Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Kent twins look out through the window of the home as the sky darkens. Jon peeks at his phone, revealing it’s only 2:00 in the afternoon. 

“Solar eclipse?” Jordan asks him, shrugging his shoulders.

“Next full one isn‘t until 2045… that’s not for a few more decades.”

“Huh, so… what is it?” 

“No clue. But the Wi-Fi’s out so we probably won’t get any real answers just sitting here, let’s go find Mom.”

“Right, okay.”

The Smallville Gazette relies on internet for a lot of things. Even if a seasoned writer like Lois Lane won’t admit it. Newspapers like the Planet focused on ink-and-paper just as much as their beginnings of a website.  

Lois was used to in-person meetings with witnesses, with dangerous situations that she read, with stories from Clark. She had no reason to think anything else from the Gazette . 

“Chrissy, is the internet down? I’ve been trying to text Clark all morning and nothing’s sending.”

“Everything’s either flashing red or not flashing at all so I’m gonna go with yeah it’s down. Lemme check the router in the back.” 

Chrissy, more versed in today’s tech, tried to boot up the router in the back to give them at least a chance of internet for a bit. But it was a tangled pile of wires all cut off at the end. That was a mystery for another time.

So when the boys met up with their mom, she angrily looked at the tiny little ‘unable to send’ message that appeared when she clicked the send arrow and formed a smile when the two walked in.

“Hi, boys. What’s up?” 

“Mom,” Jordan said first, “what’s up with the internet? Is it out here, too?” 

“Yeah. I’ve been trying to send this text to your father for about 10 minutes to no success.” 

“Right… can’t yell for him anymore. I keep forgetting.”

“Jon the whole house can hear you yelling for Dad when it’s your patrol turn, it’s okay. We know you think you’re cool when you do it.”

Jon looked away sheepishly. “Anyways.” 

“Actually, has anyone seen your father? He hasn’t come back in a while… I’m starting to get concerned, considering your Father shouldn’t be pushing himself too much these days with your grandpa’s heart and it starting to get dark so soon.”

“Yeah we noticed that, do we know what it is?” Jordan asked, looking to his brother who just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

“No clue, dude.”

“There’s something fishy in Metropolis regarding a billionaire,” she said with a roll of her eyes, “as per usual.”

“Oh?” Jon said as the two looked at their mother, interests piqued. “We always love a good billionaire beat down, just not when they kill Dad. That kinda puts a dampener on things.”

“Jonathan, please stop making jokes about your fathers death.”

“Sorry, sorry.” 

Jordan rolled his eyes, and then thought of something. “Wait a billionaire? What’s the story mom? Are they messing with the moon? The sun?”

“No idea, I think they crashed the whole state’s wi-fi in order to hide it. Not a great look, but…” 

“Weird.”

“Wacky.”

“Well, I’ll do my digging. You two should go find your father and see what he’s up to. Tell him to take it easy. That’s why there’s two of you, John Henry, and Nat.”

“Of course.” Jordan said, nodding to his mom and Jon followed his lead. 

The two looked to each other, a look in their eyes. “Wanna go find Dad?”

“Hell yeah I wanna go find Dad.”

“Fraternals style?” One asked.

“Fraternals style.”  The other responded.

Chapter Text

“Wait, ‘Fraternals style’?” There was a pause as Jordan furrowed his brows. “Dude, what?”

“We say ‘fraternals’ all the time.” Jon retorted, and he definitely didn’t look like a kicked puppy at Jordan’s confusion and ‘criticism’. “It’s our thing.” 

“Yeah, but,” Jordan sighed, “it’s usually just ‘fraternals’, why are you trying to turn it into a ‘Gangnam style’ rip off?” 

“You repeated it, though.” Jon nudged Jordan’s shoulder, and Jordan grumbled something incoherent in response, probably something along the lines of ‘shut up’ or ‘come on, man.’ 

Perhaps the whole  ‘fraternals’ catchphrase was a little corny, and perhaps ‘fraternals style’ was, somehow, even worse, but the boys have grown a fond appreciation of it. They’ve had their fair share of secret handshakes and secret code words that turned out to be not-so-secret and not-so-exclusive whenever Emma from fifth grade and her best friend Taylor copied their handshakes and phrases. ‘Fraternals’ was theirs, something that was so stupid yet matched who they were and their relationship perfectly. The term has weaseled its way into their hearts as the perfect hype up before they fly away to beat a villian up and save civilians, or, in this case, save their dad.

“Boys.” Lois cleared her throat, and her sons looked towards her like two baby meerkats. “Go help your dad.” 

Jon and Jordan knew two things. One, when Lois Lane is your mother and she tells you to do something while looking at you with an unamused face and crossed arms, you go do it. Two, Superman is pretty super, but being super doesn’t mean that help will never be needed, and it’s pretty super to help Superman. 

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.” Jon nodded as he took a breath. He smiled at Jordan, and Jordan smiled back. “Fraternals style?”

“I’m not saying it.”

And soon, they were soaring in the sky, free as ever, together. 

Chapter Text

Flying was definitely Jon's favorite power. He had that in common with his father.

His brother liked it too, although he once said Heat Vision was "epic" and much cooler. But hey, that was Jordan for you.

One of the few advantages of everyone now knowing the identity of the Kent family was that the brothers no longer had to worry about being secretive or being seen. They could just fly around more or less freely, wherever they wanted, whenever they wanted.

Jon would have enjoyed the whole thing very much, if it weren't for the tiny fact that her dad had been taken.

"So how do we do this?" asked Jordan. "Should we try to find Dad via super hearing and then go after whoever has him?"

Jon sighed in frustration. If the many situations they had found themselves in over the past four years had made one thing clear, it was that "headfirst into the wall" wasn't always the best strategy.

"Think about it, man. Whoever has Dad has managed to take out a Kryptonian. One with two decades of experience at what he does. And who, whether we like it or not, is under more or less constant public attention. Don't you think that person would have the means to do the same to us if we just rushed blindly at them?"

Jordan tilted his head thoughtfully. "Hmm, good point." Then another thought occurred to him. "Do you think it could be a trap?"

"You mean they're using Dad as bait to get to us either in addition to him or in particular?"

"Maybe? I don't know. But we won't be doing Dad any favors if we get caught too."

"OK, so what, my oh-so-wise fellow fraternal, do you suggest then?"

Jon grinned. "Let's go to the fortress. Oh, and we'll bring in our own expert on bringing down Kryptonians."

"Huh? Who do we know who... Oh, sure, Nat!"

"Exactly!"

Jon had complained for years that his father thought it was such a great idea to build the "family fortress" in the middle of the ocean where Jon himself couldn't easily get to.

Somehow he still stood by it.

But he had to admit that it was now coming in handy. Because as much as people now knew about the Kent clan's private lives, the public had not (yet) found out anything about the Kryptonian fortress. And it was probably better to keep it that way.

So two half-Kryptonians and a young human tech genius found themselves at that very place for an emergency meeting.

"It's unlikely that Clark was knocked down with Kryptonite," Nat commented. "Not only is the stuff hard to get, but it also tends to provoke very...vocal reactions from Kryptonians. In other words, if he was attacked with it in public, it certainly wouldn't have gone unnoticed. Red Sun is one possibility, depending on how cleverly you use that kind of technology, but the downside is a potential time delay of effect, so I don't really know if that would work."

Jon exhaled. "Okay, any other ideas?"

"Well, there's always the possibility of quiet blackmail. Threatening the family and the like," Nat said. Jon shuddered, remembering how their then-evil Uncle Tal had used such a technique on their father.

"Or it's something we don't yet know about. We also have to be open to the possibility that it's not a human attacker."

Both boys blinked.

"Like...other Kryptonians?" Jordan sounded unconvinced.

Nat snorted in amusement. "Guys, you do realize that the universe isn't just made up of humans and Kryptonians, right? It may seem strange to you, but there are plenty of other species out there that may or may not have a problem with a Kryptonian on Earth."

Well...yes. Somehow Jon never really thought about it. His own alien drama was actually more than enough for him, thank you very much.

"OK, so step one is to locate Dad. Nat, you and your father developed this technology for detecting Kryptonian bio-signatures. Could we use that?"

Nat nodded. "That should work."

Jordan interjected, "OK, so if we know where Dad is and want to avoid a trap, what then?"

Nat thought, "You know, fun fact: when it comes to your family, most people only see powers and stuff. They tend to forget that you are actually people with brains - well, at least a little bit-"

"HEY!"

"- and, most importantly, that you come from another planet and - what they don't really know - have access to all kinds of technology from that planet. That gives you a huge advantage. They'll expect you to use your powers against them, but not necessarily that you'll use Krypto-tech."

Hmm. To be honest, Dad didn't seem to pay much attention to that most of the time either, and as a result, the twins probably didn't as well.

Maybe it was time to let Lara show some of the cool stuff they had here. Some of it might come in handy.

Chapter Text

The fortress was awesome. Really, really awesome. And now Jordan was annoyed that he hadn’t explored more of it beyond the holographic villains his grandma conjured for fighting practice. 

“So, wait, we literally have a transporter here? Like straight out of Star Trek?!”

“Bro, you can fly anywhere on Earth in, like, two seconds.”

“Yeah, but it’s not instantaneous .”

“You’re that impatient?”

“No, it’s just—”

“This is not going to help us with your dad.” Natalie stood off to the side with her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised.

Jordan gave his head a shake. “No. No, it’s not. You’re right. It’s just…”

“Kryptonian scientific achievements are very impressive indeed,” Lara said with a deep nod. “I would love nothing more than to introduce the both of you to the knowledge our planet has amassed. Although for now, it would be best to focus on finding Kal and bringing him to safety.” 

An uncomfortable flutter stirred in Jordan’s chest. He couldn’t forget what was at stake: his dad was missing and they didn’t know who had managed to take him. Even if Nat’s tech could help them find him, they could be walking straight into a trap. And there was no telling what kind of powers or dangerous technology this person would have. 

They needed to make sure they were as prepared as possible, and they needed to do it quick.

“There are several protective updates I could add to your existing suits,” Lara offered. With a wave of her hand, a holographic schematic appeared. Their typical suits looked mostly the same but were now solid black, including the iconic El crest on the front. “Adaptations in the nanotech fabrication would allow for a steady supply of yellow sun energy. It would protect the wearer from any red solar blast and provide accelerated healing in the presence of Kryptonite.”

“I still don’t think it was Kryptonite, but I guess it doesn’t hurt to be prepared,” Natalie said. And then she tilted her head. “You know, it’d be kind of cool if it could convert different types of energy into the yellow sun type. Or maybe even get it to do an energy blast of some kind?”

Lara looked impressed. “That would be very helpful. Although there would be some loss in the conversion, the overall benefit would be worthwhile.” 

Jordan watched as the two of them went back and forth for a little longer. It was kinda cool, maybe, but it was hard to pay attention when reality was pressing heavily on him. Were they ready to take something like this on without Superman? Did they even have a choice? 

In what seemed like no time at all, Natalie and Lara had hammered out a design for the new suits. But the problem came when Jordan and his brother put them on. 

“I can barely hear anything,” Jon complained. He tilted his head to the side like he was trying to shake out an earful of water. 

Jordan felt a similar sensation. He could hear stuff, sure, but only the things that were in the room with them. Everything else was covered up by a vague, buzzy white noise. 

“Yes, the technology will interfere with some of your enhanced senses,” Lara said. “The energy field slightly warps sound and light waves.”

Jordan shared a glance with his brother. They could be protected against Kryptonite and red solar light and who knows what else, and they could turn that energy back onto anyone that attacked them, but that meant they could lose some really important abilities. No enhanced hearing, no enhanced vision. Was it worth it?

“I have the biometric scanner,” Natalie reminded them. “We can use that to find your dad.” 

And then they could all kick the asses of the people responsible for this. That’d be worth not being able to use some of his powers for a bit. 

Jordan looked over to his brother again, and he could see that they were both on the same page. 

“Fire it up, Nat,” Jon said. “Let’s find Superman.”

The scanner was inside Nat’s suit, so Jordan was stuck standing there like an idiot as she stared at the inside of her helmet. 

“I’m definitely picking up something. But it’s faint.” 

“And you’re filtering us out?” Jon checked. 

He got a blank, helmet-shrouded stare in response. “Yeah, genius, but it’s hard. There’s a lot of interference. I think we need to go higher.”

Without any other warning, she blasted off and shot towards the sky. Jordan waited just long enough to say a hasty goodbye to his grandmother before following her. The buzzing in his ears made it hard to track Natalie, and he was not going to lose her. 

Luckily, she stopped at the upper limits of the stratosphere, hovering in place. 

“I found something. Well, two somethings.”

Jordan stared. “Huh?”

“There are two distinct, fully Kryptonian biometric signals within range of my scanner. One’s coming from the coast of northern Brazil.”

“And the other?” Jon asked. 

Natalie paused for a moment. Jordan really wished he could see through her helmet. 

Then finally, she answered. 

“It’s coming from outer space.”

Chapter Text

Jon arched an eyebrow skeptically. “So, what, Dad either went on vacation without us or he’s hanging out on an asteroid somewhere?”

“That’s what it looks like,” Nat said, apologetically. “The biometrics are fuzzy but it’s the best we’ve got. We’ll just have to check each signature and see if your dad’s there.”

“Should we split up?” Jordan asked. “Just in case the signals disappear, so we don’t lose one while checking the other?”

Jon glanced down at the planet slowly rotating beneath their feet. If he squinted, he could almost see the planes crisscrossing the sky miles beneath their position in the stratosphere, but he still couldn’t hear them. The protective suits were going to be as much a help as a hindrance, dulling his and Jordan’s enhanced senses while protecting them from harm.

It was a lousy trade off, but they’d have to make it work. Somewhere down below them, or somewhere deep in space, Dad was in trouble. Being able to deflect Kryptonite or red solar light gave them an edge, however slight, against whoever they were up against.

“Sure, but who’s going where?” Jon asked, glancing at his brother. “You want to go to space? I know how much you hate sand.”

“Aren’t you the space expert?” Jordan snorted. “This feels like a you thing.”

“Starting a club for extra credit does not make me an expert on space.”

Natalie giggled. “Could’ve fooled me. What was that constellation he wouldn’t shut up about?”

“Cyrus, right? The one with the space clouds and the black hole? He found Denny or whatever on his first try and dragged all of us outside to come see it.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “The constellation Cygnus and its star, Deneb. And you’d be psyched too, if you managed to see it at night with a full moon before the beginning of summer. It’s almost impossible to catch it without—”

“Like I said, space nerd. So, how’s Jon tracking the signal? Are you going with him?” Jordan asked.

“I can’t, I don’t have enough oxygen for deep space travel. But I do have this—” Natalie tapped one of her suit gauntlets, opening a hidden compartment. A device, no bigger than a saucer, flew out, automatically assembling itself into what looked like a mini drone.

“It’s a signal tracker locked onto the biometric, so just keep following it until you find the source. If there’s something up there and you need back up, just press the button twice. It’ll send a radio pulse back to me on earth, and I can give Jordan the coordinates from there.” 

Natalie nudged the little drone towards Jon. It rotated around him for a few seconds, as if getting its bearings, before slowly climbing into the higher levels of the atmosphere.

Jon watched it go, shuddering as an uneasy feeling settled around his shoulders. “We’ll meet back at the fortress if there’s nothing at both sites?”

Nodding their agreement, Natalie and Jordan rocketed back towards earth to follow up with the second beacon, while Jon began his journey up towards the stars.

Space was cold.

Cold and quiet and outside of random space debris, very, very empty. Natalie’s tracker drone chirped at regular intervals, so at least he knew he was heading in the right direction. But all the same, he’d kill to go back to earth and get his AirPods or something to break the silence.

The quiet gave him time to wonder about who kidnapped his dad, and how they’d defeat whoever had taken him. It was isolating to be out there, in the dead of space, without any backup. While he could use the droid to send a help signal, it would take Jordan some time get there, especially without Natalie to help him navigate.

It just meant that they’d all have to hurry to find the source of the signals. The quicker they isolated which signal was Dad’s, the sooner he and Jordan could ditch the inhibitor suits.

Hours later, Mars came up on the horizon, red and solitary and dusty.

There was a rover inching its way along the edge of a crater, but the landscape otherwise seemed devoid of life.  Natalie’s tracker droid seemingly disagreed, its periodic chirps increasing in frequency as Jon surveyed the landscape.  

Passing through the atmosphere and landing on the ground, he followed the drone as it crept across a plateau, the ice caps in sight a couple miles away.

Abruptly, it stopped, buzzing cheerfully to signify its mission complete. Jon stopped too, dumbstruck.

There was a group of young women seated on the ground, surrounded by a heap of scrolls and reading silently to themselves. They all looked human, dressed in denim shorts and tees, as if they were heading to school and were not totally stranded on a desert planet thousands of miles from Earth.

And if that wasn't weird enough, they all looked...oddly familiar. They all looked like…Candice. 

As if on cue, the entire group looked up at Jon, eyeing him neutrally as he stared back at them.

"Hello, Jon," they collectively intoned.

“Um…” 

 “So, where are we, exactly?” Jordan asked, as he and Natalie touched down on a sandbar.

They had landed on the narrow shoreline of a winding, murky river. The sandy ground abruptly transitioned into a dense forest, leaving them with little dry ground to land on. The air had a muggy, dense feeling to it that seemed to weigh everything down, and that sensation plus his already limited hearing made Jordan feel like he was suffocating.

“Looks like the Araguaia River,” Nat said, her voice muffled by her suit helmet. “Hedy says we’re a thousand miles from the Amazon and ten from the ocean. How’s your hearing?”

“Muffled. If you make another prototype, could you—”

“Wait, did you hear that?”

“I literally just said—”

“Shhhh!” Natalie waved at him to stop talking. She turned to the side, evidently tracking something, before setting off wordlessly into the tree line.

Jordan sighed as he took off to follow her. This felt like a trap—he couldn’t hear whatever Natalie was tracking, and if it was something dangerous, he’d rather get more than 2 seconds’ notice.

He also evidently couldn’t see, colliding into his sister a minute later when she abruptly stopped and ducked behind a vine-covered tree.

“Watch it!” she hissed.

“You’re the one who disappeared,” Jordan retorted. “What are we even—oh.”

He trailed off as he saw what lay before them, beyond the tree cover. There was a clearing up ahead, with a tent and a motorbike and the remains of a recent campfire. Clearly, they’d stumbled across somebody’s campsite. 

But before either of them could say something, the apparent resident of the lodgings emerged from the tent.

She looked young, no older than Sophie, with her blonde hair frizzy from the humidity and falling out of a loose braid. Emblazoned on her clothes was the same insignia from Jordan’s own suit, as well as his father and brother’s—the House of El.

Chapter Text

Jon blinked once. Then twice. The third time he held his eyes shut tight, willing the insanity in front of him to disappear… 

But no… they were still there. 

In fact, they were now surrounding him. 

The group of Candice’s seemed to have abandoned the fire they’d been tending to and were now forming a circle around him, closing off any option of escape. 

‘We’ve been waiting for you Jon,’ the Candice’s spoke in unison.

It was unbelievably creepy. 

Jon’s attention flitted from one Candice to another, their soft smiles somehow making the situation even more unnerving. 

The Candice directly in front of him stepped closer, tucking her hair behind her ear like his own Candice habitually did. Even through his space suit, he was blown away by the level of likeness. This wasn’t just an approximate imitation. It literally WAS Candice… from the barely noticeable chicken pox scar along her hair line, to the beauty spot at the base of her neck.

‘Who… What are you?’ he sputtered out. ‘How do you know my name?’

The Candice’s smile widened. ‘We are your soulmates, Jonathan Kent, of the planet Earth.’

‘Uhhhhh… what?’ 

The Candice seemed unphased by his baffled response, holding up one of the fragile looking scrolls the group had been reading.

‘Our people’s ancient prophecy tells of a savior, a kryptonian/human hybrid, who would one day provide the key to our survival.’

Jon’s head swam as he tried to process her words. They thought he was some kind of savior? What did they expect him to do exactly? Whatever it was, he was pretty sure he was in trouble. 

Dammit, why had he agreed to be the one to go to Mars?

He searched his surroundings for anything he could use to his advantage, but there was nothing other than dry, empty landscape in every direction. The chirp of his signal locator sounded beside him and he eyed the floating tech, remembering there was at least one possible avenue of retreat. As discreetly as he could, he began pushing the emergency button on his space suit, hoping the damn thing actually worked and that Natalie and his brother would soon be on their way.

‘Um… okay, but… why do you all look like my ex-girlfriend?’ 

‘Ex -girlfriend?’ the head Candice growled, her eyes flashing with rage. 

Jon scanned the group around him nervously, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. Were the others getting even closer or was he just being paranoid? 

‘Uh… yeah,’ he clarified slowly. ‘We broke up a few months ago. Look, I'm not sure what’s going on here, but have you seen my dad…?’

He’d barely finished his question when the group of Candice’s suddenly began to squeal in unison, so loudly and sharply that it overwhelmed his senses even through the muffled helmet of his suit. The Candice in front of him raised her hands in a calming gesture, and the group’s squeals softened into a strangely hypnotic hum. 

Before Jon knew what was happening, a soft blue glow started emanating from the circle around him as she reached out a slender arm, placing her hand on the outside of his helmet. He tried to pull away, but he found he was mysteriously unable to move. 

Every part of him was screaming to escape, to use every super power he had to get himself out of there… but all he could do was stare at the strange creature as she closed her eyes and began singing a melody unlike anything he’d ever heard. The sound was somehow both terrifying and soothing at the same time. It set his whole nervous system on edge, while simultaneously filling his heart with the comfort of a mother’s lullaby. 

After a few seconds she opened her eyes, a knowing smile forming on her face.

‘Of course,’ she said sweetly. ‘We should have known.’

The Candice nodded to her companions, and one by one they joined hands, their quiet humming increasing in volume and changing in pitch, until it formed another alluring melody. 

It only took a few seconds for their body’s to start transforming. All he could do was watch in horror as the beings twisted and morphed their shape, until they settled into something recognisably human again. 

As the nightmare transition slowed to a stop, Jon realised their appearance was now identical to someone else he recognised. 

Someone he never would have expected.  

‘Denise?’ he said in disbelief. 

Clark drifted slowly into consciousness, the cold, hard ground beneath him immediately jarring to his groggy mind. Thoughts tumbled their way into his perception, a series of confused questions that frustratingly came with no immediate answers. 

Why was he on the floor? Why was it cold? Where was he? 

Why was his whole body aching?

He felt an instinctive groan escape his lips as he became viscerally aware of just how much pain he was actually in. The fog of unconsciousness cleared, heightening his multifaceted suffering to almost unbearable levels. He could tell from the familiar sensation of muscle spasming, blood boiling torment - there must be kryptonite nearby. The poisonous radiation surged through him, causing him to grit his teeth in a desperate attempt to contain any further cries of agony. 

A rising sense of panic threatened to take hold, but Clark willed himself to stay calm, to focus on his surroundings. He rolled over onto his shoulder, and from the way certain tender spots on his body complained at his clumsy movements, he was pretty sure he’d taken a nasty beating as well. Yet he couldn’t remember anything…

How had he ended up here? Where was he exactly? 

Was Lois okay? The boys?

His eyes flew open at the thought of his family’s well being, and he scanned his surroundings with a new sense of urgency. The only light in the dark room was a sickly green glow that seemed to come from nowhere identifiable. Its illumination was so dim, Clark could only just make out the outline of the room’s sparse walls. Just enough to establish how confined he actually was. 

The small space was maybe three metres by three and seemed to be completely empty. There was only one way in or out - a huge door that took up almost the entirety of one of the four walls. The panic he was trying to keep at bay gripped his throat as he found himself feeling suddenly claustrophobic. 

With great difficulty, Clark clamoured to his feet, wincing against fresh waves of pain at every awkward movement. He was losing the ability to work out what was the kryptonite and what was a result of his aggravated injuries. A wave of vertigo hit him hard as he rose, his vision spinning violently and forcing him to brace against one of the walls with both hands. 

He closed his eyes, panting for breath as he tried to regain his equilibrium.

‘Mr Kent,’ an unfamiliar voice echoed around him, somehow making the space seem even smaller. 

Clark’s eyes flew open again, searching frantically for the source. He was unsure whether to be terrified or relieved at the conclusion no one was actually in the room with him.

‘Or should I call you… Superman?’ the voice continued, with a hint of smugness.  

Clark’s heart pounded in his chest, nausea adding itself to an already unbearable cacophony of symptoms. He swallowed hard, realising with sinking dread that he was wearing his usual flannel shirt and jeans… but he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

‘I.. don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said hoarsely, his lips painfully dry. 

‘There’s no need to deny it,’ the voice attempted to reassure him. ‘We have no interest in sharing your secret with anyone. In fact, we have very little interest in you at all. You’re simply a means to an end.’

‘Where am I?’ Clark asked, with as much strength as he could muster. ‘Where are my family?’

‘They are looking for you. Or at least, that’s what they think. You see, I needed their help to find someone. Someone I’ve been hunting for many years. So I’ve sent them on a little mission. Under… somewhat false pretences.’

‘If anything happens to them I’ll…’ Clark began defiantly, but his throat seized up as he spoke.

Before he could finish his sentence, a coughing fit took hold, shaking through his body violently. 

‘There’s nothing you can do, Superman,’ the voice continued. ‘The walls around you are infused with kryptonite, and that door only opens from the outside. The only way you’re getting out of there is if someone finds you…’

Clark felt desperation creeping in at the notion of being trapped in this already suffocating prison. How long would it be before he lost his mind down here? Or before the kryptonite’s insidious poison killed him.

‘Don’t worry though. I'm sure they’ll find you just fine, once they find her… In fact, I'm banking on it.’

‘Who? Who are you looking for?’ Clark asked, voice shaking more than he’d like. 

‘Your cousin, of course.’

‘Identify yourself!’ the girl demanded, pointing her unusual weapon towards them.

Natalie could see from the baffled expression on Jordan’s face that he had no idea who she was either. 

And yet she wore his family’s crest. 

The symbol of the house of El.

He hit the release mechanism on his suit’s helmet before Natalie could utter a word of protest. 

‘Hey, please, just put the - whatever that is - down,’ he reasoned with the young blonde, ‘My name is Jordan, and this is Natalie. We’re just looking for my dad, I swear. We aren’t going to hurt you.’

The girl glared back at them sceptically. She had seemed so young at first, but there was something about her that gave Natalie the impression she’d been through more than a kid her age ever should. 

Something she knew all too well herself. 

‘Why should I trust you?’ the girl questioned. 

‘Um, well, for one thing…’ Jordan said slowly, pressing another button on his suit that allowed the chest plate to retract, revealing his superboy costume underneath, ‘you’re wearing my family’s symbol.’

The girl gaped open mouthed at the symbol. Slowly, she lowered her weapon before moving towards them for a closer look. She scanned each of their faces for any sign of dishonesty, a million questions seemingly forming behind her world weary eyes. 

‘Your father… is Kal-El?’ she asked, her voice brimming with hope.

‘Um, yeah,’ Jordan confirmed.

‘I’ve been looking for him for years!’ the young girl exclaimed happily. ‘I’d just about given up hope, but my new friend informed me there was a kryptonian in this galaxy and… well here we are! We just made camp here for the night and were going to begin our search by morning…’ 

‘So you don’t know where he is?’ Jordan asked, his disappointment evident. 

The girl shook her head. ‘No, you’re the first living beings we’ve encountered on this planet.’

‘Wait, we?’ Natalie queried nervously.

As though hearing her, a set of stomping footsteps began from deep within the trees, heading in their direction. Natalie braced herself for what sounded like something the size of an elephant to come trampling into the clearing.

Instead, a man - though about double the size of your average human - appeared, carrying a huge pile of firewood on one shoulder, and gripping between his teeth what looked like a lit cigar. His skin was deathly white, with dark markings over his eyes, and he had an unruly mess of black hair.

‘Well holy fragaroni, what do we have here?’ the huge man boomed, dropping the firewood roughly to the ground and crunching his knuckles somewhat threateningly. 

‘It’s okay, Lobo,’ the young girl reassured her companion, placing a hand on his unbelievably wide chest. ‘This young man is the son of Kal-El. You were right! He’s really here!’

The man’s face cracked into a smug grin. 

‘Course I am. They don’t call me the main man for nothing!’’ he said, puffing his chest out even further. 

Natalie glanced furtively at Jordan, before turning back to the young girl. 

‘Um… you still haven’t told us who you are…’ 

‘Oh you’re right!’ she chuckled, her whole demeanour softening by the second. ‘Sorry, I’m just so happy! My name is Kara. Kara Zor-El.’

‘El… wait, you mean… we’re related?’ Jordan stammered. 

‘I guess so!’ Kara said joyfully, like she’d just received the best news of her life. ‘I’m Kal-El’s cousin! It’s okay, he doesn’t know about me… but he’s my family. I thought he was the only family I had left… but it looks like there’s even more!’

Before Jordan could react, the girl suddenly flung her arms around him. Natalie stifled a laugh as he stiffened awkwardly in her embrace.

‘Uh, that’s great…’ he said nervously. ‘But we still need to find my dad...’

Natalie almost jumped out of her skin as a blaring alarm began sounding from both of their suits. She glanced down at the monitor, swearing under her breath at the message flashing back at her.

‘Is that Jon’s SOS?’ Jordan asked, voice thick with concern, and she simply nodded. ‘Uh, Kara, I’m sorry, but my brother’s in trouble, we have to go…’

‘Wait!’ Kara protested, grabbing Jordan’s arm, ‘Please, I just found you, I don’t want to lose you again. Besides, wherever we need to go, Lobo can get us there. Fast.’ 

The huge man strode a few paces over to the motorbike they’d seen earlier, resting against a cluster of rocks. Inspecting it more closely, Natalie could see that it was actually much bigger than a regular motorbike. 

The ogre of a man straddled the frame, flicking his cigar butt and revving the throttle. He gestured suggestively to the extra-large seat behind him. 

Natalie gave Jordan one last anxious look, but she knew they had no choice. With no clear idea exactly what they were getting themselves in for, they climbed aboard the strangely roomy bike seat, holding on tight as it began to lift into the air. 

The outline of the Araguaia river quickly disappeared beneath them as they soared higher in altitude.

‘Get ready for the ride of yer lives, dipsticks!’ the man beast bellowed, bashing a glowing button on the vehicle’s dash. 

Natalie gripped the seat beneath her, unable to hold back a scream as they suddenly blasted through the earth’s atmosphere.

Chapter Text

Jon blinked for the fourth time. Fifth. Sixth. His vision started to clear, but the blurriness still threatened to take over his vision again. The heavy pounding enveloping his skull was only deepening, pulsating in time with the roaring sound of lasers and… was that gunshots?

He knew he wasn’t thinking straight. He knew he passed out… but couldn’t remember the details. His brain was still foggy—he could barely see, and he definitely couldn’t make out the sounds blasting around him. Besides, his memories kept telling him that what lies before him might look like Denise—in near perfect detail—but couldn’t be. But his memories kept repeating in his head: the hundreds of Candice’s surrounding him—making him feel deathly enclosed and entrapped—before the unnerving shifting happened and they each morphed into a perfect duplicate of Denise. 

Were the creatures around him shapeshifters? 

Or was he dreaming?

And where was his dad!?

As his vision continued to clear, his nightmares continued to build.

The ancient scroll Candice—no, Denise—had read off of was neatly placed on the Martian ground in front of him, like she had wanted him to see it.

He glanced at it, seeing exactly what he feared:

“Apocalypse.”

“Destruction.”

“Chaos.”

One of the Denise‘s had told him that Jon was their soulmate and would be the key to their planet’s survival. It really was him, wasn’t it?

His eyes blew wide.

And as he took in the scene in front of him—his enhanced hearing finally kicking into gear and honing onto the screaming and fighting of the group of Denise’s that surrounded him on all sides—he realized it was true.

None of it was a dream.

He needed to save them.

Natalie gripped the edge of the leather seat for dear life, her eyes trained on the black hair of the giant man in front of her. She knew she wasn’t going to die—well, hopefully not, it was hard to tell after all—but with the speed the motorcycle was flying towards the atmosphere? The massive beast of a driver—a literal stranger—that she and Jordan were trusting only because Jon had gotten in trouble while he was searching for Clark on Mars, and this was the fastest way to him?

“So, where are you from?” Natalie blurted out, holding back a scream as the motorcycle flew faster. She didn’t intend to speak, but she needed a distraction from the grating voice in her head—her dad—telling her this was a really stupid idea.

“This is a really stupid idea,” her dad’s voice in her head said again. 

“Shut up!” Natalie said in her head, like that would do anything to quiet her subconscious.

“Krypton, of course,” Kara said with a beaming smile. Natalie felt Jordan freeze behind her. She had no idea what he was thinking, but it probably had something to do with the continued realization that he had yet another living Kryptonian relative, as if Tal wasn’t enough to deal with. “You do know Kal-El, right?”

“Yeah—AHH!” Natalie screamed, the heat of the atmosphere enveloping her. She tried not to let the dizziness of the ride overtake her, pushing it deep into the back of her mind. The lack of control was making her motion sick. The blinding yellows, oranges, and reds that embraced them disappeared until they were suddenly swallowed by the dark abyss of space. 

Natalie would’ve stopped and gawked if she had any control of the bike. She had been to space plenty of times before, but the view of the earth from here always took her breath away. Now her breath was taken away for a different reason entirely.

They were flying incredibly quickly now. Natalie could tell by the way the tiny dot in the sky, Mars, was growing larger and larger by the second.

“Yeeeehaw!” Lobo whooped into the darkness, pumping his left fist in the air. Natalie would’ve preferred he kept both hands on the handles of the motorcycle, but the queasiness growing insistent in her stomach kept her mouth shut.

Luckily, she felt better the moment their speed decreased and the Martian red engulfed her vision. But Natalie didn’t like what she saw as they flew closer to the barren surface. Jon was on the floor—he clearly must’ve collapsed with the way he was positioned. But most importantly, there was a crowd of people surrounding him…

Wait, what? Was that Denise ?

Before Natalie could stop her, Kara lifted her weapon, aimed right towards the crowd below… and fired.

Lois gasped as she awoke from a nap. She took a few slow deep breaths, willing her suddenly racing heart to slow back down. As the pounding in her chest lightened, the quiet surrounding her became evident. 

The house was still.

Everyone must be out, then. Surely that was the reason the quietness was putting her on edge—she simply missed her family. She wondered where they were, but tried not to think anything of it. They were out a lot these days—all three of them making saves on a daily basis. It was what it was.

Lois tossed the comforter off of her, sitting up with a grunt before getting out of bed. She walked cautiously to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She didn’t mean to be paranoid, but the feeling wasn’t going away. Something was making her on edge. She was sure of it now.

An instinct. Years of experience warning her.

She opened the bathroom door, trying not to overthink anything. They were fine.

They must be fine. 

They had to be. 

“Lois.”

She screamed—the deep voice behind her appeared out of nowhere, cutting into the silence like a newly sharpened blade. She swiftly turned around, already preparing to find something to use to knock the intruder out—

Her eyes locked onto the intruder and for a second she swore her heart stopped. “Dad?”

What was he doing here? He was… he was supposed to be… 

“Dead? No, I’m not dead,” he said. “I came to apologize.”

“Apologize.” Lois barely managed to get the words out. “Who the hell are you?”

“I didn’t mean to forget Lucy in my goodbyes,” he continued like Lois didn’t just scream for dear life. She eyed the dresser next to her, seeing the wooden picture frame that rested on top. She could use that as a weapon.

As she planned a way to grab it, her peripheral vision caught a glance of the picture that sat in the frame, untouched for years: a picture of her and her dad. A hardened, sunken feeling built in her chest and behind her eyes.

“Yeah, well, you only had a minute,” Lois said, hoping to keep the guy from doing anything drastic. Maybe she could keep him talking… maybe if she moved slightly to the right, she could get out of the corner she found herself trapped in.

“It’s no excuse,” he said, shaking his head like he truly meant it. “Now, why don’t you give your ol’ dad a big warm hug?” He opened his arms with a soft smile. 

Like Lois would actually embrace this intruder? 

But something within her was confused. What if this really was her dad? He surely looked like him. He sounded like him. The genuine tears in his eyes didn’t look fake. What if he managed to fool them all, and only made it seem like he had died? This would be something he could do, right? He had the resources… the brains…? She knew this because she got it from him.

“Okay,” she said, but she wouldn’t fall for it. She had no intention of closing the space within them, because she was smart, just like her dad. The insistent tugging in her brain telling her to run out of here as fast as she could continued as she glanced at the door, preparing to make her escape.

But just as she had the thought, his eyes grew bright red, his skin started rippling—was it changing?—but Lois didn’t wait for whatever it was to complete. She ran out of the house, nearly tripping down the stairs on the way, and pressed the ELT in her pocket like it was the last thing she’d ever do.

Where the hell was Clark!?

Clark awoke for the third time in the span of… well he wasn’t sure how long it’s been. The tiny cell that seemed to press into his skin was draining any last bit of energy he had left. He wasn’t sure how he was going to make it out, especially with only one exit. But how would his boys even find him? And if they did, how would they even get past the thick walls of kryptonite that enclosed him?

“Awake again?” The man from earlier said. Clark still couldn’t see any details of his features. He had no idea who this guy was—but the guy knew him. There was no doubt about it now. The glasses missing from his face were an absence that startled him awake every time he was in between consciousness.

“Let me—” Clark groaned, attempting to push himself up. He couldn’t. He slammed back down like a car was dropped on top of him. “—go.”

“Not until we find what we’re looking for. We’re sure she’ll be here soon.”

“I—” Clark’s voice was still so hoarse, the back of his throat dry from coughing. He swallowed thickly. “I don’t know any cousins.”

Clark didn’t need to see the guy to know he had a massive, creepy smile spread across his face as he answered, “I know.”

But the smile didn’t last long, because there was suddenly a giant crash . It was hard to tell what it was—there were way too many sounds at once for Clark to have any hope of focusing on them in his state—but Clark’s eyes blew wide the moment he saw who had caused it.

Bruce?! 

Chapter Text

Clark bolted upright, at least as much as he could inside the kryptonite-lined cell. “Bruce?!”

“Clark,” the man in black responded pointedly. Batman (not “Bruce,” Clark chided himself) stood in the rubble he’d created where he’d blown open the cinderblock wall. The hole was much wider than Bruce’s actual body, but in Clark’s dazed state, he couldn’t help but imagine Batman bursting through it like the Kool Aid Man. “Good to see you.”

“Buddy, you have no idea.” Clark turned his attention back to his captor, who was knocked out by Bruce’s entrance. His powers were weak after hours of kryptonite exposure, but he could hear the man’s strange heartbeat just enough. “I think he’s waking up,” he warned his friend. “Batman, I don’t know who he is, but he clearly knows—”

“I’ll fill you in once we get out of here,” Bruce responded, cool as ever.

“He’s not leaving until we have her,” said a cruel voice, and Clark saw his captor rise into the shadows over Bruce’s armored shoulder. “You can’t stop us, Batman. No mere batarang is a match for our superior power.”

Who was this man? Clark scoured his memory desperately, but the kryptonite made things so foggy.

The man turned his terrifying smile on Clark. “You’ll remember who we are soon, Kryptonian. And you’ll wonder why you ever allied with these…humans.”

Clark summoned all his strength to climb to his feet. “You know,” he said, “I’m starting to get sick of these annoying aliens.”

Bruce cocked his head. “Does that make you the pot or the kettle?”

Clark blinked. Was Batman actually making a joke? He must be more out of it than he thought.

“It makes you dead,” his captor hissed at Bruce. But as he took a menacing step forward, Batman’s hand darted to his utility belt.

A whir sounded into the quiet, and then suddenly the strange man was howling in pain, sinking to his knees and clutching at his skull. Clark couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way his body rippled and changed. Everything elongated, bizarrely long and thin, as his skin went ghostly pale.

Clark’s memory clicked into place.

A White Martian. A deadly, warlike race of telepathic shapeshifters, responsible for the elimination of almost every Green Martian, and intent on making Earth a part of their burgeoning empire.

This…this was bad.

Bruce’s gloved fingers locked onto Clark’s forearm. “Now,” he commanded, pulling Clark bodily out of the cage. With each step away from the kryptonite, Clark’s thoughts became clearer, though he was still nowhere near his full physical strength. His mind raced—how many White Martians had made it to Earth? If they knew his identity, did they know about the boys? About Lois? How much did Bruce know about what was going on? All of his questions tripped on his tongue, fighting through his brain fog and his desperation and fear.

“There’s a prophecy,” Bruce said, somehow answering without being asked. The Martians may be psychic, but Bruce knew Clark so well that he might as well be. “It seems that Krypton and Mars had an alliance centuries ago, and now the White Martians believe that the key to their survival and domination is a union with Kryptonians. They’re seeking every remaining Kryptonian in the universe.”

Clark’s blood ran cold. “There aren’t many of us.”

“No, just five,” Bruce responded evenly. “Including the two Superboys you concealed from me.”

“Concealed—?!” Clark’s anger spiked, which nonsensically made him feel more lucid. “I hid them to keep them safe.”

“And now they both are nearly as powerful as you are,” Bruce countered. “It’s my job to monitor threats.”

“They’re my sons,” Clark gritted out. “You and I may not always see eye to eye, but I thought that, as a father, you might understand. Now I see that I was right to not tell you.”

“We don’t have time for your equivocating,” Bruce snapped. Clark let out a frustrated breath—leave it to Bruce to use the mission as an excuse to get in the last word. “Our scans indicate that there are at least two Kryptonians on Mars right now. We need you there and ready to fight.” He reached somewhere into the cavernous dark of his cape and inexplicably produced a bundle of fabric—Clark’s Superman uniform.

Clark’s eyebrows shot up. “How—”

“It’s a backup I keep on hand. I’m always prepared.”

“And people call me the boy scout.” He took the costume and summoned just enough energy to spin into it quickly. “Speaking of preparation, how did you take down that Martian?”

Bruce’s masked face was impassive as always. “Psychic distorter.”

“And where did you get a psychic distorter?”

“Same place I got this.”

Bruce touched something else on his belt and a massive roar filled the air. Clark’s ears rang as he watched in amazement; the wall in front of them opened up, a glowing oval irising out to reveal the yawning darkness of space. It was a portal, Clark realized—a Boom Tube.

The unfiltered heat of the yellow sun wafted through the portal, warming Clark’s skin enticingly and making his lingering questions feel much less important.

He turned to Bruce. “You coming?”

“Into the vacuum of space?” Bruce deadpanned. “No. I called you an Uber.”

Another roar—this time it was a motorcycle engine. The mountainous Czarnian bounty hunter known as Lobo appeared, parking his enormous front tire across the threshold of the Boom Tube. “Heya, Big Blue. Bats said you needed a ride to Mars with an energizing sun-dip detour.”

Historically, Lobo wasn’t Clark’s favorite being in the galaxy, but with his family in danger, he’d accept any help on offer. He climbed onto the back of the motorcycle, careful to keep Lobo’s greasy black mullet out of his mouth.

“Goodbye, Kal,” Bruce said, already retreating. “I’ll be keeping watch.”

“Wait, Batman!” Clark called over the revving engine, still a bit dazed. “How—how did you know this was happening?”

“We have a man on the inside,” he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching. It was the closest Bruce got to a smile. “Good luck, Superman. Go save your boys.”

“See ya, Bats!” Lobo hollered as he hit the gas, whisking Clark through the portal and into space.

Lois’ feet pounded the dirt drive as she ran. She jammed the button on the ELT again and again, wondering desperately why Clark and the boys weren’t appearing in front of her. Clark had told her years ago that he could hear the signal from anywhere on Earth. So where were they if they weren’t on Earth?

She dared to look over her shoulder. The creature that looked like her father was stalking out of the farmhouse, moving slowly but deliberately, closing in on her even as she ran.

“Where’re you headed, pumpkin?” he called, and the familiar endearment sent a chill down her spine.

But she was done humoring this monster with her father’s face. Once she entered the barn, she stopped running and stood her ground. This farm, this planet—it was her home. “Drop the act and just tell me what the hell you want.”

“Oh, pumpkin, don’t worry,” the thing said with her father’s stern mouth, his blue eyes glinting in the light of the setting sun. “We just need you out of the way. You have to know that you’re not good enough for him—don’t you, sweetheart?”

Lois sneered. “You used to think he wasn’t good enough for me.”

He sighed, running her dad’s blunt fingers through his cropped hair. “No, no. I used to think you were a distraction from his destiny, and I still think that. That’s why I’m here.”

“Is that so?” Lois backed up towards the work bench, bracing her hands against the surface. She just needed a little more time. “You were wrong then, and you’re wrong now.”

“Things change. You know that.” The thing’s skin rippled again, as if in response to her indignation. “What I want is the survival of my people. Which will come by our mating with Kal-El, as it was foretold.”

Fighting a shudder, her hands grasped behind her until she finally felt what she was looking for. “Well, like you said, things change,” she seethed. “Clark is taken. And my father is gone.”

As fast as she could, Lois lit the flare in her hand and launched it at the firewood stacked nearby. Flames erupted, and the creature’s face dropped into a very un-Sam-Lane-like expression of abject fear. It cried out—an unsettling, unearthly sound.

“Leave us the fuck alone,” Lois spat into the blaze. Then she turned and bolted out of the barn, not bothering to look back.

Jon dug his fingers into the red ground and filled his lungs with Martian air. He had just been surrounded by an army of eerie Candices, who had then morphed into even eerier Denises, and then suddenly, fire was raining from the sky.

But when the smoke cleared, the Denises had scattered into the desolate landscape, and someone even more familiar was in their place.

“Jon!” Jordan called, booking it across the terrain and immediately engulfing Jon in a bear hug. As he clutched at his brother, Jon’s heart swelled with love and relief.

Natalie—Natalie!—appeared next, wrapping the metal arms of her killsuit around them both. In the wake of being attacked by his girlfriend and his crush in the middle of Mars, he allowed himself to sink into his siblings’ embrace.

“Is it really you?” he whispered, afraid to even imagine the alternative.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Jordan responded. “Just listen.”

Jon understood, tuning into the unmistakable sound of his brother’s heartbeat. All of his doubts evaporated in an instant.

“Thank god,” he breathed, stepping out of the hug. “How did you get here? What just happened? Where did the Denises all go? Do you know what’s going on?”

Jordan and Natalie shared a glance, then Nat began to tick off answers on her fingers. “Dropped off by a flying space motorcycle, launched an incendiary missile to buy time, then the Martians bolted since they hate fire. Oh, and for the last one, you’ll have to ask her.”

She hiked a thumb over her shoulder at a petite blonde woman that Jon hadn’t noticed standing behind them. On her chest was a startlingly familiar S.

Desperately, he looked to his brother, who looked as wild-eyed as Jon felt. Another living Kryptonian, breathing the Martian air as easily as they were? More precious remnants of a long-gone world? And the S must mean…

“I’m Kara Zor-El,” the woman said, squeezing Jon’s shoulder with firm affection. “I’ve been so excited to meet you! I’m your father’s cousin, on his dad’s side.”

Somehow, everything that happened to Jon was the last thing he expected. “Holy—I can’t believe—this is—wait, you’re not evil, are you?”

Kara laughed. “Uh. I don’t think so?”

Next to them, Jordan shrugged. “She seems okay so far. She got us here and helped save you.”

Jon allowed himself a singular breath of relief. He had some experience with surprise family members dropping out of the sky, after all, and the results had been hit or miss. But Jordan’s endorsement counted for a lot.

“Dude, what questions have you asked her already?”

“Haven’t gotten to it yet,” Jordan shot back. “Been busy.”

“I have questions for you, too!” Kara jumped in. “I think I have a list on me somewhere—”

“Freeze!”

It was Natalie, and they all whirled around to find her aiming an arm cannon at one of the uncanny Denise Martians. It was strange, seeing the alien close up. She was a perfect copy in every way—until Jon x-rayed her and saw the alien organs shifting within her, seemingly unable to stay still.

“Don’t move,” Nat seethed at her. “How dare you steal our friend’s body!”

“Please don’t shoot,” Not Denise said, raising her arms in surrender. “I promise you, I come in peace.”

Jon stepped up next to Natalie defensively. “Why would we possibly believe you? Your hive mind coven just told me I’m your soulmate in a prophecy!”

“Listen to me!” she insisted. “I am not one of the White Martians. I'm here to fight by your side.”

Jordan flanked Jon’s other shoulder, his arms crossed in his steadily-improving Superman impression. “Then prove it.”

Not Denise nodded. Then, like earlier, her body began to ripple like a desert mirage.

But before she could turn into…whatever she really was, a gigantic revving motorcycle inexplicably appeared over the red horizon. It was driven by a pale, towering alien, and seated behind him was—

Jon gasped.

Superman—Jon’s dad—was off the bike and hugging them before Jon could blink, somehow containing Jon and Jordan and Natalie in his arms all at once. It was a bizarre contradiction for Jon to breathe in his dad’s familiar scent with his sneakers coated in Martian dust.

“Dad,” he muttered gratefully. “It’s you. You’re okay.”

“So are you,” his dad marveled. “I’m so happy to see all of you.”

“Hi, Kal-El,” Kara said gently, and Clark stared at her, eyes wide, before pulling her into the hug, too.

Together, they were four members of the House of El; three refugees from lost worlds; one family in one embrace. For Jon, it was a heady high. He couldn’t even imagine how his dad felt.

“Kal,” interrupted Not Denise. The group hug separated quickly, and Jon turned just in time to see her alien transformation.

Rapidly, Not Denise grew taller, her shoulders and forehead becoming inhumanly broad. X-shaped bands appeared on her chest, and her skin turned from rich brown to an unearthly green. Jon braced himself for an attack, but then he saw his dad’s face split into a relieved grin.

“Well,” Clark said. “Bruce told me we had a man on the inside.”

“That you do, old friend,” said J’onn J’onzz—the last of the Green Martians, known on Earth as the Martian Manhunter. He stepped forward to shake Superman’s hand.

Next to him, Jordan nudged Jon excitedly.

Jon couldn’t believe it either. Here he was on Mars, with all the superheroes in his biological family and, well, his dad’s friend from work. And they were ready to fight, to save themselves and the Earth where they all belonged.

“So are we gonna do this or what?” Jon asked the others. As he stared out at the surface of the planet, he let the fire spark to life within his eyes. He was ready for whatever came next.

Chapter Text

The red sands of Mars stretched before them, an endless battlefield waiting for war to begin. Jon clenched his fists, feeling the fire simmer just beneath his skin. He was ready. They all were.

“Not to interrupt the heartfelt reunion,” Lobo grumbled, swinging his leg off his bike, “but I didn’t come all this way to watch ya’ll hold hands and cry.” He cracked his knuckles, his fanged grin gleaming under the Martian sky. “Let’s bust some heads, yeah?”

Clark shot him a look before turning to J’onn. “How bad is it?”

J’onn’s green features were grave. “The White Martians have been preparing for this invasion for a long time. Their numbers are significant, but we have one advantage—they still fear fire. Your arrival here, Kal, will give them pause. But it will not stop them.”

“They want to turn Kryptonians into their breeding stock,” Kara spat, crossing her arms. “We are not going to let that happen.”

“Damn right we’re not,” Jon added. “They tried to brainwash me, told me I was their soulmate or something.” He shuddered, remembering the eerie way they’d spoken in unison, the way their stolen faces had flickered and blurred. “But I don’t care about their stupid prophecy. They’re not getting me—or any of us.”

“Agreed,” Clark said. “J’onn, do you know where they’re keeping the other captured Kryptonian?”

J’onn hesitated. “I do. But… it may not be what you expect.”

“Just tell us,” Jordan pressed. “We came here to fight. We can handle it.”

J’onn sighed and then gestured for them to follow. They moved quickly across the barren landscape, their feet kicking up clouds of red dust. Jon kept close to Jordan, every sense alert.

Then they saw it.

A vast Martian city, carved directly into the planet’s rock, lay ahead. Towering spires stretched toward the sky, their architecture twisting in ways that made Jon’s eyes hurt to look at. Strange, glowing symbols lined the walls, pulsing like living veins. And at the very center of it all, standing atop a raised dais, was…

Jon’s stomach dropped.

A Kryptonian.

Or at least, someone who looked Kryptonian. The woman had long, flowing silver hair and piercing blue eyes that almost seemed to glow. She stood with an eerie stillness, her white bodysuit stark against the red Martian stone. The House of El crest was emblazoned across her chest—but it wasn’t the one Jon knew. The familiar “S” was twisted, sharp angles and foreign script embedded within it.

Clark inhaled sharply. “Faora.”

Jon blinked. “What?!”

J’onn nodded grimly. “I tried to warn you.”

“Wait—wait—Faora? As in Zod’s Faora?” Jordan hissed. “You mean the psycho who tried to kill Mom and take over Earth? That Faora?”

“She was imprisoned in the Phantom Zone,” Clark said, fists clenched. “I don’t know how she got here, but this—this is bad.”

As if sensing them, Faora turned her head, her eerie eyes locking onto Clark’s. Then she smiled.

“Kal-El,” she called, her voice smooth as silk. “How wonderful that you could join us.”

The shadows behind her moved.

Jon tensed as a dozen White Martians emerged from the darkness, their elongated limbs shifting grotesquely, their red eyes gleaming with hunger. They surrounded Faora like a twisted honor guard.

“Stand down,” Clark ordered, stepping forward. “We’re taking our people home.”

Faora laughed—a quiet, cold sound. “You assume I am a prisoner.”

Jon’s blood turned to ice.

“She’s not a hostage,” J’onn realized aloud. “She’s an ally.”

Faora smirked. “Very good, J’onn J’onzz. Your mind is as sharp as ever.” She tilted her head, considering them. “You see, Kal-El, unlike you, I understand what it means to be a true Kryptonian. Our race was never meant to die out like weaklings, scattering across the stars. We were meant to rule. And now, thanks to our new allies, we will.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Kara shouted. “You’re working with White Martians?! Do you know what they’ve done? What they are?!”

Faora waved a hand dismissively. “The past is irrelevant. Only the future matters now.”

“And what is this ‘future’ exactly?” Clark demanded. “Tell me, Faora. What do you think happens next?”

Faora’s eyes glowed.

“We remake Krypton. And we do it our way.”

Then all hell broke loose.

The White Martians moved—a blur of shifting limbs and razor-sharp claws. Jon barely had time to react before one of them was lunging for his throat. He ducked, lashing out with a super-powered punch that sent the alien flying.

“FIRE!” J’onn bellowed.

Jordan was already ahead of him. His eyes blazed red-hot, and in an instant, two White Martians screamed as they ignited, their bodies twisting and warping before they fled into the shadows.

Kara shot into the air, slamming into another Martian mid-flight, sending it crashing into the rocky ground below. She turned sharply toward Faora, eyes burning. “I should have known you’d pull something like this!”

Faora only smiled. “Then let’s see if you can stop me, little cousin.”

Then she was moving, her body a blur of silver and white as she tackled Kara out of the sky.

Jon lost sight of them as he dodged another attack, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He spared a glance toward Clark, who was currently engaged in brutal combat with two White Martians at once, his strength returning rapidly in the presence of the sun. Lobo, meanwhile, was laughing maniacally as he swung his chain, sending aliens flying like ragdolls.

“You enjoying this, Lobo?!” Jon called.

“Kid, this is the best day of my damn life!”

Jon rolled his eyes, dodging a swipe at the last second. He caught sight of J’onn and Natalie fighting side by side, the Martian using his shapeshifting to outmaneuver their foes while Nat’s battle suit unleashed a storm of firepower.

And then, right in the middle of it all, was Jordan.

Jon watched in shock as his brother stood his ground against three White Martians at once, fire dancing in his eyes as he dared them to attack.

Jon grinned.

That was his brother. That was his family.

And they were winning.

For the first time since he’d woken up on this planet, Jon truly believed it.

They were going to make it out of this.

They were going to go home.

Chapter Text

Home.

The moment the word formed in his mind, silence swallowed everything. Not the simple quiet of sound fading, but suffocation. Air itself ceased to exist, leaving nothing for sound to ride on. It pressed Jon down and inward. Deep and heavy and pulsing like the silence in nightmares that coils around you and doesn't let go.

The light followed dimming and fading until Jon was left in absolute darkness. He wasn’t standing. He wasn’t floating. He wasn’t anything.

Then came the whispers.

They slithered through him, jolting and creeping, crawling up his veins, reaching his ears. Fast, incomprehensible, somewhere between words and wind, yet speaking not to his mind, but to his very being.

The brainwashing must have left a fracture behind. And now something was tracing it back, slipping in through the spider-cracks, reaching for him.

Jon's breath was burning in his lungs, tides of panic slowly swelling.

What the hell was happening?

Where was everyone?

Where was he?

What of the battle?

They were winning—damn it, they were winning!

“Winning.”

The voice slipped in like a breeze, lighter than air, brighter than the sun. “Who’s really winning here, Jon?”

He tried to speak, but no sound came. His voice was locked somewhere between consciousness and whatever this was. Like in his nightmares, he wanted to scream, but w ords wouldn’t come. Voice wouldn’t form. He wanted to demand who was there—but he couldn’t.

“I’m me. And I’m part of you. As I’m part of everyone before us, as I’ll be part of everyone that comes after.” The voice didn’t pierce the darkness, it was one with it, silk and steel. “ I am part of Krypton, and Krypton of me. Just as you are. Not that it matters. You know what matters, Jon?”

Faora. It had to be her.

Her form shimmered into shape in the void.

“What matters,” she said, stepping forward, “is that you were meant to be more. You are meant to be more. The fact that we are here now, connecting this way—being to being, blood to blood, conscience to conscience—should tell you that. You must feel the power.”

And Jon could. He could feel the power, blossoming inside him, flaming up, shocking in its intensity. 

“There it is, yes,” Faora mused. “So much more than the shortsighted people in your life try to persuade you of. Greatness, Jon. They don't get you. They can't and they won't, not now, not ever.” 

This wasn’t real.

This was just the remnants of the brainwashing, echoes he hadn’t fully silenced. They didn’t matter. They didn’t—

“They don’t matter?” she echoed, taking a slow step forward and her presence wasn’t just seen—it was felt, as if she were woven into the very fabric of the blackness that surrounded them.

“Oh, Jon. You don’t believe that.” 

The whispers curled around his limbs, slithering into his bones and they no longer spoke in nonsense—they spoke in truths. Fragments of thoughts he’d buried deep.

You’ll never be like them.

Not human, not Kryptonian. Just… in-between.

A shadow, always chasing something you’ll never be. 

Never enough. Never ever enough.

Faora smiled like she could hear them, see them, taste them. “Tell me, Jon… when you stand beside your father, your brother, your mother—do you truly feel seen? Do you truly feel understood?”

Jon clenched his fists, fire flickering right behind his eyelids that he couldn’t let loose, but the anger didn’t ground him, it made the shadows stretch further and tighter.

They love me, he thought with everything he had, fighting through it all. They love me and I love them, that’s all that matters.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. But love contrary to human belief is never enough.” She took another step closer. “Love tells you what you want to hear. What you want others to hear. Understanding, though, Jon, true and deep understanding, tells you what you need to hear. And I understand you. We understand you. Better than anyone ever has.”

No. No. No. 

His family loved him, and love was more important than anything else, and this was not real, none of this was real. He’d snap out of it. Come to it. Keep fighting. Any second now.

Then the darkness rippled and he felt his arm lifting slowly to its own accord. Eyes horrified as he watched his hand curl around something he couldn't see, but that throbbed with life, with pulse. 

The faintest of screams pierced the darkness for a second, but disappeared the next and he couldn't get his hand to uncurl, no matter how hard he tried. 

“Kryptonians were never meant to hide their strength. To beg for scraps of belonging. You feel it, don’t you? The wrongness of it all?”

Jon gritted his teeth, shaking his head, but the words kept sinking deeper.

“You are meant for more. Not to follow. Not to struggle in a world that will never be yours, that will never see you as theirs. But to rise. To lead.”

The shadows twisted, the suffocating void melting into light.

Golden horizon stretching before him. Towers of gleaming crystal rose into the sky, reaching toward two suns that bathed everything in warmth. Krypton. Krypton pulsing through him. Calling him. 

Him in the center of it all.

Kryptonians—hundreds, thousands—not bowing. Not cowering. Chanting his name. Waving. Looking at him with love and adoration and hope. 

Jon’s breath stilled.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Faora’s voice whispered, though she was nowhere to be seen. “This is what should have been. What still can be. You’re the prince of Krypton, Jon. You’re the one we were promised.”

His grip tightened, the pulse of whatever –whoever– he was choking throbbing in his palm frantic, something scratching at his skin, but his eyes were drilled to the image before him. 

A voice weak and distant and distorted screamed at him it was all a lie. That she was manipulating him. That they were almost there and he should get back to his family, stop hurting whoever he was hurting, win the fight…

“This is winning, Jon. This is you. This is all you truly want to. Your legacy and your fate. Your family, they can be spared, live like royalty, see you create the Krypton all universes will bow to. And then, then they'll understand…”

No. No. No. This wasn't real. This didn't matter. This wasn't home. 

Home. 

The second he thought of the word, it all unraveled as fast as it had weaved into existence and Jon opened his eyes with a shuddering gasp. 

Chapter Text

What was he doing? This wasn’t who he was. Saving Krypton—being worshiped by its denizens—that wasn’t his desire. It was Faora—or whatever remnant of her that still remained—clinging to dear life, inside his head. It was the brainwashing. But Faora was rapidly fading. Jon could feel that now. And she knew. That’s why she was fighting so hard to sway him. The more he fought against her, the more she slipped away. 

But as Jon’s mind cleared, as he began to focus on home—on family—the more she lost her grasp.

He could no longer see Faora in his vision. She was just a faint voice in the back of his mind. Reality was returning. He remembered where he was. Who he had been fighting. Looking down, all he could see was his own hands as they squeezed that person’s neck. Their body felt limp. Jon let go and they fell with a thud. 

Oh God. What had he done? How had he allowed Faora to manipulate him like this?

“What you were meant to be!” Faora whispered in his ear.

He squeezed his eyes shut as a fat tear dripped down his cheek. No, this was never what he was meant to be. He was Jon Kent, son of Clark Kent. Of Lois Lane. He wasn’t the blood of a conquerer. He was the voice of the downtrodden. 

“I’m sorry,” Jon choked out. 

The body in front of him was a bloody mess. It was barely breathing. And he had done this—he’d done this while under Faora’s spell, but it was his hands that had done the deed. 

His knees went weak as he fought a losing fight with gravity to stay upright. As he tumbled toward the floor, his vision became blurry once more. This time, as his vision faded, it was not Faora’s face that he saw, but his father’s. And mother’s. And grandfather’s. A look a disgust and hatred was upon all their faces. How could he have done this? How could he have been so weak?

The last thing he heard, before he gave up into the dark abyss of subconsciousness, was his father calling is name. 

Jon was floating. No—flying. There was wind beneath his… everything. After all that had happened, all the pain and suffering, after how close his mind had come to being shattered, none of that seemed to matter anymore. He was at peace now. He soared through the sky in the warm, comforting embrace of a cloud. A cloud that kept rhythmically beating three thumps at a time.

Jon awoke on top of a hard surface with a stiff back. Where was he? What had happened? The glowing lights of a cavern-like ceiling above gave few answers.

“He’s awake,” an almost computer-like voice said. 

Jon turned his aching neck toward the shimmering form of his holographic grandmother standing by his bedside. 

“Jon?” a familiar voice said, but Jon was too tired to move even his head again. It took a moment to recognize the voice as his father’s, and once he did, Jon lost the desire to move anyway. After all that had happened, Dad wouldn’t really want to see Jon, would he?

Jon just blinked at his grandmother, hoping her AI was smart enough to see how tired he was and just explain it to his father. 

“Cognitive abilities are functioning,” Grandma Lara said. “You should be able to speak to him now.”

Jon groaned. Typical. The hologramparents never got anything right. 

Something grasped his hand. Couldn’t be Dad. Sure, the only other person he’d seen so far was Grandma Lara, and she was just a hologram—made of light—but Dad wouldn’t want to touch him. Not now. Not after what he’d become. 

“Hey buddy,” Dad said, “you with us?” 

It was just the kind of thing Dad would have said to start off a comforting snuggle—back when Jon deserved those kinds of things. But he didn’t anymore. He didn’t deserve comfort. He deserved suffering.  

Faora had come so close to winning. In a way, she had won. In the end Jon had fought her off, but not before losing a part of himself. He would have to live with what he had done. 

“My mom said that you’re in there—that you’re okay… but if you need some time… that’s okay… I’ll just wait here with you.”

He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve Dad. He bit down on his lip to clamp down on tears that were daring to slip down his cheeks. Those would only further Dad’s attempts to comfort him.

“Jonathan.”

“Go away.” Jon’s own voice was shaky. It cracked. He gasped for air as he fought back a sob.

“Shh, shh,” Dad said as Jon felt a warm touch on his arm.

Then another hand. “Where here, baby. We’re not going anywhere.” Mom. 

Jon lost the battle and tears spilled out. 

“No—no.” Jon shot up on the table-like bed they placed him on and tried to wiggle himself out of his parents’ grasp. “The battle—I—I—I hurt—I” He couldn’t get the words out. He wasn’t sure what he was even trying to say. 

The more words he said, the more sobs that escaped. As his rapid sobs became more shallow, the room began to spin and he was hit was a sudden case of vertigo. His heart pounded in a way like he had never remembered it beating before. 

Was this a heart attack? No, that was crazy. He was too young and in too good health.

But… considering everything he had been through… Was this a side effect of the brainwashing? Or even one last present from Faora?

Yes, that’s what this was. His brain was fractured and now his body was falling apart along side it. At least his family wouldn’t have to live with his failures anymore. 

“In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”

Jon’s head turned on a snap at one last final voice. Jordan. He had been standing behind Mom… hiding behind her maybe. There was a look of fear in his eyes. Or maybe… was that concern?

Jordan reached out, slowly, like Jon was some sort of caged animal, until their fingers finally touched, and Jordan took Jon’s hand in his own. “Breathe in through your nose, Jon.”

It was hard to listen. Hard to obey. His body felt so out of control. But he tried. He shifted over to nose breathing, and then started following Jordan’s instructions completely. And soon enough, his breathing slowed down. 

Once his breaths had finally slowed to a four-count, his mind had eased enough to think clearly again.

“Was… was that a panic attack?” Jon asked. 

Jordan smiled sheepishly. “I guess maybe? It’s… it’s not a big deal. I get them all the time.”

Not a big deal for Jordan, maybe.

Jon looked away from his brother—from his whole family. He straightened up on the bed and tried to make sense of what had happened. 

Faora was gone. His mind was his own again. And someone—his dad probably, had rescued him—brought him to the Fortress. But that still didn’t answer the most important question. 

“The battle, guys. What happened… did I hurt anyone?”

The mournful looks said all he needed to hear.

He never should have woken up. It would have been better to keep dreaming for the rest of eternity. 

“It wasn’t you,” Jordan said.

“Yes it was.”

“No, it wasn’t. Look, when Zeta-Rho mind-controlled me, was that my fault?”

Jon remembered when his brother’s fingers had grasped around his throat. Squeezing. Just like Jon had done…

“It’s not the same,” Jon said. “We snapped you out of that.”

“And we snapped you out too. Jon, I get what the guilt feels like. I’ve dealt with it too. But it’s not your fault. The people who did this to you—the voice inside your head—it’s their fault. But not yours. You’re just another victim. This is just another thing they’re responsible for.”

Logically, he knew Jordan was right. But his emotions rarely listened to logic. 

Jon shook his head. What had happened was his fault. It was all his fault. 

Mom sat down on the bed next to him. “Jordan, do you remember how long you blamed yourself after Zeta-Rho?”

Jordan grimaced. The answer was “damn long.” Jon wasn’t even sure if Jordan ever had forgiven himself. But what was her point? Did she think Jordan deserved the guilt? Did that mean… did she think Jon did too? He knew he did, but she wasn’t supposed to agree. 

Mom reached over to Jon and began to rub circles on his back. “It’s okay if you’re upset with yourself, Jon. We’ll get you through this. But we’re going to keep telling you the truth.” She placed her other hand on his chin, turning it so he’d face her. “This is not your fault, honey. Never was.”

Tears welled up in his eyes again. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

“I know,” she said with a frown. “But you have nothing to be sorry for. You’ve done nothing wrong.” She pulled him into a hug, one that Jordan, and then Dad, quickly joined. “We’ll get you through this, sweetheart. As a family. We always do.”