Chapter Text
Heartbeat pounding against his ribcage, threatening to burst out of its confines. Shallow breaths, in rapid succession, sucked into his lungs. In and out. In and out. The staircase thumps under his feet, his speed. Rushing upstairs. He had to get out of there, out of the kitchen, creating distance between him and his mistake. Couldn’t stay, sit at the table, under his father’s accusatory gaze. He knows something happened, that they’re hiding it, and Jordan is the culprit. Breakfast was an act, a lie of normalcy, to deceive not only his family but himself. Except, nothing is normal. He can’t pretend it is. It’ll never be normal again, and it’s his fault. Dug its grave and pushed it in.
Throwing his room door open, Jordan enters, and promptly slams it shut behind him. Vision blurs, losing focus, as it jumps around the room that once brought him a sense of comfort, of safety. Retreat when life got too stressful, out of control, and needed a quiet place to settle, muse on and process his feelings. Absorb the atmosphere, warm blanket, a lit candle. Familiar walls decorated to their max capacity with posters, album covers, whatever drawing Jon allowed him to tear out of his sketchbook. None of it would work. Not this time.
Growing panic nears its peak. The walls close in, his chest tightens, lungs constricting and leaving him breathless. Vibrations ripple across the floorboards, sending Jordan tumbling backwards and colliding hard with the floor. It’s all spinning. Previously beloved posters moving their eyes, shifting focus onto him, spotlighted under their beams of judgment, causing the young man to scoot backwards. Peripheral vision catches it, but refuses to look, its looming presence an adequate substitute. Shadowy figure stood in front of his TV, over the spare controller Jonathan would use to play, glaring with an unnatural, magenta gaze.
Jordan squeezes his eyes shut, blocking out the haunting. Words stumbling off his tongue, he whimpers, “I– I didn’t.. I didn’t mean to.”
They were just having fun. Mom and dad were gone for the night. They took the opportunity. The lakeside with Sarah and Denise, a final hangout before Sarah left for Greece, her exchange student program about to begin. The road was unfamiliar, along twists and turns, but it was a shortcut. That’s all that mattered. They were so tired, wanting to return home. Jon had work in the morning.
“It was an accident.”
Two objects came from the forest, rolling down the cliff side and into the road. Locked in battle. Too large to be any regular animal. Their attention was elsewhere, busy in discussion, keeping themselves awake. The radio was playing music. He didn’t notice until–
SCREECH!
Eyes snap open. To his relief, his room had returned to normal, no longer mimicking some kind of fun house from hell. Even having its own mirror with warped reflection, what a delight. He always despised those carnival fun houses. Eventually, he finds it possible to breathe easy, inhaling his first steady breath in what felt like hours. His phone buzzes, notifying the arrival of a text message. Rising to his feet, wobbling legs carrying a shaky Jordan to his dresser. Unlocking his phone, the text goes unread, instantly observing the name who sent it. Jonathan. Whatever he’s saying, important or not, Jordan didn’t care. Staring at his brother’s name illuminated on screen, a lump forms in his throat and tears burn in the corners of his eyes.
CRASH!
He inhales a sharp gasp, then drops his phone as if it was a hot stone held in hand. Backing up, he takes another controlled breath. Not again. Stay calm. Keep composure.
“No. It’s fine.” He reassures aloud. If he said it firmly enough, maybe he’d believe it. “It’s been days, and nothing happened. That night–” He swallows thickly. Refusing to allow his brain to act as a sheet for another flashback to project onto, Jordan shakes his head and dries wet eyes with a wipe from his shirt sleeve. That night was just a hiccup. Yeah.
Magic, or what Mister Mxyzptlk’s power actually is, having a side effect or two is guaranteed. He was a reality warping, trickster demi-god, after all. A year ago, he appeared in their universe, reshaped Smallville into a giant board game and the residents into pieces, for his own amusement of course. After learning his weaknesses: saying his own name backwards, dad banished his annoying ass back to whatever reality he came crawling out of.
But an orb had been left behind. A small, glowing ball pulsing with a nearly unstoppable, limitless, power. One chance to harness the ability to alter reality, change fate, do whatever you want just by speaking it. Dad relocated it to the Fortress, storing it alongside its fellow artifacts left behind by villains, too dangerous to destroy. It’s safe at the Fortress.
….. it was safe at the Fortress.
A knock at his door. Jordan winces, jerking his head to face the noise. “Jordan?”
Deflating, shoulders losing tension. Too drained to feel anything besides a faint exasperation. Intentions of laying in bed and numbly staring at his ceiling ruined. Jordan sighs, easing the nerves bubbling in his stomach.
“What’s up?”
In the doorway, his father stands, so painfully awkward it makes Jordan internally cringe. And here he thought no one could rival him in high school, standing in the corner at a party. How to start this conversation, obvious he didn’t know. Aimlessly picking at his nails and scratching his neck. A good thirty seconds pass before his father speaks. “It’s a nice morning; I’m going for a walk. If you’d like to join?”
He’s smiling but Jordan doesn’t buy it.
Speed of his heart. Off balanced breathing. Eyes red and puffy. The second that door opened, his father noticed, noted, and stored it in his memory files for ‘proof’. Why he’s not pointing it out, questioning his son’s appearance, probably because it’s a part of this solo investigation he put himself on. Clark Kent isn't one to place blame unless he has all the facts and an unbreakable combination of evidence.
This friendly invitation to walk has ulterior motivates
To trap Jordan, treat him as a suspect and probe for information. Subtly. Disguised as a casual discussion, using the correct question to get the wanted answer with Jordan none the wiser. He’s not stupid. And that’s why he agrees to go. Hurl a wrench into his father’s clue board.
“Sure.”