now were bigger questions and a growing lump of dread in his stomach.

The world’s greatest hero, the father of his grandkids, was bleeding out on that diner floor - and it seemed like the only way he could really help him was to somehow meet the terrorist’s demands.

Demands he knew the DOD wouldn’t agree to easily.

He glanced up at the clouds over the diner before tapping his earpiece, connecting him to the man who had hopefully been able to gain a bit more perspective from his satellite like position.

‘John, you still there?’

‘I’m here Sam,’ the other man replied grimly.

He sounded just as strained as Sam felt.

‘Meet me at my jeep. Without the war suit,’ he told him simply.

‘On my way… but Sam, I think we have another problem,’ John revealed. ‘Someone’s been watching you.’

Sam heard his phone’s message alert, and he lifted the screen up, watching the short video John had sent him. It showed his daughter’s partner, Chrissy Beppo, taking pictures of the diner from a not-so-stealthy hiding place across the street.

‘This can’t be good Sam,’ he added.

‘Maybe… or maybe we can actually take advantage of this…’ Sam countered, the beginnings of an idea forming in his mind.  

He’d had disagreements with Miss Beppo before, and ordinarily, her presence would feel like just another spanner in the works… but this time, Sam wondered if that persistent demand for the public to know the truth could be just the leverage they needed.

‘Sam, what do you want me to do,’ John asked.

‘Bring her in,’ Sam confirmed.

This wasn’t the kind of situation to play by the books after all. That was his family in there, and if he had to play dirty to get them out, then there was no doubt in his mind that he would.

Chrissy simply stood transfixed as she watched General Lane getting kicked out of the diner, continuing to take as many pictures as she could. She’d heard muffled screams from inside before the military man was practically thrown out by some guy she’d never seen before.

Something was definitely going on in there. Something bad.

She watched anxiously as he headed back towards his jeep, keeping herself out of sight as much as she could. Once he was inside the vehicle and she could be fairly sure there was nothing more for her to see for now, Chrissy began scrolling through the photos on her phone, zooming in on the face of the man who’d kicked the General out of the diner, and seeing if there was anything else she could make out through the cracks in the blinds.

She was so engrossed in checking her images, she almost didn’t notice a strange whooshing sound followed by a louder metallic crunch. With a slight delay, she pulled herself back to reality, looking around for the source of the unexpected sounds.

To her surprise, she found she was suddenly no longer alone in the alley. A familiar face approached her – a man she recognized as Clark’s friend from Metropolis that had been staying with the Kents at the farm. What was his name? John… something?

‘Miss Beppo,’ he said politely, but with a sense of urgency that she assumed meant he was involved in all of this somehow.

When his eyes fell purposefully on the phone in her hand, she knew she was in trouble.

‘Uh… hi,’ she said nervously, taking a step back and looking around the alley for the best route of possible escape. ‘John, right? You, uh, just out for a walk? Nice evening for it, not too cold, is it? Anyway, I’m just going to go back inside, have lots of work to do and I shouldn’t be smoking anyway, it’s a bad habit, I…’

‘Miss Beppo, I’m here with Sam,’ the man interrupted her babbling softly. ‘We know you’ve been watching the diner.’

Chrissy felt another surge of anxiety despite his reassuring expression. ‘Okay, well, whatever is going on in that diner, you can’t just silence me about it. People have a right to know if they are in danger.’

‘Actually, we were going to ask for your help,’ John said with a slightly wry smile.

Chrissy sighed as she relaxed her position, but she raised her eyebrows sceptically. ‘My help? With what exactly?’

‘Not here...’ John said, looking nervously back out at the street. ‘Can we talk in the Gazette?’

Surrendering to an invitation that didn’t quite feel optional, Chrissy nodded her head towards her office’s side door and let the surprisingly commanding man lead the way towards it.

‘Yup, this is definitely not a regular Taco Tuesday, is it?’ she mumbled to herself.

Kurt carefully unfolded the bloody handkerchief, setting it down on the table in front of him as though it was the most precious thing he’d ever possessed. Perhaps it even was. There weren’t many who could say they’d seen Superman’s blood with their own eyes, let alone studied it.

It looked ordinary enough. Kurt wasn’t sure what he’d expected – some small difference in colour maybe? A slightly different texture? He just hadn’t thought it would look so… human.

The concerned voices of the diner’s clueless occupants caught his attention briefly, and he glanced in their direction. They had surrounded the alien and his family, looking down at them with seemingly genuine concern.

Kurt wondered how eager they’d be to rush to his side once they found out the truth. That the man they’d grown up with, that they thought was just another simple small-town hick like them – was actually an alien being with God like powers. That he’d been hiding in their midst his whole life, lying to them, pretending to be just like them.

He looked down at the blood once again, marvelling at just how similar the kryptonian race was to the human-race in so many ways. It was baffling really. How a race that evolved on a planet thousands of lightyears away would produce beings so strikingly similar to those that evolved here on earth. And yet, despite outside appearances, he knew that beneath the surface, there had to be fundamental differences.

How else could it be that a man could fly?

Although he was fascinated to see how the alien’s blood appeared under a microscope, his curiosity would have to wait for now. His current task was much more straightforward. He reached down to his belt and retrieved the other device his boss had provided him for this mission. His boss had programmed it to simply compare the blood to the recorded analysis he’d managed to obtain from Star Labs old confidential files.

He placed the handkerchief inside the device and started up its simple programme, watching with eager anticipation as its screen loaded and a rectangular progress bar appeared. In just a few seconds, he would be able to confirm with 100% certainty that his Boss’ intel was correct.

Though personally, he didn’t need a device to confirm the truth he could see so clearly with his own eyes.

Kurt smiled at the memory of the alien’s face as he stuck his blade into his vulnerable flesh. Even with the presence of the kryptonite bomb, he’d clearly been surprised when the blade pierced his usually impenetrable skin. Like he wasn’t expecting to be suddenly faced with his own mortality. He had to admit, bringing the man of steel to his knees had been quite the rush.

Now more than ever, he was looking forward to stage three.

Natalie couldn’t take this much longer. Hiding back here, just having to listen to the sounds of distress coming from the diner – it was driving her crazy. Her friends… no, her family… were out there, and from the screams she’d heard, that gunmen was clearly hurting them.

Her dad was adamant that she stay put, reassuring her in his messages that he and General Lane were working everything out from out there. But she’d lived through enough tragedy to know how empty those kinds of promises could be.

Sometimes people couldn’t just work everything out. Sometimes, they failed.

‘Natalie, I’m detecting a new piece of technology in the diner,’ Hedy alerted her to a new development.

Natalie pulled away from her darkening thoughts and reminded herself to focus on the things she could do. Things that might actually help.

‘What is it doing Hedy?’

‘It seems to be analysing a blood sample,’ Hedy stated objectively.

Natalie’s eyes grew wide, her mind immediately putting the pieces together even though she desperately hoped it wasn’t true. Was it Clark’s blood? Or could it be Jon’s? Jordan’s?

Whoever’s blood it was, they needed to stop that device from working. Fast.

‘Hedy, can you shut it down?’ she said quickly, knowing there were likely only seconds until it would be too late.

‘One moment,’ the AI said cheerfully.

She made a mental note to change the AIs tone of voice… it was so irritating in situations like this. Natalie bit her lip as she stared impatiently at the device that had been with her throughout her multi-dimensional travels.

‘I’ve been able to connect to the device,’ it declared, and Natalie let out a huge breath.

‘Shut it down! Now!’ she ordered in a panicked whisper, praying it wasn’t too late.

Lois stroked her hand over her husband’s sweat-soaked brow, trying to soothe him as he continued to flinch in pain, despite having fallen into unconsciousness once again. His colour had definitely improved since they’d gotten him under her coat, but the blood loss combined with the continued exposure, even at lower levels, was making it impossible for his usual super-healing to kick in as effectively as usual.

She looked up at her boy’s anxious faces, desperately searching for the right thing to say to soothe them too… but the fear clutching at her own chest was making it difficult to maintain her usual stance of defiant hope.

Ever since Sharon and those gunmen had stepped into that diner, she’d been searching for a way out of this mess, trying to figure out what actions they needed to take to bring these wackos down – but it seemed like the more they did, the worse things got. Sure, it was usually her husband who was the invulnerable one – but she wasn’t exactly used to feeling this powerless.

‘It’s going to be okay,’ she said, her voice low enough that only they could hear. ‘You know your father has been through worse than this, and he always makes it through.’

The boys nodded weakly, but from the way they kept glancing towards the booth where the well-dressed gunman, Kurt, had hidden himself, she could tell there was something they weren’t telling her about him.

She’d noticed some strange behaviour from him herself. The man had way too keen an eye on Clark from the beginning, looking at him like he was aware of something the others werent. Then when she’d watched the strangely careful way that he’d wiped her husband’s blood from that blade…

Lois struggled to contain her feelings of disgust at the man’s vicious attack on her husband, and the satisfied way he’d looked at his body on the ground. Like he was something disgusting he’d just squashed under his boot.

‘Boys, what is it?’ she asked softly.

‘Mom, there’s some stuff you don’t know,’ Jon said nervously, looking around to make sure no one was within listening distance. ‘We think the guy who stabbed dad knows about his… other job.’

Lois felt the familiar wave of dread she always did when their family’s secret was on the line. Her expression drew serious, and she leaned in closer as she said, ‘Tell me everything you know.’

The boys looked at each other again. She could see Jordan silently clenching his jaw against his own waves of pain, trying his best to hide it from them and struggled to push aside her growing worry for both of their safety as well.

‘When Sharon took you to the bathroom, dad told us he’d heard some sort of alarm. It detected use of kryptonian powers. The alarm went off after dad used his heat vision to take out the guns,’ Jon explained. ‘Dad said the guy looked right at him as soon as the alarm went off.’

‘Okay, but there’s still a chance he doesn’t know for sure it was your dad, right?

‘I… I dunno,’ Jordan said with a strained look on his face. ‘He whispered something to grandad before he left. He said… a hospital wouldn’t know what to do with him... Besides, you should see the way he keeps staring at us…’

Lois felt a wave of protective anger wash over her as she noticed her son’s obvious anxiety.

‘Hey,’ she grabbed their attention back to her, holding their gaze firmly. ‘Whatever he knows, there is no way in hell I am letting him touch either of you.’

Despite the passion of her assurance, they didn’t look too convinced. Looking back down at her husbands pained faced, she couldn’t exactly blame them. Right now, these gunman with their kryptonite bomb had the upper hand – and even the one card they’d thought they still had up their sleeve, was apparently out on display.

The hostage situation, the continued demands… was it all just a cover? With everything the boys had just told her, it sounded like this entire situation was actually much more about hurting her family than it seemed.

Any hope they had of flying under the radar was becoming less and less likely by the minute.

Chapter Text

John felt for Chrissy as he watched her struggling to focus on the General's matter of fact update - not the easiest feat while the DOD’s special unit were practically ransacking her office.

This wasn't exactly the easiest story to digest at the best of times, let alone with the unwelcome distraction.

‘Hey, be careful with those files! I have a system!’ Chrissy called out to a couple of soldiers who were haphazardly dumping piles of papers from her desk onto the floor.

The special unit consisted of ten men and women dressed in plain dark civilian clothes. They were under strict orders to do exactly as Sam instructed, and it seemed the General had pre-emptively directed them to use the Smallville Gazette as a base of operations.

Now they were hastily setting up computer screens and surveillance equipment on the few small tables in the cramped space. John recognised some of the tech from his time working with the DOD on his world, but there were a few things he wasn’t familiar with, and his eyes scanned over the whole set up with curiosity. Two men were also unloading an array of automatic weapons, lining them up on the front counter right beside the mornings stack of this week’s newspaper.

Although she’d reluctantly agreed (not that she’d had much choice), John could see Chrissy’s obvious discomfort at the invasion of her workspace as she simultaneously tried to wrap her head around the dangerous situation her friends inside the diner were facing.

John checked his phone again for the millionth time that evening. Logically, he knew his suits AI would alert him the minute a message came through from Natalie…. but that didn’t stop him pulling the device out of his pocket every few minutes just to be sure.

Besides, they were on a clock. They only had 50 minutes until the gunmen made good on their next threat.

His daughter was safe, for now… but he knew her well enough to know that just sitting there, doing nothing while the people in that diner got hurt or worse, was going to be impossible for her. Especially after everything they’d seen and been powerless to stop on their earth.

John could feel the time ticking by, fast, and every second felt like he was teetering even more precariously on the edge of possibly losing her.

God, he hoped this worked.

Sam’s plan was full of more holes than John’s beaten-up Smallville apartment had been when they’d first moved into this supposedly quiet town, but he had to concede it was the best plan they had.

Actually, it was the only plan they had.

‘Wait, so Sharon Powell is in there with a bomb?’ Chrissy repeated back to the General, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘Oh my god, Lois told me she was upset but I didn’t think she’d do something like this! But wait… why would she care about X-K? I mean, Tal-Rho I get… he murdered her son, but there’s no way she’d be wanting to help criminals get their hands on the stuff he killed him with!’

From the exasperated expression on Sam’s face, John could tell he was getting impatient with her particular brand of rambling questioning. The man was so similar to his father-in-law in many ways, but when it came to his people skills, this world’s Sam had definitely drawn the short straw.

‘We think she’s been manipulated,’ the General clarified with a sigh, glancing up at the clock on the wall impatiently. ‘From inside, I was able to conclude that their initial demands may be a front for something bigger. Only one of them seems to have a direct line to their boss, and let’s just say… he knows more than he should.’

He gave John a knowing glance as he side stepped revealing too much of his families true predicament.

‘Let’s just say? What aren’t you telling me, General?’ Chrissy challenged with a raised eyebrow, crossing her arms slowly.

John was surprised at the young woman’s boldness. She usually came across like such a bundle of nerves, and yet, despite talking to an arguably intimidating four star general and being surrounded by a team of his soldiers, she was still pushing for the truth.

Working with Lois Lane must really be rubbing off on her.

‘That’s classified,’ the General replied firmly, mirroring her stance, and crossing his own arms pointedly.

Chrissy leaned back on the nearest table and checked her watch suggestively, like she was prepared to settle in for as long as it took him to give up the goose – but John could see the concern hiding behind the false bravado.

‘Look, I know we’re asking you to accept a lot on good faith here. The truth is…’ he began, ignoring Sam’s warning glare, ‘…we don’t know exactly what’s going on either. We’re just working with what we do know, trying to make sure everyone in that diner gets out of there alive.’

Chrissy’s expression softened and she let her arms fall to her sides.

‘Right now, Clark is badly injured and we don’t know how much longer he has,’ John continued. ‘We need to be able to give the terrorists something that shows we are complying with their demands, if we are going to be able to get him medical attention.’

Chrissy stood up from the table at the mention of Clark’s injury, clearly shocked to hear about the danger to her partner’s husband.  

‘Clark’s hurt? How bad is it? Is everyone else, okay? Lois? The boys?’ she asked anxiously, looking back and forth between John and the General.

‘The coach has a pretty nasty broken nose, but there are no other major casualties,’ Sam confirmed.

‘We need your help Chrissy,’ John added.

‘Me? But… what can I do against a bunch of terrorists with a bomb?’ Chrissy asked skeptically. ‘Can’t you just call Superman?’

John gave Sam another brief sideways glance. They knew this question was going to keep coming up, and as much as Sam would prefer to keep the presence of kryptonite out of the media, John knew he also wanted to avoid too much speculation about why Superman hadn’t been able to assist, especially once it was confirmed he wasn’t just busy saving lives somewhere else in the world.

If they got out of this mess with no one in Smallville finding out the Kent’s family secret, it would be a miracle.

‘We think he’s potentially a target too,’ John told her honestly. ‘The bomb is infused with Kryptonite.’

‘Okay… okay, that’s really not good,’ Chrissy replied with wide eyes, started to pace gently back and forth.

Then something seemed to click for her, and she looked up at the General questioningly.

‘The DOD won’t give in to their demands, will they?’

‘They have policies against giving in to terrorist threats,’ the General confirmed.

‘I’m sure they do,’ she replied with a huff. ‘Especially when it’s only a handful of small-town folks whose lives are on the line, right General?’ 

‘Look, this isn’t exactly a standard military operation for me either,’ Sam replied defensively. ‘My whole family is in there.’

‘My daughter’s in there too,’ John added as Chrissy looked down, clearly regretting her judgemental tone. ‘We all have people inside we don’t want to lose.’

The young reporter smoothed down her skirt and tucked her hair behind her ear self-consciously.

‘Okay, sure, I’ll help… What do you want me to do exactly?’

‘What you are always so damn eager to do Miss Beppo,’ the General said, his tone still slightly bitter. ‘We want you to tell the whole world the truth.’

Lana stroked Sophie’s hair as she held her close, her other hand tightly gripping Sarah’s from across the table. She was trying to remain as calm as possible for her daughters, but she couldn’t prevent her eyes from their constant hyper vigilant scans of the room. They darted back and forth between the gunmen, the bomb, her still unconscious and badly injured friend on the diner floor… and the rest of the people in the diner, occasionally catching her eye with a desperate look, as though pleading for some kind of strategy or solution that they knew she couldn’t provide.

Sure, she was the town mayor… but that wasn’t exactly a superpower here.

Not that powers seemed to be of much help right now either. Whether they knew it or not, these terrorists had somehow managed to take out Superman… and she could see from the way Jordan’s jaw was clenching against some unseen cause of pain, that whatever had weakened Clark was also affecting him too.

She knew, no one was coming to their rescue. Their lives depened on General Lane meeting the gunmen’s ridiculous demands.

The minutes passed by in anxious silence, with only occasional muttered whispers from around the room. No one wanted to attract attention to themselves, especially after Clark had been attacked as a result of one huge, failed attempt to push back against these lunatics.

Lana felt a wave of guilt as she replayed the scene in her mind. The wild haired gunman pointing the gun towards her suddenly. How she’d looked straight at Clark instinctively, giving him the same sort of pleading expression that she saw on the faces around her now.

Then all hell had broken loose. In a few seconds that felt like a blur, the gun had failed to go off, Lois faced off with Lana’s would be attacker, and just as it looked like her friend was about to take her place as the man’s would be victim - somehow his gun suddenly heated up, glowing red and causing him to cry out in pain.

It had to have been Clark.

She couldn’t quite put the pieces together at first, but now she’d had time to process it all, she was beginning to understand the series of events and what they must have meant.

Clark had taken out the guns trigger mechanism at some point, removing them as a threat. Then in the danger of the moment, he’d used his heat vision on the useless weapon to injure his wife’s attacker.

He was keeping them all safe as much as he could, despite his wobbly movements and pale complexion giving away his obviously weakened state.

Now he was hurt… badly. It had to be kryptonite.

That green glow in the bomb pulsed ominously, just like the shards of kryptonite had as she’d removed them from Superman’s chest just a few weeks ago. She could still hear the rasping panicked sounds he’d made as she pulled each piece out from under his skin, not knowing at the time that it was her childhood friend whose life she was trying to save.

As soon as the last piece was removed, he’d completely healed almost instantly. Is that what would happen here in the diner? If the kryptonite bomb was removed, would Clark suddenly heal?

Maybe he was even healing already!

From the way Lois had draped her coat over him and the increased tension on Jordan’s face when he took it off, Lana was pretty sure the piece of clothing had a purpose outside of fashion – and Clark did look less pale than he had before.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she saw Lois lifting the blood-soaked bandages and then giving the boys a look that was a mixture of relief, followed by newfound anxiety. They both looked down at whatever she was showing them and then back up at her excitedly, but she quickly put a finger to her mouth to indicate they halt their enthusiastic reaction.

Lana could see it hadn’t been quite fast enough – the series of events had caught the attention of Dr Frye, and she was standing up from her chair.

‘How’s my patient doing?’ the woman asked quietly as she moved to join them on the floor, her eyes occasionally drifting between Johnny and Sharon who were still standing by the windows, glaring at the group at any sign of movement.

Just making sure they all knew their every move was being watched.

‘Oh, he’s about the same,’ Lois lied badly. ‘He seems stable but no major changes.’

‘Why don’t you let me take a look,’ the doctor said, reaching out towards the bandages before waiting for an answer.

‘Uh, no, honestly, it’s fine,’ Lois said more firmly, stiffening her hold over Clark’s bandages. ‘Thanks for all your help Dr Frye, but I’ve got it from here.’

‘Lois, I’m not going to hurt him,’ the doctor protested softly. ‘I just want to get a look at the wound, see that it’s not infected.’

‘I said no,’ Lois said, her chin sticking out in stubborn defiance.

Lana could see that their disagreement was starting to generate curious attention from some of the diner’s occupants, so she gave Sophie a gentle pat on the shoulder as she slid out from her seat, nodding towards Sarah and tipping her head towards her sister. As Sarah moved wordlessly to take her place comforting Sophie in the booth, Lana made her way over to help her friend out of this uncomfortable stand-off.

‘Uh, Dr Frye,’ she called out, moving closer to her friend’s family and lowering her voice as she reached her side. ‘You know Clark’s always had a bit of a thing about doctors,’ she offered, trying to make it sound as innocent as possible. ‘If he wakes up again it might be better if you’re not the first thing he sees, rather than causing him more stress.’

Dr Frye looked up at her and then back at Clark, all her medical instincts telling her not to back down – but his fear had been evident earlier when he’d briefly regained consciousness, and this wasn’t the first time Clark and his family had been weird about him getting any medical exams. In fact, Dry Frye herself had many offers to look over his health declined by the Kents over the years.

Lana knew, it was a plausible explanation.

That Clark Kent had a fear of doctors was something practically the whole town knew (and something Kyle and his friends had teased him about incessantly when they were kids), she just hadn’t know the real reasons why… until last week, when all the puzzle pieces had finally fallen into place.

‘Is there any way Lois can be the one to take a look if you tell her what to look for and what to do?’

The doctor looked over at Lois, who nodded gratefully.

‘Please, I’m sure it’ll make a big difference to his recovery if he feels safe,’ Lois added.

Lana could see the doctor conceding, and finally she lifted her hands up in defeat.

‘Fine,’ she said, and began giving Lois thorough instructions before returning to her own seat.

Lois offered Lana a grateful look as she continued stroking Clark’s brow absent mindedly, finally loosening her grip slightly on the bandages covering Clark’s abdomen. She looked more tense than she’d ever seen her before.

Lana knelt down next to them, giving the boys a soft smile and gesturing towards Sarah and Sophie in the booth behind them.

‘You wanna keep the girls company for a bit?’

‘We can’t…’ Jon started to protest, clearly not wanting to leave his dad’s side.

‘Go on sweetie,’ Lois encouraged softly, her expression letting him know she needed some time with Lana.

Jordan tugged gently at his arm, and reluctantly Jon let his brother pull him away. Lana watched them slide into the other side of the booth where her daughters were still cuddled into each other before turning back to her friend.

‘Thank you,’ Lois said. ‘I know you didn’t want to have to lie for us.’

Lana clenched her jaw at the wave of guilt that passed through her at that statement.

She’d really messed things up between them.

In those first few days after Clark had told her the truth about who he was, she’d taken all her anger out on Lois…. Badly. To be honest, she wasn’t even fully sure why. It had just been so reactive. Maybe it was just easier to blame her friend than to accept that yet another man in her life had been deceiving her for years.

With everything that had happened already that year with Kyle, she wasn’t exactly in the best place emotionally. She was feeling so utterly disrespected and undermined… like everyone around her just thought she was a fool, someone they could just walk all over and use however they saw fit.

Knowing she needed time to process all of that, she’d told Lois and Clark she’d needed space… but she hid behind the guise of protecting her family from having to lie. As though lying wasn’t something she did all the time.

After all, she was the most full of crap lady in Smallville, wasn’t she?

She could see the pain on her friend’s face as he felt her rejecting him, the real him, in a way he clearly always feared she would – but she knew if she tried to be around him at the time, she was going to say something that would make him feel a lot worse than a bit of distance might.

Now though, looking at Clark’s chest slowly rising and falling, seeing the worry on Lois’ face – she couldn’t help questioning her reasons for being mad in the first place.

She’d taken it so personally, lumped it all in with the way Kyle had deceived her without really looking at how it was different… and it so clearly was different. This secret wasn’t born of some selfish, hedonistic, immoral impulse. It was about keeping people safe, protecting lives.  That’s why he’d kept it from her for so long… and that was why he’d shared it with her now.

He’d risked a lot in telling her who he really was, and she’d thrown it right back in his face. Not to mention acting like Lois owed her the truth, when there was no way that she could have offered up that information just because they had become friends.

Lana gave Lois a sincere apologetic look as she said, ‘I shouldn’t have said that. Or half the other things I said to you last week.’

Lois looked surprised, raising her eyebrow slightly.

‘It was never really about lying,’ Lana continued with a sigh, relieved to be finally admitting the truth. ‘I was just hurt… but I was being selfish. I wasn’t thinking about how dangerous this secret is, how hard it must have been for you to carry. All of you.’

Lois simply nodded, looking down at Clark and stroking his cheek as he twitched slightly. ‘Our lives are pretty… complicated.’

‘Is he…?’ Lana asked, not quite knowing how to finish the question.

Lois understood anyway. She looked around to make sure no one was specifically paying them attention at that second, before lifting the bandage slightly. Lana fought to hide her amazement as she looked at the place where a gaping stab wound had been only minutes before – it was almost completely healed.

Clark’s unique physiology was kicking in, fast. Lana had no idea how exactly, but whatever effect the kryptonite had been having on him to make him so vulnerable, had clearly been counteracted somehow.

‘We need to get him out of here,’ Lois whispered anxiously, glancing back at the booth where the well-dressed gunman had retreated after his last outburst. ‘I don’t know if their demands are real or not, but there’s a lot more to this than they said.’

Lana frowned at her friend’s suggestion. How much worse could the situation get?

‘We think he knows…’

‘Knows…’ Lana repeatedly slowly, keeping eye contact with Lois long enough to be sure she wasn’t misunderstanding the meaning of the vague but intentional words.

But she could see from the seriousness of her friend’s expression that her inference had to be correct. Her eyes screamed ‘worse case scenario’.

Lana followed her friends worried expression as she looked over towards her sons, who were awkwardly trying to make conversation with her daughters in an attempt to break the tension.

As she turned back towards Lois, she suddenly understood with total clarity just how terrifying the threat of this secret being revealed was for her.

This wasn’t just about her and Clark being out of the limelight, getting to have a private life.

No, it was so much more dangerous than that.

This was the kind of secret that put a target on her children’s back.

‘… local Granville woman Sharon Powell, whose son was a victim of last year’s attack on Smallville by Tal-Rho, the man previously known as Morgan Edge. Mrs Powell is working with two unknown associates, but it is unknown whether there are further parties involved. So far there have been reports of two casualties – one in critical condition.

The Gazette has been able to confirm that at the top of the list on the terrorists’ demands is the release of kryptonian prisoner Tal-Rho from the DOD’s custody. So far, these demands have been refused. The DOD have been contacted for comment, but were unwilling to provide a statement at this time.

It’s unknown what is being done to resolve this situation, or whether any other government organisations have yet been notified… but one thing is clear. Refusing to meet these demands could well mean the death of over twenty innocent human civilians – in order to protect one kryptonian criminal.’

The Boss watched the small-town reporter’s news bulletin being played on the Daily Planet’s television news outlet as an emergency report, his mouth slowly curving up into a cruel smile as the anchor finished with a statement confirming news teams would be reporting from Smallville shortly.

His plan was going perfectly.

He shook his head in amusement. He almost couldn’t believe how shockingly predictable people of lesser intelligence always seemed to be.

Even those in supposed positions of power and authority like General Sam Lane were still so easy to manipulate. They were like puppets, all he had to do was pull the right strings.

Of course, they were usually compromised by their emotions. Never thinking clearly, always allowing sentimental attachments to sway their decision making. A burden he himself had been free from for a long time.

The Boss opened his laptop, conducting a quick internet search and smiling more widely as he scrolled through numerous articles about the report that had already started circulating through different news sites.

It wouldn’t be long before the entire of Smallville’s high street was a media circus, hungry journalists watching the diner’s every move, just waiting for their own unique spin on this story.

Sure, his plan had it’s risks.

He could have taken a different approach, and argueably it would have been much more efficient. On learning Superman’s possible identity, he could have just sent someone over to the Kent farm in the dead of the night, killing the alien creature and his toxic family in the very beds they slept in, before bringing their bodies in for final testing.

It would have been all too easy to just take his revenge in secret, ridding the world of the deceptive invader that had been poisoning them with his presence since the day he’d arrived in his ridiculous red and blue suit… but he didn’t want it to be easy.

The man felt a surge of the only emotion he did occasionally encounter – rage.

After everything he’d been through, all the indignities he had suffered, there was no way he was going to let him off with a quick death.

Despite his obviously superior intelligence, Superman (with the help of his unbearable partner Lois Lane) had managed to beat him. He’d been respected once… powerful… but their small, minded obsession with morality had driven them to destroy his reputation, reducing him to a mere criminal in the eyes of the world. He’d had their trust, their admiration – now he had nothing but their fear and disgust.

The Boss had to go into hiding years ago, evading capture only by using technology he’d created himself - technology designed to keep even the man of steel from tracking his location.

Sure, he’d just managed to escape a life behind bars, to operate a few covert projects from his secret underground lair – but he was having to live a life from the shadows, no longer able to be a part of the world. No longer able to hide behind his well-crafted mask of charm and altruism.

They’d destroyed his life. They’d taken away his freedom.

No… there was only one way to make this right. To make sure Superman suffered the same pain he had gone through when all of his secrets were exposed for the world to see… to show the public who the man of steel REALLY was.

He was a liar! A deceiver!

The man of steel had never deserved their admiration in the first place. He was nothing more than a disgusting alien being, tainting human bloodlines with his half-alien hybrid children, not a care given to how dangerous their presence on this earth might be.

He wanted the so-called hero to know how easily the public’s trust could be lost. How quickly they would turn against him. That even the pathetically good-natured people of his beloved hometown would see nothing but an alien once they knew the truth of who he really was.

And once Clark Kent’s dishonesty was out in the open for all to see and his life was destroyed - then he’d take away his freedom. Then he’d really make him the man of steel suffer.

Him… and his alien spawn.

The man felt the internal darkness he’d carried with him all his life stirring inside him like an awakening beast, hungry at the thought of what he might do to his enemy once he was in his custody.

When his public image was still intact, there were certain lines he wouldn’t cross, aware that he needed to have control over the beast within if he was going to continue hiding in plain sight and evading the law (something that gave him endless pleasure) - but he was way beyond hiding his true nature now.

Pretty soon the man of steel was going to realise he’d only ever known half of the depths of darkness lurking in his enemy’s heart.

The Boss typed a short message out on his phone:  The area will be a media circus within minutes. Get ready.

As he leaned back in his chair, he could practically taste the victory he was so close to finally achieving.

Chapter Text

‘This can’t be happening…’ Kurt whispered, staring in confusion as the device in his hand powered down, the lights flickering slightly before fading to nothing.

He pressed every combination of buttons he could before shaking the small piece of equipment in frustration, but there was no sign of life in response. The usually level-headed man took a deep breath and set the device down as he tried to shift away from his agitation and return to a more objective view of the evening’s events.

His eyes tightened as he looked out across the room at the diner’s occupants.

He’d had a flicker of suspicion earlier. When his idiot teammate’s hands had been burned by the ‘mysteriously’ over heated gun, it had been clear to him that at least one of the aliens must have used their heat vision to stop him from shooting the simpering Mayor.

And yet, his other device – the one designed to alert him to kryptonian powers being used – wasn’t activated.

There hadn’t been much room to speculate at the time, and he could have maybe put that one failure down to an unfortunate coincidence – but now two of his devices were mysteriously not working?

No, this wasn’t just bad luck. Someone was interfering with this tech.

Someone was interfering with his mission.

He eyed the room carefully but found it hard to believe anyone in front of him was his presumably intelligent spanner in the works. The sea of weak and trembling faces could barely muster up the energy to whisper soft reassurances to each other, let alone come up with a covert operation to dismantle his plans.

There must be someone else here. Someone they hadn’t yet discovered.

Kurt berated himself silently that he hadn’t immediately searched the diner when they arrived. He’d simply underestimated the people of this backwater town, assuming no one here would have the power to cause them any trouble… and looking back, that was an unacceptable oversight.

After all, if an alien with superpowers had been able to hide in their midst, who knew who else was using the innocent small-town location as a cover.

‘Johnny,’ he barked over to the other man who was standing by the window, still cradling his injured hand.

He looked up at him with a flash of anger, clearly unhappy with the power shift in their dynamics since they’d entered the diner – but he reluctantly moved over to the man’s table, giving his bomb clad lover a reassuring look as she eyed them both with concern.

‘So, you gonna tell me what’s really goin on here?’

Kurt ignored the man’s question entirely. It really wasn’t worth his time to pander to his bruised ego at being left in the dark.

‘I need you to do a search of the back rooms,’ he said, nodding towards the door behind the counter.

Kurt reached into his lead lined bag and pulled out a small handgun, handing it to him discreetly. Johnny seemed to relax a bit at the feel of a weapon in his possession and a task that he could enjoy more than simply standing watch at the diner’s window.

‘I have a feeling someone may have escaped our attention.’

His wild haired comrade flashed that arrogant adrenaline junkie grin at him, and he tried hard not to regard him with disgust.

‘Oh, well we can’t be having that now can we?’

Kurt watched as the other man tucked the gun under his jean jacket and left the table as covertly as he could, wandering in the direction of the kitchen and rubbing his hands as though pretending he was just hungry for more Tacos.

Trusting the man his boss had hired was at least experienced enough to handle whoever was hiding back there, Kurt turned towards the device again, removing the small piece of blood-covered handkerchief and placing it and the rest of the material in a sealed plastic bag.

He thought about hiding it somewhere inside the lead bag his boss had provided for this mission – but now that he knew he may have made a huge mistake already, he was reluctant not to keep it on his person.

His boss wasn’t exactly someone who took failure lightly.

Kurt tucked the valuable item into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and reached down to his phone, quickly reading the new message from his boss that confirmed what he never doubted would be the case. His plan was moving forwards.

Of course it was. His boss didn’t fail, and neither could he.

He swallowed as he wrote out his reply, hoping his oversight wouldn’t destroy the trust he’d worked so hard to build with his mentor.

‘The blood analysis has failed. I believe we may have a stowaway interfering with our technology. Will confirm soon.’ 

The man watched anxiously as the three dots appeared on his phone indicating his boss was typing. His jaw clenched tightly as he waited for the man’s response.

‘Just keep the blood sample safe and move on to the next stage. Make sure your camera is working and hidden – once the kryptonite is removed, we’ll have all the proof we need to go public.’

‘Do you think I’m an idiot, General?’

Sam shut the door behind him as he stepped out into the alley behind the Gazette, thankful he hadn’t just taken the call inside at the volume and fury of his superior’s voice.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ The General lied, unable to hide a hint of guilt.

He didn’t exactly like going against her orders like this.

‘You think I don’t know you’re this Beppo woman’s source,’ Hardcastle continued bluntly. ‘You can’t just bulldoze the DOD into going against every policy we have around terrorist attacks because this time it’s personal.’

Sam sighed. He’d known from the moment he thought up this ridiculous plan that it was probably going to mean the end of his career… and his good reputation. But maybe that was for the best.

There was a time when he would have followed his orders blindly, even with his own personal stakes, but things had changed for him over the last few years.

He’d finally managed to repair some of the damage he’d done to his relationship with his daughter when he’d failed to be the father she'd needed growing up. He’d been able to be there for her and his grandsons – and it had felt good… finally prioritising his family over his loyalty to his job and everything he thought that meant.

Things might not be perfect. After all, Lucy was still in the wind and he was still constantly managing to say the wrong thing at times. But he was present for all of them, in a way he'd never been before. 

Not to mention, it seemed like the closer he got to Lois, the harder it was to be so unquestioningly loyal to the cause.

Guess his daughter really was rubbing off on him.

Still, he didn’t have to confess his sins just yet.

‘What you choose to do in response to the media catching wind of this situation is really up to you.’

There was a pregnant pause as General Hardcastle let him hang on the other line, clearly infuriated by his denial. As much as he wished he wasn’t having to play her like this, Sam found the silence oddly reassuring. He knew, if the answer was no again, she’d have just told him there and then.

If she was making him wait… it was because she was about to cave.

‘I want to be clear, this is the end of your career Sam,’ she continued, ‘You don’t get to do this and just get away with it.’

‘I’m just focusing on the situation at hand General,’ Sam countered.

He sighed, letting the reality of her words sink in. This was really it. What he was doing meant giving up everything he’d spent his whole life dedicated to, but he had no regrets. Not if it meant his family survived.

Finally, she cleared her throat and continued with a tone of reluctance.

‘It has been agreed that the prisoner will be released into your custody in order to reassure the public of the DOD’s priorities,’ she conceded. ‘It is to be clear that the residents of Smallville are extremely important to us, and that no criminal is worth innocent lives.’

‘Thank you General,’ he said, trying to hide his satisfaction.

‘You will remain in charge of the operation, for now,’ she added. ‘But this operation will be subject to an extremely thorough investigation once the terrorists are in custody.’

Sam ignored the continued threats and focused on the next steps of his plan.

‘I’ll be sending Mr Johnson to collect the prisoner,’ he informed her, specifically ensuring it was a firm statement and not a question. ‘He should be at the facility in just a few minutes.’

‘Excuse me?’ she blared out, her rage re-ignited once again. ‘You are in no position to dictate the terms of his transfer General.’

‘Look, we need these terrorists to see we are complying with their demands, but there’s no way in hell I’m risking that psychopath escaping our custody,’ he explained. ‘Steel helped bring him in. He’s the best person we have on our side to ensure he co-operates fully.’

There was another long pause, and this time Sam felt the anxiety of the moment. Despite the leverage he had managed to gain, this was something she could still say no to. He held onto the hope that their time together at the DOD had bought him some leeway. Despite the tension between them at times, Sam had always felt General Hardcastle had a soft spot for him. That she respected him.

He just hoped that was enough.

‘Fine,’ she said, her voice a mixture of dissapointment and concern. ‘I’ll let the facility know he’s authorised.’

Sam relaxed his tightened grip on the phone and let go of his anxious breath.

‘General…’ she started, her voice much softer than before. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing here….’

‘So do I,’ he said grimly.

They lingered in silence for a brief moment before he put the phone down and peered towards the shadowy movements in the diner.

He knew this plan was arguably insane.

Bringing the media in on the attack on the diner was pretty much the opposite of what he would have usually chosen to do in the face of his family’s secrets being exposed… but it had been the only way to give them the leverage they needed to secure Tal’s release. And he could be the key to everything. 

John was already on his way to the secret holding facility where Clark’s brother was kept. He had no doubt the man could ensure his safe transfer.

He just hoped he could convince him to go along with their plan.

Jon kept twisting around in the booth, trying to keep an eye on his dad’s condition.

He still hadn’t woken up again yet, but from the look on his mom’s face, his healing wound was presenting almost as much of a concern as the threat to his life.

Jon understood her worry. If everyone in this diner saw that his dad could get stabbed and recover within the space of half an hour… how were they supposed to explain that? It was starting to feel like even if they did manage to walk out of here with their lives… they might not be recognisable on the other side.

He could hear Jordan talking to Sarah in the booth next to him, trying to reassure her that their grandad dealt with stuff like this all the time. Sophie had her headphones on, and was watching some cartoons on Sarah’s phone, her tear-stained face starting to look slightly more relaxed now that the situation had calmed down.

Jon noticed Jordan seemed to be coping much better with the pain from the kryptonite, only occasionally gritting his teeth or wincing. He could almost put it down to them being slightly further away from the bomb here in the booth… but it seemed like something more than that.

He wondered if maybe his brother’s body was building up some kind of tolerance.

Maybe kryptonite affected him differently to their dad? After all, if the green rock had zero effect on him, it made sense that his brother’s human side might offer him some protection.

Jon shuddered as his mind drifted once again to the words Kurt had whispered into his grandad’s ears. ‘A hospital wouldn’t know what to do with him.’

What would this guy be thinking about him and his brother?

He clearly hated his dad, but he got the feeling he wasn’t a big fan of Superman’s half alien kids either.

Jon let that thought sink in, finally accepting something he’d been avoiding going near for over a year.

He was half alien.

It didn’t matter that he had no powers. It didn’t matter that kryptonite didn’t affect him. He was still born of one human, one alien parent. He was still a subject of interest for anyone who wanted to study their biological weirdness.

And unlike his brother and his dad, how was he supposed to keep himself safe? Kryptonite was hard to come by, but any idiot with a gun or even just a closed fist could potentially take out their xenophobic hatred on him.

Something caught Sarah’s attention out the window and she reached over Sophie to open the crack in the blind a little wider. Jon’s eyes widened when he saw red and blue lights begin flashing through the gap, and he and his brother both leaned over to get a better look.

Several vehicles were pulling up in the street outside the diner, seemingly all at once – two police cars, one covert looking black car with a police siren fixed to the top, and several vans with logos he recognised as news corporations on the side. Both media and authorities started piling out into the street quickly, journalists and cameramen not hesitating for a second before immediately shoving their microphones at anyone who might be in charge. The police chief seemed to be barking orders at several officers, who began putting out blockades and police tape, motioning at the reporters to get back behind the line.

Even as they did, Jon could see more people arriving and more cars pulling up further down the street. His heart began thumping once again in his chest, and his mouth went completely dry.

Was this part of Kurt’s plan? Did his grandad know about this? Would he be able to do anything about it?

He turned around, expecting to see the well-dressed gunmen looking concerned - but Kurt seemed completely unsurprised, as though the media circus was arriving just on time. Sharon on the other hand was practically glued to the window, keeping her body to the side so that she was out of sight while trying to assess how bad the situation was out there.

Jon couldn’t see Johnny anywhere… maybe he was just in the bathroom again? The guy had sucked down way too many tacos earlier. His eyes lingered on the door to the back room, just hoping Natalie was still safe and hidden back there, before turning back towards the window and watching as two men in suits stepped up to the police chief and flashed a badge of some kind at them.

Was that the FBI?

‘Shit!’ Sharon swore angrily. ‘Someone must have tipped off the authorities.’

She stepped back from the window and glared around the room in accusation, her hand holding up the bomb’s hair trigger detonator menacingly.

‘You,’ she demanded, walking towards the crowd, and pointing in the direction of Vicky May.

The diner’s owner trembled as she stood, holding her hands up in a show of compliance.

‘Turn that TV on,’ the bomb clad woman ordered, and she nodded compliantly, stepping behind the counter to find the remote control.

She fumbled with the buttons for a moment before the TV turned on, and the entire diner looked up in awe as the unusually crowded Smallville High Street appeared on the screen.

The majority of the diner’s occupants seemed relieved, clearly viewing it as help finally arriving… but Jon looked at his brother with concern once again.

Okay, yeah, it wasn’t a bad thing that there were lots of people trying to help get them out of there alive… but what if this was all some kind of set up to get his dad’s identity revealed on camera? It was bad enough when they were just trying to keep the people in the diner from figuring out the truth about them… now they had to worry about being exposed in front of the entire world?

Vicky turned the volume up on the TV and they listened to the correspondent standing just outside the police tape as she made her report.

‘…according to official statements, the DOD are taking steps to release the kryptonian prisoner in exchange for the safety of the hostages inside the diner behind me.’

Jon felt some hope trickle through at the sound of the DOD’s co-operation. Maybe his grandad was going to be able to get them out of there after all… somehow.

‘There have been some questions surrounding the morality of the exchange, with some saying it goes against the prisoner’s rights – but from the crowd forming outside the DOD’s metropolis headquarters, it seems clear that many are in full support of their decision.’

Footage of a small crowd that had somehow already gathered outside the DOD came on the screen, along with a rolling banner across the bottom that read ‘LIVE: ALIEN PRISONER TO BE HANDED OVER TO TERRORIST GROUP FOR EXECUTION.’

He could just about make out the words on some of the crowd’s posters and banners. Statements like ‘Human lives matter’ ‘Aliens have no rights’ and ‘God hates aliens’. There were also several identical posters with little green men style aliens in a red circle with a line through it.

Jon felt sick.

He vaguely knew there were groups out there that were anti-alien, ever since his dad had confirmed his origin to the world, but they’d always seemed like such a small hate group, with very little power. Seeing them on screen now, in this context, made him feel sick to his stomach.

Sure, his uncle was not a good guy… he was a murderer and had been conspiring to take over the world. Not to mention what he did to his brother. But that didn’t make the blood thirsty looks on their faces any less disturbing.

Was this how they’d look at him too once they knew the truth?

‘Geez, how do these nutcases mobilise so fast?’ Sarah said quietly, and Jon felt grateful that he and his brother weren’t the only ones who found the blood thirsty cheers for alien execution disturbing, even in spite of what Tal-Rho had done to her dad.

He caught his mom’s eye and could see the turmoil on her face, clearly worry about what her children must be thinking as they watched the report unfold. She almost looked apologetic, and Jon felt suddenly protective of her.

None of this was her fault… or his dads for that matter. He’d spent his whole life trying to help people, knowing it put him at risk, and she’d done the same right beside him. Sure, his dad being different might technically be the reason they were in danger… but there was always going to be hate in the world from people who are scared of things they don’t understand.

It just so happened that today, that hatred was directed at them… even if no one in the diner knew it yet.

Jon noticed Kurt had a faintly surprised look on his face, almost as though he hadn’t been expecting them to actually release Tal. The surprise turned into a smug smile, and he wandered over to the window to get an in person look at the growing crowd, like he was admiring the way the night was unfolding.

The man’s attention was quickly pulled back to the diner when his wild-haired colleague stepped out from the backroom, dragging someone out with him.

Jon’s stomach hit the floor when he saw who.

‘Look what I found here,’ Johnny said with sickening delight, pulling Natalie in front of him by her arm.

‘Let go of me!’ she shouted, trying to pull out of his firm grip and glaring at him defiantly.

‘Hey, you get your hands off her,’ his mom called out instinctively, standing up and letting Lana take over the hold she’d had on his dad’s bandages.

‘Or you’ll do what exactly?’ Johnny said with a laugh, continuing to pull his prize over towards Kurt.

In his free hand he held out a small metal ball that Jon recognised as Natalie’s AI Hedy.

‘She had this device on her,’ Johnny reported eagerly, like he was hoping his success might be worth some respect from the man who kept looking down at him.

‘So, you’re the one who’s been disrupting my technology, huh,’ he said, almost impressed. ‘Aren’t you a smart little thing.’

‘Not smart enough to stay hidden though,’ Johnny said, smiling at Kurt. ‘Think we ought to make her an example to the rest of them.’

Natalie struggled against her captor’s once again as the sickening gunmen began stroking his hand down her face suggestively.

Their treatment of the young girl was obviously too much for even those who didn’t know her well to just watch, half the diner now on their feet and calling out in protest. Some making pointless threats, and others trying to plea and bargain for her life.

‘We told you, no more plotting and planning,’ Kurt said matter-of-factly, and gave Johnny a shrug that he seemed to take as permission.

Jon noticed the man holding something in his hand, and it looked like maybe he’d pressed a button, but he had no idea what it was.

Before he could stop him, Jon saw Jordan slide out of the booth and take a few steps towards the terrorists. He followed him instinctively out of the relative safety of the booth, though he had no idea what he was going to do to help.

‘Get the hell away from her,’ Jordan called out defiantly, and Jon frowned at his suddenly pain free appearance.

‘Jordan, get back,’ his mom told him, motioning for him to sit back down… but he didn’t move, his face set in stubborn defiance as he stared right at the man holding their sister from another world.

Why was he suddenly fine? Jon looked around, his eyes landing on Sharon and the bomb... that confirmed it.

Somehow the bomb’s green glow had disappeared! Is that what that button was for? Had Kurt turned it off on purpose?

His whole body tensed up at the implications, and he turned his head towards his dad, who was starting to stir awake now that there was no kryptonite sapping his strength. 

‘Jordan, don’t,’ he whispered anxiously, reached his hand out to grab his arm and trying to tug him back.

If he could just get him to look at him, he’d see the warning in his eyes… but Jordan’s feet were planted firmly, and he clearly had a one-track mind.

Jon knew just how pig headed his brother could be about stuff like this. His stance was just like the one he’d had the night their uncle had first threatened them at the farm, when Jordan had tried to step up and protect them. His powers hadn’t even been as developed then, but he’d given everything he had to try and protect his family.

Natalie was a part of their family now, and he knew there was no way his brother was just going to stand by if she was about to become the terrorists next victim.

‘What exactly are you going to do about it, kid?’ Johnny asked, lifting a handgun out from under his jean jacket.

Jon’s heart rate tripled at the site of the concealed weapon, and a few cries of panic erupted throughout the room.

He felt a wave of guilt overtake him for even wanting Jordan to stop. Earlier he’d lectured his dad about the immorality of letting people die just to keep their secret… had he really just been blowing smoke? Did he now think their lives were more important than anyone elses? And this was Natalie!

What choice did they have?

Either she was about to be killed in front of them – or his brother was going to have to expose his secret to these villains… and a diner full of gawking civilians.

Johnny shoved Natalie forwards roughly, and she stumbled, steadying herself against a nearby table. As she slowly turned back towards him, he thrust out his gun, aiming at her with a cold smile.  

‘Say goodbye sweetheart,’ he said, closing one of his eyes like he was lining up the shot.

Jordan looked briefly from his mom to his brother, but this time there were no attempts from either of them to stop him. Jon saw the apology in his brother’s eyes, and he resigned himself to what he had to do.

The next few seconds were a blur.

Jon heard the sound of the gunshot, and instantly, his brother was standing on the other side of the room, clutching at his chest and grunting like he’d just been hit hard. He heard the clink of what he assumed was a bullet dropping to the ground, and then a series of gasps and cries of disbelief came from around the room.

Natalie helped his brother stand up straight, looking at him with a mixture of gratitude and concern. He managed to recover himself quickly, breathing deeply and looking over at at the gunmen defiantly in case he was about to give it a second go.

Johnny simply stared at him, mouth gaping open. A look of horrified disbelief crept across his features.

‘What the hell are you?’ he said in disgust.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

The silence in the diner was deafening.

A jumbled choir of disbelieving gasps and thundering heart beats assaulted Jordan’s senses; the hum of every electrical appliance in the building forming a grating background to his growing distress. His own heart raced erratically in his chest as he slowly stood up, daring to lift his eyes and meet the room.

His throat tightened as he scanned over the sea of faces scattered across the diner floor. They were all staring at him, dumfounded and afraid - like they simply couldn’t marry what they’d just seen with the anxious, awkward teenager they knew.

Jordan hated being the centre of attention at the best of times, but knowing why they were all staring at him, the truth he’d just exposed…

This was without a doubt, the worst moment of his life.

His eyes fell on Sarah, and lingered there for a moment, looking for some sign of reassurance from the person whose reaction mattered most to him. He’d fantasised about her finally knowing his secret so many times - even secretly wishing for it, hoping the truth would repair their relationship. Once she knew why he’d had to lie, why he couldn’t be there for her in the way he’d wanted… she’d forgive him, right?

Watching the emerging shock on her face as tears pooled in her eyes, he knew he’d been incredibly naïve.

‘Didn’t you hear me?’ Johnny repeated his demand, pulling Jordan’s attention back towards him. ‘I said… what the hell are you?’

He still held the next-to-useless weapon in Jordan’s direction, but he’d taken several steps back, as though a few inches would offer him some protection. The man looked more flustered than he had all night, his eyes darting towards the diner door like he was anticipating avenues of escape. Maybe the man’s fear should have made Jordan feel powerful somehow… but all it did was make his growing sense of dread even worse.

This was how people were going to see him now, wasn’t it?

Dangerous.

Something to run away from.

A wave of anxiety fuelled nausea hit him almost as hard as the earlier waves of kryptonite.

Ever since he’d started training with his grandad and making those first few covert saves, he’d been having vivid nightmares about scenarios like this. Scenes playing out in his unconscious mind of all the ways his secret could be exposed, and how powerless he’d be to stop it. Haunting images of disgusted, horrified faces, all looking at him like he was a freak.

An alien.  

And that’s exactly how this gun wielding maniac – as well as a room full of people he encountered practically every day - were looking at him now.

His life was over, wasn’t it? And it wasn’t even just his…

Jordan’s gaze flew towards his brother, unsurprised to find his twins face echoing the raw emotions he was feeling himself. Holding up a mirror to his own torturous reality.

It’s not that he hadn’t understood what saving Nat would mean. It had been a conscious choice, and he’d make it again in a heartbeat… but now the adrenaline of the moment was fading, the reality of its consequences was really kicking in.

Leaving his brother with an apologetic look, he searched for his mom. He had no idea what to do next, but hoped she would have something up her sleeve. Her and dad had probably been in worse situations than this, right? They’d always come up with some explanation that seemed stupid as hell… but somehow, everyone would believe it.

People believe what they want to believe, his dad often said.

As Jordan took in the look on her face, that hope quickly faded. Although his mom did her best to covey some sense of reassurance without words, he could see there was no brilliant cover story on its way.

No quick fix. No miraculous rescue.

Jordan struggled to keep his growing anxiety from turning into a full-blown panic attack. He took a long, deep breathe in through his nose and held it as discreetly as he could, trying to name 5 things he could see in his mind to keep him grounded and to distract him from the unrelenting scrutiny of unblinking eyes.

‘Jordan,’ Natalie croaked out next to him, and he felt her place a hand on his chest.

He winced at the pressure. The front of his jacket was decimated where the bullet had hit him, and the area around it was tender and throbbing with every heartbeat, although he’d barely noticed until that moment. It felt like someone had kicked him in the chest with rocket powered lead-lined boots. He suspected a huge bruise was forming under his shirt, but this wasn’t a battle scar he’d be excited to show off. In fact, now that his mind was beginning to process it all, he was just feeling grateful he wasn’t dead!

He just took a bullet!

He didn’t even know he could, especially after being exposed to the kryptonite bomb for so long. All he’d known was… Natalie couldn’t.

At least he’d stood a chance.

Thankfully his powers had advanced enough over the last year that despite the earlier kryptonite exposure, his dad’s genes had kicked in and protected him.

Jordan was also starting to suspect he might have a better tolerance for the green meteor than his dad. At first, the exposure had admittedly hit him much harder; but as the night wore on, he’d noticed the discomfort from the kryptonite lessening. Even without his mom’s coat protecting him. It felt almost as though his body was adjusting to the toxic substance at a cellular level – his human side compensating for its alien effects.

And then he’d felt the unexpected relief of the pain and sickness just… completely disappearing.

He wished he could believe he was now just immune to the stuff, but he felt a flicker of suspicion begin to grow. Slowly, he glanced towards the bomb still strapped to Sharon Powell’s chest. It’s tubes, previously filled with bright green liquid, were now transparent.

He didn’t get his powers back by chance, did he?

Jordan felt his jaw clench as a sinking feeling took hold. There was no way the kryptonite in that bomb had been de-activated by coincidence. This was a set up. A trap to get him to expose his powers… and he’d fallen right into it.

Sharon looked like she was starting to put some pieces together in her mind, and she glared at him in a way that sent a shiver down his spine. Almost too scared to do it, but knowing he had to, Jordan forced himself to find the man he knew was the real threat in the room. The one who had been regarding him and his brother with disdain since the moment he came blasting into the diner.

He met Kurt’s eyes, and then regretted it immediately.

The man’s satisfied and elated expression was almost enough to make him lose the taco filled contents of his stomach. He looked like a hunter whose prey had just walked into a snare, deeply enjoying watching it’s struggle to break free.

Despite Sharon having a literal bomb strapped to her chest, and her partner still aiming his gun right at him, Jordan was much more terrified of what Kurt might do next. He glanced towards his brother and mom, once again feeling frustratingly helpless. Jon was biting his lip, his eyes darting around the room like he was searching for some inspired solution; but their mom’s attention was pulled in another direction now. Picking the worst possible time to start flickering into unconsciousness; a groan came up from his dad’s throat, and he stirred uncomfortably on the diner floor.

Jordan felt a fresh wave of dread flood through him at the thought of what might happen once his dad fully awoke. Now the kryptonite was gone, it was going to be obvious he wasn’t the only one in his family with something to hide. Frantically, he looked back over at his brother, desperately trying to think of any explanation that might make sense.

Anything other than the truth.

His brother’s eyes bulged slightly, and his face softened with relief. Had he thought of something? Afraid to hope for a miracle, he held his breath as Jon stood up straighter, turning and facing the man still holding a gun towards him. He clearly had something to say.

Jordan just hoped it wasn’t something that would get his brother hurt.

‘It’s not what you think!’ Jon declared, loudly enough for everyone in the diner to hear. ‘I… I still had an X-K inhaler in my bag. For emergencies. I gave it to Jordan to use earlier, so he’d be safe if anything happened.’

Jordan allowed a glimmer of hope to manifest at the sound of his brother’s totally plausible explanation. Why didn’t he think of that? X-K was such a logical conclusion, he was surprised it had taken them so long to find it. Most of the people in the diner seemed to feel the same, shaking their heads like they couldn’t believe the ridiculous theories they’d been spinning until then. A few muffled chuckles broke the growing tension in the room.

Coach Gaines was the first to speak, the unsurprising disapproval evident in his voice.

‘You kept some of that stuff?’ he asked, raising his eyebrow so high it tugged at his injured nose and caused him to wince.

Jon hung his head and shrugged his shoulders. He was totally pulling off the ashamed teenager response. Jordan wondered how much of that was acting, and how much was his brother’s real lingering regret.

‘Hey, if he hadn’t, that young girl would be…’ Mrs Pan chimed in to defend, but she trailed off, still staring at Jordan’s torn clothes in awe.

He knew he needed to say something to back up his brother’s cover story, but despite the hope Jon’s words had provided, his tongue still felt like lead in his mouth; he couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

Johnny seemed to relax slightly at the confirmation this boy wasn’t that much more than he seemed, finally lowering his gun, and allowing some of his previously cocky energy to return.

‘How long’s this stuff last, kid?’ he demanded, taking a few steps closer to him with a menacing look on his face.

‘I… I don’t know,’ Jordan managed to respond. He held up his hands submissively and added, ‘but I’m not going to do anything else, I promise… just… don’t hurt anyone, please?’

He hated the familiar weak tremble in his voice, but he knew it was probably helping to sell that he wasn’t a threat.

Johnny looked to his partners for a gauge on their next move, and a fresh rush of anxiety coursed through Jordan as he waited for Kurt’s response. Would the older man buy their explanation? They didn’t know exactly what he knew, or why he was there… maybe what he thought he knew could be explained by X Kryptonite too? Or maybe he did know more, but he didn’t have enough proof to be sure. So this X-K theory might throw him?

Each thought felt like a flimsy straw slipping through Jordan’s fingers as he tried to hold on tight. Some part of him knew this explanation wasn’t going to be enough for Kurt. With everything that had happened so far in the diner, he understood why.

Unlike his impulsive and hot-headed companions, Kurt wasn’t an idiot.

Surprisingly, Sharon spoke first, her cheeks red with rage as she faced her so-called teammate.

‘Something else is going on here…’ she accused, walking over to Kurt as he stared back at her defiantly. ‘There’s something you’re not telling us.’

Okay, so maybe Sharon wasn’t an idiot either. The smartly dressed man raised his eyebrow, seemingly unphased by her anger and inviting her to continue. Jordan felt the sliver of hope he’d clung on to fading away like a balloon being carried away on the wind; nothing to do but watch.  

‘You think I wouldn’t notice the green stuff in the bomb suddenly shutting down?’ she said, in a whisper meant for only Kurt to hear; but of course, Jordan heard it too.

The man simply smiled back at her knowingly. He waved a hand in her direction in what seemed to be a reassuring gesture, signalling her to wait a few moments more. Turning towards the crowd, he cleared his throat pointedly, like he was about to make an announcement. 

‘Everyone, listen up! I’m going to do you all a favour and tell you the actual truth,’ he declared, practically spitting the final word as he gave Jordan a fresh look of disgust.

It was over, Jordan knew it.

Whatever plan this guy had, whoever they were working for… destroying his family was clearly the point of all of this – and that’s exactly what he was about to do.

‘Don’t listen to their pathetic excuses for another second,’ Kurt continued, producing a fresh wave of confused sounds from around the room. ‘This family has been lying to you for decades.’

Jordan could barely believe their bad luck as his dad groaned and stirred again; his eyes flickering open and his head lifting slightly. His mom placed a reassuring hand on his dad’s cheek, gently laying a finger over his mouth to signal he stay quiet; but Jordan could see the growing worry on his face as he tried to sit up, searching around for him and his brother.

‘For so long you’ve been blind to the truth, not seeing what’s going on in your town, right under your noses,’ the sinister man continued with his cruelly drawn-out reveal, and the diner fell silent once again.

Jordan’s heart pounded uncomfortably in his chest as the man slowly walked over to his booth. His body felt like an ice statue; frozen and only one swift blow away from shattering into a thousand pieces. The man lifted out a small grey box, holding it up in the air for everyone to see, like it was an important piece of the emerging puzzle. Wordlessly, and with a look of impatience at their still clueless expressions; he flipped open the lid, moving towards Jordan purposefully, and letting a bright green light wash over him.

As hard as he tried, he couldn’t fight his body’s response to the waves of pain that coursed through him, setting fire to his veins, and making it impossible to stand. He dropped to his knees as a strangled cry escaped his throat, unable to do anything more than pull in a few wheezy breaths as the muscles seized. The raw form of kryptonite was much stronger than whatever had been in that bomb – any tolerance he’d built up to its earlier effects wasn’t going to be enough to save him now.

Another wail of agony escaped him, and he fully collapsed to the floor, his body curling up into a ball at Natalie’s feet. She crouched down beside him immediately, her hands clutching his arms uselessly as she called out his name.

Jordan could barely think through the haze of pain, his mind clouding with a thick fog. He could just about make out the sound of his own name echoing around the room, called out by people no longer in his line of vision. Was that his brother’s voice? Sarah’s? Their cries sounded fraught with concern, but he knew they could do nothing to prevent his public torture.

‘This is Kryptonite,’ Kurt said matter-of-factly. ‘And who does Kryptonite hurt?’

As though proving his point, a guttural sound escaped Jordan’s lips, ripping up through his throat without his permission. He bit his lip decisively and squeezed his eyes tight, focusing all his energy on preventing himself from succumbing to the hysterical whimpers that threatened to take over.

He might not be able to stop the man from ripping away their family’s secret; but he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing him beg.

‘You get that thing away from my son,’ Jordan heard his mom’s voice loud and clear, booming across the room with as much authority as she could muster.

He opened his eyes a crack to try and see what was going on, just about making out the sight of his mom scrambling to her feet and planting herself in a defiant stance. The sound of his dad anxiously whispering her name drifted across the room towards him.

‘Nuh uh, you stay right where you are missy,’ Johnny countered, swinging his gun around to aim it in her direction. ‘Now, I don’t know exactly what’s going on here… but I sure as hell wanna find out. So if I hear another peep out of you, I’m gonna put a bullet right in your head. You got me?’

Silence met the question once again, and Jordan felt tears trickling down his cheeks.

‘No guesses at all? Really?’ Kurt continued, more menace in his voice than his theatrical presentation deemed appropriate. ‘Fine, I’ll spell it out for you. Kryptonite hurts… Kryptonians!’

A soft murmur spread across the room. Jordan peeked his eyes open once more, but his vision was swimming, making it impossible to see any of their reactions. The pain that radiated through him was becoming his whole world. He could feel the insistent tug of unconsciousness pulling at him, but despite his desire to escape his suffering, he fought against it.

‘That’s right… Are you starting to put the pieces together yet?’

Jordan felt himself losing the battle to stay awake. He closed his eyes, feeling the soft sinking sensation of his mind drifting away… and then he heard a voice. A voice so unexpected, it made him fight a little harder.

‘Enough,’ the voice croaked out.

Dad?

Jordan peered dimly towards him, not knowing whether to be relieved or horrified at his intervention. He could just about make out the shadowy silhouette of his father, who now stood beside his mother.

The bloody towels were now abandoned on the diner floor.

‘It’s me you want,’ he continued, straining against his own response to the kryptonite’s sickly radiation. ‘Leave my son out of this.’

As desperately as he tried, Jordan couldn’t fight it anymore. His mind swirling with fear for his family, for everyone he was leaving behind in that diner, the darkness defeated him, pulling him down deep, away from the pain, sparing him from witnessing whatever might come next.

Chapter Text

John stood at the outskirts of the huge factory floor, his feet just peeking out from behind a line of shadow. The red glow from the DOD’s carefully designed prison illuminated the vast space, bringing back almost as many memories as the face of the man at its centre. Each one of them was like salt in an open wound, re awakening the kind of grief that’s never truly gone, waiting just below the surface.

This was a moment he’d hoped he’d never have to face. As soon as he stepped foot into the light, he knew he’d be walking into a verbal chess match with a psychopath from another planet. A man who’d tried to destroy this world, turning it into a living hell for any human who survived.

A hell John had personally lived through.

He hadn’t known it at the time, but there was no question now in his mind – Tal’s doppelganger had been the true cause of the merciless destruction on his earth. He was likely even responsible for the death of John’s wife, assuming he’d eradicated his world’s Superman. The image of her final moments, forever seared into his memory, brought up another surge of emotion.

He felt sick.

The taste of bile travelled up his throat and he swallowed it down with some difficulty. There were so many things John wanted to say to the man before him, so much anger that begged to be given a voice; but he knew, just as he’d come to understand of this world’s Lois and Clark, that if he did, he’d be saying it to the wrong person.

After he’d helped Clark take down his brother, he hoped he’d never have to see Tal’s haunting image again. Yet here he was, about to walk right up to him. To look him in the eye, with nothing but glass between them.

What exactly was he supposed to say?

John shook his head. It really was a desperate plan… one he’d agreed to simply because there were no better options. Sam had argued that Tal was their best hope; that there was a good chance he’d co-operate once he knew Clark was in danger. John couldn’t help but feel sceptical. Sure, a couple of months ago, the kryptonian had taken three kryptonite bullets to the chest for his brother… but that didn’t mean he’d really changed, that he could be trusted.

Clark insisted there was some good in him. That it might even be possible for him to earn some kind of redemption one day, to become a force for good. His friend always saw the best in people. John knew he'd still be rotting away in a cell at the DOD himself if it wasn’t for that relentless faith, but he couldn’t help thinking it was somewhat naïve. Even privileged. They were from different world’s, in so many more ways than one. Even before the destruction of Metropolis, John had grown up with plenty of reasons to assume the worst in people.

And this time, all his instincts told him he was right to do so.

Tal-Rho was responsible for the deaths of numerous innocent people, but he’d also been trying to dominate the human race! Okay, so he might have decided to cared about Clark, selfishly, now that he was completely alone in this world. That part made sense. His brother represented his last connection to his own people, his last chance to have a relationship with anything resembling family. But that didn’t mean he’d changed his mind about the worth of human beings. John was sure, given the opportunity, he would still walk over a pile of human corpses to gain back his freedom.

No, he wasn’t here because he believed Tal had really changed. He was simply here because he believed the man felt some allegiance to the last Kryptonian on earth.

He just hoped that loyalty would be enough.

John hesitated a moment more, wrestling with the part of him that still screamed to just turn around, that this gamble wasn’t worth the risk… but he couldn’t go back now. Not with what was at stake.

After all, it wasn’t just Clark’s life on the line here… Natalie was in that diner.

He couldn’t lose her again…

He pushed himself through the barriers of his own resistance and took a few steps forwards, approaching the glass with purpose.

Tal lifted his eyes up slowly from the book he’d been reading, regarding him with curiosity.

‘Well, now… who is this? I don’t usually get spontaneous visitors,’ Tal’s charming British accent snaked out towards him.

A broad fake smile spreading over his face. It was a mask he’d worn well as Morgan Edge, and clearly one he was still holding on to.

John stopped a few paces in front of the cell, nodding towards the soldiers stationed at the door. Wordlessly, they nodded in return, before walking past him and heading back towards the exit. He knew they’d been expecting him. Sam’s request for privacy had thankfully been agreed by General Hardcastle, although with great reluctance.

Tal snapped shut the book he’d been holding, watching his guards leave with a hint of concern that was quickly hidden. He walked over to the edge of his cell to get a better look at his unexpected visitor, scanning him up and down briefly before lingering on the defining scar over his right eye.  

John held his gaze calmly, his arms crossed in a defiant, challenging pose. A look of dawning recognition crossed Tal’s features and his eyes darkened.

‘John. Henry. Irons,’ he said slowly, emphasizing every part of his name as though he was infamous.

The sound of it made John’s skin crawl. He let his name hang in the air, struggling to keep his expression neutral. Rationally he knew he was there to ask for Tal’s help, not to start a fight with him… but the anger and disgust he felt didn’t seem to care about that logic.

‘The man who tried to murder my brother, with a hammer?’ Tal added, a flash of challenge in his eyes.

The statement was obviously an attempt to get a rise out of him, but John was not going to give him the satisfaction. He’d known the kind of game he was walking into. As powerless as the kryptonian was, imprisoned and surrounded by red solar light, John knew he’d still try and gain power over him any way he could. It was simply his nature. Every word that came out of his mouth was a potential manipulation, every provocation another piece of his mind games.

John needed to play this as straight as possible.

‘That was before I knew who the real threat was,’ he replied calmly.

‘Hey now, it wasn’t me that killed your wife, any more than it was my brother,’ Tal protested with a feigned air of hurt. He cocked his head to one side again and asked, ‘Is that what this is about? Are you here for revenge? You want to take your grief out on an innocent man again?’

John said nothing for a long moment, biting back an angry retort. Their eyes locked together stubbornly, each trying to read the other somehow, to gain the upper hand. Despite his arrogant attempts to rile him, John thought he could see the faintest hint of fear behind Tal’s callous expression. He held back a moment longer, letting the kryptonian stew on all the possible ways this visit might play out.

‘Not today,’ he said finally, the angry, vengeful part of him recoiling in dissapointment.

‘Then what could you possibly…?’ Tal began, but he stopped himself, his eyes squinting slightly as he considered his own question.

John remained silent, watching the revelation building up on the man’s face.

‘My brother...’ he said softly. ‘Something’s happened to him, hasn’t it?’

Was that genuine concern in his voice?

John felt taken aback by the sudden change in the man’s tone. His entire energy seemed to have shifted, revealing something that seemed so foreign on the kryptonian’s face it felt almost… wrong somehow.

Vulnerability.

‘Clark tells me you’ve changed,’ John said finally, his face conveying his own scepticism. ‘He thinks you deserve a chance at redemption.’

‘He said that?’ Tal asked, and a flash of genuine hope appeared, before he quickly tried to regain his nonchalant composure. ‘Well, I’m not exactly ready to hold hands and hug the world, but I… have come to regret my actions, yes.’

Nothing in the man’s words surprised him. John had expected that kind of diplomatic response from a successful businessman like Morgan Edge… but he’d definitely seen plenty he wasn’t expecting. The brief flash of elation on his face at the sound of his brother’s approval, had been almost childlike in it’s innocence. He’d assumed Tal’s attempts to gain his brother’s forgiveness were no more than a strategic move, the manipulations of a narcissist, but…  could Clark really be right?

Was there something good buried inside, miles beneath the years of conditioned brutality?

‘I wish to have a relationship with my brother,’ Tal added, surprising John again as he allowed himself to be seen without the mask. ‘He’s the only family I have left.’

John searched the man’s eyes, trying to read the confusing mix of emotions he saw fighting for control. There definitely was something real to what he was saying, John could see that; but he could still see another part of him in there too. Something sinister. Like a coiled snake, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

‘Well… right now he’s bleeding out on the floor of the Smallville diner,’ John said intentionally bluntly, testing the man’s response.

The softness immediately left Tal’s face, and his features twisted into a menacing glare.

‘WHAT DID YOU DO?’ he growled, and John thought he saw the faintest glow behind his eyes despite the solar lights depowering effects.

He watched as a deeply sinister part of Tal’s psyche took over, somewhat taken aback by the jarring change. As he held the man’s gaze once more, he felt his instincts screaming at him, telling him he was finally meeting his true foe for the first time.

The man who was dangerous. Ruthless. Unpredictable.

He could see it in his eyes. That was the reason he still needed to be careful, no matter how much loyalty Tal expressed to his brother, or how much regret for his actions he claimed.

He was a means to an end, and not one to be used lightly.

‘Not me,’ John said simply. ‘This is about what you did.’

Tal glared back at him like he was insane.

‘You remember Derek Powell?’ John asked, watching the other man’s face slowly drop in recognition. ‘Well, his mom’s not been doing so well since you destroyed her entire world. Guess you have a habit of giving people reasons to want revenge.’

Regret and concern softened the man’s features once more, and he shook his head as he tried to process the information.

‘She and two gunmen took over the Smallville diner less than an hour ago - with Clark, Lois and the boys inside,’ John continued.

‘Guns wouldn’t harm my brother,’ Tal pointed out, his statement more of an implied question.

‘Yeah, well, she turned up with a kryptonite bomb and a hair trigger under her finger,’ John revealed, watching Tal’s scepticism recede. ‘From what we can tell, Clark was injured trying to stop them from hurting someone.’

Tal rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. ‘Always trying to be a hero, Kal,’ he muttered, turning his back to John for a moment and running his fingers running through his hair.

When he turned around, he met John’s gaze with unexpected determination.

‘How can I help?’ he asked, with no hint of arrogance or sarcasm in his voice.

John blinked back at him, his mouth hanging slightly open for a few seconds.

Asking for the man’s help was exactly the reason he was here, he just… hadn’t expected it to be offered so freely. Then again - that cynical voice reminded him - why wouldn’t Tal be keen to play along with a scenario that could mean the possibility of leaving his cell. Of course he’s going to be eager, John thought. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t double cross him at a moment’s notice and seize the opportunity to escape.

‘We need you to fullfill one of the terrorists demands,’ John revealed.

‘And what is it that they want exactly?’

John couldn’t hide the hint of satisfaction that pulled at the corners of his mouth. Some part of him couldn’t help but feel the situation was almost poetic.

He took one step closer to the glass as he replied.

‘You.’

‘Get that thing away from my son,’ Clark demanded, trying to keep his voice low and unwavering.

He watched with disgust as Kurt’s face twisted into a sinister smile, eyes dancing with satisfaction. The man raised an eyebrow suggestively at him, a look of amused challenge spreading across his snake like features as he moved the toxic chunk of meteor even closer to Jordan’s now unconscious form.

Adrenaline coursed through Clark’s body, fuelled by a level of anger he didn’t often allow himself to feel. It was that rage, that fury, that had given him the strength to stand; but it was quickly getting out of control. He could already feel the hot glow of heat vision building up inside him, threatening to light up his eyes and provide the very proof the man was seeking.

He needed to calm down… to hold on to some measure of self-control.

But how was he supposed to do that while this man continued torturing his fifteen-year-old son?

‘Dad!’ he heard Jonathan cry out, and he turned towards his other son reflexively.

The look of desperate panic in his eyes was a crushing blow to the emotional wall Clark was trying to build up inside himself. His son’s plea stirred up a torrent of guilt and unmet responsibility and Clark gritted his teeth in frustration, kicking himself internally for allowing things to get this far.

He was Superman.

He was their Dad.

He was supposed to protect them…

He felt Lois’ hand slip suddenly under his arm, gripping him tightly through the fabric of his jacket, as though sensing his need to be grounded. He clung to the small piece of contact like an anchor, keeping him from drifting over the edge of the abyss; but didn’t dare turn towards her. He knew her eyes would only mirror his own overwhelming fear.

Instead, he looked frantically back and forth between the three terrorists and his son.

Jordan lay limply in Natalie’s arms, his skin deathly pale and covered in sweat. The young woman, who’d quickly become an adopted member of their unconventional family, met his gaze anxiously, her eyes filled with frustrated helplessness. Both Sharon and Johnny were once again frozen in place, matching frustrated scowls on their faces; but their silence indicated their hunger for the truth. That curiosity was clearly stronger than their anger towards their partner.

They were going to stay compliant, for now.

And Kurt… he seemed to be drunk on power, more alive and animated than he’d have thought he was capable of. The man watched his reaction carefully as he continued waving the chunk of kryptonite back and forth over his son.

Clark knew the meteor’s toxic radiation was making Jordan sicker every second of exposure that passed by. He could feel it himself too; even from across the room, the meteor’s effects were sapping away the little energy his body had been able to regain.

Every now and then his son’s body twisted, convulsing, and contracting against acute waves of pain, despite the veil of unconsciousness. It was enough to send Clark’s paternal instincts into a frenzy.

He felt another flash of rage and his hands clenched at his sides.

This psychopath was threatening to make every nightmare he’d endured since the boys' conception a reality. He didn’t know exactly why yet, but the man was trying to destroy their lives as they knew it… and he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to stop there.

The way he was looking at his sons, the way he’d been talking about them… he’d regarded them like specimens.

‘They’ll dissect you like a frog.’

Clark shuddered at the memory of his adoptive father’s warning. The words were harsh - maybe too harsh for a kid the age he’d been then - but they’d worked. They’d kept his secret safe, made sure he was always careful and cautious. He never forgot the possible consequences of revealing his true origin to the wrong person.

More nightmare images flashed through his mind as his eyes remained fixed-on Jordan. His son’s skin was turning a sickly green as the radiation exposure continued.

Clark’s heart clenched painfully, and he felt that powerful fury surge once again. He took a deep breath in and tried to let it out slowly through his nose as he turned to face their sadistic attacker.

‘Kryptonite?’ Kurt questioned in a cool mocking tone. ‘Now why would Kryptonite be doing any harm to your son?’

Clark’s jaw tightened anxiously at the amused look on the other man’s face, but he didn’t take his eyes off him, not willing to give him the satisfaction of looking away. He glared at him with all the force he could muster, trying to intimidate him into some sense of doubt; but Kurt seemed utterly undeterred.

In fact, he seemed… satiated by the raw emotion being directed at him.

He smiled again as his eyes drifted over the crowd behind them.

Clark didn’t have to turn around to know the focus of every person in the diner was on him. The hair on the back of his neck prickled at the feeling of being closely watched. He sensed them all, standing as still as statues, silent, barely even breathing as they waited for his response.

He forced himself to look down into his wife’s face, searching her tear brimmed eyes for the unlikely possibility she had a better answer than he could come up with. She very lightly shook her head, biting her lip as it trembled, and squeezed his arm again.

An unspoken understanding and acceptance passed between them, confirming what he already knew to be true. There was no way of denying what was so clearly visible anymore.

‘He’s… allergic,’ he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, but not taking his eyes off the man still hurting his son.

It was the most honest answer he could manage, but some part of him still felt like a coward at the vagueness of it, his stomach twisting like it usually did when he was forced to be anything but truthful.

His whole life he’d lived with the persistent discomfort of lying, and it never felt right to him, no matter how justified. Now that he stood there in front of a diner full of people he’d known since he was a kid, his secret only a hairs breath from being fully exposed… he somehow felt even worse for not just outright admitting the truth. When it came right down to it, his whole life here in Smallville had been a lie. He’d hidden behind a mask of normality, when in reality, he was anything but normal.

Maybe if it had just been his life on the line, he’d have admitted the truth there and then. Turned around, taken off his glasses, and confessed his alter ego of his own free will. With everything Kurt had already revealed, they had to be putting the pieces together in their minds by now. Maybe it was already over.

But it wasn’t just his life anymore.

This was his sons’ futures on the line. His wife’s freedom to live without scrutiny. Any hope they had of a normal life would be destroyed the moment the world knew who he really was, and who knows what danger they’d be in, even beyond the present threat. There were countless nut jobs just like this one, who would see his children as nothing but an abomination. Something the world needed to be protected from.

If he could leave any room for doubt or explanation whatsoever… he had to try.

Clark heard whispered murmurs behind him, and his wife squeezed his arm even tighter. He could imagine their faces as they processed what they were seeing and hearing. Putting together his sudden recovery from a fatal stab wound with the man’s already revealing words. Likely some dawning realisations were spreading through the room, as they considered all possible truths. He was sure they’d be looking at him in confusion.

Distrust, fear… betrayal.

He tried to ignore the unhelpful images in his mind and continued to keep his focus on the man before him. Right now, all that mattered was getting him away from his sons. They could deal with everyone’s inevitable questions later.  

‘Allergic? That’s one way of putting it,’ Kurt said, eyeing him with malice.

Clark scowled back at him, and to his surprise, the man finally stepped away from his son. He felt a short moment of relief, but it was short lived. Slowly and carefully, holding the chunk of green kryptonite like a trophy, he made his way closer towards him.

The pain Clark had been successfully ignoring until that point started to increase unbearably, like someone was slowly turning up a dial on a machine. He gritted his teeth as he tried to fight his bodies response to the meteor, but it was impossible. No matter how many times he came up against it, the waves of radiation given off by even the smallest piece of his home world always tore through him like hot fire in his veins.

He grunted as a surge of pain caused his muscles to seize, and his hand flew uselessly to his abdomen. He hunched over instinctively, and Lois’ hand came up to support him as best she could, but it was a futile gesture. He squeezed his eyes shut as his head started to spin and couldn’t stop himself from letting out a deep groan.

The sound of shocked whispers only added to his growing nausea.

‘Guess it runs in the family, huh?’ he heard Kurt say with satisfaction.

Panic clutched at Clark’s chest as he fought against the pain with everything he had, knowing if he let it take over completely, there would be nothing he could do to protect his family.

‘What the hell is going on here?’ Johnny barked suddenly, and Clark looked up to see the man’s wild eyes boring into his partner in crime.

‘I think it’s better if this comes straight from Mr Kent,’ Kurt said suggestively.

Clark peered up at him, wondering how exactly he expected him to do anything with that exposed chunk of kryptonite rendering him next to useless. His legs were already struggling, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he was going to be unable to stand.

‘Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong,’ he heard his wife claiming defiantly beside him.

‘Oh, come on,’ the man laughed uncharacteristically, ‘You’re still trying to weasel out of this?’

His laughter hung in the air unnaturally, and his face quickly returned to a cold, unshakeable expression.

‘Maybe I picked the wrong son to threaten…’ he said, turning towards Jonathan, his eyes full of malicious intent.

A deep and urgent fear forced Clark’s body forwards, and he pulled himself up as straight as he could.

‘I’ll do whatever you want, just… leave my family alone,’ he grunted desperately.

The diner fell quiet once again and Kurt regarded him with a small smile, like he was happy with an obedient pet.

‘Tell them,’ he said quietly.

Their eyes locked together again and Clark swallowed, his mouth dry and his breathing feeling more strained. He knew exactly what the man meant, and he knew he was going to have to comply… but he hesitated all the same, his instinct to protect his secret so deeply embedded.

‘TELL THEM,’ Kurt yelled suddenly, pulling his knife out of his pocket.

He turned towards Jonathan, taking a few intention fuelled steps towards him. Clark’s heart pounded erratically in his chest at the look of pure terror in his son’s eyes.

‘ALRIGHT!’ he called out, ‘Just… stop.’

The man stopped in his tracks, turning around with an expectant, impatient look on his face.  

Clark somehow managed to stay on his feet, twisting around slowly to face the rest of the diner. He couldn’t tell how much of his growing nausea was the kryptonite, and how much was his body’s response to his worst fears playing out in unbearable technicolour. He let out an anxious shaky breath, trying to push the pain and anxiety down for long enough to do what was needed. He had no idea what the man was going to do next, no idea how to get everyone out of there alive… all he knew was that right now, in this moment, if he didn’t confess the truth, his sons were going to pay the price.

No cover story. No convenient blanket to pull over everyone’s eyes.

It was really over.

Maybe it had been the moment these three set foot in the diner.

Clark turned his gaze briefly towards his wife and gave her a look of deep regret. Tears feel freely down her cheeks, but she tensed her jaw in determination and returned his gaze with one of support and understanding. It was a small gesture, but it meant everything to him.

It let him know they were in this together, that she was still by his side.

No matter what.

Clark looked back at the sea of anxious, confused faces, and part of him still screamed to find another way. The part of him that still carried all that childhood fear, that couldn’t bear the inevitable distrust and rejection that was to come. Up until now, these people looked at him like he was just another kid from Smallville. The son of Jonathan and Martha Kent, a simple farm boy, with a good heart and a naïve nature.

After this, they would never look at him the same again.

No one would.

It was so quiet in the diner it sent a chill through him and he shivered lightly. He cleared his throat lightly and settled his eyes on Lana’s, her face full of conflict. He’d already confessed the truth to her recently. Sure, she hadn’t exactly taken it well – but it felt somewhat easier to direct what he was saying to her than a room full of people whose reactions he had no way to predict.

‘I’m sorry, but he’s right,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m… not from Smallville. I came to earth as a baby.’

He winced against another wave of pain, letting it pass for a moment before continuing. There were immediate gasps of surprise from the group as he confirmed their captor’s accusations.  

‘My mom... Martha and Jonathan found me in a cornfield. They raised me, taught me everything important about the world, about right and wrong.’

Lana held his gaze, her eyes full of empathy, and he held on to the feeling of safety he’d felt around her when they were kids.

‘Growing up here in Smallville showed me just how kind and compassionate people can be. It made me want to do more, to use my gifts to help in a more meaningful way.’

He looked back down at his wife once more, and despite everything, she managed to offer him a smile. Something to let him know that, even at the worst of times, in the unfolding of their personal nightmare, she was still proud of him. That she wouldn’t have had it any other way.

‘Would you get to the point already?’ Johnny groaned disapprovingly.

He took in one last breath, holding it at the top for a few seconds, part of him desperately willing time to freeze right there and then. He felt like a man stood at the edge of a cliff, staring down at the jagged rocks below, knowing he had to jump.

‘I’m Superman,’ he blurted out finally, letting out the rest of his breath as he did.

He could hear the uneven thumping of his heart, and his skin prickled with discomfort as the word’s hung in the room. He tried to his best not to turn away in shame as the group of people he’d known his whole life stared back at him.

He’d never felt so exposed.

Their expressions were hard to make sense of at first, so much seemed to be running through their minds. There was a clear struggle to process all the information of the last hour, to integrate it with what they knew. They looked back and forth between each other and then back at Clark, their faces finally settling into similar states of fear. Like something too horrifying to be real had just been claimed, and they were desperate to find a way to escape it.

After a few seconds, Mitch suddenly broke the silence with a loud scoff, stepping forwards slightly.

‘Kent? The kid we tied to a tractor in high school? You gotta be kidding me…’ he declared in surprisingly angry disbelief.

A few murmurs of agreement went through the room, and people began shaking their heads in a strange sort of relief, happy to know it wasn’t just them who couldn’t believe it. Clark was completely taken aback as he watched each one of their fears turn to stubborn denial. Apparently even with all the evidence to support it, his verbal confession wasn’t going to be as final as he’d expected.

People really do believe what they want to believe… and apparently, they REALLY didn’t want to believe this.

As the reality of that hit him, Clark felt even worse.

‘What is the matter with you people?’ Kurt howled in frustration, stepping forwards once again and bringing the green rock closer as he did.

The combination of increased physical pain, with his growing psychological distress, finally took its toll, and he felt his legs begin to buckle beneath him. He tried to grab hold of a nearby chair for support, but he wasn’t strong enough to hold himself up. His body gave in, and he fell to the ground, painfully landing on his side, before rolling over and collapsing onto his back.  

Clark’s vision started to swim violently as he grabbed his shoulder, throbbing from the force of his landing. He heard his name called out by several people, but he couldn’t quite make out who through the haze. Powerless to fight back, he felt strong, mercilles hands grab him underneath the shoulders, and drag him up again, forcing him onto a chair.

His body stayed limp and compliant as his hands were pulled roughly behind his back and he felt something being tied around his hands and to the chair, holding him in place.

‘No, get the hell away from him!’ he heard Lois cry out, and his head whipped up at the sound.

She moved instinctively to his defence, but the wild haired gunman was on her quickly, grabbing her around the waist and sticking his gun up against her forehead.

‘Nuh, uh missy,’ he growled into her ear. ‘I think we all wanna see how this thing ends.’

Clark struggled against the ties around his wrists at the sight of the man threatening his wife, but he couldn’t get them to budge an inch. All the strength he’d regained in the short space of time the feeling of kryptonite had left the room, was now gone. He was completely helpless, again, and it filled him with overwhelming frustration. He held on to that feeling as he fought to keep his head from flopping forwards and unconsciousness taking hold.

He had to keep fighting, in the only way he could.

‘Okay, one more demonstration,’ Kurt drawled, standing in front of Clark, and looking down on him.

Clark met his predatory eyes as defiantly as he could, not bothering to keep his own hatred hidden. The man stepped aside, ensuring the increasingly distressed group of onlookers would have a full view of whatever he was about to do.

‘Really look at him,’ Kurt said, waving a hand towards him.

Clark winced as he felt the man rip his glasses from his face without warning. Then his chin was roughly pulled upwards and held in place, making sure there was no mistaking his distinctive features. Inevitably, each person in the diner started to examine him.

He would have looked away if he could.

Their eyes were like fingers, crawling over every inch of his face. Several heads tipped slightly, and eyes grew wide as they matched up his exposed face with the Superhero they knew. They’d only caught glimpses of Superman in real life, but they’d seen his smiling face plastered all over newspaper front pages, regularly, for decades.

Sharon stepped closer, analysing his features too, her expression darkening with deep realisation.

‘You seriously saying this nobody is Superman in disguise?’ Johnny said, still sceptically; but he was staring at him with the same sense of dawning recognition that seemed to be settling on everyone’s faces.

Kurt rolled his eyes at his partner, and dropped Clark’s chin carelessly. He couldn’t stop his head from dropping limply to his chest, his conviction wavering as guilt, shame and regret swarmed through him. The man roughly grabbed the top of his shirt, ripping it open in one swift motion. Air immediately prickled against his bare chest and abdomen, and he was surprised to find it was possible to feel even more exposed than he had a few moments before.

He lifted his head weakly, peering out at the diner once again, and watching with despair as numerous sets of eyes lingered just above his jeans, were a near fatal wound had been only minutes before. Giving in to the persistent tug of unconsciousness began to feel all the more tempting.  

‘You think a human being could completely heal like that?’ he asked.

Muttered whispers floated through the room, but still no one said anything.

‘Do I have to draw a big red S on his chest for you people to get it?’ Kurt said sadistically, his hand slipping to his side as he reached for the knife again.

‘NO,’ Lana cried out, and Clark’s eyes flickered up weakly, barely able to make her out.

Please don’t do anything stupid, he willed. He could bare whatever humiliation and torture the man wanted to put him through… but he couldn’t bare it if someone got hurt trying to intervene.

‘You don’t need to do that,’ she continued, tears trickling down her cheeks. ‘We all understand now.’

Clark closed his eyes, his head spinning violently once again. He could just about make out the man’s heartless response.

‘Doesn’t hurt to be sure,’ he said coldly.

Burning hot pain suddenly ripped through Clark’s chest, and he snapped his eyes open in wide surprise as his attacker slowly carved a letter S into his flesh. He let out a strangled cry of pain, his body fighting to get away from the blade, struggling against the chair pointlessly. It was complete agony, and all rational though left him as he continued to bare it, completely at the man’s mercy.

When Kurt was done, he stepped to one side again and waved his hand back towards his canvas of flesh like a magician about to reveal a trick.

Clark panted for breath, the fresh wounds throbbing with raw, unrelenting pain and combining with the now overwhelming waves of radiation still emanating with the exposed chunk of kryptonite. There was no fighting it now. Even the part of him that still clung to some urge to fight wasn’t strong enough to push back against the insistence of unconsciousness. He felt himself surrender.

Suddenly, the kryptonite’s effects disappeared and he was startlingly awake again.

He looked up at the man in confusion, and saw him close the lid of a small led box. His mind cleared almost instantly, but he was still unable to make sense of his attackers actions. Then he felt the skin on his chest prickling with heat and his intentions dawned on him with dread. He felt the fresh wound on his chest begin to heal, and he didn’t know whether to feel grateful or defeated.

From the stunned faces of every individual in the diner, even the most stubborn denial had completely been removed.

‘He’s really Superman,’ Sharon breathed, her voice full of venom.

Chapter Text

Sharon thought she’d known grief.

She’d lived long enough to lose more than a few loved ones. Grandparents, parents… even a handful of friends. Some passed peacefully, their lives coming to a gentle, natural end; others were more unexpected, sudden… unjust. She’d felt grief’s crushing weight; the way it clenched at her heart and twisted her gut, emotions rising like waves of bile travelling up her throat. The unpredictable thoughts that made her question her sanity. The inexplicable feelings that left her wondering how she could ever return to the everyday flow of life.

Yet somehow, inevitably, she always had.

Life moved on. She never forgot those she’d lost, but her world somehow grew around their memory, expanding from that point of pain. She thought she’d understood and even come to terms with grief; an inescapable part of life, the price you pay for love and connection. A price that was ultimately worth paying.

She’d been wrong.

The moment her son’s death was finally confirmed, after so many torturous months of not knowing, of waiting and hoping and pleading for his return… she began to experience feelings she didn’t even have a name for. They ripped and clawed at her from the inside, mercilessly attacking her already weakened psyche as it tried to comprehend this new reality.

Derek had been killed. Brutally. Unthinkably. There wasn’t even anything left for her to bury.

No… she’d never really known grief.

Not like this.

Something began to take root inside her that day. An all consuming, unrelenting succubus formed from within, feeding on her pain. For those first few weeks, her world was nothing but a hazy nightmare. Shock and disbelief mingled with guilt and regret, ruling her every thought, painting heart wrenching images behind her eyes whenever she tried to sleep. She’d been dimly aware of visitors coming by, leaving her plates of home cooked food, offering her sympathetic glances and empty platitudes. She couldn’t even bring herself to respond, their presence so barely entering her reality. They were like ghosts at her door, smoky and unfocused, speaking in unintelligible whispers.

At some stage, they simply stopped coming… and she’d been nothing but relieved.

She’d felt no connection to the world by then, to the life she’d once worked so hard to maintain. Every day she longed for only one thing. Desperately, heart achingly, she begged for her son to be returned to her. She pleaded for the ability to turn back time somehow. Maybe if she’d made different decisions? Stopped him ever leaving New Carthage? Maybe then he’d still be here, living the life he’d no longer get the chance to live. She longed to take back every cross word she’d ever said, to tell him how much she loved him, even more often than she already had.

For months she’d simply drowned her sorrows, stumbling out into the fields behind her farm each night and screaming up at the mocking infinity of the star lit sky. Demanding answers, pleading for an end to her suffering. Sobbing until she had no tears left to shed.

Isolated in her misery, that ever-present parasite of feeling continued to grow, transforming and evoking even more powerful emotions. From despair to anger. From anger to rage. Until finally, she felt nothing but blood boiling, irrational, hatred. She hated herself for failing her son, for wasting the time she’d had with him. For not being able to protect him from the horrors he’d faced. She hated God, hated life itself, for allowing such a cruel experience to exist.

But mostly, she hated the people responsible for her son’s death.

At first that fury sat firmly with the man who’d killed her son. As she’d waited for news of his capture by the DOD, she’d spent countless hours picturing his violent, bloody end; imagining all the sentences he might receive that would come close to justice.

Nothing ever did.

He’d assaulted her son’s body with alien technology, raping his mind, leaving him to suffer in ways she couldn’t even conceive. To Morgan Edge, her son had been nothing more than a disposable shell, a neccesary broken egg in his human experimentation. A pawn in a bigger picture that ultimately ended with enslaving the human race.

The man was a monster. A thing of pure evil. He needed to be put down.

She’d watched with anxious anticipation as news channels all over the world reported on his capture, waiting for the justice to come, for a follow up about his trial or sentencing. Yet nothing came. Completely baffled, she sought out every contact phone number she could find – first for the DOD, and then for countless other government agencies. She called each of them, demanding to know why she’d been given no update on the fate of her son’s murderer. Each person she spoke to simply batted her away, fobbed her off with generic, empty promises. Made her feel like a persistent, but unimportant, bug.

She’d had no choice but to resort to less ‘official’ channels.

Sharon reached out to a few of the most undesirable characters in town. People with contacts who might be able to get information from the inside. She was bounced around for weeks, exchanging cash for whispered leads in shady bars, until she finally met Johnny. Oh, how grateful she was the universe had placed him in her path. In him, she found something she’d been deprived off for much too long. Someone who wasn’t frightened off by the intensity of her raw emotions. Someone who was really willing to help. Who supported her desire to seek justice, and who hated corrupt authority and institutions enough to share in some of her rage.

In Johnny, she’d found a man who would happily kill for her.

It took every penny she had left, but finally, they uncovered the truth.

Edge had been locked up in a private facility, without a trial, without a sentence. He was allowed to live on, with dignity, and in considerable comfort. Superman was even visiting him. Her contacts said they seemed to be on friendly terms.

With cold finality, she’d realised the truth…

…no one was going to make him pay for the things he’d done.

No one cared about her son’s death.

Whatever strand of sanity she’d had left withered away completely. The dark force inside her, no longer content to remain a parasitic passenger, now demanded full control… and she gratefully surrendered. Her hatred grew beyond anything she’d known, polluting all the parts of her that had ever been good or kind, filling every crack and crevice of her once cynical, but ultimately open, heart. It branched out like tendrils, wrapping around the image of everyone who’d hidden the truth from her, who’d coddled that alien freak and continued to do so, even now, knowing everything he’d done, the countless lives he had destroyed.

It demanded only one thing, single mindedly and without mercy.  

Revenge.

On Morgan Edge, General Lane, Lois Lane… and Superman.

They had all known what happened to her son, but they’d kept it from her, left her stumbling around in the dark.  

And now…. she finally knew why. 

Sharon looked around at the shocked and confused faces of every person in the diner. She knew their expressions likely reflected her own, twisting and evolving as they tried to make sense of the information Kurt had just violently revealed.

Her gaze landed once again on the man whose chest had just miraculously healed before their eyes, watching as he struggled against some invisible pain. He lifted his head weakly, trying his best to meet the room with some semblance of dignity. Seemingly unwilling to give Kurt the satisfaction of succumbing to shame.

Clark Kent was Superman.

Lois Lane was married to Superman.

The revelation crackled in the air like static.

All that pain they’d put her through… it was all to keep their family’s secret safe. They’d let her suffer so they could keep living this pretence of a normal life, giving no thought to the people it put in harm’s way.

They had to see they were endangering the lives of everyone around them?

No matter how they tried to dress him up - in red and blue, or a flannel shirt and a pair of glasses – Clark Kent was an alien in hiding! Who knows what his mere existence in Smallville for all those years had brought with it. Was he a beacon for other aliens? Was he the reason Edge had chosen New Carthage and Smallville for his human experimentation in the first place?

Had his family, and their selfish desire for privacy, cost her son his life?

Sharon’s rage fuelled questions swarmed through her mind as more and more pieces started to fall into place. She glared at the defeated and exposed superhero, silently willing him to meet her gaze. She wanted him to see her hatred, to bear witness to the vitriol that had manifested inside her because of him.

Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut.

He was obviously in pain. Beads of sweat dripped from his brow down to his neck, and his muscles were taught and clenched. Sharon looked down at the bomb on her chest, it’s tubes once again full of green kryptonite liquid. She took one curious step towards him. Immediately, a soft groan escaped his lips, and his body tensed even more in response to her closer proximity. He looked up at her with tortured eyes, and she thought she saw of hint of pleading behind them.

There was no doubt, it was the Kryptonite liquid making him sick.

Good, she thought, pushing away a distant flicker of empathy at his pained expression.

After all, this deceitful pretender deserved every moment of suffering & humiliation he was being forced to endure, didn’t he? A few more hours of this and maybe he’d know half of the pain she’d been through because of his choices. What she was watching might be the closest thing to justice she’d gotten since her son’s death! This was what she’d been fighting for, wasn’t it? A chance to make them all pay!

That all-consuming darkness growled inside her, witnessing her enemy’s pain with a lustful hunger for more. Sharon almost lost herself to the feeling entirely, but something pulled her back to earth. Kurt stood to her side, watching her reaction, an amused smile playing across his features. Her stomach twisted into a knot of disgust, and some part of her screamed a warning, pleading with her to somehow find a way out of the man’s clutches.

It was obvious by now that the cold & heartless man was using her. That he’d been manipulating her from the beginning. She hated the satisfied look he wore, as though delighting in the art of pulling her emotional strings… just another person treating her as though her life, her pain, meant nothing.

But the overwhelming power of her twisted grief had grown too strong. Those rational parts could do no more than flicker through her conscious mind, never quite seizing control, drowned out quickly by a dark, insidious voice.

‘Just enjoy it,’ it whispered to her. ‘This is what you wanted.’

She watched as Kurt held Clark Kent’s distinctive glasses loosely in his grip, letting them sway lightly back and forth between his fingers. He smirked as his captive gritted his teeth against another wave of pain, before suddenly dropping the discarded frames on the diner floor and crushing them violently under his boot.

There were a few frightened shrieks from the crowd at the sudden aggressive act, but nobody spoke. The whole room was full of desperate questions that no one dared to ask.

Sharon watched as Lois, still held prisoner in Johnny’s grip, struggled pointlessly to break free. Her eyes were wet with tears. Was she really so blind that she hadn’t expected this!? Did she think her family could get away with keeping a secret like this forever? That they could just stomp all over other people’s lives and not ultimately pay the price for that?

Sharon shook her head, galling at the arrogance of it all.

The glasses were completely useless now anyway. There was no longer any doubt Clark’s forced confession had been the truth. Maybe X-K could have explained the healing on its own, but when you put all the pieces together, it was too much to deny.

The familiar outline of his jaw. Those bright blue eyes. His reaction to the Kryptonite.

Not to mention the guilt written all over his face.

Clark Kent… was Superman.

She’d known Superman was a liar, that he wasn’t the perfect idol everyone made him out to be, but this was… He hadn’t just lied. He’d spent his whole life pretending to be something he was not.

And he’d been extremely good at it.

She could understand why there had been so much disbelief at first. Clark just seemed so… ordinary. Living only one town over, she’d known him most of her life, just like the others. She knew the Kents… even thought of them as good people. It was hard to believe they’d raised an alien they’d found in a field, pretended he was their own. How could they be that reckless?

Besides, the idea that their small towns, the places that felt so safe from big city worries, could have been used like that…  as a cover for an alien being to master his powers, to figure out how to manipulate them all into thinking he was a hero.

It felt violating.

Just like Edge.

Sharon caught Johnny’s expression from across the room. His face was full of fury too, but his anger seemed to be directed towards their so-called ‘partner’. She flashed him what she hoped was a warning look and he gritted his teeth with restraint. Of course, she understood his anger. She knew how much he hated being treated like a fool, but they couldn’t afford to lose their cool right now… not if they had any hope of completing their mission and coming out of this alive.

Her gaze drew down to her chest again. The bomb’s liquid had been deactivated and re-activated somehow. Right before Clark’s chest had started it’s out of this world healing process, the bomb’s colour had disappeared. Within seconds, it’s radioactive glow once again filled the translucent tubes. It was obvious Kurt was controlling the bomb somehow… but how much control did he have?

Was the hair trigger she was clenching tightly under her thumb even real? Did he have the power to set the bomb off himself, at any time?

A chill shook through her at that thought.

She wasn’t a complete idiot. She’d known that neither Kurt nor their Boss were exactly trustworthy allies… but she’d at least thought they were working together in a mutually beneficial way. Now, she had to wonder if their real agenda even allowed her to get close to Edge. Where they really going to allow her a chance at revenge? Or were her and Johnny were being set up as nothing more than convenient patsy’s?

For all they knew, the man was planning to kill them as soon as they’d served their usefulness…

No. No way. Not a chance in hell was she going to let that happen.

She’d come too close now, to let some Metropolis scumbags get in the way of the only thing that mattered anymore.

Sharon tried to push her anxious questions aside. As urgent as the situation was, in that exact moment, they were powerless. Once Kurt’s moment in the spotlight was over, she and Johnny would talk, work out their next move… but for now, she was as much a clueless witness to the unfolding scene as the rest of the diner’s occupants, waiting for the next act of the man’s theatrical reveal.

She had to admit, she was curious to know what he was going to do next.

As if he’d somehow sensed her internal surrender, Kurt turned away from her and faced the tense crowd, clearing his throat loudly to gather their attention. She watched his face morph into an unnaturally soft expression, seemingly attempting to emulate empathy. The poor approximation had the opposite effect, curling her toes.  

‘I’m sorry to have been so blunt. I know this must come as a shock to all of you, but the truth needed to be exposed,’ the man announced, as though delivering a public service. ‘He’s been living among you for years. Hiding, fooling you into thinking he was just like you,’

Despite everything he’d done so far, and the continued torture he was inflicting on their supposed friend and neighbour, the crowd hung on his every word.

‘He used your town as nothing more than a training ground. Growing in strength, watching and waiting, learning your ways until the time came to strike. To emerge in his public disguise. The big blue boy scout, the inspiring and compassionate hero…’

Kurt’s description of the fallen hero was laced with malice.

He turned back towards Sharon with a flicker of intention in his eyes. He held her gaze meaningfully, as though making it clear the next reveal was just for her, his pupils like dark flames dancing in delight. She stared back at him, feeling her own darkness stir within her, as though beast were greeting beast.

‘He’s pulled the wool over the world’s eyes for years,’ he began again, not taking his cruel eyes from hers. ‘Just like his brother, Tal-Rho.’

The last few words rolled off his tongue with a satisfied snarl, echoing through Sharon’s mind.  

Brother…

Brother?

Her heart pounded in her chest and her face twisted in disbelief and disgust as she grappled with the word. She heard a few gasps of surprise flutter around the room as her fury surged once more, growing so wild she could barely think straight. Her vision darkened as she turned back towards the bound & helpless alien, her eyes tunnelling into him as though she could wound him with simply a glare.

Edge was his brother!

That’s why he hadn’t stood trial for his crimes, why he was allowed to live comfortably in that specially designed cell.

That’s why Superman was visiting him.

He’s not just a fellow Kryptonian.

He’s family.

Sharon caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye, and reluctantly pulled her attention away from the subject of her newly acute hatred. She turned to see Emily Pan stepping nervously forward from the crowd, her face full of hurt and betrayal.

‘Is… is this true, Clark?’ she asked quietly.

Sharon felt something akin to comradery at the sound of the woman’s horrified question. Emily had gone through the same process as her son, after all. Her mind had been inhabited with Kryptonian consciousness; her freedom stolen from her under the guise of false promises of a better life. She had been forced to watch helplessly from the depths of her own subconscious as her body was taken on a murderous joy ride.

Emily had suffered, like so many others, at the hands of these Kryptonian men, who seemed to think they were above paltry things such as human law.

At least she had survived.

Derek hadn’t been so lucky.

Sharon watched with deepening satisfaction as Clark lifted his head ever so slightly, parting his lips as though trying to respond… but no words came. She wasn’t sure if his muted attempt at speech was a psychological block, or just a bi product of the kryptonite exposure.

It didn’t matter though.

The guilt in his eyes was all the confirmation they needed.

‘It’s not what you think,’ Lois leapt predictably to his defence. ‘He didn’t even know Edge was a Kryptonian until last year. Yes, they are technically brothers, but that doesn’t mean Clark is anything like him.’

The insufferable woman twisted around as much as she could in Johnny’s grip, trying to meet the crowd’s gaze, to connect with the people they’d called friends.

She looked desperate, terrified… pathetic.

Sharon couldn’t believe she was still trying to patch up their lifelong cover up, even when it was so clearly ripped to shreds. That she still clung to some kind of blind hope that they could be forgiven, that the people of Smallville might understand. Johnny covered the woman’s mouth with a firm hand, stopping her from spouting any more of her famously emotive words.

Sadly, it didn’t take long for another voice to pipe up from the crowd.

‘Lois is telling the truth. He was just a baby when he came here, he’s never known anything but life right here, on earth.’

Mayor Lang. Clark Kent’s lifelong friend. Of course, she had been in on it too.

Sharon wondered how many other people in the room already knew, how many of these seemingly innocent bystanders were complicit in hiding the truth.

‘My dad wasn’t hiding, he was just living… he was just trying to survive,’ one of Superman’s son’s chimed in, adding to the chorus of desperate pleas.

To her dismay, the crowd seemed to actually be listening to them. She could see the turmoil on each of their faces; the desperate need to be fed an explanation that would return their reality to order. They needed to believe that the man they’d trusted, wasn’t the monster they were now being faced with. That Clark Kent AND Superman weren’t complete façades. That he was still, ultimately, a force for good.

She had to admit, she could understand the fear that motivated them.

After all, if Superman couldn’t be trusted… where did that leave them? He’d been a figure of hope, truth, and justice for so long… to shatter that meant more than just altering their perceptions of one man.

It meant altering their entire view of the world.

‘Even after he found out who Edge was, that they were brothers - Clark still fought against him anyway. He chose US,’ Lana continued to plead with them. ‘Tal tried to eradicate him, but he fought back. He managed to do something no one else had. He pushed back against the invading mind… because he didn’t want to abandon his family, didn’t want to leave the world defenceless.’

Sharon felt her cheeks prickle with heat as another surge of fury rose up at that last statement, and she felt her body move without her conscious control. She strode over to the defiant Mayor so fast the woman could barely flinch.

‘So, what… my Derek just wasn’t strong enough, is that what you’re saying? He didn’t love me enough to fight?’

‘No, that… that’s not…’ Lana croaked back, visibly shaken by her intimidating glare.

Sharon bore into her for a few seconds more, before finally shaking her head and turning away dismissively. This woman wasn’t worth her energy. She was nothing more than a fool, a naïve follower of the insidious lies this family had told.

She wasn’t the one who’d found Sharon after her son went missing, gained her trust and given her false hope. She wasn’t the one who had stood there at the town meeting, claiming to have no information about her son, withholding everything she so clearly knew.

Those charges fell to Lois Lane. A supposed champion of truth, with a career built on exposing corruption and lies. A career now tarnished by her own sickening deceptions.

Sharon glared into the reporter’s fearful eyes as she closed the gap between them, lingering there for a moment, before nodding to her partner suggestively. Johnny nodded grimly back, understanding her wordless request, and lowering his hand from his captive’s mouth.

Despite the fiery woman’s earlier protests, she said nothing.

‘You knew everything,’ Sharon hissed, watching with satisfaction as the woman flinched slightly at the words.  

How did she live with herself? She was a mother too, she knew exactly how much pain she must have caused, how much the truth would have meant. She understood that to have a child, meant having a part of your own heart just suddenly out there in the world, where anything can happen to it.

And she’d still chosen to keep her in the dark. 

‘You lied to my face!’

‘I didn’t…’ Lois weakly tried to defend herself.

‘Don’t! Don’t you dare try and deny it. Not after everything we’ve seen. My son was just a pawn in a game between your alien husband and his long-lost brother. And you knew… you knew he was gone, and you knew why.’

She could see the regret in the woman’s eyes. It was almost as though she actually cared… but of course, she didn’t. How could she. If she really cared about anything but her own desires, she would never have married into this insane delusion in the first place. 

‘Your family is the reason mine is gone,’ Sharon added, the final words almost sticking in her throat as her emotions caught up with her.  

‘Clark tried to save Derek, but there was nothing he could do. There was nothing anyone could do,’ Lois explained pleadingly. ‘I’m so sorry he died, but…’

Without thinking, Sharon slapped her hard across the face.

Lois’s whole body twisted to the side at the force of her strike, but her arms were still held firmly at her side. Sharon could hear the weak protests of the woman’s husband and a few other voices around her, but she didn’t take her eyes off her.

‘You think an apology is going to make this better?’ she practically spat back.

Visibly shaken from the unexpected assault, Lois slowly and shakily pulled herself upright, meeting Sharon’s eyes as she continued her unrelenting glare. The woman’s own anger was now evident in her eyes.

‘Okay, that’s enough. I think we’ve heard all we need to hear out of both of them’ Kurt declared behind her, breaking her out of their silent conflict.

He stood behind the fallen hero, his hands reaching into his pocket for a moment, before he grabbed the back of Clark’s hair and yanked it back aggressively. He pulled out a wadded-up piece of fabric and shoved it into his captive’s mouth, causing him to gag. Not giving him any time to recover, he placed another piece of fabric over the top, tying it tightly at the back of his neck.

Once he was done, he let then man’s head flop limply against his chest. Clark looked so pale now, Sharon wondered if the green kryptonite liquid attached to her chest had somehow been dialled up in strength. It was hard to fully comprehend that this was Superman tied to a chair, so helpless to prevent himself from being gagged and stripped of his dignity.

With no mind to the unbearable loud scraping sound that filled the silent room, Kurt dragged the chair his prisoner was tied to across the room, dumping him beside the booth he’d claimed earlier that night. He clearly wanted to keep the man close, now that his manipulative reveal was complete. Ready for whatever step was next in their mysterious plan.

Sharon looked nervously at Johnny, her anxiety flaring once again. She racked her brain, desperately trying to work out what the purpose of all this was. Kurt had clearly known who Clark Kent really was long before they’d entered the diner that night… so why all the pretence? Why come up with such an elaborate and risky strategy to hurt him?

‘Well, don’t just stand there, gag her too,’ Kurt demanded impatiently, waving a hand towards Johnny. ‘And put her next to him, over there. They can keep each other company while they contemplate their destructive life choices.’

He grabbed another chair from one of the nearby tables and slammed it down next to Clark, so close the man couldn’t help but flinch instinctively.

Sharon could see the intense reluctance in Johnny’s eyes as he glared at their partner. She silently pleaded with him to comply. They had to play this right, let him think he was in charge, that they were submitting to his authority. At least for now.  Their eyes locked for a moment, until, with a frustrated growl, Johnny conceded, pulling the bandana from around his neck and roughly wrapping it into place around his own captive’s mouth. Lois fought relentlessly against him as he wrestled her into the second chair, but he was much stronger than he looked. He held her in place, tying her hands behind her back and to the chair, before dragging her over to sit alongside her husband, their chairs positioned back-to-back.

‘Mom! Dad!’ superman’s son cried out as he watched his parents being dragged helplessly away.

He looked terrified… and yet, something about his demeanour finally hit her.

Unlike his father and brother, the young man seemed unaffected by the kryptonite in her bomb. Testing her theory, Sharon took a couple of steps closer to him. He flinched in fear at her approach… but there was no sign of actual pain or sickness.

Guess she knew one thing. Not all of the aliens’ traits were dominant. Okay fine, he didn’t seem to get sick around kryptonite or have any powers… but that didn’t make him any less alien, did it? Kryptonian blood still ran in his veins, just like his still unconscious brother.

Still, the boy looked so utterly crestfallen, Sharon could feel something tugging at her heart. The look on his face seemed so innocent, so human… for a moment, she almost recognised a feeling of… empathy? His distress touched something maternal inside her, something primal, instinctual. She was reminded of so many moments with her own son, when he’d been around the same age. The look he’d had on his face on one of many days he’d come home from school, devastated and in floods of tears. Days where he’d been picked on by yet another bully, failed a test he’d studied for so hard, or when his high school crush had so cruelly turned him down.

No matter what it was, she had always been there. She would pull her son into her arms, comforting him and reassuring him, making sure he knew he was loved with every fibre of her being.

She stared at the young man before her, catching the slight tremble of his lips…

He was just a kid. A terrified, desperate kid…  

‘No, he’s not,’ that dark voice inside her whispered once again. ‘He’s an alien hybrid. His existence is only possible because of the lies they told. If he didn’t exist, Derek would still be alive.’

She shook herself back into focus, the moment of empathy snuffed out.

Of course he wasn’t just a kid. He was nothing like Derek. He might look innocent, but that was exactly how they’d gotten away with this for so long!

He was just as much of a threat as the rest of his family.

Kurt turned to face something behind him, and she followed his attention to the young girl Johnny had been about to take out earlier. She was still crouched over the other, unconscious son of Superman. Except he wasn’t unconscious anymore. Sharon noticed his eyes flickering into consciousness, and he began looking around in pained confusion. The young girl (had they called her Natalie?) was muttering the boy’s name amid words of comfort.

Jordan. Jordan & Jonathan Kent. The boys whose lives had been exchanged for her son.

‘Get him over to the other side of the room,’ Kurt barked at the girl, and she struggled to her feet, pulling the young man with her.

He was just about able to stay upright, leaning against her hard and squinting towards his brother.  They stumbled across the room, and Jordan collapsed into his brother’s arms as though just those few steps had taken all the energy he had.

‘I’m sure you all have questions. I’m going to leave the alien twins with you to answer them for now,’ he said, smiling as though the idea of the boys having to face an assault of questions was a torture he was happy to inflict.  

Kurt checked his watch, then looked up at the TV. The muted screen still showed the growing media circus outside, a new reporter seemingly repeating the same information for newer viewers. He took a step back, then lingered a moment more, pausing with a frown on his face as though wracking his brain for something he’d forgotten. Realisation seemed to hit him, and he turned to face Johnny, holding out his hand expectantly.

‘I’ll take that,’ he said, nodding towards the gun at his side. ‘Don’t worry, shouldn’t be long now until we can move on to phase 4.’

Sharon watched as Johnny’s eyes threw dagger’s back at him, but he reluctantly handed over the weapon. He didn’t even bother to ask what phase 3 was. It was obvious the man was enjoying dangling their own cluelessness in front of their faces.

Gun in hand, Kurt strode over to his captives on the other side of the room. He bent low and leaned in, whispering something in Clark’s ear, dragging the tip of the gun down the side of Lois’ face as he did. Whatever he said made the fallen superhero struggle against his restraints in a frenzy, swearing angrily into his cloth covered mouth. His attacker simply slapped lightly at his cheek, as though the reaction was exactly what he’d been hoping for. He walking over to the window, leaning up against the wall beside it so that he could peek out through the blinds without becoming an easy target for a sniper, and turned his attention once again to the street outside.

Once it was clear the man was done with them for now, the diner’s occupants began to relax slightly, turning towards one another and exchanging comments and questions in hushed whispers. Sharon blocked their anxious voices out entirely. She needed to focus on the priorities here.

She crossed the few steps to where Johnny stood and flung her arms around him, no longer caring what any observers might think of their emotional response. He wrapped his arms around her in return, pulling her close and resting his chin softly on her head. Sharon allowed herself a moment to simply take comfort in his embrace, before pulling back and searching his eyes like she was trying to read his thoughts.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked her, his voice thick with concern.

Sharon had no idea how to answer that. Nothing about the night so far was okay, and her mind was like a tumbling washing machine of new and painful information. Her rational side was still trying to understand how it all fit together, what the bigger picture was here. How could they find some control in a situation that felt so chaotic?

‘He’s still coming,’ she said finally, her mind landing on the thing that mattered most and finding reassurance there. ‘As long as they hand Edge over, I can still do this. It won’t all have been for nothing.’

‘I don’t know babe, I can’t help but think that pompous douchebag’s got other plans for Mr Edge,’ he said, glancing in Kurt’s direction again with disdain.

‘If he’s going to get in my way, we’re just going to have to take him out,’ she said in a firm but quiet whisper.

Johnny smiled back at her in admiration. He pulled her in for a passionate kiss and she returned his passion, wanting… no, needing to feel close to him in that moment. To know that as messed up as it all was, she wasn’t alone.

Once their lips parted, she pulled back, her thoughts furrowing her brow again. He looked confident… maybe too confident. She flashed him a warning look.

‘Johnny, we’re going to have to be real careful about this…’

‘The bomb?’ he guessed correctly.

Sharon nodded, her eyes drifting over to Kurt instinctively, and Johnny swore lightly under his breath.

‘We gotta find a way to catch him by surprise. Take him out before he has a chance to activate this thing,’ she explained, though she was still working out how they were supposed to do that.

It seemed like Kurt held all the cards here. He had the only working weapons, control of the bomb and whatever other advantages a direct line to the boss might give him. For all they knew, he might have people on the inside ready to provide back-up or secret tech that he could activate besides the green kryptonite explosive.

Recognising the anxiety on her face as she ran through the possible scenarios, Johnny smiled knowingly at her.

‘Hey, don’t worry. I promise, I’m not going to let him hurt you sweetheart. I have a little something that stuck-up prick seems to have forgotten about,’ he said with smug smile.

He twisted slightly, just enough for her to see as he held out his jean jacket. She followed his eyes down to his belt, where the handle of a small revolver was peeking out at the back.

Sharon smiled back at him gratefully.

They still had a chance. This wasn’t over yet, and she was ready to fight with her last breath if she had to. She glanced up at the clock on the wall, feeling a rush of eager anticipation as she realised there was only another 5 minutes to go before the deadline they'd given to the General expired.

She was about to show them all once and for all - they never should have underestimated the fury of a mother seeking justice for her son.

Chapter Text

Looking out at the complete chaos that was now Smallville high street, Sam couldn’t help but regret his own plan. Flashes of red and blue flickered through the animated crowd, their background chatter fast becoming an overwhelming roar. News vans full of overzealous reporters covered every available inch of the small town’s main road, a few teams seemingly competing for the ‘prime’ positions with the best view. Their camera crews looked more like bodyguards as they protected their claimed territory.

Any spot that had a view of Vicky May’s was now occupied by at least one immaculately dressed figure, microphone in hand, eager to capture every second of the unfolding story. Sam was pretty sure if it weren’t for the barriers surrounding the diner’s perimeter, their equipment would be shoved right up against the windows. They had no regard for their personal safety. Not if it meant capturing that one memorable shot of the scene inside.

There wasn't even anything new to report! They were simply repeating the same few lines, making vague gestures at the diner behind them, trying to ensure their viewers a continued sense of immediacy. Now and then, they drifted back to their news vans, making animated phone calls, or fussing with their hair & make-up for the millionth time.

God forbid any tiny blemish go down in history.

Not for the first time, Sam felt a wave of gratitude that his daughter had mostly stayed away from this kind of rat race. The first few reporters on the scene had beelined straight for him, bombarding him with questions at such a rate he barely had time to issue a ‘no comment’ in return. Thankfully, they’d gotten the message pretty quickly - they weren’t going to get anything of substance out of the General, nor anyone else on the ground. He was sure Harcastle’s PR team would be having a field day coming up with suitable statements to stave off the undoubtably endless calls, begging for juicy quotes. Any snippet they could dissect and discuss, as they provided 24/7 coverage of the unusual story.

The evening air had turned chilly, and Sam rubbed his hands together for warmth as he craned his neck towards the sky, scanning the clouds above for any sign of movement. He knew it was a pointless exercise - John Henry was way too careful to be visible from the ground - but his anxious impatience compelled his actions anyway. Glancing back down at his phone, he scanned over the man’s brief message once more.

‘He’s in. We’re on our way.’

So far so good, he thought; but he knew better than to get too hopeful.

They were running out of time, and there was still so much they didn’t know. Sharon Powell and her wild haired x-k junkie of a partner might be mentally off the rails, but at least their agenda’s were clear. Their partner, Kurt… who exactly was he to them? How had he gotten involved? Were the three of them working alone, or was there someone else behind all of this? Someone who had put this unusual team together…

Sam gave the diner a long wary look, wishing he knew what was going on inside. Was Clark doing okay? Had anyone else been hurt? It had been almost an hour since he’d been forced to leave his terrified family behind, and the only intel he’d had since were the vague outlines of movement from the DODs thermal imaging tech.

He glanced back at the Gazette, his teeth clenched tightly together from the cold and anticipation.

The building location made it a perfect base of operation. Close to the diner, sitting neatly inside the cordoned off area; but away from prying eyes. Hardcastle had offered to send in more back up to help with crowd control, or even to set up a tent and give the DOD a larger space to work from… but Sam had declined. Right now, limiting who had knowledge of this operation was his number one priority. The special unit were the only ones who were aware of his strategy, and even they knew only what was absolutely necessary. That’s exactly how he planned to keep it.

Sam saw the gazette’s door swing open and one of his special unit officers, a man called Travis, leaned out.

‘General!’ the man said urgently. ‘You should really see this.’

Travis was a huge guy, the kind you didn’t want to run into in a dark alley. He was also one of the best researchers on their team. Sam had set the man to work trying to track down the identity of the diner’s more mysterious unwelcome guest, and any other useful information they could use to their advantage.

If he had something to share, Sam was eager to hear it.

He gave the diner one last mournful look, before ducking back inside and letting the young man lead him over to his makeshift desk where Sam’s own daughter usually worked. There, at the centre of the screen, was the face of Clark’s attacker, his expression just as cold as it had been when he plunged a blade into his son-in-law’s vulnerable flesh.

To Sam’s surprise, in the image, the man wore full military regalia.

‘He’s one of ours?’ he asked in disbelief, a wave of disgust washing through him.  

‘Well, he was at least. Nothing too spectacular, he wasn’t well decorated or anything… but he had a pretty decent career. Up until about 10 years ago, anyway.’

‘What happened?’

‘Looks like he was honourably discharged. Assignments must have started to get to him. His psych evaluations were coming back with some major red flags.’

‘What’s he been up to since?’

‘Nothing,’ the man replied.

Sam raised an eyebrow, but the man simply shrugged.

‘I mean… literally, nothing. There’s been no record of him in the system since then. No one has seen or heard from him since he left the army.’

‘Well, he’s sure as hell been somewhere!’

‘This is one of the best identity wipes I’ve ever seen. No credit cards, health records, addresses… it’s like he just disappeared.’

Sam nodded his understanding, trying to temper his frustration. He’d known it was likely Kurt would have covered his tracks, but dammit… they needed something to go on here. Some kind of edge he could use in his negotiations.

‘Keep digging,’ he instructed, and the man nodded obediently.

Sam’s attention was pulled behind him as the bell above the gazette’s front door rang out. In the doorway stood a young soldier, whom he’d asked to ensure the local authorities had the crowd under control. The kid was extremely skilled in the field, top of his class – but he was still a little green, and he wasn’t sure how much he trusted him.

‘There’s an Agent Hatchett asking to speak to you, Sir,’ the man reported with a hint of reluctance in his voice.

He knew he was delivering bad news. 

Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation as he muttered a curse under his breath. The woman’s continued attempt to horn in on his investigation was starting to really get on his nerves. She was nothing if not persistent, he’d give her that; but how many times did he have to do this dance with her before she would accept his position wasn’t going to change?

Of course he’d known leaking the situation to the media wasn’t just going to attract reporters. One by one, representatives from numerous agencies and emergency services had arrived, flashing their official badges and making themselves known. Fortunately, most of them had accepted the DOD’s jurisdiction and were keeping their presence to supportive standby only; but for some reason, Agent Hatchett of the FBI just would not follow suit.  

‘For god’s sake, just direct her to General Hardcastle if she’s after another update.’

‘Uh, I did sir, but she said she has some intel you’d want to hear. Something about the terrorist’s boss being someone you know...’

Sam couldn’t help but pause at that tease of information. He hated the feeling of being manipulated into another discussion with her, but he had to admit, Hatchett didn’t seem like the kind of woman to dangle a false carrot. In fact, if it weren’t for the situation at hand, he might have even liked her. She was professional, bold, direct – all attributes he respected in their line of work. She’d clearly worked hard to get to where she was. If she said she claimed to have intel… he had to at least hear her out.

He nodded at the young man to let her in, and a moment later she stepped into the small office, striding over to him with a confident purpose.

She was a well-dressed, immaculate woman with long blond hair tied up in a neat ponytail. Sam put her at maybe five years younger than him, though it was hard to tell through the ridiculous sunglasses she wore, even in the dead of night.

‘General Lane,’ she said respectfully. ‘I have good news. My superiors have advised me there has been an agreement between our two agencies. You and I are to work together.’

Sam couldn’t help but scoff at the unexpectedly brazen claim.

‘You don’t say? Well, I’m sure you’ll understand, I’m going to need more than your word on that before we start cosying up here.’

Hardcastle had been backing him up from above so far, despite bristling from Sam’s earlier manipulative tactics. She wouldn’t let someone bully her into inter agency co-operation, would she?

Unless she was trying to get back at him for his earlier insubordination…

Agent Hatchett lifted the ridiculous sunglasses from her face, a hint of a smile curling the corners of her mouth. Her head tilted curiously to one side as she took him in, her piercing green eyes holding his gaze for a long moment. Then she looked him up and down, sizing him up in a way that was both intimidating and at the same time, strangely enthralling.

Sam felt like she could see right through his bravado, and down to the fear that stirred beneath.  

‘Look, General… I know you don’t trust me,’ she began in a softer tone, ‘but I can assure you, the FBI doesn’t pose any threat to your operation. We’re not here for your alien prisoner, and we have no interest in getting in the way of your exchange.’

‘Then why exactly are you here?’ Sam asked incredulously.

‘Because of the man we suspect is behind all of this....’

Sam regarded her warily as she let her words hang between them. He said nothing, allowing the silence to become an invitation for more.

Hatchett hesitated for a moment. She looked reluctant to share the information she had without any hint of co-operation from his end, but she was obviously following her own orders. Finally, she sighed in defeat, hooking her sunglasses over the collar of her simple black t-shirt.

‘General Lane, you understand what I am about to share with you can go no further,’ she began, her gaze intense. ‘This isn’t the kind of information that we can afford to have leaked to the media.’

Sam scowled back at her, as though the suggestion he would do so was an unwelcome offense. Okay, yes, he had technically leaked information to the media earlier that night… but she didn’t know that.

His defensive response seemed to satisfy her.  

‘We have reason to believe this operation was orchestrated by Lex Luthor,’ she revealed.

Sam simply stared at her dumbfounded, processing for a moment whether he’d heard her correctly.

‘Lex Luthor,’ he repeated, and her nod of confirmation stole away any hope he’d been wrong.

There was a name he’d never wanted to hear again.

He tried to swallow, finding his mouth suddenly dry. The already heavy pit of dread in his stomach seemed to have tripled in size.

Hatchett looked almost relieved at the extent of his reaction as she assessed his shifting emotions.

‘I’m aware you and Luthor have crossed paths before,’ she acknowledged. ‘You understand how serious this is.’

Sam scoffed once again, but nodded grimly. Serious was an understatement.

Lex Luthor had tried to kill his daughter and his son-in-law on countless occasions. Nearly succeeded a few times. The man had left scars on his family that would never heal. Lex Luthor was more than just your average criminal. He was a monster.

‘It can’t be him… Luthor’s long dead,’ he defended reflexively, but without conviction.

They’d always known this day might come.

It had taken them years of investigative reporting, but Clark and Lois had finally exposed Luthor for the criminal he was. They’d had him dead to rights, with enough proof to send him away for the rest of his life; but he’d been more prepared for his own downfall than they’d have ever anticipated, thinking him too arrogant to see it coming.

On the morning of his first day in court, an explosion took out his transport vehicle. He’d made sure Superman, and the authorities would be much too busy to intervene, timing it perfectly with a series of mysterious, co-ordinated attacks on various locations around the city.

They never found his body, but experts concluded it would have been destroyed by the fire, and Luthor had been officially declared dead. Scientists were adamant there was no way he could have survived, and so the newspapers ran with the story of Lex’s apparent suicide, painting a picture of a man so megalomaniacal that he would rather burn than rot away in a prison cell.

Still, Clark, Lois and the DOD had spent years searching for any sign of the man. It had taken a long time before they’d stopped looking over their shoulders, waiting for him to come after them. After everything they’d been through at the man’s hands, they knew not to underestimate him.

But there was never even a whisper of his continued existence. Almost a decade had passed by, and they’d started to accept that maybe he really was gone. They’d allowed themselves to move on.

That had been their mistake, clearly.

‘That’s the official line, yes… but the FBI never stopped keeping an ear to the ground.’

Sam shook his head. After all these years, could it really be true? Could Lex be alive, and finally deciding to make his move?

What exactly had he been waiting for all this time?

Why was he acting now…

Sam’s eyes widened as the reality of the situation hit him.  

Clark’s secret…

Barely masking the recognition on his face, Sam felt the pieces come together in his mind. Lex must have found out who – and what - Clark really was. That had been the leverage he’d been waiting for. The silver bullet that made it worth coming out of hiding. He’d bided his time, waiting until he had a sure-fire way of taking Superman down once and for all.

And now, he did.

‘We don’t know what his agenda is in Smallville exactly, but it’s unlikely it’s as simple as the terrorists demands might suggest,’ Hatchett continued, and Sam eyed her warily as she spoke. ‘We think there’s something else going on in that diner. I’m sure you can understand now why it is so important that we pool our information here.’

Sam barely listened to her as she spoke, his mind still trying to make sense of it all.

If Lex knew the truth, why hadn’t he just gone after his family in the middle of the night? Why go to all the trouble of this flamboyant trojan horse? Surely something stealthier would have been less risky if he wanted them dead…

But he didn’t just want them dead, did he… he wanted to ruin their lives.

Sam cursed internally as he suddenly realised the unknowing part he’d likely played in that psychopath’s plan.

He’d wanted him to call in the media. That’s why he’d made sure his demands were something the DOD would never agree to without some underhanded motivation.

Dammit, Sam had gone ahead and provided him with the perfect audience for a very public reveal…

‘What is it General?’

Sam snapped out of his thoughts and shot her a stoney expression, straightening up and clearing his throat. He addressed her in a falsely over professional manner.

‘Thank you for the intel, Agent Hatchett, I will take that under advisement.’

The hardened woman looked surprisingly taken aback. Clearly, she’d expected him to change his mind about them working together once she’d dropped that bombshell.

‘General, my team have resources that would be undoubtedly useful to your operation… and I’m sure you’ll agree, Lex Luthor is an enemy you don’t try and take down without the strongest possible offensive.’

‘Look, Agent, I know you’re just doing your job… but this situation is much more complicated than you think. Trust me, involving your team will do more harm than good to the people in that diner. Getting them out of their alive is all I care about right now.’

Another flash of frustration crossed her usually unshaken features, and she paused a beat, squinting at him curiously again, before realisation seemed to dawn on her.

‘Sam,’ she began gently. ‘I know you must be worried about your family…’

Sam shot her a threatening look, and she held up a hand submissively. It was an underhanded tactic, and she knew it. Using his first name in such an unpermitted gesture of intimacy and then throwing his family connection in his face?  

‘What I’m worried about, Agent, is the FBI interfering with my operation,’ he snapped back, louder than he’d intended.

A few of his soldiers’ heads lifted, turning curiously towards their rising disagreement.

Hatchett didn’t flinch.

‘With all due respect, General, your Superior’s have agreed...’

‘Well, until I hear from them directly, I’m still calling the shots,’ he cut her off, with an air of finality.

Their eyes remained locked together in a battle of wills for a moment more. She looked almost disappointed, like she’d expected better of the decorated General.

‘Fine. Have it your way,’ she conceded finally. ‘You know where to find me once you’ve spoken to General Hardcastle.’

He maintained his stance of stubborn defiance, despite her obvious judgement. Better she thought him an ego driven old fool than enquire too much into what he was trying to hide.

With one last disapproving shake of her head, she ducked back out of the tent. Sam took a big deep breath, and let it out slowly, before turning back to face his team, eyes widening like they’d been caught red handed. They looked away hastily, busying themselves with their previous tasks, and pretending like nothing had happened.

Sam headed towards the Gazette’s back door and stepped out into the alley, suddenly craving the refreshing chill of the evening air. His mind swirled from the unwelcome revelation he was having to digest, but he tried to focus on the positive here. At least he had some new angles to work with now.

Kurt was working for Lex Luthor…

The man’s seemingly irrational actions made a lot more sense now. Whoever he was, he’d fallen for Luthor’s vicious charm. He’d been a man of service once… maybe he even thought he was protecting the world somehow? Luthor had always claimed Superman was really a threat to mankind.

Sam felt his pocket vibrate, and he held his breath in anticipation as he pulled his phone out in front of him, checking the screen for the identity of the caller.

It was Hardcastle.

God dammit! Sam cursed under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief and frustration. The screen blinked at him as the phone continued to ring, and his thumb hovered over the answer call button hesitantly. 

He couldn’t let the FBI into this operation. It was hard enough keeping his own team from enquiring to much into the suspicious elements of the night, worrying they might hear Kurt say something that would jeopardise his family’s secret. Agent Hatchett would want to know everything, and she was smart enough to know he was holding something back.

No, the longer he kept this in house, the safer they’d all be.  

Abruptly he made up his mind. He hit the reject call button, turning off his phone and slipping it back into his pocket.

Just as he did, he heard a familiar whoosh and metallic crunch behind him.

Jon tugged at the fabric of his mom’s coat, trying to make sure it covered every possible inch of his brother’s still much too pale skin. His anxious mind jumped from fear fuelled thought to fear fuelled thought, never daring to stay on one catastrophic revelation for too long. It fought hard to escape the overwhelm that threatened to incapacitate him completely.

He had to stay strong. For his brother. His parents… As helpless as he felt, he knew that completely losing his mind wasn’t going to help anyone. Besides, compared to the rest of his family, he had it easy. At least he wasn’t affected by kryptonite.

At least he wasn’t currently tied and bound on the other side of the room.

The image of his dad being subjected to such a degrading and merciless attack sent a shudder right through him. He’d just taken it… Surrendered completely to the man’s demands. Jon knew he’d done it for him and his brother. To protect them.

And now… everyone knew the truth.

Everyone in this diner knew his dad… was Superman.

Jon stared blankly ahead as he fiddled with the coat’s buttons, his back turned to the rest of the diner, trying to block out the rising volume of their discussion. He felt like a coward for not wanting to face them, but he just… couldn’t deal. Not yet.

‘Would you just back off!’ Jordan snapped suddenly, brushing his hand away.

Jon looked up in shock, startled by the unexpected outburst. He must have looked pretty shaken, as his brother’s expression softened almost immediately, and he gave him an apologetic look.

‘I’m sorry, just… I’m fine, Jon, okay? Quit fussing over me.’

Jon held up his hands submissively and sat back down on the other side of the booth. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, trying to clear his chaotic mind and think for a second.

So often he’d seen his dad remove his glasses and do the exact same thing, but he’d never quite understood the necessity for the little action. Guess he’d never been in a situation quite like this before, where the weight of responsibility for people’s safety felt like it was crushing him from above.

Was this how his dad felt all the time?

‘You could have died, Jordan,’ Jon said quietly.

He hadn’t even consciously intended to speak. The words spilled out of him like a truth that demanded to be heard. Jon replayed the scene over and over in his mind. He’d just stood there, helpless, watching as that sadistic man had tortured his brother just to get at his dad. If he’d decided to kill them both right there and then, there would have been nothing he could have done.

‘Jordan… I’m so sorry,’ Natalie whispered from across the booth, and he looked up to see her eyes glimmering with pooling tears.

Lana had ushered all three of them over to the booth as soon as Kurt had backed off, reassuring them she would handle the crowd’s inevitable questions. They’d obeyed without question, too stunned by the turn of events to argue or even think straight. Each of their lives had been threatened within the space of a few minutes, with so little time to process what had happened.

‘Hey… none of this is your fault,’ Jon reassured her, and his brother nodded emphatically, placing a hand on her shoulder.  

‘If you hadn’t had to step in…’

‘Then that psycho would have killed you,’ he said, his voice dripping with rage. ‘I’d do it again in a heartbeat.’

‘I know but…’ she started to argue, but she let the thought fade away, seemingly frustrated with herself.

Jon knew she hated allowing herself to feel helpless.

She wiped at her eyes and took a deep breath in before asking, ‘What are we going to do?’

Jordan shook his head, turning to glare at the man who sought to publicly tear their family apart. He looked like he was on the edge of exploding into a heat vision rage attack, and Jon worried for a brief moment that he might actually do something that stupid.

‘Dad wouldn’t want us to do anything dangerous,’ Jon said warily, trying to pull his brother’s attention away from their attacker.

‘Yeah, well, we tried things dad’s way, and look where that got us,’ Jordan shot back. ‘Maybe you were right Jon. Maybe dad should have taken these psychos out the minute they arrived!’

Jon remembered his debate with their dad, but his thoughts back then were like a distant memory of another life. A life where he’d been naïve enough to think things could ever be that simple.

‘How, exactly?’ he reasoned with his brother. ‘Every time someone tries something against these guys, it just ends up getting people hurt.’

‘So, what, we should just let them do whatever they want?’

‘That’s not what I’m saying, Jordan,’ Jon defended, the strain of having to argue right now evident in his voice. ‘We just have to be smart about this.’

‘Jon, look at what’s happening! They know everything…’ Jordan breathed, his words catching in his throat. ‘That guy is holding mom and dad prisoner. We don’t even know what he’s planning or what he’s waiting for.’

'What about Hedy?' Jon asked hopefully, nodding towards the collection of scraps in front of Natalie. 'Is there any chance of getting that thing to work? At least enough to get a message to grandpa?'

Natalie shook her head. 'She's too badly crushed. I could fix her if I had the right tools, but not from in here...'

Jon saw the disappointment on his brother's face matching his own, as Natalie bit her lip anxiously. Jon could see from her expression... there was something more she wasn't saying.

'What is it?'

‘I think… I think he recorded it,’ Natalie said tentatively.

Both brothers stared at her for a moment, mouths open wide, her suggestion too overwhelming to immediately accept.

‘I caught a glimpse of a camera lense in his shirt pocket,’ she explained. ‘It’s pretty well hidden, but it was there. Besides, Hedy intersected a bunch of messages while I was hiding out back. The guy is here to get proof of who your dad is.’

Jon swallowed. ‘Okay… but… then why bother with all of this? Surely there’s easier ways of getting proof than setting up all of this?’

‘I don’t know.’

Jon’s head spun as he tried to make sense of everything they knew. It all seemed so pointless. If this guy knew who their dad was, why hadn’t he just attacked them at home? Why involve anyone else in the first place, and put themselves in the public eye?

Jordan suddenly looked even paler. He cursed under his breath, meeting Jon’s eyes with somehow still worsening worry.

‘He wants witnesses,’ his brother asserted confidently, like it was all falling into place for him. ‘If it had just been camera footage or physical evidence, mom and grandad might have found a way to discredit it…’

Jon had to admit, his brother was making sense. Everything Kurt had done since he’d entered that diner seemed to be an attempt to force his dad to expose himself to the rest of the crowd… covertly at first, but then he’d obviously got tired of waiting.

Maybe the people in the diner weren’t just unfortunate collateral damage.

Maybe they were the whole point.

Jon risked a glance over his shoulder towards the small crowd. Lana was doing her best to field their questions, but she looked more stressed than he’d ever seen her. Her arms were crossed, and her feet planted in a defiant position as she spoke. The appalled look on some of his neighbours’ faces made it clear they weren’t exactly taking the news well.

He almost jumped when Coach Gaines glanced over in his direction, catching his eye with a look of fear fuelled anger. Damn… and he’d thought the Coach couldn’t think less of him than he already did.

‘We have to do something,’ Jordan repeated, his own eyes lingering on the disgruntled group.

Jon found himself wishing his dad could just answer their questions himself.

He knew, even in the face of something his dad had feared his whole life, he would have known exactly what to say. He would have found the words to turn things around somehow, to show them he was still the genuine good person they all knew. That their captors’ words where nothing more than manipulative lies.

Except they weren’t all lies, were they?

It wasn’t like they could pretend any different now. They had been deceiving them, no matter how good of a reason they’d had.

Still, they had to try, didn’t they? If Kurt’s plan really was all about turning their friends and neighbours into public witnesses… maybe that was something they could change.

‘Jon, are you okay?’ he heard Natalie ask quietly, breaking him out of his trail of thought.

Seeing the worry on her face, he managed to pull his own into a grim smile. Acting like everything was fine had become an almost unconscious habit of his, and he clung to it now like a protective cloak.

‘Yeah, I’m okay… it’s just… what are we supposed to say to them?’

As he spoke, Natalie’s eyes flickered behind him and then widened slightly in surprise. He turned to see what had caught her attention, and saw Sarah emerging from the crowd, heading over to their booth.

All three of them fell silent as she approached.

‘Bunch of unbelievable assholes,’ Sarah muttered in frustration as she reached their table. At their lack of greeting, her eyes dropped to the floor, and she shifted uncomfortably where she stood.

‘Um, you guys, okay?’

Jon opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He looked over at Natalie and his brother, who looked just as awkward as he felt. Jordan’s face had turned bright red, and he looked as though he’d jump out of the window if he could.

‘Hey, Sarah,’ Natalie finally broke the loaded silence.

‘Um… sorry, that was a dumb question… I just…’

‘No, it’s fine,’ Jon said quickly. ‘We’re okay. Um… are you… how are you doing?’

Sarah shrugged, hugging her arm at her side. ‘It’s been a pretty crazy night. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all I guess.’

Jon nodded his understanding. ‘How bad… I mean… is your mom…’

Dammit, why couldn’t he finish a sentence! Luckily Sarah finished his thoughts for him.

‘Some people are taking it better than others,’ she admitted. ‘It’s… a lot.’

‘We never wanted to lie to anyone,’ he blurted out.

It was all he could think to say. He knew it wasn’t nearly enough, but it was all he had.

‘I get that…’ she said quietly, pressing her lips together and glancing down at her feet, as though hesitating over her next words. ‘Um, look I know it’s pretty crappy timing… it’s just… I kinda don’t know whether there will be a chance later…’

Jon frowned at her, struggling to interpret her meaning.  

‘Could I maybe have a minute with Jordan?’ she continued more directly, finishing off the request with an apologetic look.

Admittedly, there wasn’t exactly a bunch of options of where they could go to give her and Jordan some space. Jon glanced back at the crowd again. He knew he was going to have to face them at some point… may as well be now.

As clueless as he felt about how he was going to have any kind of positive impact on their opinion of his family, at least this was something that he didn’t need superpowers to do.

‘Jon…’ his brother protested instinctively as he followed his gaze.

‘No, it’s cool,’ Jon agreed, ignoring his brother’s plea and addressing Sarah. ‘I was about to head over and give your mom a hand anyway.’

‘I’m coming with you,’ Natalie stated, no room for disagreement in her voice.

His brother still looked reluctant. Jon wasn’t sure what he was more against – the idea of Jon being subjected to the crowd’s questions, or the idea of having to face Sarah alone.

‘I should come with you too,’ he argued.

‘Jordan, no… you need to stay as far away from the kryptonite as possible,’ he reasoned. ‘Besides I can do this.’

His brother was still giving him a stubborn look, and Jon felt a surge of annoyance.

‘Look, I may not be able to stop bullets or shoot fire from my eyes, but I can do this.’

He didn’t wait for his brother’s response. Jon slid out of his seat, making way for Sarah to take his place. As he did, he risked a brief glance towards his mom and dad on the other side of the room. Despite being bound pretty tightly to their chairs, he could see their wrists twisted towards each other, fingers stretched out, just barely managing to hold hands.

He felt a surge of emotion at the sight, but he swallowed it down. There was nothing he could do to help them right now.

Nothing except this.

Jon made his way towards the crowd, with Natalie following closely behind him. As they approached, the groups jumbled chorus of muttered words drifted towards them, becoming loud enough to make out more clearly.

‘I just can’t believe we had an alien living among us for all those years…’

‘And then they let their half alien kids go to school with my son! It’s just irresponsible is what it is.’

‘Martha & Jonathan Kent… I thought they were good people. Salt of the earth, you know… I’d never have thought they were capable of this…’

Jon could have made a pretty educated guess as to what they might have been saying about his family, but hearing it all for real still cut like needles.

He just hoped his dad couldn’t hear what they were saying.

Some of the group were engrossed in their own conversations, only occasionally picking their ears up at certain comments; but most of the diner’s crowd were facing Lana, directing their thoughts and questions at her like this was some kind of political problem. They seemed to have descended into a sort of chaotic think tank, and she looked about ready to snap.

‘Capable of what? Of course Martha and Jonathan were good people,’ she fought back against that last statement. ‘They were protecting a child!.’

‘I always thought he was such a nice boy. So polite and thoughtful, always helping his parents out without a word of complaint…’ Jon heard Vicky May say wistfully, like she was lamenting a memory that was now tainted.

‘Secretive though. Never really questioned it at the time, but they were always so vague about the adoption…’ Mr Teague added.

‘Oh, you say that about everyone, always poking into people’s business,’ an older gentleman Jon recognised as their neighbour Cobb Brandon muttered.

‘Their ‘business’ put us all in danger, Cobb,’ Mr Teague defended his position. ‘They were hiding an alien on that farm, and not the kind that just needs legal papers.’

‘Is Clark Kent even real? They must have faked the adoption… What else did they fake? Has he just been pretending to be a person all these years?’ Mr Teague’s wife added.

Okay, that was enough. Jon couldn’t just stand there and let them debate whether his dad even existed. He cleared his throat and spoke as loudly and confidently as he could.

‘My dad’s not pretending to be a person…’

His statement came out a lot more bitter than he’d intended, but it got their attention all the same. The crowd stopped in its tracks, curious heads turning to face him. Even those still sat at their tables looked up in stunned silence. Some looked faintly guilty as they realised he’d been standing there listening to their unfiltered accusations. Others, less so… a few expressions were set in an undoubtedly defiant pose, as though waiting for him to attempt to justify the wrongs they’d just uncovered.

He almost lost his nerve at the sight of the cold judgement in some of their eyes.

‘Hey, Jon, it’s okay. Why don’t you go and sit back down, I’ve got this handled,’ Lana said softly, her expression full of concern.

He shook his head, trying to calm down the thumping of his own heart as he pushed back against her protective instinct. Hearing everything the crowd was saying only made him even more sure he needed to stay. They needed to know the real truth, and it needed to come from his own family.

After all, his dad had only shared his secret with Lana recently, and she was still coming to terms with it herself.

‘It’s okay, Mrs Cushing,’ he assured her, before turning back to the sea of expectant faces.

He suddenly felt like a politician being asked to give a statement to the press. Only he’d had no prep time, and no staff of expert writers to give him the million-dollar words. Natalie gave his arm a gentle squeeze of support as she lingered just behind him.

‘My dad’s not lying about being Clark Kent, okay,’ he repeated as firmly as he could.

‘Kid, there’s no use denying your dad’s Superman now,’ Coach Gaines scoffed. The look on his teacher’s face made his earlier disdain for him seem like a walk in the park.

‘I know that, Coach,’ Jon replied shakily. ‘I’m not trying to...’

‘How are we supposed to believe a word that comes out of this kid’s mouth, anyway? We already knew he was a liar before any of this happened. He was selling X-K, remember?’

Jon fought against the urge to bite back and defend himself. This wasn’t about him. This was way bigger than any of that now.

‘Oh, would you just let the young man speak,’ Dr Frye defended him unexpectedly. ‘For god’s sake, can’t you see he’s terrified!’

Jon looked down at his trembling hands self-consciously and cursed his body for its unwelcome response. Okay, yeah, he was terrified… but he was hoping it wouldn’t be this obvious.

‘Look, my dad’s a real person,’ he repeated. ‘Superman… that’s just part of who my dad is, but it doesn’t mean he’s been pretending to be Clark Kent.’

A jolt of fear ran through him as he said it… he knew they all already knew, and yet somehow saying the words out loud himself felt like he’d just sealed their fate.

‘No offense kid,’ Mitch piped up in anger, ‘But he sure as shit was pretending back in high school when he let us duct tape him to that tractor.’

‘He had to hide some stuff…. but that doesn’t mean he was faking all the time,’ Jon fumbled to explain. ‘It’s… complicated, but please don’t think who he was in Smallville wasn’t real. Don’t erase his childhood like that. You have no idea how much this town means to him.’

He could barely believe the position he’d found himself in. After so many cross words with his dad lately, it felt kind of ironic that he’d be the one defending him. It felt weird to be putting himself in his dad’s shoes like this, and to his surprise, he realised that's because he’d never really taken the time to do so.

It had been just over a year since he’d found out himself, and he’d been just as angry and confused as they were… Maybe even more so. Sure, he and his brother had made their peace with the situation, but if he was honest, he’d still been struggling with it all himself. He just… didn’t know how to put his feelings into words sometimes. He’d been kinda consumed with everything he’d lost since moving here, all the ways his life had turned to shit.

It was only now, as he stood there trying to explain to these people who his dad really was, that it occurred to him how hard his dad’s life must have been.  

‘Complicated? That’s one hell of an understatement, kid,’ Chuck laughed biterly.

‘Lots of people have secrets, don’t they! How would you have liked it if someone forced your son to come out like this before he was ready?’ Vicky piped up.

‘This ain’t like hiding your sexuality, Vicky. The kid’s dad’s a… a… whatever the hell he is.’

‘They’re dangerous, pure and simple,’ Aidy chimed in. ‘Who knows what kinda alien germs he coulda brought with him. Put us all at risk walking around town like there was nothing different about him.’

‘Well what else was he supposed to do?’ Lana snapped back, obviously tired of repeating herself to a wall of stubborn responses. ‘Just come out and say, ‘Hey, my parents found me in a spaceship, and by the way, I have special powers?’

‘Maybe he shoulda, yeah!’ Chuck jumped in. ‘Or maybe ol’ Jon and Martha shoulda handed him over to the authorities soon as they found him. It’s not right putting folks in danger like that and not even telling em.’

‘Can you not see what they would have done to him?’ Vicky defended, horror in her voice. ‘They’d have wanted to study that baby for sure… god, they might never have let him out!’

Jon shuddered at the reminder of his dad’s nightmare. Right now, the threat of being put under a microscope felt all too present.

‘Hey, let’s not go there alright,’ Cobb warned, giving Jon a concerned look. ‘Not in front of the kid.’

‘And what about these ‘kids’?’ Coach Gaines jumped in, emphasising his loose use of the term with his fingers. ‘Clark moved backed here last year and just sent his half alien hybrid sons to our school without a second though. Had them playing on my football team. Look how well that turned out…’

‘That had nothing to do with my dad, okay?’ Jon shot back, starting to feel his anger rise. ‘I don’t even have powers. That stuff with the X-K, that was my choice, and believe me, my dad was not okay with it.’

‘It doesn’t matter. Coach is right, neither of you should have been going to school anyway!’ Mr Pan exclaimed and softened a bit when he saw the shock on Jon’s face. ‘I’m sorry kid, but we have no idea what kind of danger you represent. There’s never been anything like you…’

‘Thing?’ Natalie blurted out, and Jon could feel her grip on his arm tightened. ‘He’s not a thing.’

‘Really… you’re going to pull the xenophobic card now? After everything you’ve been through…’ Cobb rolled his eyes at Mr Pan.

‘This is not the same, and you know it… His dad’s not just from another country,’ he defended. ‘He’s from another planet.’

‘How did they even have kids anyway?’ Aidy added to the speculation, a revolted look on her face.

‘Don’t go there Aidy,’ Lana shouted, and the woman recoiled slightly.

Jon could feel his cheeks getting hot with embarrassment. A surge of defensive anger rose up in him, and he couldn’t prevent his words from coming out hot.

‘How can you even be talking about him like this? My dad’s got nothing but good things to say about every single person in this town, and you’re all just turning on him like… like he’s nothing. Without even trying to understand his side?’

The crowd fell silent at his outburst, his words seemingly breaking through the unfiltered conjecture and highlighting the reality of what they were doing. Who they were discussing. Even Coach Gaines looked slightly less sure of himself.

Jon seized the opportunity to continue while he had their full attention.

‘When grandma and grandpa found my dad, they had no idea where he was even from. He was completely alone, defenceless. They took him in, gave him a chance at a life… isn’t that exactly the kind of thing good people are supposed to do?’

Jon felt a wave of gratitude as he spoke about his grandparents, before an unexpected sadness came up to meet it. For the first time, he realised how much he’d missed out on, not being able to talk to his grandma about all of this. She was such a warm and loving person; he knew she would have been able to help him figure all this stuff out.

‘Martha wasn’t able to have her own kids…’ Dr Frye trailed off as she shared the sudden memory.

What would have happened to his dad if she hadn’t found him in that field? Jon was suddenly sure, if it weren’t for her and Grandpa Kent, he and his brother probably wouldn’t even be alive.

‘I remember visiting the Kents for a check-up when he was just a toddler,’ the doctor mused wistfully. ‘Always wondered why they were so nervous about it. He seemed like such a normal happy kid.’

‘He was a normal happy kid,’ Jon explained. ‘They had no idea he even had powers. He didn’t start getting them until he was five.’

‘Five!’ Aidy shrieked in horror. ‘My god, anything could have happened!’

‘But it didn’t, did it?’ Lana defended. ‘Clark never hurt anyone. Not once. He never got in fights, never fought back when he was picked on, never lost his temper.’

‘It doesn’t matter Lana. The point is, it was still a risk. What if something had happened. What if he’d lost control?’ Chuck added.

‘You’re so sure Clark being here put us in danger?’ Lana questioned. ‘What about all those little miracles that happened here in Smallville. Every time there was an accident and somehow no one got hurt? All those disasters that were mysteriously averted?’

‘Wait… you're sayin that flood water that got diverted in 82’… that was Clark?’ Cobb asked, realisation dawning on his face.

‘That’s exactly what I’m saying. I don’t even know how many other things he’s done, but I can guarantee you, we probably all owe our lives to Clark Kent, one way or another. Even though it was a huge risk for him, Clark could never help himself. He used his powers to protect people.’

The crowd fell quite again, mulling over what she was saying. Jon didn’t know how many ‘superman-like’ incidents there were in Smallville’s history, but it looked pretty clear that everyone had at least one memory to contextualise her point.

‘That’s why he became Superman, isn’t it…’ Vicky offered finally.

If Jon didn’t know better, he thought he almost saw a hint of admiration on her face.

‘So what… he just decided to announce himself as an alien in blue spandex one day? Why come out of hiding after all that time?’ Mitch asked.

‘Because my dad can hear… everything. He can hear all the pain in the world, all the cries for help…’ Jon explained. ‘He couldn’t just do nothing when he knew he could help.’

That part Jon knew well from talking to Jordan about his own experience this last year. Having super hearing was by no means a walk in the park. There was so much his brother was having to learn to tune out, and he knew that having to bear that guilt bore heavily on him.

He looked up at the crowd, seeing the dubious looks passing between them. They were a long way off coming around, but the atmosphere between them was shifting.

Jon felt a flicker of hope start to kindle.  

‘You can’t deny all the good Superman has done in the world,’ Cobb pointed out. ‘Not just here in Smallville.’

‘Where did he even get the suit?’ Vicky asked curiously.

‘Actually, Grandma made the first one,’ Jon admitted with a hint of embarrassment.

It wasn’t something he’d usually be eager to share, but anything that would help humanise them…

‘She always was a brilliant seamstress,’ Dr Frye said with a laugh.

‘Oh my God,’ Vicky jumped suddenly, covering her mouth with her hand and looking embarrassed. ‘I have a Superman poster in my room!’

A few laughs came from the crowd, and the mood lightened… ever so slightly.

‘Look, I know this is a lot…’ Jon kept going. ‘You have every reason to be pissed, but please, just… don’t turn on my dad, okay? He’s still the same dorky guy he’s always been.’

‘I’m sorry kid, but he’s a lot more than that,’ Mitch countered again.

‘You know what, you’re right!’ Jon replied, feeling suddenly protective and proud of his dad's choices. ‘He could have just stayed here in Smallville, never told anyone who he was or what he could do. It would have been a hell of a lot safer. But he didn’t. He risked everything when he decided to become Superman… not because he had some mission handed to him or because he was out for revenge. Just because he’s a good person.’

Jon glanced over in his dad’s direction, and the tears he found in his eyes confirmed he could hear every word.

He felt his own emotions catching in his throat, hoping his expression let his dad know how much he meant every word. To be honest, he'd even surprised himself... but it was all true. His dad was special. His dad was...

‘My dad’s a hero.’

Several of the crowd caught the direction Jon was looking in and followed his gaze curiously. Once they saw Clark’s eyes locked in their direction, a few of them looked down at their feet.

‘Clark’s been trying to figure out how to get us all out of this from the moment those lunatics arrived,’ Lana added. ‘Now he needs our help. Don’t you think he at least deserves that?’

There were a few mutters of grumbled agreement and Jon felt some of the panic that had occupied his chest for the last hour receding slightly.

But Jon was still dubious about what would happen if they ever did make it out of there. Was it remotely possible? Was there even the smallest chance every single one of these people would keep their secret from becoming public knowledge?

Jon knew his dad would still have hope.

Maybe he could too.

Just as he was starting to allow the possibility to grow, the crowd moved slightly as Emily Pan stepped up from her table, pushing her way through to the front.

‘And what about your uncle?’ she asked furiously, her eyes full of accusation. ‘Or are we supposed to just forget about what Morgan Edge did. To Sharon Powell’s son? To me?’

Jon swallowed down the lump in his throat, flinching slightly despite himself.

‘Paint your dad’s lies however you want, but the truth is, your family are the reason we are in this mess in the first place.’

Chapter Text

John scanned the landscape beneath the clouds, sighing gratefully as the Gazette loomed into view. He pulled his suit to an abrupt stop, hovering above the crowded small-town street. Grumbling like he had for most of the journey, his reluctant passenger awkwardly shifted his position. Carrying Tal all the way from the DOD hadn’t exactly been an exciting prospect from the onset, but John hadn’t been prepared for the extent of the man’s unbearable complaining.

‘You know you are hovering too low; someone will see us. Unless you want to ruin my big reveal?’ Tal asked, his eyebrow half-cocked in a way that told John he knew full well he was pressing his buttons.

Despite his patronising tone, he fumbled to get a better grip on the steel suit, looking down nervously. John found himself grinning behind his mask at the notion Tal-Rho, son of Krypton, might be afraid of heights. He seemed to be doing everything he could to avoid wrapping his arms around John’s neck like a damsel in distress.

‘Just hold still,’ John barked at him, tightening his own grip on the man’s arm as he took one last scan of the area below.

If it wasn’t an absolute necessity, John was sure they’d have both preferred not to be relying on one another. They had plenty of reasons to hate each other, and very few to form a flimsy basis for trust. Yet somehow, here they were. Forced together by what he could only hope really was a common goal.

He lowered them down through the clouds as swiftly as he could, until they were hidden safely beneath the rooftops. Then he tried to adjust his speed again, slowing slightly to soften the impact just before they hit the ground. Despite his efforts, the suit still met the floor with it’s distinctive metallic crunch.

John glanced towards the street cautiously, tensing for a moment as he waited to see whether a nosy reporter was about to come and investigate. Thankfully it seemed the only one who’d heard them was Sam. The General spun around, looking startled for a moment as he peered at them in the darkness, before a wave of relief washed over his weary features. That relief was quickly replaced with a scowl of recognition as his eyes landed on Tal-Rho.

John watched as a snake like smile crept across Tal’s features, as though the General’s disdain was a satisfying meal. Once again, any theoretical sense of trust he’d had in the man’s supposed ‘co-operation’, seemed suddenly precarious. This was the man they were resting their hopes on? The man who they needed to help preserve human life? He was looking at Sam like he’d turn him into a charcoal brickette given half the chance…

A renewed sense of anxiety hit him as he remembered his father-in-law’s last moments back on his own earth. The look of dread that had spread across the man’s features as he took his last few breaths, too deeply in shock to feel the pain of his injuries, but somehow understanding his life was coming to an end.

There had been just enough left in him for one last expression of solidarity.

‘To hell and back,’ he’d croaked, before his body finally fell limp.

John closed his eyes, willing the haunting images away. He really didn’t need another reminder of just how dangerous homicidal kryptonians could be… that was something he was never going to forget. And yet somehow, tonight… he had to find a way past it.

‘Cutting it close, John.’

Sam’s voice pulled him back into the present. He met the man’s inquisitive gaze, his face a tumultuous sea of worry and impatience.

‘Getting him prepped took longer than we thought,’ John acknowledged. ‘Has Nat checked in with you?’

He knew it was likely a pointless question, even as the words left his lips. Sam would have filled him in already if she’d reached out. Still, he could feel the tension in his body rise as he waited for a response, somehow hoping he was wrong.

‘We’ve had no word from inside for the last twenty minutes,’ Sam confirmed grimly.

John nodded, his head sagging slightly in resignation as he let out a slow, anxious breath. He turned in the direction of the diner, his rational mind attempting to offer a few best-case scenarios to temper his worry. Logically he knew there could be plenty of reasons why she wasn’t responding, beyond her being hurt… or worse. Yet still, the best scenarios he could come up with, failed to offer much comfort.

He turned back towards his unlikely team with conviction.

They needed to get inside that diner. Now.

‘I hear you need my assistance, General,’ Tal piped up, his jarringly upbeat tone eliciting another disapproving scowl from Sam. Unfortunately, that only seemed to spur him on, his face morphing into a look of mock offense.

Why did he have to be so antagonistic all the time? Was this all a game to him? If he actually cared about his brother, wouldn’t he be trying to show compliance, trying to foster some good faith? John tried once again to find some of the sincerity he’d seen behind the mask, earlier that night. He searched the man’s face, analysing it for the faintest flicker of humanity.

‘You sure he understands his role in all this?’ Sam asked, deliberately avoiding addressing their prisoner directly.

John didn’t take his attention off Tal, watching as he rolled his eyes and tutted at the General’s passive aggressive action. He muttered the word ‘childish’ under his breath, then began looking around the alley like he was taking in every detail of his surroundings.

The man appeared so incongruous at times, it was hard to attribute any logic to his behaviour at all. Half of what he did seemed to be nothing more than an attempt to get a rise out of someone, like he was just a rebellious teenager, simply desperate to show he had some form of power. The other half, seemed to come from a place of hyper-vigilance, surveying every situation he encountered, strategically, as though analysing all possible strategies of escape.

John couldn’t help but wonder… was this what the Tal of his earth was really like? Or was there something different about Tal here too. Sure, they’d both embarked on basically the same plan of world domination… but the only memories John had of Tal’s doppleganger, had been of cold brutality. He’d seemed almost robotic, emotionless… unflinching as he callously murdered people by the thousands. Had his own world’s Tal-Rho just been better at hiding this side of himself? Or was it possible they really weren’t the same, just like his world’s Kal-El had been so different from Clark. Could it be that Tal’s life here on earth, whatever it had been, had shaped him in ways even Clark may not know about. Ways that had moulded this insecure, unpredictable manchild, that stood before him today.

John caught Tal’s gaze once more, and he seemed to bristle under the sense of observation. The kryptonian turned to face him, his expression shifting into a grimace of agitated impatience.

‘Well, are we going to stand around all night, or are we going to save my brother?’

Despite the defensive bravado, John could see the subtle look of genuine concern behind his eyes. There was an urgency in his voice that his chastising comment couldn’t completely disguise… and the way he kept glancing back towards the diner… It all added weight to the theory Tal actually cared about Clark, no matter how unlikely it seemed.

‘He understands,’ John answered Sam’s question, with renewed conviction.

Sam nodded slowly, but his tightened jaw gave away his continued doubt. He led to the opening of the ally, then paused just inside the line of shadows, gesturing towards the other side of the street. A clearly marked DOD van stood in perfect view of the crowd of hungry journalists. John didn’t need him to explain what came next.

‘I’ll make the call once he’s inside,’ Sam said, reluctantly adding. ‘Just… linger long enough for them to get a good shot of him.’

John nodded his understanding. If the terrorists thought they were lying, they might hurt someone else just to make a point. Likely one of the people they cared about the most.

‘Is it finally time for my big reveal?’ Tal asked, eyebrows lifting again in a look of faux excitement.

John kept his response as blank as he could, not wanting to give the man the satisfaction of eliciting yet another look of disapproval.

He took one last long breath in, lifting his hand up to his helmet’s release button, hidden just above his left shoulder. The weight of what they were about to do, with all the risks it involved, hit him all at once, and he swallowed down the fear that came with it. He knew this was it… Once they walked out onto that street, every camera would be on them in seconds. There would be no going back then; he would be committed to a plan that placed both of them right in eye of the storm.

Still… John had done some pretty reckless things in his life, most of them in pursuit of his daughter’s safety. He wasn’t about to stop now.

‘No time for cold feet, Mr Irons,’ Tal said, eyeing him with something resembling understanding. ‘Let’s get that public mask back up, shall we?’

‘Let’s go,’ John sighed finally, watching as Tal’s face morphed into Morgan Edge’s recognisably charming professional smile.

John hit the helmet’s release button, and his face disappeared behind tinted glass and steel.

I’m coming Natbug, he whispered.

Just hold on.

Jordan diverted his eyes away from Sarah as she slid into the seat on the other side of the booth. He peered intently through the blinds, stalling the inevitably awkward conversation by staring at the chaotic crowd outside, trying to look like he was watching something specific.

Things looked pretty much the same out there as they had earlier. Armed soldiers were pacing back and forth at the recently erected barriers, their attention mostly on a cluster of journalists who looked as agitated as a group of 100 mile runners waiting for the klaxon to sound. Despite the soldiers automatic rifles, to Jordan, the journalist’s camera’s felt like the most dangerous weapons out there.

What was his grandad doing out there? They knew from Nat that Mr Irons was working with him to get them all out of there, and he had to assume they had some kind of rescue plan in the works… but it was driving Jordan crazy trying to work out what that was. He looked up at the clock again anxiously. Only 5 minutes until Kurt’s last hastily delivered deadline. They had to be making a move soon, didn’t they?

He scanned his eyes over the area around the Gazette, where he’d thought he’d been able to make out his Grandad’s silhouette a few times that evening, but he saw no sign of him. It sucked to admit it, but right now, the people on the outside of the diner seemed to be their only hope. Any flicker of ambition he’d had of solving this from the inside had pretty much disappeared. Despite blowing smoke with his brother, he knew attempting to fight back against these guys right now was hopeless and reckless. He wasn’t even sure he could. His mom’s coat was protecting him somewhat, but he’d had a good long blast of real green k exposure earlier, and he was pretty sure it’d wiped out his powers, at least for for a while.

He shuddered at the memory. The green rocks effects were a torture that was hard to describe, and he’d felt more scared than he ever had in his life. When he’d heard his dad’s voice stepping up to protect him, he’d known with a cold sense of dread… if his dad was even half as affected by the kryptonite as he’d been, there was no way he was going be able to rescue them.

Pathetically, he’d passed out… then when he’d come too, both his dad and his mom were helplessly tied to chairs on the other side of the room. As if that wasn’t enough of a nightmare to wake up to, he’d then had to face the fact everyone in the diner now finally, undeniably, knew the truth.

His dad… was Superman. Clark Kent was an alien in hiding, and Jordan was a half-alien freak.

‘Jordan?’ Sarah’s voice floated towards him from across the booth, and he risked a brief glance in her direction.

Her eyes were inquisitive… but she didn’t look as horrified or angry as he’d half expected. Still, he couldn’t hold her gaze for long, afraid of what he might see if he looked a little harder. He let his chin fall, his eyes landing on a half drunk bottle of coke in front of him. He didn’t even know whose drink it had been, but he began peeling at the label anyway, strip by strip.

‘Jordan, would you just talk to me?’ Sarah tried again, and he could hear the frustration in her voice.

He knew he was being a coward, but he didn’t know how he was supposed to handle this. He’d been fantasising about her knowing his secret for months, but this was not what he’d been picturing. It was supposed to be a secret he’d share with her, in a way where she’d hopefully still see him for… well him.

How could he expect her to understand, with Kurt ranting about them like they were just a bunch of dangerous aliens?

After a few seconds of tense silence, her hand suddenly fell on top of his. He flinched in surprise, and pulled away instinctively, before sinking back into the booth. Reluctantly, he met her gaze again, but this time from a safer distance. She looked surprised and a little hurt by his rejection, but there was also genuine concern on her face.

Somehow, it made him feel even more self-conscious.

‘Are you… okay?’ she asked tentatively. 

Jordan sighed, knowing he couldn’t keep giving her the silent treatment forever.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. My mum’s coat blocks the kryptonite,’ he said matter-of-factly, tugging at the coat collar to emphasise his point.

He had no idea why it had come out sounding so defensive. Things were just still so weird with Sarah after she’d broken up with him, and he wasn’t sure whether to trust her intentions right now. His prickly guard had gone up automatically, like a hedgehog rolled into a ball.

‘That’s not what I meant…’ Sarah trailed off pointedly, leaving Jordan to fill in her meaning.

Was she really asking him about his emotional state right now? Jordan felt an overwhelming rush of… something, welling up inside him. As he met her sincerely empathic expression, he struggled to give in to the urge to simply let go, to fall apart, unsure if he was about to vomit or just start wailing like a baby.

No, no way, he could not start crying right now. He bit his lip, harder than usual, in an attempt to shock his body out of it’s unwanted response. Glancing towards the window once again, he quickly blinked away the evidence of welled up tears, widening the gap in the blinds with his fingers, to make it appear like he was looking at something specific.

‘You see anything out there?’ she asked with a resigned sigh.

Good… she’d taken the hint. Now they just had the much more comfortable topics of a) him being an alien in hiding, and b) their lives being in imminent danger, to move on to.

‘Nothing I can make out,’ Jordan filled her in. ‘There’s a bunch of police, soldiers and reporters… but I don’t know what any of them are actually doing. I think my Grandad’s inside the Gazette building though.’

‘You can’t… see inside?’ she asked tentatively, like the question was a delicate grenade.

Jordan’s mouth dried up as he turned to face her, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment he didn’t even understand. It was just… so weird to hear her asking that. She was obviously trying to make it seem normal, but it wasn’t normal. Seeing through walls wasn’t exactly the kind of thing every kid learned how to do in high school.

He shook his head slightly, managing to get his tongue to co-operate long enough to reply.

‘I… I can’t… that’s not something I can do...’ he fumbled. ‘Not yet anyway.’

He didn’t bother to explain he wouldn’t be able to right now even if he did have that ability. She nodded, looking faintly curious, but seemingly recognising Jordan’s discomfort around it. Instead, she bit her lip, looking down at the table as though considering her next words carefully, trying to assess what she needed to know the most.

Jordan tensed in anticipation of whatever was coming out of her mouth next. Was he dangerous? Had he ever hurt anybody? Is this what he really looked like, or was he having to hide his disgusting alien form?

‘This is why you’ve been gone so much, isn’t it?’ she asked finally.

Jordan couldn’t hide the surprise on his face. That was her next question? Of all the things she could have been asking him right now, he hadn’t expected that... His mouth hung open slightly for a second, before he pulled himself together, managing only a quiet nod in response.

‘How long have you… you know… had powers?’

Powers. Sarah knew he had powers… and from the look on her face, she didn’t seem disgusted or scared. This was so surreal. Hadn’t this been his fantasy just a few months ago? Hadn’t he had a shouting match with his dad back on his own front porch, so strong in his conviction to tell her everything, to let her see who he really was, that he’d kept pushing harder than he reasonable should have? Was it possible that her knowing could actually be a good thing right now, in spite of all the crazy going on around them?

‘I… I don’t know exactly,’ he explained honestly, feeling a bit of his defensive tension releasing. ‘The accident in the barn was the first time they showed up.’  

Her eyes widened and a look of recognition crossed her face at the memory. ‘Of course! It always did seem super weird that you were both just… fine.’

‘Yeah… I guess I just sort of felt something come over me, and I… shielded us both when the pipes fell,’ Jordan kept going, reassured by the acceptance she seemed to be showing. ‘I didn’t really understand it at the time.’

‘Wait, you didn’t know it could happen?’

Jordan shook his head. ‘We had no idea who dad really was. I guess… he and mom thought we’d be safer that way.’

‘God, it must have been crazy,’ she acknowledged. ‘Finding out your dad is…’

‘Yeah, it was pretty intense,’ Jordan sighed again. ‘Actually, it’s been pretty intense ever since.’

‘He got those pipes off you guys so quickly… they must have weighed a tonne,’ she remembered, sounding almost amused as she reflected on that day’s events. ‘It’s actually pretty dumb when you think about it… that no one’s put this stuff together before.’

Jordan looked down at the bottle again, still cautious despite her seemingly taking this so well. ‘My dad says people see what they want to see.’

There was a long silence as Jordan resumed picking at the label, the repetitive action grounding him ever so slightly.

‘You know, you could have told me, Jordan,’ Sarah said finally, and he could hear that hint of betrayal he’d been bracing for, making it’s way through. ‘I wouldn’t have… I would have understood, you know.’

‘I really wanted to…’ Jordan started to explain, but as he met her gaze, all of the excuses he could offer suddenly felt incredibly lame. Instead, he sighed before conceding, ‘You’re right, I… I’m sorry. I should have just told you.’

She offered an unexpectedly grateful smile in return. ‘I’m guessing your parent’s told you not to?’

Jordan nodded again, his head spinning as he tried to temper his growing excitement. She was smiling at him. Apparently even the traumatic events of their evening and the ongoing danger to everyone’s lives, couldn’t stop the sight of her smiling face from lighting that familiar fire inside him.

‘My parent’s take this secret stuff really seriously,’ Jordan added, glancing over at the crowd of their disgruntled neighbours with renewed understanding. ‘I guess I get that now.’

‘And… my mom,’ Sarah asked, glancing back over in her direction with a scowl. ‘How long has she known?’

‘Just a few weeks,’ Jordan filled her in, quickly adding, ‘but I don’t think you should be too mad at her. She was just trying to keep you safe.’

‘Pfft, yeah, well that’s worked out amazingly so far,’ she replied, rolling her eyes.

Jordan looked back down at the bottle again, guilt suddenly rising and catching in his throat.

‘I…I’m so sorry, Sarah…’ he croaked out suddenly. ‘I swear, we never meant to put anyone in danger.’

‘Jordan, stop,’ she replied firmly, causing him to look back up in surprise. ‘It is not your fault these psychos are attacking us.’

She reached her hand across the table again to grab hold of his, only this time, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he surrendered to her touch, feeling a rush of butterflies in his stomach at the feel of her soft skin. It was an offer of reassurance, her way of letting him know that she still cared about him. That they were still friends… despite everything.

Maybe they could even be more someday?

Jordan tried to shake that ridiculous thought away before it could take his mind travelling through fantasy land. He needed to stay in reality right now. Needed to be prepared for whatever was coming next. Suddenly, even more than he had before, he felt fiercly determined to make sure no harm came to her, or anyone else.

‘You seem to be taking this way better than I thought you would…’ he admitted, letting out a tense breath.

‘Yeah, well… maybe it’s not that much of a surprise,’ she said, shrugging dismissively.

Jordan scoffed at her blaze response and couldn’t help but bite.

‘Why? Cause I’ve always been a freak?’ he said, his tone a tentative attempt at friendly banter. He just hoped it would work.

Sarah rolled her eyes, but she smiled again despite herself.

‘You know that’s not what I’m saying,’ she continued, ‘I just… I knew something weird was going on with you. So, it’s actually kind of nice to know I wasn’t just going crazy.’

‘So… um… you’re… really okay with this?’ Jordan asked, finally daring to confirm what he was so far inferring.

Sarah shrugged again. ‘So your family’s not from here. Neither’s mine. Your family history is just… a little more exotic.’

Jordan chuffed out another laugh and his smile grew wider. For a brief moment, as she smiled back at him, he almost forgot where they were.

Almost.

Someone in the group behind them shrieked unexpectedly, and both Jordan and Sarah jumped in surprise. He spun around to see what was going on, his eyes instinctively searching for his brother first, to make sure he was okay. Jon looked beyond stressed, gesturing emphatically in their dad’s direction as he spoke. The discussion was obviously getting heated, but he seemed to be standing his ground.

Once again Jordan felt frustrated by his own impotence in this situation, wishing he could help defend his family instead of having to hide in a booth because of a little green rock.

‘I know they can be stubborn and buttheaded sometimes,’ Sarah offered, seeing the worry on his face, ‘but I think they could actually come around. Look at what happened last year with my parents and all that stuff with Edge… everyone blamed our family at first, but they were just angry. They realised we weren’t the villains in the end.’

Jordan nodded, though he still felt unconvinced. Sure, people had forgiven her parents… but this was different. Sarah’s mom and dad weren’t secretly related to the psychopathic alien that had tried to kill them all.

Suddenly, as though something had caught her eye, Sarah leaned towards the window, frowning at the scene outside the diner.

‘Jordan, something’s going on out there,’ she said, her curiosity turning to worry as she gestured for him to take a look.

Jordan followed her gaze, pulling the blinds apart slightly once again. Okay, yeah, something was definitely weird… all the spotlights that had been turned towards the diner earlier, were now suddenly pointing across the street at a marked DOD armoured vehicle.

It didn’t take long to spot why the lights and cameras were now moving. His uncle, Tal-Rho, was being led towards the back of the vehicle by Mr Irons, fully clad in the steel suit. He watched open mouthed as the man who’d tried to strangle him just a few months earlier, turned towards the cameras, and gave a little patronising wave like he was emulating royalty.  

‘Jordan,’ Sarah breathed as she took in the sight alongside him.

They watched for a moment more as both Tal and Mr Irons disappeared inside the vehicle, before turning towards each other in disbelief. This was his grandad’s plan? Just… giving in to the terrorists demands? Were they actually going to make the exchange? Jordan wasn’t exactly his uncle’s biggest fan, but he couldn’t imagine either his grandad or Mr Irons would be willing to just… trade a life like that. Even an alien one.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and scrambled out of his side of the booth in a panicked rush.

‘Jordan, what about the green stuff…’ Sarah cautioned, tugging at his hoodie to hold him back.

‘Come on, I’ll be fine,’ he assured her. ‘We have to let everyone know what’s going on out there.’

Natalie felt a wave of protective energy course through her as she took a defensive stance at Jon’s side. She had no idea what she could do or say that would actually help, but the way Mrs Pan was looking at him right now was bringing up a lifetime of unpleasant memories.

Not only was that look of discriminatory fear one she was more than familiar with herself, it was also a look she had to admit she’d likely have given him herself when she’d first arrived here. She wasn’t exactly waving kryptonian pom poms at the Kents, when her dad first filled her in about who – and what - they really were.

‘Hey, now why don’t we just back up a bit there, Emily,’ Mr Brandon tried to step in between Emily and Jon, placing a gentle hand on her arm to try and calm her down.

The incensed woman shrugged it off roughly. Natalie could see she wasn’t going to be easily talked around, all of the pain and fear of the woman’s traumatic experience clouding her ability to put this new information into context. Honestly… who could blame her?

‘No, Cobb, I will not back up,’ she replied, her voice trembling with emotion. ‘You don’t know what it was like. Being eradicated…’

Mrs Pan’s eyes darted around the crowd, her expression pleading, as though desperately trying to get them to listen to reason. She thrust an accusatory finger in Jon’s direction, and he flinched instinctively, gritting his teeth in frustration at the involuntary response. Nat could see how hard he was trying to bare it all. The accusations. The disrespectful conjecture about his life… but it was obviously wearing him down.  

‘His uncle told me I was signing up for a better life… he manipulated me into going into that machine.  And then he inserted one of HIS kind into my body. Do you have any idea how terrifying that was?’

Emily’s whole body seemed to tremble as she spoke, and her husband stepped up behind her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder to remind her she wasn’t alone.

Natalie couldn’t help but feel empathy towards her, despite wishing her anger wasn’t being directed at the wrong person. She wished she could just tell her that she completely understood…  explain to her that she’d made the same mistake this woman was making right now, that she’d lumped Jon and his brother in with the rest of the violent kryptonian’s she’d met in her life, seen them as nothing but a threat… but that she’d been proven wrong.

Yet she knew she couldn’t. No one in Smallville had a clue where she was really from… and somehow, she got the impression that explaining she was from a world that had been destroyed by evil kryptonian invaders, would only add to their fear and confusion.  

‘I was trapped,’ the woman continued. ‘I was a prisoner in my own mind, while an alien consciousness used my body to hurt people.’

No one had the heart to interrupt her now, seemingly understand the woman’s need to just be heard. Natalie remembered the faces of so many kryptonians, who’d been part of that invading army. Remembered hating them, wanting to see them all suffer and die. They were like soulless demons to her. Now… she understood a much more uncomfortable truth. There were probably innocent people trapped behind those murderous eyes. What they’d had to endure… it was unthinkable.

‘I could feel their hatred. Their cruelty… They wanted to wipe out our entire species from existence. To use our world, colonize it themselves…’

The look on Jon’s face as he simply listened in speechless horror, was painful to watch. Natalie knew him well enough to know he was absorbing more guilt than he logically should, but there was something else there too. A fear in his expression that seemed like it was less about what had happened to Emily, and more about whether she was right… whether he really was as dangerous as some of them thought.

‘Hey,’ she whispered, tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie and whispering in his ear. ‘That’s not you, okay? Trust me. If anyone can tell the difference, it’s me.’

Jon turned to face her, a grateful half smile on his face. He nodded, but she could see the fear still lingered.

‘I know this is hard to understand, Emily, but none of that is Jon’s fault,’ Lana attempted to defend. ‘Or Clark’s for that matter. They aren’t like Edge or any of his army. They grew up here on earth, they have nothing in common with the other kryptonians.’

Mrs Pan simply shook her head, laughing softly like Lana was being naïve. ‘How can we know that for sure? How do we know that kind of malice isn’t just a part of their nature?’

‘Now come on Emily,’ Dr Frye spoke up. ‘Neither Clark, nor his sons, have ever caused anyone any harm. I’m still trying to wrap my head around all this too, but I don’t think we should be assuming the worst about someone because of their… species.’

The term immediately made Jon flinch, and Cobb Brandon shot daggers at the Doctor for her insensitive wording. Still, at least she was trying to help, trying to see beyond the fear driven narrative their captors had been trying to push.

‘Yeah, I mean… this is Superman we’re talking about, right?’ Vicky added, looking around at a sea of heads bobbing gently in approval. ‘And… it’s also Clark… the sweetest, dorkiest guy in Smallville. Maybe the kid’s right? Maybe we owe him a bit more benefit of the doubt than that.’

‘No, we don’t owe them anything,’ Mr Pan spat back angrily, ‘it was them who owed us the truth.’

Natalie could see a clear divide happening in the group, a few people beginning to stick up for Clark and his family, and a few others holding stubbornly to their anger and fear. How were they ever supposed to manage the reactions of this many completely different people all at once? And in such a short space of time? She glanced up at the clock on the wall, realising there were only minutes left until their attackers had promised to make their next move.

Lana softened her approach, stepping gently towards Emily.

‘Come on, Emily, we’ve both known Clark most of our lives. Don’t you remember how much he stuck up for you when you first came to Smallville. When some of the older kids tried to pick on you because you were different? Clark always sees the good in people, always sticks up for people when they can’t fight for themselves. Don’t you see… that’s exactly what he needs us to do now. He needs us to be on his side. Don’t you think he deserves that?’

‘You’re right, Lana. I thought Clark was my friend…’ Emily replied, tears pooling in her eyes. ‘But if he’s one of them…’

‘He’s not one of them, Emily,’ Lana defended. ‘Clark didn’t even know any other Kryptonian’s existed until Edge showed up in Smallville, and he did nothing but fight against them as soon as he did.’

Natalie bit her lip at the urge to speak again, beyond frustrated by the ridiculousness of all of this. It was like there was a giant elephant in the room and only she could see it!

When she’d first arrived on this earth, all she’d ever known of Kal-el was that he was a murderous killer. She’d had the unbelievably challenging task of separating him from the tragedies of her past, and it hadn’t been easy. For months, she’d been in a constant state of distress, his red and blue clad image seeming to pop up everywhere in Metropolis, smiling at her, taunting her with the incongruence of this supposedly heroic life.

She’d resisted looking any further, even when she’d agreed to come and live under the same roof as him, trying to keep a safe distance from the man whose face haunted her dreams. But once she’d finally started to get to know him… it had been easy to see how far from the Kal-El of her world he was. Mr Kent was the most ridiculously earnest person she had ever met. Kind, thoughtful, generous, and somehow even gentle, despite being the most powerful being in the world. Some combination of the senior Kents parenting style and the values instilled in him by the community of Smallville, had made this world’s Clark Kent into a truly good man.

The people in this diner… they all already knew that guy. How could they suddenly not see him? What they were being asked to make sense of was surely a million times easier than what she’d gone through, because they had a lifetime of memories that supported him being worth their forgiveness. Proving he was worth their loyalty.

And the irony of it all, was that it was their influence that had made the difference.

If only she could help them see what he could have turned into without them.

‘But he’s still visiting his brother, isn’t he?’ Emily questioned accusingly. ‘He’s still connected to him, whether you want to believe it or not. If he was really so different, why would he want anything to do with him?’

‘Because he believes people should have a chance at redemption,’ Jon spoke up quietly. ‘He wants to believe Tal is capable of change.’

Mr Pan scoffed, looking at him like he was insane. ‘That monster can’t be redeemed! What, you think he should just be given a slap on the wrist, allowed to fly free, as long as he promises never to do it again?’

‘No one is saying Tal shouldn’t pay for what he did,’ Lana added, giving Jon a warning look that made him look down at his feet. ‘He’s still a prisoner at the DOD, and he’s not going anywhere…’

A sudden clatter of footsteps behind them stopped Lana in her tracks, and the crowd spun in the direction of Jordan and Sarah stumbling up to them in a rush.

‘There’s something going on outside,’ Jordan breathed heavily, the small bit of exertion obviously hitting him harder than he’d expected. ‘We just saw Tal-Rho being loaded into a DOD van.’

There was an immediate round of muffled expressions of shock, as Sarah grabbed the small remote from the counter, pointing it at the TV and unmuting the news channel that was already providing full coverage of Tal’s arrival. The banner along the bottom of the screen now read ‘Hostage exchange imminent, alien prisoner on site.’

‘Oh my god,’ Emily breathed. ‘He’s out there…’

The rest of the crowd simply gawked silently at the small screen, but Natalie searched Sarah & Jordan’s faces, imploring them for more information. The four of them huddled closer together as the rest of the diner continued to stare transfixed at the unfolding report.

‘Your dad is out there too… looks like he’s the one keeping guard over him,’ Jordan added quietly, looking around to be sure no one else was listening.

Natalie wasn’t sure whether to be reassured by that or even more confused. Her dad was helping the DOD potentially exchange Tal-Rho for the rest of their lives? How was she supposed to feel about that? Was it even that simple, or was he about to do something that might end up getting himself killed?

‘Grandad wouldn’t just hand him over like that, would he?’ Jon asked quietly, but none of them had an answer for him.

‘What’s all the ruckus?’ Johnny suddenly barked from across the room, stalking over to get a better look at the news report they were all staring at.

Natalie shrunk back slightly as the man drew closer, the memory of his hand clasped around her neck and his hot breath on her cheek, too fresh in her mind. Sharon followed closely behind him, staring up at the television with a look of cautious suspicion as she took in the reporter’s words.

A grunt of discomfort diverted Nat’s attention towards Jordan, who was doing his best to put on a brave face, but was obviously struggling with the increased proximity to the green k bomb.

‘Oh shit, babe, you seeing this?’ Johnny said excitedly, grabbing for her hand.

‘He’s really here?’ she replied, her voice strained, months of pent up pain and anger seemingly making the news report sound too good to be true.

‘He’s here,’ Johnny confirmed. ‘We did it babe. We really did it.’

He smiled broadly and pulled her in for another passionate kiss. Natalie looked away disgusted, choosing to look anywhere but at the irrational couple’s gross display of affection.

Her eyes fell on their equally disgusted partner as he strode over to them, placing his phone back in his pocket as though he’d just come off of a call. He shook his head briefly as he passed their intimate display, before clearing his throat to make another announcement.

‘Looks like it’s your lucky day folks,’ Kurt said with an unenthusiastic drawl. ‘The DOD have been able to meet one of our demands – the alien prisoner called Tal-Rho, has arrived, and the General and I have agreed to release some of you in exchange.’

The crowd fell into a round of excited and relieved murmurs, before they suddenly started looking at each other anxiously. Natalie could see what was running through their minds. Who was going to be released? Who would be unlucky enough to be left behind?

It was obvious to Natalie that Jon and Jordan weren’t going to be released. Not after everything this guy had been doing and saying. She felt a strong sense of misplaced guilt as she found herself hoping there might be a chance they’d let her go. Yes, they knew she’d used Hedy to block some of their experiments… but would that mean they’d want to keep her here, or that they’d want her removed?

At least if she was on the outside, she’d have a better chance of doing something that could actually help. Especially if she could put Hedy back together.

But what about everyone else?

The group were still so obviously undecided about the level of loyalty they felt the Kents deserved… all it would take, was one person, to decide the right thing to do was to tell the media what was really going on in there. The truth that had been revealed.

She glanced at Jon & Jordan, their faces full of fear and tension, knowing they were probably more afraid of what might happen on the outside, than what would happen to them in here.

The people of Smallville literally held their lives, their futures, in their hands.

Chapter Text

1985, England

Head bowed, eyes barely lifting, the boy stared blankly out at the cold darkness beyond his prison’s bars. In listless silence, he waited, sensing his captor’s approach. He didn’t know how he knew they were coming, but somehow, he always did. There were no subtly detected sounds, no perceivable flickers of movement in the shadowy hallways. Time had lost all meaning in the depths of his forced isolation, but his body seemed to have developed an instinctual understanding of each day’s cruel routine. There was a time when dread would have gripped at his heart with it’s desperate clamouring, a time he’d have begged for mercy, despite knowing it would never come… but those feelings had fled his body long ago. One by one, all feelings had become nothing more than ghostly memories from another life. It was as though his very soul had been unable to withstand the pain, escaping to safety and abandoning him to a life of loneliness in the depths of hell. He was nothing more than an empty husk now, a pathetic waste of consciousness…

Had he ever really been anything more? His father certainly hadn’t thought so… How many times had he cowered in fear as the man looked down at him, describing his many failings in words not dissimilar to his own. He’d sent him out into the vastness of space, to escape the final days of their dying planet… but he’d not done so out of love. He had no deep desire to protect his only flesh and blood, no sentimental hope for his son to live a happy life. His father had sent him to earth, with only the desperately small hope that his existence might actually account for something worthwhile after all. That there might be some chance, however unlikely, that he could be… useful. 

And even at that, he'd failed.

The boy sighed heavily, growing suddenly impatient as he continued gazing out into the darkness. He knew it was insane to be willing the soldiers arrival, but there were times when boredom felt like a more cruel torture than any of the experiments they might inflict on him. The slow and steady dripping of water somewhere further down the darkened hallway seemed to mock him heartlessly, ticking away like the seconds of a never-ending clock.

He’d been down in this dank, damp cell for all these years, alone, with only his soldier’s routine visits to entertain him. Some came to his cell in dutiful silence, barely even risking a look at him, as though allowing their eyes to fall upon the alien creature in their possession might damage them somehow. The others seemed to feel it was their role to keep him in his place, make sure he knew how powerless he really was. As if it wasn’t clear enough after years of facing his total inability to stop them.

Mere hours after his arrival on earth, he’d been captured by a mob of merciless humans. Despite the immediate surge of power he’d felt under the earth’s yellow sun, he was unable to fend off their assault. All because he’d defended himself from a violent, unprovoked attack. A man had shot him on sight, driven only by his fear of the unknown. Stunned by the blast, but feeling the power of the sun’s rays filling him with a strength he’d never known, he felt his fear mix together with a lifetime of pent-up rage. Before he knew what was happening, red hot fire came flying from his eyes, leaving his fear driven attackers as nothing more than unrecognisable, smoking husks.

No matter how much his father had told him about the changes his body would go through on this world, he wasn’t prepared for how it felt, how overwhelmingly that power had hit him. He’d lost control, and that action had cemented his incarceration forever. He’d known from the moment he was thrown in this prison, he had no hope of ever seeing the sun again.

It was just as his father would have predicted. He’d been entrusted with the continuation of his very species… and he’d been too weak to handle it. After years of degradation and torture, of being told over and over again by his captor’s that he was less than human, nothing more than a dangerous abomination whose only purpose was to be studied for the betterment of others… he’d finally accepted his fate. Maybe even began to feel like he deserved it. His captor’s cruel voices harmonised with his father’s scornful words, until all that remained of his self-esteem was an apathetic sense of loathing…

..yet sometimes he could feel a flicker of yearning.

A distant desire to somehow prove them wrong.

The power he’d felt that day was long gone now. The sun’s effects on his body withered within days of his forced confinement in the dark, no time to develop any form of solar energy reserve. Despite their endless tests, their hopes at discovering the root of his power… he was no more powerful than any human teenager now. Weaker even, starved of daylight and living on a diet that was just barely nutritious.

Those first few months were spent curled up into a ball in the corner of his cell, holding himself as he wept, comforting himself as he imagined a mother would comfort an inconsolable child.

Not that he’d ever felt the warmth of a mother’s touch.

His captor’s showed him no empathy. They didn’t see a child or any shred of innocence when they looked at him. Even as tears stained his youthful features, all they saw was a dangerous alien creature, that could never be allowed to escape. His father had always told him that human beings were less evolved than Kryptonians, but he hadn’t expected them to be so… cruel.

‘Hey, freakazoid,’ a familiar soldier’s voice barked from the shadows, ‘stand up and face the wall.’

The boy continued to glare unblinking in the direction of the sound. He sighed, pausing as he tried to summon the energy to comply.

‘I won’t say it again. MOVE.’

The soldier lifted his firearm up and aimed it at him in the pointless way they often did, and the boy finally stood up from the cell’s small cot. He stretched his arms up above him for a moment before backing up against the wall, lacing his hands behind his head as he’d been conditioned to do. Once he was touching the cold, damp stone of the cell’s wall, a tray of food clattered down on the floor behind him, accompanied by a slopping sound that told him half the contents of his breakfast was now likely on the floor.

‘Eat up, E.T. Even a monster like you is going to need all the strength he can get to survive what’s coming today.’

The boy turned around to face the man, whose expression was somewhere between amusement and disgust. Of all the soldiers in his rotation over the years, this was the one he liked the least. Not only was he the most sadistic, but he was also a complete idiot, whose inane grin made the boy sick with the injustice of having to take orders from such a lesser creature.

Still, he wasn’t someone he’d characterise as a liar…

Something new was coming today. He’d suspected as much anyway. Heard little hints of darker intentions, whispered comments. The way his doctors had looked at him yesterday… reluctant, regretful. Had they even pitied him?

He didn’t know where it came from, but he suddenly found himself speaking with a defiance he didn’t realise he had left.

‘You’re the monster,’ he said quietly.

‘Excuse me?’ the soldier replied indignantly, stepping up to the bars in a flash of rage.

The boy didn’t flinch at the sudden movement. Instead he continued to glare coldly at the man, some remnant of feeling he’d thought long dead stirring within him.

‘Your kind disgust me,’ he continued, his voice barely even sounding like his own.

‘Are you freaking kidding me?’ the man laughed, smashing his gun up against the cell’s bars. ‘So, help me god, if they gave me the go-ahead, I’d happily snuff out your pathetic excuse for a life right now.’

The soldier’s face turned darker as he spoke, that sadistic streak lighting up his eyes. The boy could feel his heart racing in his chest, but he continued to hold the man’s gaze stubbornly. He knew it was a completely pointless exchange - he had no real power over this man, there was no real battle to be won here - and yet somehow, he couldn’t pull himself away. If they really were planning to expose him to yet another creative form of ‘testing’ today, the least he could do was prove to this man that he was stronger than everyone thought.

That they hadn’t completely broken him yet.

Finally, the man ended the unspoken intimidation battle, slipping back into an amused smile as though he’d had some creative inspiration. He knelt down, reaching his hand through the bars.

‘You know what, I’m done serving you food like a well-serviced guest,’ he said cruelly. ‘Who knows, maybe I’ll get lucky and those tests today will kill you.’

The man yanked the food tray back through the gap in the bars, and he headed down the hallway without another word, leaving the boy alone in the darkness once again.

There was something strange happening in his body. The boy’s senses seemed somehow heightened - he could hear the slow and steady droplets of water just as before, but the sound of them splashing into their tiny puddles was sending tangible vibrations pulsating toward him. The shockwaves caused his skin to prickle with goosebumps. His eyes felt much less heavy than usual, and his body less bogged down by all the aches and pains he’d learned to live with after years of sleeping on a cold hard surface.

What was going on?

In all his years alone in his prison cell, he’d never felt as strong as he did right now… and yet, nothing had changed.

Or had it?

His eyes drifted over to the small puddle of spilt porridge that lay forgotten on the cement floor, and suddenly he understood. A whirlwind of feelings he’d been too sedated to feel since his arrival threatened to overwhelm him. Like a pack of wild animals, they stampeded through his psyche, rage and fury leading the herd.

They’d been drugging him.

What he’d thought was just a side effect of his body being deprived of the earth’s yellow sun, was actually much more insidious. They’d been keeping him obedient, keeping him docile, by force feeding him poison.

A scream ripped up from his throat suddenly, a strangled gurgling cry that sounded barely recognizable as his own. Countless years of repressed fury burst forth, as his mind began flooding with memories. He saw the cruelty, felt the agony and torture of the past, experiencing it more tangibly, more vividly, than he had ever had before.  

By the time the scream was over, his throat was horse, and hot tears burned his eyes.

The sound of soldiers footsteps began stampeding towards him, and he felt a surge of panic as he struggled to return his features to their usual lifeless shape. His skin was hot with fear, but as his panicked thoughts swirled through his mind, he also felt a brewing sense of excitement. If there had ever been an opportunity to escape, this was it.

If he could find a way to use their arrogance against them…

‘Hey, what the hell’s going on in there,’ his least favourite soldier called out from the darkness.

The man’s shadowy figure emerged into the dim green of the cell’s weak over head lamp, his face expressing it’s usual casual disgust. Next to him, a second man stepped forwards, a soldier the boy knew well, but who rarely spoke to him other than to deliver instructions. He wouldn’t go as far as to say the man was exactly kind to him… but he was never intentionally cruel either. Not like some of the others.

‘Are you injured?’ the second man asked, with a hint of concern.

The boy didn’t entertain the idea he was actually concerned about HIM for a second. Whatever they had planned for him, it likely required him to be in some form of good health.

‘I… I had a nightmare,’ the boy said shakily, hoping the explanation came out sounding as pathetic as he’d intended.

He needed to keep them thinking of him as a scared little boy.

The cruel soldier scoffed loudly, rolling his eyes. ‘Yeah, well… you’re about to have another one. Only this time, you won’t wake up.’

The second soldier relaxed his tense position, seemingly satisfied by the boy’s explanation. He gave his partner a disapproving look.

‘Why do you taunt him like that?’

‘Him? That thing ain’t a him. A sodding demon straight from hell is what that is. I got no qualms making sure that little beasty knows it’s place.’

The second soldier shook his head disapprovingly, but he didn’t push back any harder. He never did. His mild objections seemed nothing more than a way of soothing whatever flicker of good conscience he still had. A way of convincing himself he was still a good man. That he’d tried.

‘Stand against the wall, hands on your head,’ he ordered.

The boy complied without question, letting out a slow breath, just grateful that his outburst had been accepted as nothing out of the ordinary. Once he was in position, he could hear the clunk and creak of the prison door being unlocked and swung open. Then two pairs of strong arms locked on to his own, gripping him from either side, as they began escorting him out into the hallway and beyond.

They moved silently, as always. The boy knew the hallways well, had committed as much of the layout of his prison to memory as he could. There were various examination rooms throughout the facility, each one hosting countless traumatic experiences he’d been forced to endure. He closed his eyes, bringing to mind the map he’d built over the years, visually travelling each corridor until he found the spot he was looking for. The place where he’d once noticed a faint hint of daylight coming from somewhere down a path he’d yet to take.

The boy could feel the flicker of hope igniting into a full flame as he was dragged in exactly the right direction to get him closer to the spot he was aiming for. He stayed as limp and obedient as he could, willing himself to stay calm. He couldn’t give himself away now, not when he was this close… 

‘God you stink,’ the cruel soldier barked out, followed by an unnecessary gagging noise.

The boy didn’t look up, didn’t say a word. He barely even dared to breathe, in case it changed their trajectory.

‘Christ, would you just stop?’ the second soldier scolded the man, pulling them all to a sudden stop. ‘Our job is to make sure he doesn’t escape, not bully him like we’re in primary school.’

The boy’s chest tightened anxiously as he tried to ignore the soldiers bickering, searching for any sounds indicating other humans were nearby. He could hear nothing, but he had no idea whether to trust his senses yet. They needed to keep moving.

‘Yeah well, maybe I’m just tired of keeping the little monster so damn comfortable all the time,’ the cruel soldier retorted. ‘The food he gets is better than some of the stuff my kids eat back home!’

‘It’s what the doctor’s say he needs…’ the second soldier defended.

‘Yeah well, the little shit’s just gonna have to do without today,’ the cruel soldier muttered to himself smugly.

The second soldier’s energy shifted and he turned to face the other man with concern. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You should have heard that thing this morning. Telling me I was a monster! That I was disgusting? Decided the little shit deserved to go hungry for once.’

The boy’s body tensed as he felt the second soldier’s grip on his arm tighten. He cursed the timing of the idiotic man’s reveal, risking a glance up at the man to confirm what he feared he knew. From the dread evident on the man’s face, deepening as he slowly put the pieces together, the boy knew he was exposed. He was going to have to make his move. Fast.

The cruel soldier continued to chuckle at his imagined win, ignorant till the end.

‘You idiot!’ the man cried out, reaching for his gun in a swift motion.

The boy somehow moved even more quickly. With all the strength that had returned to him, he shoved both soldiers away from him and turned to fly down the hallway as fast as he could. His legs drove him frantically forwards, towards what he hoped with all his life, really was a natural source of sunlight.  

Footsteps clattered behind him as the soldiers clumsily chased after him, calling for him to stop, radioing in for back up; but he was moving faster than he’d ever moved before, and there was no way they were going to stop him now. He could see it up ahead, a small window that was definitely allowing a strong beam of sunshine to illuminate his path.

The light at the end of the tunnel really was his salvation.

As soon as he crossed the threshold from night into day, he felt the sun’s warmth strengthening his cells. His skin drank in the solar radiation like a dehydrated dog on a hot summer’s day. A power he’d only felt once before in his life began building inside him once again, and his eyes filled with a familiar feeling of red-hot flame.

The boy stopped running.

He turned to face the soldiers, who stumbled to a stop at the sight of him. Their faces filled with terror as they began slowly backing away. Their obvious fear felt strangely euphoric. After everything the boy had been through at their hands… to finally become as powerful as he always should have been here on earth, to have these lesser beings trembling at his feet… it felt intoxicating.

‘Please…’ the second soldier said with a whimper, but the boy was in no mood for mercy.

Every person in this building had been complicit in the torture he’d endured for most of his young life. They’d willingly experimented on him. Repeatedly. Never once questioning whether it was right or wrong.

Killing them would be more mercy than they’d ever shown him.

With a violent scream he let the fire building behind his eyes explode, aiming his vision towards the cruel soldier first. The relentless flames practically evaporated him before he even had a chance to reach for his gun, and the boy smiled at the pile of dust and bone that remained. This wasn’t like that first time, where killing a man had been a protective instinct. This was intentional. Punishing. Vengeful.

And it felt surprisingly good.

He heard a weak gagging sound to his left, and saw the second soldier whimpering, tears falling freely from his face. The man twisted his body awkwardly, turning back down the hallway and breaking out into a wobbly run. He only made it a couple of steps before the boys fire fell upon him and the man's blood curdling screams began echoing through the building. Once the screaming finally stopped, the smell of burnt flesh irritated the boy's nose.

He stood silently for a moment, panting as he stared at the men’s lifeless, smouldering corpses. The rush he felt was immense, but he tried to pull his rational mind back into focus for a moment. He took a deep breath in, letting his erratic heart beat begin to still as he considered his next steps.

Maybe there was a chance he could succeed in his mission after all?

Maybe he could prove to his father that he was more than he’d believed him to be. Maybe he could still resurrect his people here on earth, lay waste to the pathetic human species and be reunited with his own kin once more.

It had been so long since he’d seen any version of his future that didn’t involve dying alone on a cold metal table in this very facility. He’d long ago stopped dreaming and wishing for things most children take for granted. Now it seemed like he might actually be able to experience some of his fantasies after all.

Maybe he could even one day have a family of his own… know what it was like to be loved?

He let his fantasies subside for a moment as he turned back towards the dark hallway, his body filling with an ever-growing power that felt primed for destruction.

The boy could almost taste his freedom. He was going to start over again, use what he’d learned by watching and listening to his captors over the years, to live as one of them. He would teach himself everything useful that he could find. It shouldn’t be hard… after all humans were such a low intelligence species, it shouldn’t take long for him to be able to master their world, invade their power structures. He would hide in plain sight, develop a mask of civility, live by another name.

But first, he had to burn this place to the ground.

Tal shifted uncomfortably in his chains, eliciting a cold glare from his present day captor. The disdain the man was doing a very poor job of containing, was ironically similar to the disgusted expressions of the soldiers who had eventually met their horrified end that day.

The memories were… uncomfortable. He’d lived his life aware of their presence, looming in the dark corners of his mind, occasionally catching him off guard; but he had no regrets about his actions. There was no doubt in his mind they’d deserved every second of agony he’d caused them, after all the pain and degradation they’d put him through… but every now and then that smell of charred flesh would fill his senses so suddenly it would make his eyes water, and he would be transported back, feeling just as confused and out of control as if he was still there.

Tal was proud of the life he’d built, despite that handicap. He’d risen from the ashes of his trauma, and become a man he felt could finally stand up to his father’s unwavering expectations. He’d found the crystal he’d been sent to earth with, and resurrected a small piece of krypton in the sun-soaked badlands. Then he’d divided his time equally between kryptonian training, and mastering the world of earth, building a successful business persona as the charming Morgan Edge.

It had all seemed to be going so well. He had a clear mission, and a sense that he was finally capable of achieving it. He was going to single handedly resurrect his people.

He was going to be a hero.

Then Superman had arrived on the scene… and things had never felt clear again.

‘Do you think I would have turned out like him… if I’d landed in a po dunk town like this?’ Tal asked, his eyebrow cocking slightly as he waited to see if his enemy would entertain his musing.

It was a question he’d asked himself many times over the last year.

His brother had been somewhat of a mystery to him until he’d taken a little journey through his mind, seeing first hand just how different their lives had been. Kal-El had been only a baby when he left Krypton, with barely a memory of the world he was leaving behind. After his ship had crashed on earth, he’d been found by humans, just as he had… but those humans hadn’t rejected him, hadn’t seen him as a threat. Instead they’d welcomed him in with open arms, offered him nothing but unconditional love and support. They’d taken him into their lives, protected him, raised him as their own. Even Kal’s kryptonian father, Jor-El, seemed to look on him with more pride and warmth than Tal had ever known from anyone.

He would never have admitted it at the time… but he’d been sick with jealousy.

Then he’d witnessed his brother meet the woman of his dreams. Felt him fall in love. Know the joy of raising a family. Through Clark Kent’s eyes, Tal had experienced all the things he’d barely dared to dreamed he might one day be worthy of himself.

He didn’t know whether he hated him for it… or whether he just desperately wanted to be a part of it.

He found himself consumed with fury, overwhelmed with the injustice of their parallel existence. When his brother rejected him that last time, he’d all but lost his mind. His inner voice screamed at him to put things right, to force the world to change. Why should Kal-El have everything, and he have nothing? Why must he suffer endlessly while his brother knows nothing but joy?

Maybe if he showed his brother what real pain and suffering felt like, he’d understand some of the darkness that had taken route in his own heart.

His conflicting emotions became too much to bear, and something within him demanded to feel the way he’d felt that day at the facility, when the power to dominate had risen up and replaced all that hopeless pain with intoxicating euphoria.

He’d surrendered to it. Let it drive his actions.

He’d mindlessly lashed out, destroyed Jor-el’s AI, gone after his brother’s family. He’d stopped only at the promise that his brother would join him willingly.

Only this time… it hadn’t led to freedom.

In fact, all it had done was lead him back to another prison cell.

He'd had a lot of time to think about those actions in his new home of four transparent walls, reflecting on the truth of his feelings; but one question kept coming up, time and time again.

Could things have been different if his ship had landed in Smallville? Or had his father’s influence set him on a path even the Kents southern charm could never have undone…

His present day captor turned to him coldly, looking sceptical of his unexpected question, as though it might be another attempt to manipulate. He searched Tal’s eye like a man looking for signs of a trap. After a moment, he shook his head dismissively.

‘No,’ he said simply. ‘I don’t.’

Tal squinted at him in the darkness, trying to analyse the man’s expression. The bluntness of his words hung in the air, his lack of embellishment conveying his disdain.

‘So… you’re on the side of nature over nurture then?’ Tal probed further. ‘You think I was just born a monster and will forever be a monster. Not even Martha Kent’s warm apple pies and soothing embrace could have made a difference?’

‘Not with someone as sociopathic as you,’ the man replied cooly once more, beginning to sound irritated.

He looked towards the vans double doors impatiently. As usual, Tal felt a little rush at the evidence he was getting to his reluctant partner. Playing cat and mouse with people was habitual at this point, and no amount of self awareness seemed to be able to undo the urge. Like an addict getting his next fix, pressing people’s buttons seemed to feed him in a way not much else did.

‘I think that’s a very simplistic view, Mr Irons… after all, you were ready to kill an innocent hero because of all the horror you’d seen on your world. How is my behaviour so very different?’

JHI looked up at him with a flash of warning in his eyes. ‘I am nothing like you.’

‘Oh well, no, of course not. If anything, you had a better foundation to form your moral compass. Loving parents, sister, wife, child… and yet you still almost turned my brother into a squishy mass of bone and flesh, didn’t you?’

‘I thought it was the only way to save this world,’ John defended, though his tone was noticeably less confident than before.

‘I was trying to save my world too,’ Tal pointed out.

‘By eradicating all of humanity?’

John’s eyes flashed with indignant fury once more, and Tal gave him a dismissive shrug he knew would only anger him more.

‘Humans can be just as brutal as the kryptonians you hate. The ones I encountered when I arrived weren’t exactly kind to me, Mr Irons…’ he explained, suddenly compelled to change the man’s closed-minded perspective. ‘I was captured, imprisoned… experimented on. I was just a child, and they tortured me in ways some of your species wouldn’t inflict on a dog.’

He paused for breath, surprised to find his words were coming out with much more emotionally than he’d intended. John stared back at him in stunned silence, and Tal self-consciously attempted to regain his composure, straightening up and coughing slightly.

‘I’m simply saying, there were reasons why I felt the way I did about your kind,’ he added more calmly.

The other man said nothing for a long moment, before finally responding.

‘… I’m sorry that happened to you,’ he acknowledged reluctantly after a few moments, ‘But that doesn’t excuse the things you did. The innocent lives you destroyed.’  

‘I’m not looking to be excused,’ Tal replied defensively.

‘So what are you looking for?’

It was a good question, Tal realised, caught off guard. He had to admit, he wasn’t even sure. So often these days, he found himself driven by unconscious motives he didn’t even have a rational explanation for.

He shrugged dismissively, leaning back against the van wall and trying to look as though the conversation had simply begun to bore him. John rolled his eyes back at him, as though he’d expected nothing less.

Why was he talking to this man about any of this anyway? It’s not like he actually cared what he thought? He’d never needed approval or forgiveness from a human being… but maybe he was looking for something… some kind of validation? To finally have his suffering be seen? For someone to understand his actions with all the context that had driven them...

If tonight were to be his last… maybe he just wanted someone to know who he really was.

Outside the van, Tal could hear the low hum of the crowd, a growing mass of spectators swarming the small space like invading pests. He’d seen the group of anti-alien protestors in their midst, waving their ignorant banners, labelling him as nothing more than an inhuman threat that needed to be exterminated. After all this time, nothing had really changed. People still saw him as the same dangerous monster they had in that prison cell.

Were they right? Was that what he’d become?

In trying to prove his abusers wrong, to reclaim the power they’d taken from… had he become the very thing they’d accused him of being?

Tal’s inner world was fast becoming a painful torrent of doubt and confusion… and he was just as alone as he'd always been, trying to make sense of it. He had no where to turn for reassurance or reprieve. No one to offer him a sliver of understanding, or any chance at forgiveness.  

No one… except his brother.

There was no way he was going to let him die. 

He needed him. 

Chapter Text

Clark’s head hung forward lifelessly, droplets of sweat slowly trickling from his brow to the end of his nose. Each one hung there briefly before dropping soundlessly to the floor. All he could do was watch. With his hands bound tightly behind him, he was helpless to stop them. In fact, he was helpless to do much of anything. Waves of nausea, combined with the musty taste of the now sodden cloth in his mouth, left him fighting against his own gag reflex.

He felt his wife squeeze his hand lightly from behind him, and he returned the gesture as firmly as he could. His fingers stretched painfully as he struggled to maintain the small piece of contact, feeling the uncomfortable pull of the binds at his wrists as he twisted towards her. His right shoulder ached from the taut position he was forcing it to stay in… but he refused to let go. It was the only thing he could offer her right now. The only way he could let her know they were still in this together.

Desperate thoughts swirled anxiously through his mind as he struggled to shake the overwhelming regret clutching at his chest. How had he let this happen? How had he failed so miserably to protect himself and his family? The reserves of energy he usually drew on at times like these were almost completely drained, and the temptation of unconsciousness whispered to him seductively, making warm promises of relief. Repeatedly, he pushed the voice to the back of his mind. There was no way he was going to abandon everyone in that diner to the whim of their captors. Not while he had a single ounce of fight left in him.

Shaking his head slightly to try and clear his cloudy mind, Clark willed himself to focus. Okay, yes, he was currently next to useless… but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be an opportunity to act. If his time as Superman – and perhaps more importantly, Lois Lane’s husband - had taught him anything, it was that you never knew when something unexpected might change a situation completely.

He had to be ready to make a move when the time came.

From what he had been able to piece together in his jumbled mind, it seemed like no one was in any immediate danger; physically anyway. Despite the malicious intent he could see in Kurt’s eyes whenever he looked at any member of his family, it was clear he was waiting for something. Orders from their boss maybe? Some kind of signal? Whatever the end game, for now, the restraints of their leader’s plan seemed to be keeping them alive.

Clark strained to make out each of his son's voices from across the room. He needed to know they were okay… or at least, as okay as could be expected. He also needed to know they weren’t thinking of doing anything reckless. He knew his sons well enough to know they’d be just as frustrated as he was, passively watching the situation unfold. His senses felt frustratingly slow and distorted as he tried to pick out their distinctive tones from the low hum of muffled voices across the room. Most of what he could hear came to him in waves of garbled sound, but somehow, a few choice words jumped out at him loud and clear, as though someone had dialed up their volume, selectively, just to torture him.

Dangerous. Alien. Trust. Species. Liar. Thing…

His stomach turned at the vitriolic tones that accompanied those labels, the uncomfortable truth of his now exposed identity adding to his existing nausea. When the sound of Jonathan’s voice, loudly and passionately defending him, cut through the jumble of sounds, Clark lifted his head as much as he could manage. He caught his son's gaze, hoping his grateful expression let him know how much his words meant. With everything they’d been through that year, his son’s firm defence of his character filled him with pride… and relief.

Those feelings were quickly replaced with a gnawing sense of guilt. His son shouldn’t have to be standing up against xenophobic accusations like that. He was 15 years old, still just a kid. It should be him dealing with the fallout of choices he’d made. Secrets he’d decided to keep.

Another chorus of frightened speculation reached his ears, and he was sure he recognized the voice of Emily Pan at it’s centre. He tried to rationalize her reaction, tried to accept how they were all taking this. Of course they were going to struggle to understand at first. They were in shock. They were already scared and tired and on edge, thanks to the terrorists threatening their lives for the past hour. They were bound to react badly to the twisted, corrupted way he’d been forced to reveal the truth of his origin.

‘Never underestimate the good nature of small-town folks,’ his father’s voice floated through his mind.

Clark had heard him say that so proudly, more times than he could count. Whenever they’d been witness to a neighbourly act of kindness. Whenever someone in Smallville did something that reminded his Pa exactly why he was proud to call the place home.

Weakly he tried to assure himself his dad was right. They would come around. They’d known him his whole life. Once they were out of this diner, once he had a chance to talk to them all without a homicidal maniac breathing down their necks…  he was sure they’d come to understand, maybe even empathize with how impossible a position he and his family had been in…

But despite his attempts to remain optimistic, a growing ball of fear and tension lingered, his imagination unhelpfully reminding him of all the worst ways this could go.

What if they never accepted him or his family again? What if no one did?

What if they had to spend the rest of their lives in hiding?

Clark groaned as the ache in his bones flared angrily, reminding him there were unfortunately worse threats in the present than his secret being exposed. He was frustratingly unaware of how much time was passing as his body continued to bear the radiation’s effects. His torn shirt still hung open, exposing his bare skin to the steadily dropping temperature in the diner. A shudder travelled through him, and he realized with another jolt of fear that he was feeling cold. It’s not that the experience was totally foreign to him, but it only added to the uncomfortably long list of evidence he was becoming just as vulnerable as everyone else.

A sudden round of strange gasps & exclamations pulled his attention back to the crowd, and he tried moving his heavy head in their direction again. There was something about their tone that almost suggested… relief? Hope?

He could feel the tense muscles in his neck complaining as he struggled to see what they were responding too, just barely managing to lift his gaze high enough to get a glimpse of a mass of moving bodies. They seemed to all have turned towards the television, settling into a motionless silence as they watched whatever was now showing on the screen.

Clark willed his hearing to stretch just a bit further, to capture even the smallest hint of what had drawn their attention… but he couldn’t make out a word. After a few moments, the strain of keeping his head up was too hard to continue. He let his chin drop to his chest, panting from the effort the small movement had taken. A fresh wave of anxiety hit him at the evidence of just how weak he’d become, and he tried to reason with himself again. He’d been exposed to stronger kryptonite, for longer periods of time than this. He’d be fine. He just had to wait the agony out a little longer. As soon as he was away from the bomb’s glowing poison, he was sure he’d recover quickly, like he always did these days.

His pain suddenly increased, causing him to grit his teeth through the gag. In his peripheries, he caught a glimpse of the glowing green bomb passing by, the woman carrying it seemingly moving to get a better look at the tv screen herself. He thought he heard her say something… but the increased pain clouded any attempt to make sense of it. He could feel his wife shifting behind him as well, and she squeezed his hand once again, just to let him know she was still there. Her reassuring touch silently expressed what he knew she’d be saying if she could.

That they’d been through tougher spots than this.

That they always found a way.

God, he hated being so…. defeated. He’d come into the diner that night already feeling bogged down by the accumulation of failures he’d wracked up that year, so tired of having to be rescued instead of doing the rescuing. Tired of the people he cared about getting hurt because he hadn’t been able to protect them.

He was Superman. This was his job, his responsibility… and he was letting everyone down. Again.

He squeezed his eyes together, his vision swimming as his head began to throb like someone was sticking an ice pick through it. The pain was so agonizing that he didn’t even hear his captor’s approach until he was already speaking, his voice so close it made Clark’s eyes fly open in shock.

‘It’s almost over now,’ Kurt whispered in mock reassurance, lifting his captive’s chin up so he could see the movement going on around them.

Clark’s stomach curdled at the man’s touch. His face must have given away his disgust, as the man’s satisfied smile deepened. There was a flurry of movement as most of the occupants of the diner seemed to gather by the door. Sharon and her partner looked dumbfounded, glaring in Kurt’s direction with faces red with rage. His sons were the only ones left on the other side of the room now, looking towards him in concern.

What was going on? Why were they being separated like that? Why were people being moved over to the front door? His heart pounded as he tried to make sense of it all, tried to figure out what his enemies next move was going to be.

Kurt continued to hold his chin up, eyes boring into him like a scientist studying his reaction.

‘Once the world’s finally been let in on your little secret, there will be no more need for this piece of theatre,’ he began coldly.  

The reality of the man’s intentions sunk in like tar. It hadn’t taken a genius to work out that the diner’s hostage situation was really a cover, nor that he and his family were the actual targets. It was also obvious by now that his identity was somehow part of their boss’ end goal.

Now he knew… whoever was behind this, they were aiming to make sure his secret was revealed, as dramatically and publicly as possible. This wasn’t just an attempt to expose him. It was an attempt to paint him firmly as a liar, to completely destroy Superman’s good name… and to have the very people he’d grown up with deliver the fatal blow.

Clark felt his whole body sinking like he’d suddenly found himself in quicksand, and he knew from the gleam of recognition in his captor’s eyes that he’d seen him put the pieces together. Kurt’s face twisted menacingly as he leaned in closer, until the man’s nose was barely an inch from his target. Eyes gleaming with delight at the anguish his prey was clearly enduring, the sadistic man spoke again.

‘This is just the beginning,’ he whispered cruelly. ‘Once these idiots perform their function, you and your alien spawn will be coming with me on a little road trip.'

Clark fought to keep any evidence of his rising fear from his face as the man cooly examined his reaction once again. He seemed to consider every inch of him with a sickening curiosity, like he was unsure whether kryptonian emotions behaved similarly to humans.

'Somewhere nice and quiet, where we can get to know each other more… intimately.’

It was obvious he was intentionally pushing his buttons, but Clark’s body responded instinctively to the veiled threat anyway. The man was alluding to scenes from every nightmare he’d had as a kid, when the question of how the world would respond to an alien in their midst could only be answered by his imagination. His primal instincts screamed to get away from him somehow, and he felt himself struggling slightly, despite his attempts to control his actions.

The man’s smile grew wider, seemingly pleased to see the effect he was having on his subject. He leaned in even closer, dipping to the side of his face and stopping so close Clark could feel his hot breath against his ear. The sensation filled his whole body with an overwhelming sense of physical revulsion and he leaned his head as far as he could away from him.

‘I can’t wait to see what your sons look like… on the inside,’ Kurt said, with such a thirst for blood that it sent a wave of piercing dread through Clark’s entire nervous system.

He lost control, pulling uselessly on the ropes binding him to the chair, and cursing pointlessly into his gag. All he could do was glare back at the man, directing every ounce of threatening energy he could summon into his eyes.

The man just chuckled, shaking his head like he’d expected nothing less.

Clark could feel Lois struggling behind him, realising she must have heard the man’s taunting threat as well. He felt her fingers shaking with rage as they connected with his once again, and he held them tightly in an attempt to reassure her. With nothing more than a smirk of amusement, the man stood up, swiftly turned his back to them, and headed wordlessly over to his previous viewpoint by one of the diner windows.

Instinctively, Clark lifted his head to search for his sons again. He needed to have them in sight, needed to be reassured they were safe, even if just for that moment. They stood across the room, looking towards him in horrified distress. Jordan’s face has turned even paler than before, and he seemed frozen in fear as Jonathan shook his shoulder and called his name, trying to break him out of it.

He couldn’t be sure, but it looked pretty likely his son had also heard the man’s sickening threats.

Clark closed his eyes, feeling more determined to protect them both than he ever had in his life. Silently, he willed himself to somehow find some additional strength from within. He had to do something. He didn’t care what happened to him, but he couldn’t let this psycho abduct his sons. Not while blood still pumped through his veins.

Breathing deeply, he pleaded with his body to perform a miracle, to be capable of one more show of super human strength. Just enough to take these guys out, and get his family somewhere safe.

Then suddenly he felt something sharp touch against his palm. He flinched slightly, before reaching out to examine the item with his finger. Lois’ hand nudged it further towards him, and as he ran his fingers over it, he realized it was a small nail file.

She must have managed to wriggle it out of her sleeve in the recent commotion! His heart beamed with love for his amazing, incredible wife, and he squeezed her fingers lightly once again, before pulling the item into his grip. If he could just summon up enough strength, enough speed and friction, to gradually cut through the rope… he might actually have a chance of freeing himself.

Not knowing exactly what he’d be able to do after that, but knowing he had to do everything in his power to try, he silently set to work.

Chrissy shivered, tugging her oversized coat closer and looking around impatiently. Her hometown’s usually peaceful high street was now packed to the brim with a sea of strangers faces. At first it was made up of clusters of journalists, emergency responders, and various representatives from different agencies. Now there were a steadily growing number of civilians filling the small area too, pushed up against the DODs safety barriers to try and get a better look. Most she recognised as concerned locals, but there was now a surprisingly high number of anti-alien protestors, who’d formed into a separate group to one side, angrily waving their hate-filled banners towards any camera who pointed their way.

She shook her head in disbelief. What did they think they were achieving here? As though their agenda would make any difference to the DOD’s actions… Their presence in her home felt disturbing, and she couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty. After all, she’d kind of been the one to fill them in on the terrorists alien related demands. It was her news report that had brought them all here, putting a huge spotlight on the crazy situation her innocent friends and neighbours were in.

Of course, she’d had to fend off a barrage of questions from her fellow reporters at first, but pretty soon people got bored with her rehearsed explanation. As agreed, or rather ordered, by Sam, she’d told them her information had come from Lois Lane, in the form of a text. Now, the DOD was in possession of her phone - so no, she could not show it to them.

She’d gotten pretty bored of repeating that line herself, trying to shrug off the occasional flash of scepticism as the reporters tried to gauge her honesty.

Chrissy gazed over towards the Gazette building, trying to make out the shadowy figures in the window. She was full of frustration at suddenly becoming so passive in all this. She’d been let in on some of the truth… and then she’d been discarded pretty much straight after. Logically, she understood why… It made sense that Sam would do his best to distance himself from her report, make it look like she was acting alone. He’d even taken over her office as a way of appearing to ensure she had no way of leaking anything else.

Still… it was extremely agitating, just standing there outside the barriers, like all the rest of the clueless local observers. She knew there was more to the story. She knew Clark was hurt, possibly fighting for his life… and she knew Superman might not be able to intervene.

But she couldn’t tell anyone. Couldn’t do anything about it.

The question of Superman’s whereabouts was starting to come up naturally though. Over the last hour, there had been no confirmation of any major disaster that he was known to be occupied with. No sign of him busy saving the day somewhere else.

A few of the journalists were starting to ask the question as they reported – where in the world was Superman?

Some of them were still making their statements facing the diner, but most had now turned to face the DOD’s unmarked truck to address the arrival of the prisoner inside. The revelation that the kryptonian known as Tal-Rho had been escorted onto the scene by Steel, was now the hottest new twist in the story.

Geez, how was all of this happening?

Other than the craziness with Edge last year, Smallville wasn’t usually such a hot spot for media attention. Not until Lois showed up anyway… It seemed like the moment her partner arrived in town, all the most unbelievable stories just followed her right here. She’d known Lois Lane’s reputation back in Metropolis for seemingly landing smack bang in the middle of the action… It was one of the things she’d loved about her, when she’d followed her career from afar. But lately, something about the coincidence of it all was starting to niggle away at her…

A shadowy movement caught her eye, shaking her out of her thoughts again, and she saw Sam’s outline heading over to the doors at the back of the truck. Chrissy knew, with John Henry’s assistance, he was planning to make the exchange… but there had to be more to his plan than just that, didn’t there? The possibilities swirled through her mind, but she hadn’t been able to put a workable theory together with the little information she had, leaving her feeling uncomfortably anxious.

What if he was being reckless and it all backfired? What if more people she cared about ended up getting hurt? She knew Sam’s priorities weren’t the same as hers… did he actually care enough about the people of Smallville to put their safety above some tactical advantage? Above his daughter?

To her right, a sudden shout caught her attention, before she was forcefully shoved back with the rest of the crowd. She turned towards the sound, just in time to see one of the protesters taking a running start before launching a now flaming bottle towards the prison van. It hit the vehicles metal surface, smashing to pieces and littering the floor with broken glass. At once, an explosion of flames danced across the vehicles side, following the bottle’s contents as it trickled down to the ground.

Soldiers started towards the crowd, and Chrissy found herself being pushed and shoved roughly as people tried to move further away, trying to avoid the impending confrontation or any accusation of involvement. Stubbornly, she refused to go with them, firmly planting her feet while her eyes tried to follow the soldier’s movements. Angry shouts of protest filled her ears as she twisted and shifted her viewpoint to catch their action in brief glimpses. From what she could see, the culprit was identified quickly, and then apprehended without much resistance. She watched as the now cuffed protestor was marched away to another vehicle and shoved roughly inside.

There was no regret on his face. In fact, he looked smugly satisfied.  

Chrissy looked back towards the crowd of journalists, and realised with sadness, he’d achieved exactly what he set out to. Every camera now faced towards either the slowly dying flames, or the suddenly pumped up crowd, communicating their anti-alien message even louder. There was so much anger on their faces, so much fear fuelled passion as they chanted slogans that matched their banners.

‘Human rights for human beings’.

‘Stop the Invasion.’

‘Earth is full. Aliens go home.’

Chrissy bit her lip nervously at how easily they’d been riled up. She’d dismissed them at first as just a handful of annoying but basically harmless nut jobs… but the growing mob mentality was becoming frightening so close up.

Their message wasn’t exactly new. Various groups had formed, pretty much from the day Superman made his first appearance in Metropolis… but they’d been nothing more than an unpleasant whisper in a sea of predominantly positive reception for a long time.

After Morgan Edge was revealed to be a Kryptonian in hiding, who’d intended on eradicating the human race… their message had started to take on a lot more traction. Suddenly even the more tolerant of people started to wonder… was it possible there could be others like him? That his arrival was just the beginning? Could there be a whole invasion taking place, and we’d never even know it, because the alien invaders look just like us….

Inevitably, their platform had grown wider, their membership gaining in numbers. And now… they were bringing that paranoia to her doorstep.

Another flurry of movement from her right caught her attention, and she saw three more DOD soldiers heading over to help manage the disgruntled crowd, holding their guns up to their chests in a clear message of warning and barking at them to stay back.

Slowly, the energy settled slightly, and Chrissy realised her hand had absent mindedly closed around the packet of cigarettes in her pocket. She mentally caved to her craving without much fight… of all the nights to give herself a free pass, this had to be one of them. Slinking gently to the back of the crowd, she looked around for somewhere she could duck out of the way… not that she cared who saw her exactly… she was just needing a minute to herself.

Her eyes settled on a shadowy spot near the Teague’s place, still close enough to see if anything happened, and moved a few paces towards it, raising a cigarette to her mouth ready as she did. 

‘Hey, Beppo!’ she heard a familiar voice cry out, and she stopped in her tracks.

It couldn’t be… could it? She turned quickly to face the man she thought she’d heard, forgetting the cigarette still dangling from her lips.

The instantly recognisable man bounded up to her, sweeping back his tousled sandy hair and flashing her that charming grin that had caused her so much heartache as a younger woman.

‘Chris?’ she said in disbelief, self-consciously grabbing the cigarette from her lips, and shoving it behind her back as though he hadn’t obviously already seen it.

Wow, she hadn’t seen this guy in years.

Chris had been her friend - well more than friend… on and off - throughout journalism school. They’d done several of their final year projects together, working really well as a writing team. Sadly, their brief attempts at romance hadn’t been anywhere near as successful.

‘Glad to see you remember your old partner!’ he said, flashing her that toothy grin that she never could resist. ‘It’s been a minute, huh?’

She couldn’t help herself. She smiled back at him, and his eyes seemed to light up in response.

‘Of course I remember you… how could I… I mean why wouldn’t I,’ she stammered, before mentally scolding herself to get it together.

He tugged his scarf further up to his chin, gesturing casually at the smoky puffs of breath escaping his lips.

‘God, it’s freezing out here! Guess I’ve gotten used to the heat over on the coast.’

‘Ugh, right, you’re living in New York now? What brings you out to Smallville?’  

He pointed one of his gloved hands up towards the New York Post press badge dangling from his shirt pocket.

‘I was in Granville for another story when your report hit the air… thought I’d come check it all out. This is pretty wild, huh?’

Chrissy nodded her agreement, feeling the blush in her cheeks starting to pass as the initial blast from the past shock subsided.

‘Definitely not your ordinary Taco Tuesday,’ she said, cringing at her own poor attempt at humour.

Her old friend laughed heartily. Way too heartily. Her joke had not been that funny. Besides, he’d always been a terrible liar, and she could see the uncomfortable way he was squirming.

She raised her eyebrows at him inquisitively. ‘What is it?’

‘Okay, I know… I’m not gonna mess you about…’ he began, looking at her hopefully. ‘You think you could give me anything though? You know, the stuff you might not have told the other reporters?’

Chrissy sighed, feeling vaguely disappointed. She should have known though. Of course it was about the story, it always was with him. Not that she could really blame him. If the shoe was on the other foot, she’d probably have done the same thing. It was half the reason why they’d never figure their relationship out… neither one of them could get their priorities straight.

She had no idea how Lois and Clark made it work.

‘I work with Lois Lane,’ Chrissy shrugged, going into auto pilot. ‘She’s one of the people trapped inside, and she managed to get a message out to me. What I said in that broadcast is all I know.’

‘Oh, right… of course,’ he replied, still looking sceptical but seemingly not about to press her further.

He paused for a second, before looking around like he was suddenly conscious of being overheard.

Then he leaned in closer and whispered, ‘So… you don’t know anything about a secret alien inside the diner?’

Chrissy looked back at him with wide eyes, unable to hide her honest surprise.

‘Wha… Excuse me?’

Chris looked immediately disappointed at her obvious lack of knowledge, but he shook it off quickly.

‘Hey, I don’t even know where it’s come from, but there’s a rumour going around that the real reason these people have attacked a diner in Smallville is that one of the people inside is secretly a Kryptonian,’ he revealed.

Chrissy just stared back at him in open mouthed disbelief.

‘I know it sounds pretty wild…’ he admitted, ‘but with everything that happened last year with Edge… I guess people think it’s possible he wasn’t the only Kryptonian in disguise?’

Chrissy’s brain whirred as she processed what he was saying. Could it be true? Could someone in the diner actually be…? No way, it was ridiculous. She knew every single person in Smallville like she knew her own family. Besides, what purpose would a Kryptonian have in being here? And where would a rumour like that have even come from? It’s probably just some nut jobs bid for attention… right?

‘That’s gotta be made up,’ she pushed back defiantly, feeling somewhat concerned that the rumour might be responsible for stoking the fires of the anti-alien crowd. ‘I mean, why would a Kryptonian be sitting down to eat Tacos on a Tuesday night in Smallville?’

Her friend simply shrugged. ‘Why would a Kryptonian spend a lifetime pretending to be a successful businessman? Who knows how their minds work.’

‘How their minds work?’ she questioned.

‘Hey, I’m not xenophobic or anything,’ he defended quickly, raising his hands submissively. ‘Superman’s great, I know it’s not all of them. It’s just… we don’t know enough about the rest of their species, really, do we? We know he’s not alone now… how can we be sure there’s not more of them out there than we think? And if there are… how do we know they aren’t dangerous? Like Edge was…’

Chrissy felt her stomach swirl with discomfort at his words, but she found herself frustratingly unable to respond. The truth was, as much as part of her wanted to scold him for even saying something so discriminatory, she couldn’t quite work out how she’d feel if by some chance, it actually was true. What if someone from her hometown actually was kryptonian, and had been hiding it all this time, just like Edge? All that stuff that happened last year had been so frightening. She had to admit, the Kryptonian consciousnesses that had inhabited her friend’s bodies had all been pretty dead seat on murder & world domination…

Maybe Superman really was the exception to the rule…

If someone in Smallville was another one of them pretending to be human… maybe they were all in more danger than she thought.

‘Look, I wouldn’t put too much stock in rumours probably made up by a bunch of unhinged xenophobes,’ she said finally, despite her flicker of worry. ‘The people in that diner are my friends. My neighbours. I’m just hoping they all make it out of there alive.’

Chris looked genuinely apologetic, and sighed like he’d known he was crossing a line.

‘Of course,’ he nodded, looking towards the diner. ‘You think they’re really going to let everyone go if the DOD hand over Edge?’

Chrissy bit her lip again, not knowing the answer to that anymore than he did.

Suddenly, Chris’ phone started ringing loudly from somewhere in his coat, and he reached inside, giving her a brief nod before ducking away to answer it. She was barely able to acknowledge his exit, her mind too full of new & strange possibilities.

Was this why Superman hadn’t shown up?

If there was an alien inside the diner, why were they just going along with the heist? Surely another Kryptonian would have Superman’s powers as well and could have easily taken out the gunmen.  

Another thought hit her suddenly, and she span around to face the Gazette office again.

Did Sam know?

Thinking back to his evasive comments in their earlier conversation, she half wondered if he did… but if he didn’t, she needed to tell him.

Without hesitation, she strode towards the barriers, and began waving towards one of the soldiers in a bid for attention.

The diner’s crowd huddled together by the door, looking around cluelessly like a flock of obedient sheep. Their supposed shepherd, Mayor Lang, made a few pathetic attempts to reassure them, but Kurt could see the way their eyes darted around suspiciously, looking each other up and down like they were prepared to scratch their neighbours’ eyes out if it meant securing their freedom. He watched them with a kind of disgusted curiosity, marvelling at how predictable lesser minds were in situations like this. The only one who’d seemed reluctant to be leaving was the young stowaway Johnny had discovered earlier. She’d fought to stay with the alien brother’s at first, only joining the rest of the hostages after a few forceful words from her friends.

Pressed up against the wall beside one of the diner windows, his attention was split between their amusing behaviour and the evolving scene outside. It was just as his boss had predicted. Hoards of media personnel, various agencies… and what appeared to be a crowd of delightfully animated anti-alien protesters. He couldn’t wait to see their response to the secret these people were about to share.

Release everyone but the Kents, his boss’ message had read. The people of Smallville are going to bring about the end of Superman.

He couldn’t help but smile as he imagined what the world would say, once these wholesome country folk had revealed the shocking truth. As eager as he was to get to the final phase, to get these alien freaks under the knife… he could understand his boss’ desire for poetic justice.

The truth exposed… that had been the catalyst of his downfall.

It was only fair that he returned the favour.

He might not have chosen to prioritise that over the urgency of removing and studying the alien threats in their midst, but he could be patient, for now. Besides, he couldn’t deny how much he was enjoying the tortured look on Superman’s face at the impending disaster he was powerless to avert.

‘What the hell is going on?’ Sharon’s shrill voice hit him unpleasantly from across the room.

Kurt picked his head up in annoyance, turning to face the unbearable woman as she strode towards him. Her eyes were wild and desperate, her jaw set in what he assumed was her best look of firm determination. Her partner Johnny followed right behind; his face flushed red with rage.

He’d been expecting some kind of push back from these fools, sooner or later. In fact, he was surprised they’d played along as passively as they had so far. If either of them had any real power over him, he might have even felt threatened by their furious approach… but they were so inconsequential to him, in the context of everything he knew. It was hard not to laugh at their cartoon like emotions.

Still, he knew he had to be careful. There was a madness to the woman that he knew he needed to manage delicately. After all, for now, she was still a part of his boss’ plan. Sharon stopped a few paces away from him, and glared at him expectantly, waiting for him to respond to her demanding question.

‘The boss gives the orders, we follow them,’ he shrugged, trying to give the false impression he was as clueless as they were.

‘We still need these people as leverage!’ she exclaimed, gesturing frantically at them with a shaky finger. ‘We can’t just hand them all over and expect the DOD to keep their promise! That’s not what we agreed!’

The look of indignant offense on her face was infuriating. Who did this woman think she was? Was she really so naïve that she hadn’t understood what it meant to enter into a deal with Lex Luthor?  Sighing at the need to placate her at all, he struggled to put on his most reassuring voice.  

‘Look, we will still have plenty of leverage with the Kents in our custody,’ he said, gesturing towards the two prisoners still neatly bound to their chairs. ‘I’d have thought the big reveal would have reassured you of that. They are the real bargaining chips. They are the DOD’s priority.’

Neither Sharon nor Johnny looked remotely convinced, still glaring at him like there was more complaining to come. God he wished he could just shoot them. That was one of the things he missed about his time as a sniper – he rarely had to be this up close and personal with people he despised. He could just observe them from a distance as he prepared to snuff out their pathetic lives.

‘Then why bother with the other hostages in the first place?’ Sharon exclaimed, her eyes squinting at him suspiciously. ‘None of this makes sense. Ever since we walked into this diner, you’ve been keeping us both in the dark. And you know what, fine… I wouldn’t have even given a damn, so long as it didn’t get in the way of getting justice for my SON. But this? No… no way am I letting you throw away 90% of our leverage. You either tell me what the hell is going on here, or we’re done.’

Kurt rolled his eyes at the ridiculous show of bravado. He began to open his mouth, ready to return another placating retort, when the woman’s lapdog unexpectedly grabbed his arm with his disgustingly greasy hands.

‘Starting to feel like we’re just being used here,’ the hot-headed man snarled at him, taking another step into his personal space. ‘Think it’s time we make it clear, to you and your boss, that he still needs to fulfil his side of our agreement.’

Kurt was silent for a moment, his blood boiling as he looked down at the man’s filthy hand still clutching his arm. He felt a familiar cold rage flowing within him, the same merciless coiling beast that had made him such an efficient military assassin back in the day.

Slowly, but very forcefully, he grabbed the man’s wrist in a vice like grip, and lifted it away from him. The man’s eyes flashed with fear at his sudden palpable shift in energy, and the sight of his instinctive response sent a cruel smile tugging at the corners of Kurt’s mouth.

He’d tried it the boss’ way. Tried to keep the peace, keep the two of them ignorantly compliant.

Now it looked like they’d forced his hand.

‘You are stooges,’ he growled back at him, relieved to be dropping the pretence of co-operation. ‘You were hired because you served a purpose. You think you get a say in how this operation runs just because you don’t like the way it’s going? You think you have any power here?’

Both of them stared back at him in dumfounded shock, marvelling at his suddenly changed demeanour. It was a look he’d seen many times before. He’d spent most of his life trying to pretend to be normal, holding back the tide of violent rage that was always just beneath the surface… and then seeing the horrified surprise on people’s faces when he finally let a small piece of it be seen.

‘You have two choices here,’ he continued on. ‘You do as you’re told, stop asking pointless questions… and you may just get your chance at revenge.’

‘Oh yeah, and what’s option two?’ Johnny bit back sharply, though the slight tremble of his voice gave away his lesser confidence.

Sharon began tugging insistently at his arm, not taking her eyes off the man they’d both been so fearlessly attacking mere moments before. Seemed like the woman was at least slightly more intelligent, her instinct telling her they should back down. Her lover on the other hand, was determined to remain irrationally defiant.

Kurt smiled cruelly as he looked the idiot up and down. He was shaking with adrenaline and indignant rage, completely incapable of keeping his emotions regulated, even as he tried his best to appear threatening. Their eyes locked together as he delivered what he hoped the tone of his voice made clear was his last warning.

‘You do anything to jeopardise the boss’ mission, and you will regret it.’

A tense silence followed as the wild eyed man struggled to decide on his next move, fighting internally between his survival instinct and his misguided pride.

Kurt stared back at him coldly, not saying another word. He realised dimly that the entire diner seemed to have fallen into complete silence. Seemed like the unwelcome disagreement had attracted the frightened crowd’s attention.

After a few moments, his meagre opponent took one small step back, letting his eyes drift over towards his partner as he did. He reached out to her, and she released a long anxious breath, rushing towards him and wrapping an arm around him in relief.

Kurt took their submissive movements as an unspoken confirmation that the matter was now closed.

He took a deep breath to still his own now elevated heart rate, part of him feeling somewhat disappointed that the idiots had backed down. But as much as he wanted to snuff out their pathetic lives, he really didn’t have time for this right now.

Turning back towards the crowd, he glancing up at the clock on the wall, confirming what he knew would be true. The exchange was going to happen in less than a minute, and he was going to make sure they all headed out to meet the cameras, whether his hot headed partners liked it or not.

The sound of Lois Lane’s phone suddenly ringing from within his jacket pocket made a few of the crowd jump and squawk in surprise. He smiled as he reached for the device, bringing it quickly up to his ear and answering the call.

Right on time, General, he thought.

‘Are your men ready?’ he asked, but as the other man began to respond, his attention was unexpectedly drawn back to the diner.

Behind him, he was sure he’d heard a familiar metallic clunk. The sound of a gun being cocked.

He couldn’t be that suicidal… could he?

A few members of the crowd screeched in surprise, all but confirming his suspicions, and he turned around swiftly, phone still pressed against his ear. There he was, his unbelievably irrational gun for hire, feet planted firmly apart as he raised the now cocked pistol in Kurt’s direction.

‘I’m going to have to call you back,’ Kurt said quietly to the General, hanging up despite his immediate sounds of protest.

He let his hand slowly drop back down, feeling that familiar stirring of violent urges awaken within him once more as he tried to pretend he was placing the phone away compliantly.

‘I don’t care what your boss’ plan is,’ Johnny screeched at him, the gun trembling in his outstretched fingers. ‘I’m taking control of this situation right now.’

The words came out sounding pathetically weak, and the gun waivered in the man’s shaking grip. Still, at this distance, Kurt had to admit, he’d have to be a spectacularly terrible shot to miss him completely. He said nothing, trying to think through what his options were now. Was there still a way to de-escalate this? He could once again feel the beast within demanding to take control, and he was quickly losing the will to stop it.

Yes, his boss had wanted them both alive until the next phase… but he was pretty sure he’d be forgiven for dealing with this unexpected turn of events in the most efficient way possible.

The decision to let his darker side take over was made in a split second, and an internal wall came down, washing away any thoughts of caution.  

‘Go ahead… shoot me,’ he said, dropping any pretence of fear and locking eyes with his opponent once again.

Kurt began moving boldly towards him, closing the small space between them so fast the other man began backing away so they wouldn’t collide.

‘Hey, stop right there, or I will shoot!’ he practically screamed, regaining his footing and waving the gun towards him, as though Kurt hadn’t already seen it.

‘Johnny,’ Sharon screeched, following him backwards and pulling at the man’s arm.

Once again, she could sense the danger her ignorant partner was wilfully ignoring… but he was too far into his egotistical display to back down now.

‘I said, shoot me,’ Kurt growled at him a second time. ‘That’s the only way you’re going to stop me walking these chess pieces out of that door.’

He opened his arms out wide and took a few steps back, like he was making himself a clearer target.

‘I swear to god, you move another step…’ Johnny barked in frustration, moving his other hand up to steady the gun as he took aim.

‘You don’t have the guts…’ Kurt goaded, but his statement was cut short.

The gun went off.

He actually did it. The idiot actually pulled the trigger.

The sound of the crowd’s screams almost drowned out the blast, but Kurt felt the bullet slam powerfully into his chest.

He looked down at himself in shock, then straight back up at his wild haired comrade, who looked equally as surprised that he’d actually done it as his target. His eyes lit up for a moment, seemingly enjoying a brief feeling of success and likely pumped up by the strength of the weapon’s kick back. Then, when his target didn’t immediately drop, he seemed suddenly overcome with doubt.

He lifted his pistol once again, and pulled off 3 more shots in quick succession.

As the further bullets pounded into Kurt’s chest, the diner’s screams suddenly came to an abrupt stop. Another tense silence washed over them, as though the man’s erratic actions had them worrying he would shoot them next if they made a single peep.

He could feel all eyes on him, watching him intently as they waited for his inevitable fall…

But he stayed firmly on his feet.

He brought his hand up to his chest, touching a finger gently to where he could feel the bullets had hit. There were four neat holes, right in the middle of his chest. The bullets had landed quite close together… it had actually been a surprisingly accurate shot for a man he’d thought so inept of any skill as a marksman.

If he’d not taken the protective measures he had, the man might have even succeeded in his attempt to take him down.

Unfortunately for his foolish comrade, he had.

Kurt had been more than prepared from the moment he’d climbed into the back of that van, feeling the effects of the X-K he’d just inhaled. He’d had the foresight to see that increased strength and invulnerability might be neccesary when working with such clearly unreliable criminals, and that the benefits far out weighed the risks.

He’d always had the power here. They just hadn’t realised quite how much.

As the seconds passed with no sign of blood, and with his body standing just as firmly upright as it had been before the gun shots rang out, Johnny’s whole face seemed to drain of colour.

‘No, no way,’ Johnny breathed as he started backing away again, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘This can’t be happening.’

Kurt couldn’t help but smile cruelly as he realised this was the second time that night that the man had shot someone who’d turned out to be bulletproof.

A sudden flash of anger seemed to take over the other man’s more rational inclination to fear, and he defiantly raised his gun once again.

‘Johnny don’t,’ his partner screamed in protest.

Kurt could practically taste the satisfying end that was to come.

‘You lying piece of sh…’

Before the man could finish his last word and fire off another pointless shot, Kurt pulled his own weapon from behind his back, lined up his target in his sights, and pulled the trigger effortlessly.

He was too efficient, too well practiced in the art of cold-blooded murder. His target didn’t have a hope in hell. The bullet hit the man neatly between the eyes, and his whole body jolted back instantly. He made a sort of strangled gurgling sound and his eyes rolled back in his head, before suddenly he dropped limply to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

His head flopped to the floor so loudly Kurt could feel the vibrations of the heavy thud from across the room.

There had been no time for anyone to react in the moment. No time for even a whimper of protest. Now, once there had been a few seconds of understanding, the room filled with Sharon’s blood curdling screams. Kurt spun around to face her, pointing his gun towards her, hoping to force her into compliant silence. She didn’t even flinch, her screams continuing as she scrambled to her lover's side, lifting his lifeless head and cradling it in her lap with her free hand.

She began muttering something under her breath, rocking back and forth and shaking her head furiously in some kind of pathetic attempt to deny what she was seeing with her own eyes.

‘It’s over,’ Kurt said coldly. ‘Your idiot partner is dead. If you step one more foot out of line tonight, you’ll be joining him.’

She barely seemed to register his words, but she lifted her eyes to meet his, her wild, grief-stricken expression making him unexpectedly uneasy. A hint of anxiety grew within him as she glanced towards the hair trigger device in her hand.

She wouldn’t… would she?

Her eyes seemed to linger on the device as her whole body deflated, a whimper of defeat escaping her lips. She gave him one last long regretful look, before returning her gaze longingly to the detonator, as though it was now her only avenue of escape.  

‘Don’t be a fool,’ he barked at her, trying to break her out of her shock induced stupor.

He kicked himself for not factoring in the women’s irrational response. It had always been one of his blind sides… not understanding how irrational emotional creatures can become in the face of loss. He’d known she was a liability, known he needed to be careful with her… but he hadn’t realised how much she could really love a man who to him had seemed so… unworthy.

‘If you set that thing off, you’ll never get your chance at justice,’ he tried to bargain with her, but he could see from her dead expression that there was nothing left to reason with.

She’d been fighting her own internal battle, and now she was ready to surrender.

‘I just want the pain to stop,’ she whispered.

Time seemed to stand still as he rushed towards her, moving as fast as he could, cursing his unfortunate luck that super speed hadn’t been one of his body’s responses to X-K. As he watched the subtle movement of her fingers, he knew was going to be too late. It was over.

His failure to understand the ridiculous mechanics of love was going to be his downfall.

They were all going to die.

Chapter Text

Sam shook his head in disbelief, turning his back to his daughter’s partner and taking a few steps away from her. His hand came up to stroke through his hair absently as he processed yet another piece of the evening’s unfolding nightmare.  

‘Where would a rumour like that have even come from?’ Chrissy asked.

Her tone was clearly an attempt to sound breezy, but it came out much too forced. He could hear the hidden enquiry in her voice, the not-so-subtle attempt to dig for anything he might know about a supposed secret alien inside the diner.

Sam turned back to face her, meeting her narrow, inquisitive eyes for a moment, before she pulled her expression into one of doe eyed innocence.

God, he didn’t need this right now! It was bad enough the terrorists and their boss knew more than they should about his son in law’s origin… now someone was out there fanning the flames of suspicion from the outside? Could it really be Lex? Was this all part of his plan? It was starting to feel like no matter what move he made, he was going to be playing right into his hands.

Without attempting to hide his frustration, he gestured his hand towards the still animated crowd of protesters.

‘You think these people care about the truth? They’ll say anything to drum up more fear and hatred.’

At least the disdain in his voice was honest.

‘I’m not saying it’s true… it’s just a pretty specific accusation to come out of nowhere,’ Chrissy pointed out.  

Too exasperated to think of anything more to say, he simply shrugged, clenching his jaw stubbornly and gave her a firmly dismissive look. She returned her usual frustrated scowl in response. This dance between them was becoming annoyingly frequent, and completely predictable.

‘There’s something you’re not telling me again, isnt there?’ she accused, tilting her head slightly as though a different angle of his face might give her something more to go on.

What was the point in even attempting to come up with a convincing lie anyway? She’d seen him refuse to share information so many times now, even when he’d had little more actual knowledge than she did. At this point, it might even be more suspicious to try and deny it too much.

‘Of course there are things I’m not telling you, Miss Beppo,’ Sam barked back in in his best authoritarian tone. ‘I’m a United States General. I’m not in the habit of giving the press all the intel we have about an active terror threat.’

‘Only when it’s convenient for you that something gets out?’ she snapped back.

Sam scowled at her. ‘I think we’re done here. One of my soldiers will see you back behind the barriers.’

He nodded towards one of his men, who dutifully headed towards them.

‘Look, I’m sorry, I just… I want to help,’ she said in hurry. ‘The people in that diner are important to me. If they’re in even more danger than we thought…’

‘Miss Beppo, I can assure you, there is no alien threat inside that diner. Only human ones. You can even quote me on that,’ Sam told her honestly.

She eyed him for a moment more, shrugging off his soldier’s tug of her arm in annoyance. Finally, she relented.

‘Okay, just… if there’s anything I can do…’

Sam nodded as respectfully as he could manage, breathing slowly out of his nose as he watched her finally walking away.

She had come to him with the information first, and he was grateful for that… but the idea that his families secret was almost on the tip of irreparable exposure was not exactly putting him in the mood to worry about hurting her feelings.

A complex operation like this was stressful at the best of times, and he was often faced with conflicting interests… but tonight, he could feel himself being pulled in two more than ever. Half of his mind was still thinking like the head of the DOD - working out all the vantage points they had, all the intel they could use to gain the terrorists co-operation. Going over and over, all the best ways to ensure they got everyone in that diner out of there alive, covering all the possibilities. Not to mention securing the kryptonite weapon strapped to that mad woman’s chest.

The other half of his mind, the one that was the grandfather of Superman’s kids… was just desperately trying to keep his families secrets safe. He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head again at his growing sense that was a responsibility he was failing to keep.

‘General Lane, I’m sorry sir, I couldn’t stop her,’ he heard a young soldier squawking from behind, and he span around to see Agent Hatchett bee lining straight for him, looking like a woman on a war path.

As she came closer, he realised she had her phone stretched out towards him. The faintest hint of a satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, like she knew she was about to play the final chess piece. Somehow he found himself both hating it, and finding it bizzarely attractive.

‘Who…?’ he began, but a familiar, and very angry voice, interrupted him from the phone’s speaker.

‘Lane? What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

‘General Hardcastle,’ he sighed, glaring at the smug agent holding the receiver. ‘How can I help you?’

‘Don’t play the fool with me Sam. You are to surrender joint control of this operation to the FBI immediately. Agent Hatchett is to be made aware of every detail you have uncovered so far, and will be kept completely up to date going forwards. Hell, if she wants to know what you ate for lunch, I want you to describe it in excruciating detail. Do you understand me?’

Sam gritted his teeth. ‘General, you know this is an extremely sensitive operation…’

‘I swear to God Sam, if you say one more word of arguement, I will have you escorted out of there in the back of a prisoner van. This absolute mess of a situation has now made its way to the attention of the President himself. I have personally assured him we will of course be nothing but grateful for the agency’s assistance here.’

Sam bit his tongue, knowing there was nothing more he could say. As much as he hated it, he understood the politics at play behind the scenes.

‘Get this under control General. It’s not only your own reputation you’re dragging through the mud here.’

‘It’s already under control,’ he defended, before hastily adding, ‘but I will bring Agent Hatchett up to speed.’

‘Oh, and Sam…’ she continued. ‘Pick up your damn phone when I call you.’

With that, the line went dead. The few soldiers still in ear shot shifted awkwardly, their eyes darting around as though trying to pretend they hadn’t been listening. Sam could feel the heat of embarrassment and anger prickling as the arrogant blonde in front of him snapped the phone shut and placed it casually back in her pocket.  

‘I didn’t want to have to be so underhanded, General,’ she said finally, ‘but you really didn’t leave me any choice.’

Sam rolled his eyes. ‘You win, Miss Hatchett, I will give you an overview of our operation so far, but let’s make this quick shall we?' he said reluctantly, gesturing towards the Gazette’s front door. 'I dont want to waste a second more on this than neccesary.'

She nodded, already breezing past him and opening the door. Then she held it open for him, waiting for him to step through. Sam couldn’t help but feel like everything she did was a way of asserting her dominance.

A few of the soldiers looked up from their screens, but the situation inside the newspaper office was pretty much as he’d left it. Since Kurt had agreed to release some of the hostages, it had become simply a waiting game, monitoring for any changes but ultimately satisfied things were moving along in their favour for now.

Suddenly, Agent Hatchett spun around to face him, curiosity furrowing her brow.

‘Why are you so resistant to us working together Sam?’ she demanded.

He realised he must have looked a bit startled by the sudden question, but quickly tried to brush it off.

‘Let’s just say I haven’t had the best experience with inter agency operations,’ he told her honestly.

Well, it was at least part of the truth. He really had seen how badly an operation like this, with too many ‘cooks’ in the mix can go.

This one just had even more reasons for him to be protective.

‘At first I thought it was just about your daughter, but it’s more than that, isnt it?

He scowled back at her, pulling her out of earshot of his soldiers. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can we just keep things professional here?’

‘It wouldn’t have anything to do with rumours of a secret kryptonian in the diner, would it?’

Sam’s heart sank a little, but part of him knew it was inevitable. If this rumour was spreading on the other side of the barrier, he wasn’t going to be able to hide it from her.

‘I heard that little piece of fiction was doing the rounds out there. Didn’t think the FBI would be putting stock in some garbage made up by looney conspiracy nuts.’

‘Maybe this rumour hasn’t been spread by conspiracy nuts,’ she said, her tone implying she knew something he didn’t.  

Once again, he felt himself engaged in a game of cat and mouse.

‘What exactly are you suggesting?’

‘Our intel suggests this rumour may have been spread very intentionally… by Lex Luthor.’

Sam swallowed slowly, before scoffing intentionally loudly. ‘If that’s true, then you know it can’t be trusted. Whatever Lex Luthor wants people to think, is for no reason other than his own gain.’

‘I don’t disagree,’ she nodded. ‘But Sam… there are other factors to consider here.’

‘What factors?’ Sam asked bluntly, tired of the cryptic responses.

Hatchett paused for a moment, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. She looked uncharacteristically nervous.

‘Sam… where is Superman?’

He blinked at her, taken completely off guard by the question. He moved his lips to speak, knowing whatever vague answer he gave was not going to erase the suggestion her question was implying.

Before he managed to respond, the unmistakable sound of gunshots coming from the direction of the diner demanded their attention. The office around them turned into a frantic flurry of movement and shouts, and his radio came deafeningly to life.

‘SHOTS FIRED. SHOTS FIRED!’

There was just too much pain.

Sharon felt as though she herself had become a bomb, unstable, the pressure inside her mounting to a level that she could only assume would inevitably explode. She could feel the hair trigger against her fingertips, just barely hanging on to the edge of sanity as she resisted all the defeated and grief-stricken parts of her that called to just let go.

Let it be over.

Let her find relief.

What was she holding on to anyway?

She could hear someone calling her name, could see a few flickers of movement in her peripheries… but it all seemed strangely distant now. Like shadow puppets obscured by smoke. Her senses dimmed, light and sound softening around her, and suddenly the pain clutching her chest seemed to lessen slightly. She felt something inside her shift, become less heavy. It was as though her soul had uncoupled from her body, like a carriage from a derailing train.

She could feel the last remnants of who she was, deep down under all the misery, evacuating this unbearable reality. The sensation of something akin to floating filled her with a desperately needed sense of peace.

She felt herself let go.

And then a hand clasped itself over hers, gently, but firmly. A face appeared before her, gazing deeply into her eyes, compelling her to return to awareness. Her fractured mind struggled to make sense of it’s familiar features. The strong jaw covered with just a little bit of stubble. The soft crinkles around startlingly blue eyes….

Those eyes. Oh god, those eyes… She felt a twist of recognition in her stomach.

They were too blue.

Inhumanely blue.

The kind of blue that you only get away with unnoticed by covering them with a pair of glasses.

The sincere look of empathy inside those swirling pools seemed to provoke an instinctive response within her, and she felt tears begin rolling down her cheeks. She was dimly aware of the sensation of trembling, but couldn’t tell if it was coming from him or from her. There were flickers of pain emerging on his face, though he did his best to hide it. She remembered the bomb, that it was toxic to him. That he was slowly killing himself, while holding her so carefully.

‘I am so sorry for what you’ve been put through,’ he said quietly, his voice drifting towards her like some kind of ethereal whisper.

His own emotion was evident as it mingled with waves pain. Yet somehow, the sound of his voice was still inviting. Gentle. Reassuring. Part of her longed to lean into the comfort he seemed to be offering. Longed for that burning rage to be permanently stamped out.

‘You don’t want to hurt all of these people,’ he added, and she remembered suddenly that they werent the only ones in the room.  

She was in the Smallville diner. Vicky May’s. They’d come here to…

‘Don’t listen to that FREAK!’

She pulled away from those blue eyes, peaking over Superman’s shoulder at their so called partner. The man who’d just taken the life of the only person she had left. He seemed more agitated that she’d ever seen him, but she felt a kind of empty coldness as she took in the sight of him.

‘Don’t forget what HE did to you!’ he continued. ‘Don’t forget WHY you’re here… This isn’t over yet!’

What wasn’t over? What was she even doing here… it was all such a blur… She blinked at him, parts of her memory beginning to spill together into some kind of meaning.

Sharon reached her free hand up to her forehead, rubbing her temple as she groaned from the effort of trying to pull all the fractures pieces of her mind back in order.

Derek.

She was here because of Derek. That much she remembered. Her son had been murdered.

‘Mrs Powell, please… I don’t care what you do to me,’ he said, pulling her attention back to those deep blue eyes. ‘But these people don’t deserve to die.’

His face suddenly twisted with a fresh wave of pain, and his hand slipped slightly in its grip. A look of panic flickered through his eyes as he brought his other hand up to join it for good measure.  

‘You don’t want to do this,’ he croaked again between gritted teeth.

Didn’t she? She wasn’t even sure anymore. What did she want? Why had they even agreed to this suicidal mission? What had been worth all of this insanity…

Tal-Rho…

Sharon’s eyes snapped up towards the TV, just as a picture of her enemy’s face appeared on the screen. He was dressed in his Morgan Edge disguise - the billionaire business mogul he’d performed for decades, so that he could live among them, hiding, gaining people’s trust. People like her son.

The fires of her rage ignited once more, the sharpness of the feeling seemingly bringing everything else back into focus. She may have lost everything else, but she could still have her revenge.

Quickly she turned her attention back to the man who still gripped her with now violently shaking hands, sweat pouring from his pallid skin…

Suddenly she remembered those piercing blue eyes had a brother.

‘This is all your fault,’ she screeched, and he leant back slightly, his eyes wide with shock at her immediate change in demeanour.

Despite his obviously weakening condition, his hands tightened their grip even more. She struggled against him, trying to free herself from his grasp… but despite his weaking condition, his determination held her unexpectedly firmly.

‘Let go of me,’ she growled at him like a feral animal.

‘I can’t do that,’ he replied, his jaw tensing against another wave of agony. ‘Please…’

She screeched in frustration, before a memory hit her like a saving grace from the beyond. Johnny’s voice echoed through her mind, bringing with it a fresh pool of tears.

‘Superman won’t know what hit him…’

In the van, earlier that evening as he’d carefully ensured the vest was properly armed and ready, Johnny had reminded her what this weapon was capable of. That it was more than just a bomb. That it was specially designed to incapacitate the Man of Steel, in more ways than one.  

With her free hand, she reached quickly to the hidden switch on her belt, pressing it before Superman could react to her sudden movement.

She saw those blue eyes widen with fear and disbelief. He glanced frantically towards his sons, obviously believing the worst was about to happen… but before he or anyone else could move, the bomb blasted a funnel of powerful green energy right into his chest.

The impact was even more brutal than she’d expected.  

He didn’t even have time to make a sound. The kryptonite beam seemed to knock him unconscious the moment it hit him and his body was thrown violently across the room, smashing into one of the booths before tumbling to the diner floor. Pulsing waves of green energy spread from his chest and moved down his arms and legs. He convulsed a few times before finally going limp.

Sharon heard the diner’s bystanders suddenly erupting into cries of protest once again, and watched as his wife struggled against her bonds, staring at her fallen hero in desperate panic.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement again, but she was fully lucid now. She spun around to see one of the alien’s sons attempting to cross the room to his father’s side. No, she was done letting them interfere in their plans here. She needed everyone to just shut up and stay where they were until they got things back on track.

Sharon lifted the bomb’s trigger high in the air and screeched once again. She didn’t even bother forming words, the primal sound was enough to halt them in their tracks, looking anxiously up at the device beneath her fingertips.

The sea of bodies fell silent once again, and they hung in stasis for a long moment, the only sound the insistent ringing of the phone still clasped in Kurt’s hand. Of course, she knew it was the General. Their so-called partner had been about to hand over the hostages. That was why all of this had happened… that was why Johnny…

She turned to Kurt, finally looking the man who’d just murdered her lover in the eyes. He seemed wary of her now, wary of her rage and unpredictability. Somehow the sight was even more empowering. Here was the man who’d seemed to have all the power in the room… and he was cautious of HER now.

Good. He absolutely should be. They all should be. The way she was feeling, even she wasn’t sure what she was capable of.

He raised his eyebrow at her expectantly, waiting for her to say something before making another move.

‘I want Tal-Rho,’ she seethed.

‘I give you my word,’ he nodded, a subtle look of relief crossing his face. ‘You will not leave this diner without your chance at revenge.’

She held his gaze for a few moments, reading his intention, trying to gauge the honesty of his promise… but what choice did she have. This was all she had left. The idea of killing her son’s murderer was the only thing that gave any of this any meaning.

She had to trust him.  

Sharon nodded, lowering the device and finally collapsing into a nearby chair.

The man watched her carefully as he raised the still ringing phone to his ear, as though still worried she might change her mind.

Finally, he picked up.

‘General? Yes, don’t you worry about that, our party had a small… disagreement. We are sending the first wave of hostages out to you now, as we agreed.’

As soon as he hung up the phone, Kurt started barking orders at the crowd once again, who moved obediently towards the diner door. Confident that there was nothing more for her to do for now, Sharon turned away from them, her gaze falling on Johnny’s body. He still lay were he fell, and she found herself feeling surprised he hadn’t moved, before shaking her internal logic. Of course hadn’t moved. He was dead.

His eyes were still wide open, his expression frozen in horror and pain. She couldn’t bare to leave him like that, so she stood up from her chair slowly, taking a few wobbly steps over to him, and crouching down at his side.

Gently she placed her fingers over his eyelids.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered as she closed them shut, her own eyes brimming with tears. ‘Thank you for getting me this far.’

Lana clutched her daughters at her side as they were herded along with the rest of the hostages. Soldiers formed a sort of human tunnel from the diner door, leading them into the cover of a canvas tent. The rest of the frightened captives jostled beside her as they shoved forwards, stumbling into each other as they went, no time or energy to apologise. Their bodies were more than a little stiff after hours of anxious captivity, and the constant stream of camera flashes and shouts of indistinguishable questions were making it hard to focus on their surroundings.

She shielded her children’s faces as best she could until they were safely undercover, having just about enough mental energy left to feel annoyed that the press were even trying to capture a shot of their traumatised faces.

Once they were inside the tent, Lana felt her eldest pulling herself free of her grip, seemingly needing a bit of breathing room after being so confined.

‘It’s okay, I’m fine mom,’ she reassured, stroking the top of her sister’s head as she looked around their new surroundings.

Lana’s gaze followed her daughters. It was a pretty much empty space inside the tent, with a few doors along one side that seemed to lead into other areas. By the absence of anyone but the soldiers who’d escorted them, she was pretty sure this tent had been reserved for exactly this purpose – as a safe place for them to be debriefed away from the crowd of hungry journalists.

She felt her youngest tighten her grip around her, and so she bent down, holding her daughter’s face in her hands and giving her a relieved smile.

‘It’s all okay now, sweetie,’ she said, wiping away a few stray tears. ‘We’re safe now.’

‘When can we go home?’ Sophie asked, a slight tremble in her voice. ‘Where’s Dad?’

‘We’ll see him soon sweetie, I promise,’ she reassured her, though she had no idea where Kyle was right now, nor what was about to happen.

Sure… they might be out of harm’s way and free from the confines of the diner… but the night was far from over for any of them.

Lana glanced around at her friends and neighbours baffled faces. They looked as lost as she felt, the evenings events happening in such a whirlwind it was hard to even process what had just happened. They’d been let go. As a show of good faith? The idea had been thrown at them so unexpectedly, and they were so hungry for it, they hadn’t dared question it inside… but why would they have done that? And what exactly where they going to do now?

As much as part of her wanted to whisk her daughter’s away, take them home and let all of this be over for them… Lois, Clark and the boys were still inside that diner. While that revenge driven woman was still holding her friend’s hostage, she couldn’t exactly just abandom them.

Still, there was no denying the sense of relief she felt too. They were finally free from the immediate threat of getting shot at or blown up. Could finally move and speak as they wished.

‘What’s going to happen now,’ Sarah asked, mirroring her own thoughts.

Lana simply shook her head in response. Sophie nuzzled into her, and she stroked her hand through her hair again as she looked around the tent once more.

She watched as Natalie’s dad entered from one of the side sections. The young girl fell into her father's arms and he held her tightly for a moment, closing his eyes with relief. Then he pulled back, seemingly saying something quietly before hastily leading his daughter out of sight.

Lana realised she wasn’t the only one watching. All eyes from the diner followed their every movement in anxious silence. They were still hypervigilant, too stunned to speak, their gazes darting around furtively at any movement, zeroing in on anything that might be noteworthy. They really needed someone to give them a sense of reassurance, some direction as to what came next.

Was she supposed to be the one giving it to them?

‘Mayor Lang,’ a familiar voice called out as one of the door flaps to the tent was pulled opened, and General Lane strode confidently in her direction.

Lana could see the military man’s eyes were filled with very real concern she couldn’t quite read. She wasn’t sure if the uncharacteristically sincere expression should be taken as reassuring or even more worrying.

‘Stay with your sister, okay,’ she told her youngest softly, gently stroking her forehead once more before nodding towards her eldest to take over. ‘I’m just going to go and speak to the General for a minute.’

As she stepped away from her children’s warmth, the evenings chill suddenly hit her, and she wrapped her coat tightly around herself as she took a few paces forwards to meet the man half way.

‘How are they?’ he asked, nodding towards her children.

She appreciated the gesture, but she could tell he was just being polite. There were obviously bigger priorities on his mind.

‘They’re a little shaken up, but their okay,’ she told him, adding, ‘We have Clark to thank for that.’

‘Clark. So, he’s still okay? The stab wound…’ he said, his voice low enough to not be overheard.

‘It healed,’ she told him plainly, regretting the initial look of relief on his face.

She knew that wasn’t as good a piece of news as he thought.

‘The boys, Lois, are they okay too?’

‘The boys are fine. Lois is… tied up but she’s okay too. Clark’s unconscious. He looked pretty banged up, but I think he’s still alive.’

Lana realised she was biting her lip nervously, and she willed herself to stop.  

‘I thought you said he healed?’

‘He did. Then he got hurt again… Look, a lot’s happened since you left the diner,’ she said gravely. ‘Sam… he healed in front of everyone.’

Lana could see him visibly swallow at the implication.

‘They all… saw?’ He repeated slowly.

She nodded. ‘It’s even worse than just what they saw. The guy in the suit, Kurt… he set the whole thing up. It was like some kind of game to him. He made Clark tell everyone who he really is. Where he’s really from…’

Sam cursed under his breath, turning his head to the side for a moment as he took in her words.

‘Dammit, he planned this.’

‘Who?’ Lana asked anxiously. ‘What the hell is going on here Sam?’

The man gave her a wary look, like he wasn’t sure how much was best to share. It infuriated her. After everything she’d been through that evening, she was more than a little tired of being in the dark.

‘We think whoever’s behind this is trying to expose Superman’s identity,’ he revealed finally.

Lana blinked at him in surprise at his statement of what seemed obvious.

‘No offense General, but… they already have,’ she replied, with slightly more impatience than she intended.

He regarded her with a still grim expression, ‘Its bigger than that. We think he’s orchestrated this so that your friends here will tell the press everything. Now, tonight.’

‘That’s why there were so many cameras…’

A flicker of guilt seemed to cross his features that she didn’t understand.

‘But… why?’ she asked automatically, but even as she did, she was starting to fill in the answer to her own question.

‘Because he doesn’t just want the world to find out. He wants to make sure the people of Smallville are the ones to do it.’

Lana felt the meaning of his words sinking to the pit of her stomach. It did make a sick kind of sense. After all, what better way to truly hurt Clark, than to have the very town that raised him be the instruments of his downfall?

Before she could ask anything else, she heard a loud and authoritative female voice barking orders from outside the tent, and she watched Sam sigh, his entire body stiffening in response.

‘Look, I thought we’d have more time to discuss this, but… do you think you’d be able to tell a version of the night’s events that leaves out… certain details?’

‘I… I can try… but why…?’

A stern but attractive blonde in a pant suit strode confidently over to them, immediately reaching a hand-out in greeting.

‘You must be Mayor Lang,’ the woman said boldly, her tone professional but friendly.

Lana shook the woman’s hand, just beginning to open her mouth to ask who she was. Instead, the woman jumped in ahead of her.

‘I’m sorry, my name is Agent Hatchett, I guess the General hasn’t mentioned me yet,’ she introduced herself, giving Sam a knowing look. He scowled back at her as she continued, ‘I’m with the FBI and I’ve been working closely with the DOD to ensure your safe release.'

Lana could see from the way Sam rolled his eyes at that last part he wasn’t exactly happy about the shared credit.

‘Look, whatever you all did to get us out of there… thank you,’ she said sincerely.  

‘You’re welcome, Miss Lang. Now I know you’ve been through a lot tonight, but do you think you’d be able to answer a few questions for us? I know you must be anxious to get your daughters home, but we need to get a clear picture of the situation inside.’

‘Of course, anything I can do to help,’ she agreed, trying to catch Sam’s eye subtly to confirm they were on the same page.  

He nodded, though she could see he was gritting his teeth at the forced compliance. Agent Hatchett gestured towards a private section of the tent and began leading the way forwards confidently.

Sam watched her go for a moment and Lana thought she saw a look that was somewhere between disdain and… something else. Admiration maybe? Realising he was being watched, the General stiffened again, tugging at his collar and gestured with his free hand for her to go ahead of him.

Glancing back at her daughters briefly, she caught eyes with Sarah and mouthed the words ‘I’ll be 5 mins’ as she followed them out of sight.

Chapter Text

Natalie finally pulled out of her dad’s embrace, the initial relief of seeing him quickly fading. She looked up at him, eyes wide with urgency, her mind spinning with memories of the nightmare she’d just left behind. A steely determination cemented itself inside her as she prepared to speak, willing her voice to sound firm and unwavering.

‘Dad, we have to get them out of there.’

She hoped he could hear the twinge of desperation in there too. She needed to do something. There was no way she could just sit on the sidelines and see what happened next. Her night had been full of more than enough passive witnessing as it was.

A wave of guilt hit her as she remembered Jon and Jordan’s faces, that reassuring look they’d given her as she’d been escorted out of the building. It was so like them to be focused on her, squashing down their own obvious horror in an attempt to ease her distress. She tried to push the thought away, knowing it was irrational to beat herself up over something she’d been helpless to control. That she was no good to them if she wallowed in regret.

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling she’d abandoned her friends.

Her dad’s expression was soft and full of empathy. Something about it sent a flare of irritation right through her. She knew he was trying to be reassuring too, but in that moment… it just felt patronising.

Why did he always have to look at her like she was nine years old?

‘There’s nothing more you can do bug,’ he said gently. ‘The General and I have a plan. I promise you, we will get everyone out of there. You just have to let us take it from here.’

‘A plan? You mean Tal-Rho?’ Nat retorted accusingly.

She hadn’t meant for it to come out quite so hostile, but part of her felt a sense of satisfaction seeing the caught and slightly defensive expression on his face. Of course she’d be upset. After everything they’d been through at the hands of a world full of callous kryptonians…

His eyes quickly melted back into understanding, and somehow, the speed with which he silently acknowledged her justified anger irritated her even more.

‘He’s part of it, yes,’ he admitted, stuffing his hands into his pockets self-consciously. ‘Bug, look, we need them to believe we’re co-operating. If there’s any chance of getting everyone out of there safely… we need to get inside that diner. Tal is our only way to do that, and he’s agreed to help.’

‘So you trust him now?’ she asked, feeling her emotions rise despite her best efforts to stay calm.

She hadn’t been able to acknowledge it in the diner, the imminent threat to life keeping the full force of her emotions at bay… but seeing Tal’s image on the TV screen… it brought her right back to a place of fear and pain she thought she’d left behind. It had been hard enough coping with seeing Clark’s face everywhere… but at least she’d slowly been able to accept he was very clearly the opposite of the man who’d filled her nightmares for years.

The Tal-Rho of this earth may not be the exact same person as the one who’d set things in motion back home… but she hadn’t seen much evidence he was any different.

Her dad sighed, his head dropping to his chin. She could see his own reluctance then. The internal battle of doubt vs need.

‘You know I could never trust him, bug,’ he said honestly.

The simple admission helped. Nat felt herself soften slightly, his grave expression reassuring her that he was at least taking the risk Tal posed seriously. Logically she knew her dad wouldn’t exactly have jumped at the idea of bringing him into this. Part of her could even understand the impossible position they were all in, could see why accepting Tal’s assistance seemed like the best option they had.

Still, no matter how much she tried to rationalise it, the idea of her dad being anywhere near Tal-Rho filled her with horror.

‘Look, I know it’s hard to accept… but I talked to him and… I believe he cares about Clark. At least enough to help us get him back,’ her dad defended his decision. ‘He doesn’t want to lose his only family.’

‘He tried to eradicate him last year!’ Nat couldn’t help but point out.

But even as she said it, she could feel the fight in her growing weaker. She knew Tal had sacrificed himself to possible death by kryptonite bullets earlier this year. As much as she hated to admit it, his incarceration did seem to have changed his priorities.

Not that it made her distrust him any less.

She sighed, feeling herself conceding slightly. Still, she wasn’t just going to step aside and let the grown up’s handle it like a good little girl. If her dad was about to put it all on the line, why shouldn’t she be doing something real to help as well?

‘Let me help you,’ she protested, stuffing her hands into her pockets and pulling out some of her AI’s broken parts. ‘I just need to re assemble Hedy, and then I could use her to…’

‘No,’ her dad interrupted sharply.

For a moment, all she could do was stare back at him in indignant frustration. Was he really going to be this obtuse?

‘Bug, you are 16 years old. We just got you out of there safely, i’m not putting you in any more danger. You shouldn’t be involved in any of this.’

Nat felt her cheeks getting hot as she tried to dial back her anger. How could he be so blind? How could he still not see her? Yes, she was 16, but she was a 16-year-old who’d been through more than most of the adults here in Smallville combined. She’d spent years living underground, surviving, helping her dad build and modify the very tech that had brought them both to this earth.

She was more than just a kid that needed his protection. 

‘So, what, I’m just supposed to sit here and do nothing? Dad, you weren’t in there. You didn’t see how badly they hurt Mr Kent, how scared Jon and Jordan were… I can’t just wait around for something terrible to happen. Not after everything we’ve been through. Not after mom…’

Her emotion caught in her throat, and she stopped abruptly. Luckily, she hadn’t need to finish the sentence. She could see from the haunting grief that flashed behind his eyes that he’d understood. She looked away suddenly, feeling herself welling up and not wanting her dad to see. He already saw her as a little girl as it was, getting all blubbery was not helping! She held her breath, willing the tears away in a long moment of silence.

‘You’re right,’ he said finally, causing her head to whip back around in surprise.

Had she really heard that? She searched his eyes for confirmation.

‘Look, if you can get Hedy back up and running, I know you can help.’

He matched the intensity of her gaze, keeping his expression serious enough to let her know he meant it. Was he actually trusting her for once? Was he going to let her stand by his side and…

‘From out here I mean…’ he clarified.

Ah… of course.

Nat’s initial excitement dimmed slightly, but a knowing acceptance settled in its place. All things considered; she was just grateful for the compromise. Grateful he wasn’t going to shut her out completely.

‘You can be my eyes and ears,’ he added.

She gave him her best compliant smile. Sure, she thought, I can do that, for now.

But she made absolutely no promises to stay put if something went wrong in there…

‘Just… please be careful.’

Her dad smiled back at her knowingly, before pulling her into his arms again.

‘I’m coming right back, bug.’

Yeah… i’ve heard that before, she thought, leaning into his embrace anyway.

She held him close for a few moments, giving herself enough time to digest what she needed to do next. Her mind was already running through all the options for restoring Hedy and making use of the AI’s unique abilities. When she finally pulled free, she looked back down at the broken pieces of metal and wiring. She needed to get started as soon as possible if she was going to get her up and running again in time.  

‘Can the DOD get hold of some things for me?’ she asked, not looking up at first as she tried to assess the damaged pieces.

When her dad didn’t immediately respond, she glanced up at him curiously. Her brow furrowed at the confused look on his face, that seemed to be settling into a disapproving frown. Why on earth he would be looking at her like that…

Oh God…

Natalie suddenly placed her arms around her torso, knowing it was pointless but compelled by self-conscious guilt.

He’d noticed the dress.

It’s particular shade of pastel pink was just too recognisable.

‘Why are you wearing a Vicky May’s uniform?’ he asked finally.

‘Thank you Mayor Lang, I appreciate you taking the time to talk to us after everything you and your family have been through tonight,’ Agent Hatchett said sincerely, holding the tent’s canvas door open and gesturing for the subject of her interrogation to leave.

Sam eyed Lana carefully as she nodded politely, the relief on her face palpable. She stepped out into the open space of the larger tent, her body visibly relaxing as she gained some distance from the dogmatic woman. He had to hand it to her, Lana had done an impressive job in batting back his unwanted partner’s unrelenting questions, despite the lack of time to prepare. She’d stood her ground, doing everything she could to convey a version of events that left out the terrorist’s personal agenda with Clark.

Still, he could tell it hadn’t done much to quell the FBI agent’s growing suspicions. If it hadn’t been obvious from their earlier interrupted conversation, it certainly was now. Hatchett had put together this recent rumour of an alien in disguise, with Superman’s uncharacteristic absence.

And if Hatchett suspected someone in the diner might be the famous Superhero… how long would it take others to do the same?

More importantly, how long would it take them to start pointing the finger at his son-in-law?

Sam looked over at the small crowd of released hostages. There weren’t exactly a lot of strong contenders for a Superman lookalike in the mix.

Clark’s disguise was usually extremely effective. He didn’t have to do much, his dorky nature providing much of the needed suspension of disbelief. How could someone as awkward and unassuming as Kansas farm boy Clark Kent be an alien in hiding, right? It had taken him a minute to believe it himself, even with Clark saying it directly, to his face, and removing his glasses to really drive the revelation home.

But as effortless as that disguise in some ways was, it also didn’t take much to see beyond the glasses, to recognise Superman’s features underneath, once someone was really looking. Once that seed of curiosity was planted… it was hard to take it back.

Especially in a woman whose job it was to see things others didn’t.

He swallowed hard, yet another part of the night’s unfolding nightmare cementing itself. The only chance he had to get this jack back in it’s box was to create as much doubt as possible that the rumour had any validity. To convince this ever-growing crowd of gossiping spectators that the very idea that someone in the diner could be hiding something so huge seem… ridiculous.

But even then…  he doubted it would change Hatchett’s mind.

He sighed, watching the tenacious agent stride away just as determinedly as she’d approached, before turning his gaze back towards the town’s anxious Mayor.

There was nothing he could do about that right now anyway.

Amazingly, he had more pressing concerns.

‘Wow… she is… intense,’ Lana finally breathed once Hatchett had completely left the tent.

The general chuffed softly in agreement. ‘That’s one way of putting it.’

‘What’s going on Sam?’ she asked, her concern evident. ‘Why was she asking me all those questions about Superman? About how well I know everyone in the diner?’

Sam glanced around briefly, making sure no one was within reasonable earshot.

‘There’s been a rumour spreading about a secret kryptonian in the diner,’ he filled her in, his exasperation with the development putting a tone of bitterness in his voice. ‘Agent Hatchett is just the first one to wonder if it could be connected to Superman being unaccounted for.’

She didn’t respond for a moment, her expression sinking heavily as she took in the implication.

‘It’s them, isn’t it?’ she asked rhetorically. ‘Whoever’s behind this… it’s just another part of their sick game.’

Sam simply nodded, and she shook her head in dismay, glancing back at her daughters and the crowd of agitated hostages behind them. He felt himself tensing up again as he prepared to share the final uncomfortable truth. The last piece of the puzzle that sent twinges of guilt and regret through him, knowing how utterly manipulated he’d been ever since the evening began.

‘Look… I need to know whether any of the hostages would be a liability under questioning from the press right now,’ he asked, unsurprised to be met with a look of stunned disbelief.

‘Why would anyone be talking to the press?’ she asked cautiously.

He gave her an apologetic look. He’d known when he’d made the agreement that what he was about to ask meant putting her friends and neighbours right back in the line of fire… even before he’d understood why.

Still… what other choice was there? They’d threatened his daughter’s life…

‘Lana… the release of hostages wasn’t just a show of good faith,’ he confessed. ‘The terrorists wanted something in exchange, and if we don’t keep our end of the bargain…’

His apologetic tone seemed to be agitating her more than his words.

‘Sam, what did you agree to?’ she asked impatiently.

He sighed again, knowing all his hesitation was doing was wasting precious time.

‘We need all the released hostages to speak to the press…’ he looked down at his watch, ‘In about 15 minutes.’

Lana blinked back at him, seemingly torn between outrage and concern as she processed all the implications.

‘Why the hell would you agree to that?’ she asked finally, keeping her voice low despite her obvious frustration.

‘I didn’t understand why they wanted it at the time, but…’

‘No, but you knew it would put them in danger again,’ Lana pointed out, a flash of anger making itself known. ‘Haven’t they been through enough for one night?’

He looked down, finding himself uncharacteristically wordless. They’d threatened his daughter’s life. What was he supposed to do? Why should he even be ashamed of making that call? Any father would have done the same. Or maybe it wasn’t shame keeping him silent… maybe the truth was, saying it out loud just made it feel all too real…

Lana seemed to find her answer in his evasiveness anyway.

‘They threatened Lois…’ she said softly, more of a statement than a question.

Sam replied with a resigned nod. He watched as she glanced back at the hostages again, seemingly shifting into reluctant acceptance as she did.

‘There were people in that diner who were angry Sam… they havent had any time to process all of this,’ she said cautiously. ‘All it would take is one person to act on that emotion…’

He knew what she was implying. That putting this stressed-out crowd of civilians in front of the press so soon after such a huge revelation, was pretty much ensuring the terrorists got their way. They may as well just walk out in front of the cameras and tell the world who Clark really was themselves… at least then there would be more control of the narrative.

But that wasn’t part of the agreement…

‘Believe me, putting them in the public eye is the last thing I want to do...’ he sighed, his hands feeling completely tied.

At least he and John still had a plan for getting his family out of there, alive and unharmed. Even if they couldn’t prevent their lives on the other side of this from looking very different.

‘Let me talk to them,’ Lana said finally, a vague hint of hope in her voice. ‘I can’t promise anything, but… I’ll do my best to explain the situation. They’re good people Sam… it might not be over yet.’  

He managed a half smile at her attempt to inject some agency back into the situation, before watching her rejoin the anxious crowd. He wasn’t particularly convinced, watching their desperate faces as they eyed their mayor expectantly, waiting for her update. They looked on the edge of hysteria as it was… even if they did agree to withhold the truth, how could they be expected to lie convincingly when faced with a crowd of pushy journalists?

But then, he was always the cynical one in the family.

If Lois were here, he knew she’d be telling him to have a bit of faith in people. Especially the people Clark grew up around. The kind of people that had all contributed, in one way or another, to the good man he’d become.  

Sam looked down at his watch, knowing he needed to get the ball rolling if he was going to get them on the air by the terrorist’s deadline.

As he headed towards the area they’d cordoned off for the growing mass of members of the press, he tried to cling to the glimmer of possibility the people of Smallville might just prove themselves to be more loyal to one of their own than Lex Luthor believed.

Even after finding out he was an alien.

For Agent Hatchett, it had started as just a niggle of curiosity.

Superman, who historically had seemed quite reliable when it came to keeping Lois Lane from harm, had been nowhere to be seen all evening. The famous reporter and her family had been taken hostage, along with several other members of their small-town community… and there was not a flash of red and blue in sight.

On its own, it wouldn’t have immediately raised suspicion. After all, it had only been an arguably short amount of time… perhaps the man of steel was simply busy, dealing with some big natural disaster on the other side of the world, unaware of his friend’s need for aid.

Except there was no disaster… at least none that were being reported across any news media, or any other less public channels.  

Still… her thoughts had at first been directed more towards concern for Superman’s well-being. She’d wondered if perhaps Lex Luthor had gotten to him first, if there was an earlier stage of the psychopaths plan that they were yet to uncover.

Then she’d met General Sam Lane. Observed how strangely protective he was being over this operation. How irrationally defensive he seemed in the face of any attempt at opening up a transparent dialogue of information. In fact, the only person he seemed to be working closely with, was the mysterious ‘Steel’, a newly emerged hero who had recently stepped in during Superman’s month-long disappearance.

He was very clearly hiding something about the situation in that diner, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he seemed to tense up the most whenever Superman’s name was mentioned.

So, she’d started digging.

At first, she began by looking into his history of working with Superman. It had apparently been a tumultuous start, but there had been a sudden turn around a few years after Superman’s appearance, and they’d been working together fairly effectively since. In fact, Superman seemed to have a particular loyalty to the General that didn’t extend to other officials at the DOD.

Was it just about his daughter? She wouldn’t be the first person to wonder if Lois Lane’s connection with Superman was… something other than plutonic. And yet, the famous reporter was now married, to a simple Kansas farm boy turned big city reporter named Clark Kent. They even had two kids, and there was absolutely no indication that their marriage was anything but happy.

As she browsed through photos of the General’s family, trying to see what might be going on beyond the broad smiles plastered on for the camera, her eye’s lingered on his son in laws face. She placed a few images side by side, zooming in closer to get a better look at the man’s features. His surprisingly defined jawline. Those startlingly blue eyes, even behind the oversized glasses…

She felt a dawning sense of recognition worming it’s way to the surface… and yet, something within her immediately began to dismiss it.

The idea had to be laughable, right?

This man was about as mild mannered as they came. There was no way Superman would have pretended to be him all of this time. What would be the point? If he were going to adopt a human disguise, surely he’d have chosen to be someone with more power & influence than that?

Still, she found herself pulling up an image of the man’s profile and placing it side by side with a similar angle of the man of steel.

Unless…

Maybe Clark Kent wasn’t the disguise…

She felt her heart rate increasing as she stared at the inarguable similarities between the two photos, trying to re-call everything she knew about the man of steel. Hadn’t Superman said in his first on camera interview with Lois Lane, that he’d grown up here on earth? He’d refused to share anything more substantial than that, but it had always been a point of speculation. Most people just assumed he’d landed somewhere remote, that maybe he’d been sent here with some kind of alien technology that had helped him survive on his own until he was old enough to reveal himself.

That he’d been an observer of the human race… but never quite a part of it.

No one had really considered the possibility that he might have been referring to a secret identity. That he might have lived the majority of his life as pretty much human… other than the very not human powers.

The FBI agent had still been processing the implications of her growing theory, when one of her agents had notified her of a quickly spreading rumour. A rumour that there was a secret alien in the diner.

With all the information she had… she couldn’t deny it any more. She felt almost certain the rumour was true, and she was pretty damn sure who the secret alien was.

So, what was she going to do now?

Agent Hatchett sat up suddenly in her uncomfortable chair as the low & steady rumble of the not-so-distant crowd increased in volume. No, it wasn’t just the volume instinctually pulling her into alertness. It was the pitch and rhythm of the muffled sounds. Anger had an unmistakeable tone to it, a sharpness of force that was impossible to ignore, even from within the safety of her tent.

She stepped out into the street, peering in the direction of the crowd. Half the usually sleepy high street seemed to have turned into a sea of violent thugs. She could see the fear fuelled rage painted on each shadowy face as they called out a cacophony of xenophobic slurs.

The rumour of a secret alien in the diner, added to the presence of Tal-Rho in that prison van, had apparently given these idiots a sense of desperate purpose. The roar of blood thirsty encouragement grew louder, their words barely discernible, but she could just about make out one simple phrase they kept repeating.

‘No more aliens! No more lies!’

Hatchett squinted towards them, watching as their bodies crammed together as one, shoving backwards and forwards in waves. She couldn’t tell what they were doing exactly - there seemed to be no particular aim to their movements beyond a show of strength. At the peak of every wave, the front of the crowd shoved up against the line of soldier’s, pushing on their riot shields and forcing them to push back just to maintain their position. Their goal seemed to be rooted in simple chaos and disruption, no matter how fruitless.

As she looked further into the crowd, she could see there were also pockets of commotion going on from within. Just as she noticed a particular flurry of movement, she saw a bombardment of bricks and flaming bottles erupt from within the crowd, hurling beyond the primary line of soldiers. Smashing glass and flickering flames seemed to explode in all directions, some lighting up the side of Tal’s prisoner van, others seemingly targeting local shop fronts along the usually peaceful street. A few locals who’d also gathered in search of immediate news regarding their loved ones inside, could do nothing more than watch in horror.

Suddenly, a burst of gun fire rang out into the evening air, causing half the crowd to freeze immediately, and the other half to run for cover, zig zagging in different directions. They didn’t seem too intimidated though. She couldn’t be sure in the dim light of the streetlamps, but it seemed like some of them were laughing, whipped up by the adrenaline of the moment and apparently enjoying the ride, ignorant to the dangerous consequences.

From behind her, she heard the General’s unmistakeable drawl as he barked a series of commands she couldn’t quite make out from her position. She turned to face him, watching as he gestured at several soldiers huddled around him. They ran off towards the area that had been set up as a base, and Sam pulled out his radio, continuing to shout gruff demands to whoever could hear him. Unexpectedly, he then turned in the other direction, towards an area set up for the press, waving down the attention of another of his soldiers who’d been charged with keeping the hungry journalists at bay. Curiously, she watched as he began speaking to him in hushed tones. The young man's face shifted to an unmistakeable look of surprise, and it remained wary as the General spoke a few more words of confirmation.

Okay, she’d seen enough.

Whatever he was planning now, she needed to be kept in the loop.

Hatchett strode over to their position determinedly, knowing that the General was going to avoid co-operating with her at all costs, but committed to at least trying to find a way into his confidence. If her suspicions were right, she could understand why he was being so protective. The implications of a secret like this becoming wider knowledge… well, she could see why he’d be on the defensive.

Still, she had a job to do, that was really all that mattered here. And she couldn’t do it with only half the facts.

‘Yes sir, I’ll get right on that,’ she heard the soldier say as she grew closer.

The young man still looked slightly reluctant, like his order seemed an irrational one. But he nodded dutifully anyway, dashing off towards the endlessly flashing cameras of the media crowd.

The General finally spotted her approaching, tensing up immediately in a way she’d grown accustomed to from him by now, but he managed to put on as much of a fake smile as he could muster.

‘Agent Hatchett, any news on Lex Luthor’s whereabouts?’

She shook her head, amused by the nerve of the man. Apparently, he expected her to give him every morsel of intel she had, with next to nothing in return.

‘No,’ she replied dismissively. ‘Now, what’s going on with the press?’

She tipped her head in the direction of the soldier, making it obvious she’d seen their little exchange.

Sam sighed, as though he’d been hoping she’d missed it.

‘As you may have noticed, things are getting more than a little out of hand with the anti-alien crowd,’ he reluctantly explained, gesturing in the direction of the still smoking area of the street.

‘Their behaviour does seem to be complicating things slightly,’ she admitted. ‘But what does that have to do with the media?’

‘I’ve made the decision to hold a press conference,’ he blurted out as though it was nothing. ‘The hostages are going to make a brief statement, answer a few questions… hopefully that will help shut down some of these ridiculous rumours. It’s nothing, really.’

She gave him a look of derision. ‘Do you think I’m stupid, General? There’s no way you would arrange a press conference right now, unless there was something more substantial forcing your hand.’

He returned her gaze with a stubborn one of his own, like he was prepared to dig in his heels. Frustrated to be resorting to what felt like school yard tactics, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

‘General, I really don’t want to have to do this, but if you’re not going to co-operate in the way our agencies have agreed…’

‘Fine,’ he relented, holding up a hand in submission, whilst still giving her an exasperated look.

He glanced around like he didn’t want anyone else to hear, and she took a step closer, hoping the gesture assured him that he could tell her whatever it was in confidence.

‘It was part of the terrorists demands in exchange for the hostage’s release,’ he admitted quietly, sounding surprisingly guilty.

‘Oh, I guess you just forgot to mention that earlier, did you?’ she responded, a flush of frustration making the question come out louder than intended.

He gritted his teeth, scanning anyone in sight for a sign they’d heard her reaction. Once he seemed satisfied they’d attracted no one’s attention, he continued.

‘I guess I did,’ he replied stubbornly, crossing his hands over his chest.

Hatchett forced herself to soften slightly. She knew she wasn’t going to get through to him if she couldn’t keep her temper in check.

‘Sam, look…’ she began with a sigh, ‘It’s obvious that you don’t trust me… but you have got to stop seeing me as the enemy. If there’s someone in that diner that you’re trying to protect… someone that maybe no one else knows about… I can help you.’

A look of subtle recognition briefly flashed across his face, but he squashed it down with almost lighting reflex. Still, if she wasn’t mistaken, she could see a hint of weariness in his eyes. Like some part of him was growing tired of keeping up the stoic wall he was obviously so used to maintaining.

She watched as he swallowed hard, seemingly grappling with years of warn worn cynicism, fighting against what seemed to her to be a growing desire to simply give in.

To let those walls down.

To not have to handle all of this on his own.

‘I’m just trying to protect my family,’ he said simply.

She blinked, holding his gaze for a long moment. There was nothing in the words themselves that carried any particular implication, but as she watched his expression carefully… she knew she’d been right. Sure, he hadn’t actually admitted anything… but he hadn’t denied it either. His eyes were filled with turmoil, as though starting to become resigned to inevitable exposure, whilst simultaneously still begging her to let it go.

His vague statement hung between them like a breath held before a confession.

‘Let me help you,’ she repeated, holding his gaze with sincere empathy.

She felt something shift inside her, and suddenly all the anger she’d been feeling disappeared. Wondering where the action was coming from, even as she moved, she found herself reaching out a hand and placing it reassuringly on his arm. She looked up at him tentatively, waiting to see his response. For a second, it looked like maybe her instincts had paid off… she watched him take a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly as though perhaps imagining the relief that would follow if he just told her the truth.

Then he opened his eyes again, his gaze falling to the spot where her hand still touched his arm. Something about the sight of it seemed to have an immediate visceral effect. He stiffened up again, straightening his posture and taking a big, and very deliberate, step backwards.

Hatchett’s hand slipped down, dropping back to her side limply.  

‘I don’t need your help,’ he said, with a bitterness that she was sure only came from a deeply wounding experience of betrayal.

She watched the General stride off towards the tent, kicking herself for pushing the attempt at intimacy too far.

Why had she done that?

What on earth had compelled her to touch him?

Shaking her head, she tried to regroup internally, brushing away the unexpected emotion that had clouded her thinking.

She needed to focus on what she was there for. Lex Luthor, one of the most dangerous men on the planet, who’d orchestrated his own supposed ‘death’ to escape the justice system once already. This was about getting Luthor back into custody before he could do any more damage. It was about preventing him from manipulating this situation any more than he already had.  

Based on what the General had just told her (and not told her), it seemed likely the reason he wanted to hostages in front of the press was to force them to reveal the very truth the General was working so hard to conceal. Even if his plan failed, even if the hostages did manage to pull off some kind of convincing denial… she knew he wasn’t going to stop there.

Lex Luthor had seemingly figured out the very secret she herself had uncovered… and he wasn’t going to stop until he’d destroyed his enemy’s lives for good.  

She pulled out her phone, dialling the most recently used number and hoping her team back at headquarters had some good news about Luthor’s potential whereabouts.

The General might not think he needed her help… but that didn’t mean she was going to stop trying.

Chapter Text

Lana held her daughters at her side as she scanned the group of familiar faces. They gazed back at her, anxious breaths held tight, wordlessly pleading to be told they could go home. Guilt twisted in her stomach at the sight of their obvious exhaustion, knowing what she was about to ask of them.

Her mind raced as she tried to figure out what combination of words she could compose. What magic speech could convince every single person in front of her to voluntarily put themselves at further risk?

It was such an impossible task… and yet she knew, if she couldn’t figure it out, her friends' lives as they knew it, would be over.

‘Well, what did the General say?’ Emily Phan broke the tense silence impatiently. ‘Can we go home now?’

The frustrated question was followed by a grumble of muffled agreement, and the sea of faces in front of her became a row of bobbing heads, looking to one another in solidarity.

Lana glanced down at her daughters briefly. Sophie’s face was still nuzzled into her side, but Sarah met her gaze with intensity, looking just as confused and weary as everyone else.

She wondered how her daughter was really feeling about all of this. After all, she’d just found out her ex-boyfriend was an alien hybrid with super powers, and they hadn’t even had a chance to talk about it yet.

Sadly that conversation still needed to wait.

She gave her eldest a brief reassuring smile before taking in one last long breath to steady herself. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak, still no clearer on what she was going to say, but just hoping the right words would come.

‘Look, I know you are all desperate to get home,’ she acknowledged, before ripping off the band aid of bad news, ‘but the DOD has asked for our help with something first.’

For a moment, no one responded looking back and forth at each other warily, as though scanning to see everyone else’s reaction before voicing their own.

‘Are you kidding?’ Mitch finally blurted out, eyes wide with indignant surprise. ‘After everything we’ve been through tonight?’

Lana managed to avoid flinching at the man’s blunt response. She’d expected more than a little push back, and she knew she needed to meet it with understanding. That was the only way she had any hope of them listening to her.

‘I know we’ve been through a lot tonight. More than any of us should be expected to handle… but not everyone is out of harm’s way yet. The Kents are still inside the diner, and they may not get to go home at all unless we help them.’

She could see the guilt flickering over a few faces. They’d all had front row seats to the pain inflicted on the Kent family so far, especially Clark. They understood that every minute he, Lois and the boys remained captive, could be a minute closer to any one of their deaths.

‘They’ve done everything they can to keep us safe all night, putting themselves in harm's way to do it,’ she continued pointedly. ‘Now they need our help.’

She noticed Chuck whisper something quietly to Mr Teague next to him, eliciting a nod of agreement and a frown of disapproval. She knew she needed to be really careful here, not to aggravate their stressed out defensiveness. It was obvious how easily the entire group could become a mob of disagreement and rebellion if she pushed 8n a way that felt like a guilt trip.

‘Lana’s right,’ Cobb Brandon spoke up. ‘You all saw what Clark did for us back there. If it wasn’t for him, we would have all been blown to hell…’

Lana felt a wave of relief and gratitude at the man’s support.

‘That stuff’s obviously making him sick, but he still jumped in to save us,’ Dr Frye added her agreement. ‘If he hadn’t stopped Sharon setting off that bomb…’

The older woman trailed off, and the group paused for a moment in silence. Lana could practically feel the shared chill go through each one of them at the thought of how quickly their lives could have ended.

‘How did he even react so fast?’ Vicky May cut the tension. ‘With the beating he’s taken, i’m surprised he’s got any powers left.’

‘Well he probably doesn’t now,’ Coach Gaines chimed in. ‘That last blast looked like a pretty nasty hit. He’s lucky to still be breathing!’

‘Do you really think she was going to do it? Would she really have…’

‘I mean, who knows what she’s capable of.‘

‘The woman’s a complete basket case!’

‘And yet Clark still treated her with compassion.’

‘Like he always does.’

The group’s comments started flooding in thick and fast, and Lana struggled to keep track of who was saying what as they began speaking over each other… but it seemed like their collective frame of mind had at least changed a bit since their initial conversations back in the diner.

‘I agree with Cobb,’ Aidey added as loudly as she could manage, pulling the group's chaotic attention briefly in line. ‘It feels wrong just walking away. Clark was willing to give up his life for all of us…’

‘We can’t just wash our hands of what happens to him and his family,’ Dr Frye added. ‘They deserve better than that.’

Lana watched as the group fell into murmurs of contemplation once again, feeling encouraged… but also uncomfortably aware of the deadline. They didn’t have time for everyone to talk it through at leisure. She hadn’t even explained what they were being asked to do yet…

‘Everyone, please… we don’t have much time,’ Lana called the group back to attention hastily.

They stopped talking and turned to face her, with a few scowls of reluctance.

‘Our freedom was part of an agreement,’ she continued carefully. ‘In exchange for letting us go, the terrorists have demanded that we speak to the press. Here, tonight. In about 10 minutes.’

Lana watched the group's faces morph into a range of puzzled and horrified expressions. She couldn’t exactly blame them, she’d been just as taken aback by the revelation earlier. It still felt a little surreal now.

‘That’s just… I mean… why? Why would they want us to do that?’ Dr Frye asked anxiously.

‘Whatever it is, it can’t be good,’ Chuck chimed in. ‘What if they just want us out in the open so they can take us all out at once?’

Mr Teague nodded her agreement emphatically. ‘Have you heard the racket out there? It sounds like they can’t even get those protesters in line, let alone keep us safe from any other dangers that might be out there. Nothing about this feels good.’

The man’s strained voice seemed to match the shared tension growing within the group before her. Like a domino effect, it set off another wave of private conversations, the group’s tensions seemingly turning to each other. She could hear their voices becoming more defensive and angry by the second.

‘I know this is a risk, I'm not going to deny that,’ Lana called out loudly, hoping they would be rational enough to still want to hear her out in full.

Thankfully, they slowed their discussions and returned to stillness once again.

‘The truth is, if we don’t do this by the time the deadline rolls around, they’ve threatened to kill Lois.’

‘No way, we can’t let that happen!’ Sarah exclaimed, staring up at her with wide eyes, before turning to the group in frustration. ‘What the hell is wrong with you people? Jon and Jordan are only 15! We can’t just let them watch their mom get murdered! Why are we even debating this?!’

The group fell silent again. Lana could still see the hints of reluctance on their faces, but no one seemed to want to be the first to openly disregard their neighbours' lives.

‘No, i’m sorry, this is madness. We wouldn’t have even been in danger in the first place if it wasn’t for him and his family!’ Mr Phan piped up bitterly. ‘We don’t owe them anything.’

And there it was… Lana knew it was too much to hope no one would refuse.

‘Oh come on, are you serious!’ Sarah blurted out beside her. ‘You can’t actually be blaming the Kents for all of this?’

Lana squeezed her daughter’s side in gentle warning. She knew how fiery her teenager could get, and as justified as it may be… that wasn’t how they were going to win people over. 

‘I don’t know, maybe Duc’s got a point,’ Mitch spoke up. ‘What’s happening tonight is ‘cause of their choices. Why have we gotta be the collateral damage?’

‘No one chooses where they come from,’ Dr Frye pointed out. ‘Besides, how much good has Clark done in the world, because he kept this secret? Maybe there really was no other way...’

‘You saw the way that man looked at those boys… this has nothing to do with the truth. He just hates them for what they are,’ Cobb defended. ‘So, how about you? If someone attacked the diner out of some kind of xenophobic hatred of you… would that make it your fault? Would that mean people should just stand by and let it happen?’

Mr Phan fell silent, listening in obvious frustration but unable to form any immediate kind of rebuttal.

Lana could see the fear driving his reluctance to back down, but she knew how uncomfortably that must be sitting alongside his own family's experiences. With everything Kyle had told her about the eradication process, she could only imagine how much more terrifying this was for him and Emily. Yet she also knew from her chats with Emily, the kind of discrimination he’d faced in his own life, until he’d settled down here in Smallville.

To her surprise, she saw Emily softly squeeze her husband’s hand and give him a gentle tug of encouragement to take a step back. He resisted at first, seemingly holding a tense silent conversation as they searched each other’s eyes, before finally he conceded. Emily took a step forwards as though taking over their families representation, and added her voice to the rest.

‘Look, this evening has been… a lot to take in. I was pretty angry back there in the diner. Maybe I still am, I don’t know… but I don’t think I could live with myself if anyone died tonight and there was something we could have done to prevent it. No matter who it is. So… why don’t we just hear Lana out before we decide anything.’

There were a few low grumbles of agreement, the group grateful subdued by her friends' unexpected support. Lana blinked back her surprise, but she knew there was no time to question it. She needed to lay this out as succinctly as possible if they were going to sort out their story in time.

‘What would we even be saying?’ Vicky asked nervously. ‘I mean… what exactly are we going to tell the press about what happened in there?’

Lana braced herself for the hardest part. Getting them to agree to the press conference at all was one thing. Somehow constructing a mass lie they could all agree on… well that was something else entirely.

‘That’s the part that’s up to us,’ she said honestly. ‘We need to decide how much of the truth to share.’

‘You mean we need to agree on a consistent lie…’ Mr Pan said dubiously.

‘I ain’t ever been no liar,’ Mitch said stubbornly. ‘I’m not saying I’d be running to spill my guts to the papers or nothing, but someone asks me a direct question… I don’t know if I can stick to some line.’

‘I can’t force anyone to say or do anything,’ Lana replied honestly. ‘I just want us to really think about this. Revealing what we saw tonight doesn’t just have an impact on the Kents… it affects the whole world too. It changes the very idea of Superman. People need him to be a symbol, something unshakeable. We have no idea what dominos will be set in motion once everyone knows he has a family, that he’s lived a human life that he kept from the world. Especially if he’s not the one sharing it.’

‘Well… what if it’s time for the world to know the truth?’ Mr Phan asked. ‘Maybe we shouldn’t be relying on the inspiration of a lie!’

‘And what about Smallville?’ Vicky asked. ‘What happens to our town once people find out Superman grew up here? We could be flooded with crazy fans and paparazzi forever!’

‘Or even worse… every lunatic with a piece of kryptonite might come here, trying to get to Clark. Maybe even using us as collateral,’ Dr Frye added. ‘I don’t want to have to worry about anything like tonight happening ever again.’

‘This doesn’t just affect the Kent’s lives,’ Coach Gaines agreed. ‘It affects all of us. We may not like it, but we’re part of this now, one way or another.’

The group fell silent for a moment as the reality of that sunk in. Lana hadn’t even had time to think that far ahead herself… but of course, they were right. She couldn’t believe how blind she’d been before, to just how much danger and responsibility surrounded this secret. No wonder Clark had never told anybody. Not even her.

‘Couldn’t we get in trouble for trying to cover something like this up?’ Aidey asked anxiously.

‘General Lane has assured me there’s no risk of that,’ Lana confirmed.

‘I don’t know, Lana, it’s just… such a huge burden to carry...’

The woman trailed off in sadness, and Lana knew she couldn’t deny it. In fact, it seemed silly to even try.

‘You’re right, Aidey,’ she admitted. ‘I think that’s why he kept it from us for so long…’

The woman nodded softly, and another round of murmurs travelled through the small group, like a wave of understanding had hit them all at once.

‘Mom, I don’t get it. Why are they even doing this?’ Sarah asked inquisitively. ‘I mean, why not just leak Mr Kent’s secret to the press if that’s all they wanted?’

Lana felt an unexpected surge of pride at her daughter’s question. She was proving to be such a sharp, intelligent young woman. Sometimes it blew her away that she wasn’t just her little girl anymore.

‘Back in the diner… he called us chess pieces,’ Dr Frye remembered, a look of disgusted realisation forming on her face. ‘They want us to be the one’s to do it, because they know it’ll hurt him. This is all just another way of torturing him, isn't it?’

Lana nodded solemnly. ‘That’s what Sam believes, yes. I don’t know who exactly is behind all this, but they seem to have a personal vendetta against Clark.’

‘Nothing about tonight has been an accident,’ Coach Gaines said, rising anger adding a gruff tone to his voice. ‘They made damn sure we all saw who Clark was… and then they just let us go? They’re banking on us turning on him. On having no loyalty, or decency to one of our own. That’s how little they think of us.’

‘Well screw that, i’m not playing a part in anybody’s sick game,’ Mr Teague added defiantly.

‘You got that right,’ Chuck agreed, nodding his head emphatically. ‘I’m about sick to death of people coming into Smallville thinking we can all be so easily manipulated.’

The rest of the crowd nodded their animated agreement as they murmured amongst themselves once again. Lana felt her daughters clinging to her even more tightly, as a real sliver of hope manifested inside her.

She glanced down at her watch, anxiously aware of how little time they had left to make sure everyone was on the same page.

Could she really pull this off? Could they find a way of delivering this press conference without playing right into their captors hands?

But even if they did… what then? What would the people behind all this do once they realised their plan wasn’t going to succeed?

She shook the thought away, recognising how fruitless it was. All she could do was manage the problems right in front of her. Whatever came next… they’d deal with it together, just like they had everything else.

Lana gave her daughters another reassuring squeeze as she listened to the rest of the group expressing their agreement. She tensed slightly when Emily spoke up again.

‘Look, I might not know how I feel about all of this yet… but i’m not going to be anybody’s puppet again,’ Emily said forcefully.

Her husband nodded stoically, adding. ‘If we decide to share the truth with the world… it will be on our terms. Not theirs.’

Lana smiled at each of them with gratitude, her validated belief in the nature of her community causing her eyes to brim with tears.

‘Mitch, are you in?’ Vicky turned to the last member of the group to add their agreement.

Lana turned to face the fireman - the best man at her wedding, the man who’d helped her husband string Clark up to a tractor when they were kids - willing him to choose the right side.

‘Screw it,’ he said finally. ‘Let’s show these big city criminals that here in Smallville, we protect our own.’

‘…one moment… okay, it seems we’ve just had word the DOD has arranged a press conference with the released hostages. This is highly unprecedented, uh… there’s no word yet on the nature or purpose of the conference, we can only assume this may be in response to rising tensions between anti alien protesters and the town’s locals, after a spate of attacks on nearby businesses. Stay tuned as we continue to bring you further updates live, from Smallville.’

Jordan’s heart dropped as he listened to the reporter’s update, feeling frustrated by her animated tone. Why did she have to sound so… excited? Here he was, stuck inside the diner with a hysterical grieving woman and some psycho terrorist, watching helplessly as his worst fears were broadcast on live TV… and this woman sounded like she was commenting on a high stakes football game.

He turned to face his brother, moving just a little bit too fast, and paid the price with a fresh wave of vertigo. The kryptonite bomb was far enough away that he wasn’t in agony anymore… but his equilibrium was still feeling pretty raw.

‘I don’t get it,’ he whispered sharply to his brother, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. ‘Why would grandad do this?’

‘Who knows,’ Jon replied, sounding just as baffled as him, ‘Maybe he doesn’t have a choice? I mean… this is what Kurt and whoever the hell he’s working for seem to want, right? Some kind of big public reveal…’

Jordan opened his eyes again, immediately seeing the agitation on his brother’s face - though it seemed more directed at the people in the diner than the situation going on outside. He followed his brother’s gaze, stomach turning again as his eyes landed on Kurt. The twisted man was smiling up at the TV, looking deeply proud, as though he were watching a beautiful scene in a movie he’d written himself.

Well… that sure seemed to fit with Jon’s theory…

What the hell were they supposed to do? Jordan was getting pretty used to feeling held back during a crisis, but that was usually because his mom and dad were handling things and wanted him and his brother out of harm's way.

Now… his parents were even more helpless than they were.

He risked a brief glance in his mom’s direction, silently willing her to look up. He wasn’t even sure what he hoped she would do… he just needed to connect with her, to know she was still there, even if she couldn’t speak or move. She was still gagged and bound to her chair, but she was much more still than she’d been before, her head slumped forwards in seeming submission. Jordan couldn’t tell whether she was hurt, or losing hope… or whether she was just quietly working out some kind of crazy plan that would end up getting her hurt just like his dad.

His eyes flickered over to where his dad’s unconscious body lay on the ground, the bits of exposed skin still looking startlingly green from where Sharon’s unexpected blast of kryptonite had coursed through him. Thankfully Jordan could tell he was still breathing, his heart-beat coming through faintly, but steadily. Still, the longer he stared at his dad, the strongest man alive, helpless on the floor of the diner, the more anxious he felt. He turned his attention back to his brother purposefully.

‘Why go to this much trouble?’ Jordan asked, not really expecting him to know but just needing to speak his confusion out loud. ‘Why not just tell the world themselves if that’s all they want?’

‘I don’t know Jordan, I mean, none of these guys are exactly in their right mind, are they?’ Jon responded, exasperated. ‘Who knows what twisted reasons their boss has for setting all this up.’

Jordan shuddered again at the reminder there was at least one other person outside the diner who was in on this. Even if they managed, by some miracle, to overpower these two and make it out of there alive… it wouldn’t be over. There would still be someone who knew who they really were, and who was clearly hell bent on making their lives miserable.

A muttering sound caught his attention and he turned to see Sharon staring up at the TV screen. She didn’t seem particularly impressed by the upcoming press conference. Mostly, she just looked impatient. She’d made it pretty clear by now - all that mattered to her was getting Tal-Rho through those diner doors and into her blast radius.

‘Jon… what do you think happens next?’ Jordan asked anxiously. ‘I mean, this press conference stuff is… whatever… but, what do you think they’ll do with us after?’

Jon shrugged, shaking his head lightly. ‘I don’t know… maybe they’ll let us go? Maybe they want us out there dealing with the fallout, having to live with everyone knowing we’re half alien freaks.’

Jordan raised his eyebrow at his brother’s suggestion. It was somehow both horrifying and unrealistically optimistic at the same time.

‘I don’t know, Jordan… What do you want me to say? I don’t have anything more to go on than you do!’

‘Sorry,’ Jordan replied. ‘It’s just… that guy’s been staring at us like he wants to slice us up and stuff us into jars all night.’

‘Jordan, don’t go there,’ his brother shot back, giving him a warning look. ‘We can’t think like that.’

‘Well we need to do something,’ Jordan continued, ignoring the twinge of guilt he felt at his callous choice of words. ‘We can’t just wait around until it’s too late. Besides, even if Kurt’s planning to release us… do you really think she’s going to let that happen?’

He looked over at the grieving woman with the sensitive trigger mechanism still in her hand. She was just staring blankly over at her partner’s body on the ground, as though still vaguely in shock that he was gone. The man who’d so cheerfully been sucking down taco’s while waiving a gun at them earlier was now lifeless, colour draining from him more and more as the minutes passed.

Jordan pulled his gaze away, not wanting to fixate too long on the first dead body he’d ever seen.

‘I don’t know… maybe we could talk to her…’ Jon said softly.

Jordan spun his head back around in baffled surprise.

‘Are you insane?’ he blurted out bluntly. 

‘I’m not an idiot, Jordan, I know she’s unhinged. It’s just… there was a look on her face, when dad was trying to get through to her… For a minute, I think he might have actually connected to something.’

Jordan gave his brother a look of stunned disbelief. He had no idea what he was talking about, but he hadn’t exactly been analysing the woman’s face at the time. His eyes had been flitting back and forth between her hand and his dad’s face, watching as he bore the full force of excruciating pain from the bomb… a pain he was beginning to know all too well. To be honest, even if he had been paying more attention, he still wasn’t sure he’d have seen whatever his brother had.

Jon had always been better at reading people than he was.

Could he be right?

Was there some tiny possibility their seemingly irrational captor could be their way out of this?

‘I think it’s what dad would do…’ his brother mused, looking slightly less hopeful than his words sounded.

Jordan knew he was right… their dad had a seemingly unshakeable belief in the good in everyone. It didn’t really make much sense to Jordan though. He’d not exactly seen much evidence of that himself, growing up being bullied and turned into an outcast.

How was he supposed to have the same kind of blind faith that even someone as messed up as Mrs Powell could be reached?

He looked back up at the TV screen again, suddenly feeling like what was going on out there was unimportant. The truth coming out… they could deal with that. As long as they had each other, they could handle all the changes that might come their way.

They just needed to make sure they stayed alive.

Lex felt a cool swell of anticipation as the live broadcast began, raising his glass of whiskey to his lips and taking a slow sip, savoring both the rich taste and the long-awaited moment.

This was the manifestation of a dream he’d had ever since the man of steel made his splashy debut. Years spent lurking in the shadows, biding his time, waiting for the right moment to strike—it had all been leading to this. From the very beginning, he was the one person who truly understood the truth about the so-called hero his city blindly worshiped. The one person who could see that he was nothing more than a facade, a twisted manipulation. If he could just tear away the sickly veil of boy-scout smiles and sanctimonious platitudes, surely his people would recognize the threat Superman posed to humanity. 

Well… he was finally going to see if he was right.

And who better to test his theory, than the very people who were closest to him. The people he had deceived the most, who had seen him as one of their very own.

He watched the nervous group of hostages shuffling about behind a hastily erected podium, like a row of deer facing an entire highway of headlights. They were so far outside of their comfort zone, teetering on the edge of what they could tolerate.

The camera shifted its focus to General Lane as the military man stepped closer to a bouquet of microphones, clearing his throat and nodding to someone off camera. Lex glanced down at his watch, smiling as he confirmed the man’s perfect obedience to his imposed deadline. He studied the General's troubled expression as best he could through the small television screen, wondering if the man was truly naive enough to believe that small-town allegiances would shield his family’s secret.

From what Lex could see, the press conference seemed to be taking place inside a canvas tent, away from the crowd of civilians - both locals and gathering anti alien protestors - that had been steadily growing since the evening’s events began. Just as he’d hoped, their presence had no doubt been adding to the pressure General Lane felt to shut down some of the more… incendiary rumours.

Rumours he himself had set in motion.

He felt a familiar rush of pride at the undeniable proof of his mastery over the art of manipulation, watching intently as the General began to speak.

‘The Department of Defense, in collaboration with the FBI, has been working tirelessly to resolve an ongoing hostage situation here in Smallville. Our main objective has been to secure the release of all hostages and prevent any loss of life. While a few individuals remain captive inside the diner, the majority have been freed and are now standing behind me…’

The General gestured to the line of uncomfortable looking civilians. Lex noticed the man’s attention linger on the town’s Mayor, Lana Lang, a silent acknowledgement passing between them. To the man’s right stood a slender blonde in well fitted black suit and sunglasses, a look that would have screamed FBI, even if Lex hadn’t already known who she was. Agent Hatchett, the woman who had been spearheading the special unit’s attempt to track him down. She’d been a thorn in his side for far too long.

‘As i’m sure you are all aware by now, there have been a number of rumors circulating regarding this operation and the situation inside the diner," the General continued. "Some of these rumors seem designed to place the victims of tonight's atrocities under even greater threat and scrutiny. These baseless claims come from a group whose sole aim is to incite fear and distrust. This needs to stop. To prevent this wildfire of misinformation from spreading, the individuals standing behind me have agreed to make a statement and answer a few questions from the press. This will be kept brief and respectful. Please keep in mind, they’ve already endured enough harassment for one night."

Lex watched as the General finished his opening statement, staring hesitantly out into the crowd for a long moment in silence, as though every second he could delay the next step was somehow beneficial. Finally, he stepped down from the podium, anxiety evident in his reluctantly slow movements. Another wave of pleasure moved through Lex as he watched the man go, leaning forwards in his chair as he braced for the coming reveal.

This was it. The moment of truth. He could practically taste the potential victory.

Even if a few of these farmers foolishly stood by Clark, there had to be some who would see the truth. Who would be ready to hold him accountable, to let the world know the reality that had been hidden from them for so long.

He tried to read the expression on the Mayor’s face as she stepped up to the microphones. She was seemingly projecting an air of confidence… but Lex could see the doubt swirling from within, even as she opened her mouth to speak. She knew just as well as he did, how easily this could to go his way.

‘Smallville has been through more than any small town should have to endure this past year. We were made the victim of Morgan Edge’s manipulation and control, and have suffered as a community in ways that we are still recovering from. And now, tonight, our town has been used as a bargaining chip by a group of terrorists. We’ve been informed that some of you believe a member of our community, one of the people held captive tonight, is hiding a dangerous secret. And that we have now become the subject of a public witch hunt as a result. We would like to respond to these accusations firmly and without doubt…’

Lex had to admit, the woman was putting across a pretty convincing false bravado… but she couldn’t hide the tension in her jaw, the stiffness of her body.

The small town’s mayor paused, looking back at the group behind her as though confirming for the cameras that she was speaking for all of them. They each nodded back to her one by one, a clear enough gesture for every member of the media to be able to see without misinterpretation, before she returned to face the cameras once more.

‘Every single one of us, both here in front of you, and still detained inside the diner, are well known members of this community. We have all known each other for decades, if not our whole lives, and we are completely certain that no one here is a dangerous alien in disguise, or has any other big threatening secret. We are just a bunch of small town folk trying to enjoy Taco Tuesday with our friends and family, like we have done for years. We ask you please to respect the struggles our community has faced, and put an end to this ridiculous speculation.’

Lex rolled his eyes as he watched a few of the flock of sheep behind her bobbing their heads in agreement, seemingly in enthusiastic support of the woman’s brazen lies.

It’s not that he was surprised, but it had always turned his stomach to see people so easily swayed by ridiculous notions like loyalty, or… love. Of course, he’d expected as much from Lana Lang. After discovering Superman’s true identity, he’d spent a great deal of time researching the life of Clark Kent. He’d established the long standing nature of his friendship with the woman, both in childhood and now here in Smallville again upon his return. In fact, he wondered if she might have already been let in on his little secret, long before tonight.

No, he’d been fully prepared for her stubborn denial, knowing there were bound to be a few mindless followers in the mix… even though part of him had hoped they might unanimously see the light.

It wouldn’t matter in the long run.

He could already see that not all of the faces lined up behind her were as comfortable with this version of the truth as others, even if they’d agreed to go along with it for now. There was plenty of time for at least one of them to have a change of heart… especially with a bit of prodding from the media.

Somebody would cave.

He was sure of it.

Besides, he still had an ace up his sleeve…

Lex watched as the Mayor took a step back, letting the General take over briefly to engage with the journalists once again. He gestured towards a man in the front row that Lex recognised with disdain.

‘Ron Troupe, Daily Planet. Is it true that Lois Lane and her family are the remaining hostages? Can you tell us what’s being done to secure their release?’

‘I can confirm that Lois, her husband Clark, and their teenage sons are the four individuals still detained,’ the General responded into the microphone somberly. ‘We are of course doing everything possible to ensure their safety. Our team is in ongoing discussions with the individuals inside, seeking agreeable terms for release. As i’m sure you will understand, I am unable to say anymore at this time.’

Lex rolled his eyes at the pathetic question. Was that really all the reporter wanted to know about? Was he not even going to question the obviously rehearsed line they’d just been fed about the potential alien in their midst?

Again, he shouldn’t have been surprised. The Daily Planet had always been a pretentious news organisation, acting as though it was somehow morally superior to the rest of the media. The perfect home for its ‘holier than thou’ reporter Lois Lane. Of course the safety of their legacy would be their misplaced priority.

Still… the depths these people would go to ignore what was right in front of their faces never failed to blind side him.

Thankfully, there were still plenty of other members of the press in the tent. Journalists who were actually hungry for the truth.

‘Toby Raynes, Daily Star,’ a reporter in the front row piped up. ‘You say you’re sure that no one inside is a dangerous threat… yet we all know that Morgan Edge managed to convincingly live in hiding in his human persona for decades, even successfully swaying this very community into trusting him just last year. How can you be sure you’re not being deceived again?’

Lex felt his assumptions validated by the immediate doubt cast on the Mayor’s empty statement. He knew at least one of them would point out the worthlessness of the town's paper thin denial.

Curiously, an elderly farmer tapped the Mayor on the shoulder as she struggled to gather her words, gesturing for her to step aside.

‘Excuse me sir, my name’s Cobb Brandon. You folks have to understand, life in Smallville is very different from life in the big city. I’ve been here since I was a baby. I know every single one of these people like they were members of my own family. We may have mistakenly believed Mr Edge had our communities best interest at heart, but he was a visitor to our town, not someone who lived among us. Believe me, if anyone here had some sort of sinister secret, we’d have known about it.’

From behind the man, Lex watched as another member of the group stepped forwards - a pale looking woman with wispy hair, shawl wrapped around her tightly as she leaned tentatively towards the microphones.

‘Uh… I’m Dr Amelia Frye. I am one of only a few local physicians here in this town and I just wanted to add… I have personally medically assessed every individual in town at least once. I can confirm there are no abnormalities in anyone’s medical records.’

Lex gritted his teeth in rising frustration as he watched the idiots scrambling to fabricate pathetic attempts at ‘proof’ to substantiate their cover up. He wasn’t sure what irritated him more… their ridiculous lies, or the reporters lapping up their soundbites, scribbling away enthusiastically on their notepads.

Absolutely pathetic.

Was everyone out there really ready to just take the word of some hick farmers?

Thankfully, Lex could see the young journalist he’d recruited a few years before his fall from grace making her way determinedly to the front of the crowd.

The young woman was just a thirsty rookie when he’d found her. He’d offered her a leg up in her career, placing her higher up the career ladder than her age or her talent really qualified. In return, she agreed to cover stories that served his interests, to ask the right questions at the right time. She was loyal then… and continued to assist him, even after losing control of his empire.

As confident as he felt in the inevitably fickle nature of human loyalty… he wasn’t the kind of man who left anything to chance. Her presence there tonight was no accident. He’d arranged for her to be there, with clear instructions she should step in and ask the right questions if the other members of the press didn’t come to them on their own. He’d told her exactly what to ask to apply just the right amount of pressure. To encourage one of the already wobbly members of the group to crack.

‘Linda Kane, LNN,’ she said confidently. ‘You say you feel as close as a family… well how are we to know you aren’t just covering for someone? Could it not be that each and every one of you is lying to protect someone you are mistakenly loyal to, despite the truth of their origin?’

A gruff looking man in his 40s stepped forwards, and the discomfort on his face lit a fire in Lex’s belly. He clearly didn’t like being called out as dishonest.

‘Look, we ain’t no liars, ma'am. I know I certainly ain't anyway. I’m a firefighter here. I’ve spent my life in service to my community, I wouldn’t do anything to endanger it. It’s just as Mayor Lang said… ain’t no one in that diner hiding no dangerous secrets.’

‘No dangerous secrets… not no secrets at all?’ the tenacious reporter fired back.

Lex held his breath as the man swallowed somewhat anxiously in response, looking back at the tense group behind him. After a brief moment, the man turned back to face Mrs Kane, his expression transformed into a surprisingly amused one.

‘I mean… i’m pretty sure everyone on earth’s got some secrets ma’am,’ he replied, with a foolish air of smugness. ‘But I know all these folks wear their true nature on their sleeve.’

Hatred seethed in Lex’s chest as he watched the seemingly pleased with himself man step back. The General took his place, searching the media crowd’s outstretched hands for who to invite a question from next, when Ms Kane shouted out another question.

Just as he’d instructed her, she was refusing to back down.

‘Mr & Mrs Phan, you were victims of the Edge incident last year… Your bodies were taken over by alien consciousness, am I right? Doesn’t rumour of an alien in your midst concern you, given everything you’ve experienced?’

Lex smiled as he watched the nervous expression on Lana and the General’s face. He’d predicted the weaknesses of their membership accurately it seemed. The military man stepped to respond, his face flushed with anger.

‘That’s an extremely loaded question Ms Kane, i’m going to suggest we move on. As I said earlier, these people are not here for you to harass and intimidate.’

The meek looking couple she’d referenced stepped forwards, tugging at the General’s arm and exchanging a few hushed words. Lex watched as the military man reluctantly stepped aside, allowing the pair to take their place in front of the microphones.

The man he assumed was Mr Phan cleared his throat, looking out at the journalists with a nervous expression that showed at least some remnants of his own doubt.

‘Our experience of eradication was horrifying… we were taken over, trapped in our own minds, our free will completely removed. We’d never want that to happen to us - or to anyone else - ever again.’

The husband squeezed his wife’s hand, looking at her as though confirming their final decision as a team. She nodded softly, before leaning into the microphone to finish their joint statement.

‘Out of everyone here, we would have the most reason to want to get to the bottom of this if there was any doubt in our minds that someone amongst us was like Edge.’

Lex remained completely still, barely breathing as he watched the woman speak, transfixed by the seemingly appalling direction of her statement.

‘But there is no doubt for us. As a community, we have experienced so much of our lives together. The struggles and the celebrations. The good times and the bad. We have seen all these people at their best and comforted them at their worst. I feel confident in saying, every one of them has earned our trust.’

Lex growled in frustration, hurling his glass to smash against the wall in a rare moment of fury. He stood up, turning away from the TV in a fit of primal disgust.

How could these people be so blind?

Faced with all the lies he’d exposed, all the danger that alien put them in by hiding his true origins… they were still proclaiming him trustworthy? They were still willing to place their own reputations, maybe even their own lives, on the line for him?

He heaved a few deep breaths, hearing the sound of the press conference being brought to a close behind him, and willing himself back to calm. He directed his mind to its practice of cold acceptance and adaptability. After all, he hadn’t gotten this far letting himself get emotional at unexpected turns of events.

Sure, it would have been so much more satisfying - and so much less painful for everyone - if these people had just shown the man of steel the truth of human nature willingly. If they’d modelled for him the self interest and inherent discrimination he knew was really there, inside everyone, whether beneath the surface or shouted proudly for all to hear.

But this wasn’t over.

If these stubbornly loyal idiots were hell bent on sticking by their alien friend… well, he’d just have to resort to more violent measures.

It was time for Plan B.

Chapter Text

‘Release the rest of the hostages. All of them.’

Kurt froze in cold disbelief, his boss’ words echoing through his mind. He clung to each syllable, analysing them desperately, trying to see where he could have misunderstood their meaning. An uncomfortable tightness clutched at his chest as he fumbled for the words to respond, shocked by the evidence of his own nerves. 

He wasn't used to feeling anxious. In fact, he wasn’t used to feeling much of anything at all. Even during his time in the army, nothing had really aggravated this kind of response. Most of his life he’d felt a prevailing emptiness where he supposed feelings were meant to be. He’d never cared about anything enough to feel this level of concern before. Not even his own life. 

But this was different . 

He’d been so directionless before, simply existing, following whatever path seemed logical at the time… but never really living . Just going through the motions with no sense of fulfilment. His boss’ mission had sparked something in him he didn’t even know was there. For the first time, he’d had something tangible to give his life meaning. Helping to re-establish a visionary like him - that felt like something worth fighting for. 

And this was it. This was how they achieved their goal; he was sure of it. Getting these aliens under the knife, studying them, extracting the secrets of their DNA… it would provide everything they needed for Lex to once again dominate the world order. 

From the moment their goal had been discussed, he’d known he was uniquely qualified to carry this out. He was fully aware of his own lack of empathy. Time and again it was referenced as a reason he was being let go; a sign he was broken, to be discarded. What Lex Luthor wanted to do… that was finally something his complete absence of moral objection made him perfectly suited for. It gave his brokenness a purpose, in a way nothing ever had. 

This wasn’t just an operation he’d been employed to carry out. 

This was his calling .

He couldn’t just walk away from that now…

‘Sir… to confirm… you want me to hand Clark Kent and his family over to the department of defence? Just… let them go?’ he asked, struggling to keep the sense of revulsion out of his voice. 

He held his breath as he waited for a response, the tension in his chest dropping to his stomach and landing there like an anvil. 

‘You saw the press conference. Our initial strategy for Superman has failed. We are now moving on to Plan B. Is that going to be a problem?’

Kurt clenched the phone so hard he could hear it cracking under the pressure. Plan B? Despite his boss’ blaze tone, he’d been made aware of no such thing. Indignation swirled within him, and he took a deep breath, trying to swallow down the taste of bile that hit the back of his throat. 

‘I just… want to understand, Sir…’ he began tentatively. ‘Releasing them at this stage seems… unnecessary. Shouldn’t our priority be…’

‘ Our priority?’ his boss cut him off. ‘Let me get something clear to you Kurt. You are not my partner, you are my employee, nothing more. Do you understand?’

Kurt froze again, the words stinging like a slap in the face. The man continued despite his silence. 

‘Just because I trusted you with certain aspects of this operation, don’t think for a second you understand the bigger picture here. I appreciate your enthusiasm for the scientific applications of their alien biology, but turning the public against Superman has to come first. You simply need to be patient. ’ 

Kurt hesitated again, an internal warning screaming at him to keep his mouth shut. He knew by now what his boss was capable of. He’d witnessed all manner of grotesque consequences of dissent. But the resistance he felt to carrying out the man’s orders felt more urgent to him than any concern for future pain.

‘Of course, Sir… it’s just… surely the footage I have recorded would be enough to achieve that, without risking their escape? I don’t understand why we can’t just…’

‘ Because I need him to feel it! ’ his boss cut him off with a growl. ‘ He took everything from me! He needs to see the fear on their faces, needs to know he's lost their loyalty. I am not going bring him in until i’ve witnessed him suffer the consequences of his lies.’ ’  

Silence hung between them. Disappointment flooded through Kurt like a quickly spreading poison. There was something in the man’s statement - whether the words themselves or the desperate tone that came with them - that confirmed a catastrophic reality he’d been starting to fear. 

The man wasn’t what he’d thought him to be at all. 

Lex Luthor didn’t view the world with the cold, abject detachment he’d seemed to when they’d first met. He wasn’t the pragmatist Kurt had resonated with, wasn’t unhindered by the emotion skewed perspectives of weaker men as he’d thought. He wasn’t even truly focused on the expansion of the human race…

He was driven by nothing more than his own ego. No better than the vile woman they’d convinced to strap a kryptonite bomb to her chest. 

And Kurt had been played, just like she had. 

‘ You have 10 minutes,’ his boss added with cold finality. ‘If you don’t release every member of the Kent family into DOD custody by then, you will regret it .’ 

The line went dead abruptly, offering no further space for protest. 

Kurt stuffed his phone back in his pocket. He gritted his teeth, the stark reality of his situation hitting him. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew he didn’t have a choice. He had no real power here. Blinded by misguided faith, he’d walked into this diner with no way of making it out of there alone. There was no escape route, and certainly no way of transporting his prisoners out of there. If he crossed Lex Luthor now, he'd almost certainly never see the outside of that diner again. Let alone have his chance to know what secrets their alien biology contained. 

He glanced over at the alien’s hybrid children, pathetically huddled together, their attention flitting back and forth between the TV, the blind-covered windows, and their parents. Kent hadn't even regained consciousness yet, his body still sprawled out on the floor where he’d fallen. The alien's disgusting wife hung submissively from her chair, wrists rubbed raw from her attempts to wriggle free.   

Kurt’s whole being balked at the idea of walking this family of abominations out the door, sending them off into whatever misguided plot his boss meant to follow through with... 

But there was no other way, was there?

Continuing to follow his boss’ orders was the only option that led him anywhere close to his goal. If he went along with this next step… there was at least a chance they would be re-captured, later down the line, once Luthor's need for revenge was fulfilled. 

Unfortunately, even that wasn’t going to be simple.

Kurt’s gaze fell on the psychologically unstable woman his boss had put in charge of an explosive device. She searched the kitchen frantically, muttering to herself, tears of grief and rage still streaming down her face. 

How was he supposed to manage her volatile reaction? 

Just the idea of releasing the first group of hostages had sent her and her now dead lover into a frenzy. He was sure the suggestion they give up the Kent family before she’d had any opportunity for revenge, would send her over the edge. And as much as he wished it wasn’t true… she actually did have some power here. 

He cursed under his breath, more frustrated than ever that he didn’t have full control of the bomb. 

Lex had given him a way to de-activate the kryptonite within it, but he’d insisted the hair trigger under her finger needed to be real. Kurt had accepted that part, understanding the need for authenticity. After all, if the alien had been able to tell there was no real danger, he would have ripped the thing right off her body and flown it into the earth’s atmosphere in an instant. But if it were up to him, he’d have worn the damn thing himself. 

Once again, the decision seemed to have come from a place of petty revenge. The desire to have the eventual casualties linked to a previously innocent woman, whose life had been destroyed by Superman’s brother. Just another nail in his enemy's coffin, further securing his fall from grace. And now he was left with the unbelievably impossible task of placating this nut job before he could carry out his boss’s orders. 

He just hoped he could stall her long enough to keep her from blowing them all up. 

John Henry opened the back of the prison van. The roar of the crowd of protestors flooded the cramped space as he stepped inside. Most of the noise was indistinguishable, but a few key-words stood out, chanted in aggressive bursts by various pockets of the group. 

Alien. Freak. Monster. Murderer…

He couldn’t help but watch his prisoner’s reaction for any sign he was affected by the words. It wasn’t that he was concerned about Tal’s feelings - he doubted he’d ever consider him worthy of any measure of his sympathy - but there was something about the flickers of humanity he’d seen in him so far that had made him… curious.

Just how vulnerable was this man, really, underneath the mask of bravado? Until tonight, he hadn't thought anything more of him than the aggravated crowd. A monstrous being driven by nothing but genocidal aspirations. Now… he was beginning to admit, it might not be so simple. 

Tal met his gaze in the dim light, and he was sure he could see the faintest hint of a wince tugging at his features. A flicker of something like… hurt? As though the words piercing the air around them were prodding painfully at old wounds…

And then it was gone, cloaked beneath his distinctive wry smile. He’d covered his initial reaction so quickly John could have almost been convinced he’d imagined it.

‘I see I've attracted quite the welcome party!’ Tal said in a jarringly cheerful tone. 

His smile widened and he chuckled to himself with an air of superiority that felt just a little bit too forced. Despite his attempt to seem amused, John noticed his brief glance towards the door, like he was eager for it to be closed. He held the man’s gaze for a moment more, trying to see beyond the fake smile, the perfected disguise, to the potentially more human-like being inside. 

‘It’s not about you,’ John said plainly. 

He closed the door, unsure if his statement was meant to be reassuring, or if he just didn’t want the man thinking he was that important. Maybe it was a bit of both. John noted the way Tal’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly at the decreased volume, before he cocked his head to one side curiously.

‘Oh? Are there other evil aliens running around out there?’

‘That’s what they believe, yeah,’ John responded with a sigh. ‘Someone fed them a rumour that there's another kryptonian hiding here in Smallville.’

‘Ah… well, I guess that’s still on me,’ Tal mused, looking down at his shackled hands. ‘I’m sure news of my true origin generated more than a little paranoia about aliens in hiding.’

John was surprised by the direct admission of responsibility. Though, now he thought about it, Tal had never actually denied any of his actions, had he? As frustratingly glib as the man could be, he’d never tried to move the blame onto anyone else. 

‘So, can we move along with our plan yet?’ Tal asked. ‘As entertaining as this all is, I'd really like to ensure my brother’s safety now.’ 

The man’s impatient tone irritated John in spite of his growing understanding that it was a smoke screen. He bit his tongue, refusing to be drawn in by any more of his bait. 

‘General Lane is negotiating our entry,’ he told him. ‘We’ll be going in soon.’

Tal leaned forward slightly, his face illuminated by the van’s small light. There was an undeniable sincerity in his eyes as he asked, ‘And my brother... They are letting him go?’ 

John nodded, noting the obvious relief on the man’s face. 

Tal seemed to notice how exposed he was, abruptly slumping back against the van wall, allowing the shadows to cloak his features once again. 

‘Then I guess this is it. Anything else I should know.’ 

John was reluctant to tell the man anything he didn’t have to… but if they were going to get out of there alive, he couldn’t afford Tal being thrown off by any surprises. He needed a full picture of what was going on, to understand the mentality of their soon-to-be captors. 

‘They know Clark’s secret,’ John told him. 

Tal held his gaze for a long moment before looking down at his hands. ‘I see,’ he said quietly. 

Was the hint of discomfort John could see an expression of guilt? Empathy? Did he finally realise what Clark’s human life meant to him?

Tal looked at him, eyes suddenly twisted with that defensive resistance to humility again. 

‘Well good! Perhaps now my brother can finally let go of this little charade of a human life.’

There was a time when a statement like that would have pissed him off. When John would have taken his words at face value, believing they summed up everything about the man before him. But as the night wore on, Tal’s pretences were starting to feel more and more transparent. Like the barrier between them had become more of a one-sided mirror. 

‘You know that’s not true,’ John challenged.

‘Oh really?’

Tal’s eyebrows raised and John met the man’s gaze with cold determination. He was tired of this pointless dance, tired of allowing the man to take the lead. For once, he wasn’t going to let him think he was fooling anyone. 

‘Fine,’ Tal conceded finally, rolling his eyes. ‘I will admit, Kal may have considered this human existence to be who he really is… but he IS kryptonian John. Maybe now he can finally embrace that fact. All I ever wanted was for him to remember where he came from. Who his true family is.’

John couldn’t help but scoff. ‘True family? You don’t have a clue what family is. What it means.’ 

Tal flinched, like some part of him recognised how painfully true that was. 

‘It’s not about blood ,’ John continued. ‘It’s the people who care about you as much as they care about themselves. You’re not even capable of that.’

‘Well, maybe I never HAD IT ! Did you ever consider that?’ 

The man’s shout cut through the space between them, and he yanked his chains forward, moving as close as the restraints would allow, wild eyes boring into him.

John glared back at him in silence. He’d obviously hit some kind of nerve. Tal looked more emotional than he’d ever seen him. His eyes were a whirlpool of pent-up longing and resentment, like an internal tide he’d been holding back for years was starting to crash against the edge of his carefully constructed barriers.  

‘You think I care what you believe?’ he continued in a low growl. ‘What any of these people think? It was made violently clear to me from the moment I arrived on earth that I was just as unwelcome here as I'd been to my own father. Why should it be any different now?’ 

Tal finished his outburst, but refused to look away. John could see much more than just an alien with a grandiose ego in those swirling pools. For the first time, he saw his unfiltered pain, his isolation, his rejection. The man wasn’t driven by a cold desire for death and destruction… he was desperately longing for acceptance. 

Tal finally leaned back against the van's wall, giving a little judgemental shake of his head. 

‘So my brother put on a colourful spandex suit and found a ridiculous loop-hole to gain humanity's trust - it doesn’t change their true nature. Listen to them John; as soon as they discover the news of his double life, they will hate him just as much as they hate me.’

He gestured pointedly towards the door, the surging volume of the crowd beyond it seemingly serving his point.  

John said nothing at first, letting the man’s words hang between them in the dimly lit prison van. He wanted to simply shoot down his accusations, but he couldn’t deny the truth was much more complicated than that. He’d had enough experience first-hand of just how pervasive xenophobic discrimination can be. There would always be people who were afraid of anyone or anything different from themselves. Who would jump to fear and hatred given the smallest of reason. 

Hell, if Clark hadn’t been able to change his mind, would he have been any different from the people out there? 

Or would he have been leading the charge? 

The press conference Lana and the rest of the hostages had pulled off was a huge win… but he wasn’t exactly eager to see whether the world at large was capable of that same loyalty. 

John checked his phone, feeling once again impatient for the General's go-ahead. 

The sooner they finished this, the better. 

Sharon felt tired.

The kind of tired you can feel in your bones. 

She hadn’t known much of fatigue until her son was murdered. She’d always worked, always thought of herself as someone who was forever ‘on the go.’ But grief had given her a new perspective on just how tired a person can feel. 

Now she carried around the desperately suffocating sensation like she was dragging a two-tonne weight everywhere she went. 

Standing there in the diner, looking down at the dead body of the only person in this world who had still loved her… it was taking everything she had not to just collapse. Her body surged with waves of fatigue. She could feel them tugging at her, trying to pull her under as she fought to stay afloat. 

She knelt beside Johnny, allowing a few absent tears to fall as she did. In her hand was a large apron she’d found in the diner’s kitchen. Slowly, delicately, she draped it over him. It wasn’t big enough to cover him completely, but it was the best thing she could find. At least now she could hide his pain-stricken face. She couldn’t bear to look at him for a second longer. 

She rose to her feet, looking up at the TV in desperate impatience. What was taking so long? Why wasn’t this exchange moving forward? 

She wasn’t going to be able to keep this up much longer, she could feel it. The tide she was fighting against was going to swallow her whole eventually. The finger over the bomb’s hair trigger detonator was beginning to feel unbearably cramped. She held on tightly, willing herself to find any store of resilience within her… but everyone had their limit, didn’t they? 

Dammit, but she was so close now. So close to setting everything right. She just needed to hold it together long enough to see Tal-Rho standing in front of her, to take his life and finally balance the scales. She needed justice for her son’s death, or all of this was for nothing. 

Then she could let go.

They she could finally be with Derek, and they could both rest. 

The memory of her last conversation with him floated into her mind, as it often did, tormenting her. There had been tensions between them for a while. When she’d last seen him, he’d asked for money for the hundredth time, only this time, she’d told him no. Everyone had said she needed to lay down some boundaries. That it was the only way he'd start fending for himself. 

Now she’d give anything to go back and change it. She’d walk him right down to the bank and empty out her savings if it meant he was still here with her. 

Instead, he’d been sucked in by Morgan Edge’s manipulative promises.

Sharon watched her duplicitous ‘partner’ as he exchanged hushed words with their anonymous boss on the phone. His tense and hunched body language told her he wasn’t exactly happy about what he was hearing. The thought set her on edge. 

Kurt put his phone back into his pocket, hesitating for several moments before finally striding over to her. There was a frustrated and nervous energy about him that she’d never seen before. Like he was truly unsure of himself, for the first time since they’d met. Something was definitely off.

He cleared his throat, trying to cover his unsettled appearance with a mask of nonchalance. 

‘We have new orders,’ the man said. ‘Our boss has directed us to hand over the Kents into DOD custody and await further instruction.’ 

He’d… what? Rage surged within her immediately, and she felt her body begin to tremble. 

‘No. You promised me Tal-Rho,’ she seethed, heart pounding in her chest   

‘The exchange will still go ahead. We are simply required to release the hostages at the same time,’ he clarified. 

There was bitterness to her tone that suggested he wasn't happy about it either. 

‘I’m not giving up the last leverage we have until he’s dead!’ she spat back.

‘Look, I don’t like this any more than you do,’ the man admitted, his voice strained. ‘But our boss has his own plans for the Man of Steel, and you really don’t want to get in his way.’ 

‘Why? Because he’ll hurt me? Hurt my family? Like I have anything left to lose!’ 

The words felt cold and hard, but they were true. Did Kurt really expect her to fall in line, to be afraid of the consequences of refusing to comply? Was he really so obtuse that he didn’t realised… she didn’t care what happened to her. 

There was only one thing left that mattered, and this was the last stand she had to take to get it. 

The man’s eyes suddenly flashed with pent up frustration, and he growled, balling his hand into a fist and smashing it into the counter next to them, sending splinters of wood flying. 

She saw Superman son’s flinch in her peripheries. 

‘I’m so sick of your pathetic, self indulgent need for revenge,’ he shouted. 

‘Justice…’ she hissed back, undeterred. 

‘Call it whatever you want, I don’t care. The truth is, you have exactly two choices here. There is only one way to stop me releasing our hostages, and that’s blowing us all up right here and now…’

Sharon glared at him definitely as he continued his tirade.

‘But then you’d never get your retribution, would you? No, the only way you still have a chance, is if you sit down, shut up, and let this arrangement proceed exactly as our boss has ordered. The choice is yours, Mrs Powell.’ 

He shook his head in disgust, like her name on his tongue left a nasty after taste, and walked over to the window. Turning his back to her, he peered through the blinds, bringing his phone up to his ear once again. 

He was calling the General. If she was going to act, it had to be now.

Sharon’s heart pounded in her chest as she reached behind her, closing her fingers around the gun she’d retrieved from her lover’s hand. The gun that had been fired twice that evening, both times somehow failing to result in death or even injury. 

But this time was going to be different. 

And he was too arrogant, too hopped up on his own sense importance, to see if coming. 

The man looked agitated as he discussed terms with the General, but Sharon’s gaze remained fixed on his other hand. The one he’d just used to so violently express his rage. 

It dangled beside him, bleeding, the skin scraped and peeling from his knuckles.

The X-K. It was wearing off. 

He was vulnerable. 

‘I’m not going to let you do this.'

Sharon drew the gun out in front of her, taking a few steps towards him. The Kent boys seemingly realised what she was about to do, and she could see a scuffle of movement to her side, but she refused to take her eyes off her target. 

‘Wait, stop,’ one of them cried out. 

Kurt turned around, glaring at the sound like he was irritated by a mosquito. He followed the boys gaze, an amused smirk tugging at his lips as he saw her raised weapon. 

‘You can’t possibly be this stupid,’ he scoffed, taking a few brazen steps towards her.

He still hadn’t realised the danger he was in, still thought she was no real threat to him. Something about the power in that knowledge filled her with satisfaction.

‘I’m done being called stupid. I’m done being treated like I'm nothing . Like I'm just some pawn for everyone to use and discard. I am taking control now.’

He glared back at her, still with that disgusted expression. Like the very sound of her voice was offensive to him. 

She pulled the trigger. 

The bullet flew into her partner’s chest.

His eyes widened, looking down at the place of impact. He brought his hand up to touch it, staring at the blood that caked his skin in horror. 

Sharon couldn't tell what horrified him most - the realisation he’d been shot, or the knowledge she’d been the one to do it. 

Kurt’s knees buckled and he fell to the ground, his body collapsing helplessly, and she took the last few strides over to stand over him.

‘No, don’t!’ she heard one of the Kent boys cry out again as she pointed the pistol at his head.

She wasn't sure what she was supposed to feel exactly, standing there with a gun thrust toward the man, his life in her hands. The man who’d just shot her lover without a moment's regret. The man who'd been looking at her like dirt from the moment they met.

Anger, maybe? Power? Doubt? Fear? But all she felt was relief... 

She was just so, so tired. 

‘You… you’ll regret this…’ Kurt sputtered out, blood painting his lips. 

She cocked her head, finding the experience of watching him cower beneath her a surreal turn of events. 

‘No… I don’t think I will,’ she said. 

Then she fired again.

And again.

She could hear cries of protest behind her, but she couldn't stop, not until the click of the empty chamber signaled there were no bullets left.