Chapter Text
The tension in the Daily Planet bullpen was thick enough to cut with a copy spike, and it was entirely centered on the glass-walled conference room.
Perry White paced the length of the long mahogany table like a caged lion, a rolled-up edition of the morning paper gripped in his fist like a baton. His suspenders were strained, his tie was loosened, and his face was a shade of red that usually signaled an impending heart attack.
"Lame!" Perry barked, slamming the rolled paper onto the table right in front of Ron Troupe. "A three-part investigative series on the city's new zoning permits for parking garages? What is this, Ron, the Metropolis Gazette? We are a metropolitan newspaper! I need blood, I need teeth, I need something that makes the mayor sweat through his undershirt!"
Ron winced, pulling his notepad back defensively. "Perry, it's a deep dive into corporate kickbacks-"
"Save it for the obituary section, because that's where this pitch just went to die!" Perry turned his glare to the rest of the table. "Who’s next? Don't all choke at once."
Sitting near the end of the table, Clark Kent was only half-listening. His glasses sat slightly crooked on his nose, and his notebook was completely blank. His attention was entirely arrested by the woman sitting across from Perry.
Lois Lane didn't look intimidated in the slightest. In fact, she looked thrilled. She leaned forward, her jaw set, her eyes flashing with that fierce, brilliant light that always left Clark slightly breathless.
"If Ron’s out, I’m in," Lois said, her voice cutting through the defeated murmurs of the room like a razor. She leaned onto her elbows, looking Perry dead in the eye. "Intergang is moving weapon shipments through the suicide slums using legitimate shipping containers registered to LexCorp subsidiaries. I’ve got a source at the docks who’s willing to talk, but I need a green light to follow the paper trail before Luthor’s legal team buries it."
"It's too risky, Lane!" Perry snapped back, leaning over the table to match her posture. "Luthor watches his shell companies like a hawk. You get caught sniffing around his docks, and he won't just sue us, he'll buy the paper just to fire you!"
"Then let him try!" Lois shot back, standing up, her hands planted on the table. "Since when does the Daily Planet pull punches because a billionaire is holding the gloves? If we don't run this story, the City Pulse will, and we’ll be left looking like Luthor's public relations firm!"
Clark watched her, a quiet, helpless smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He loved the passion in her voice, the way she refused to back down an inch. She was a force to be reckoned with.
He was absolutely whipped.
BRRRRR-BEEP-BEEP!
The sudden, jarring sound shattered the room's tension. It wasn't the standard, generic chirp of a smartphone. It was a loud, high-pitched, incredibly synthesized electronic rendition of "I'm a Little Teapot."
“I’m a little teapot, short and stout! Here is my handle, here is my-“
The entire conference room went dead silent. Lois stopped mid-sentence, her eyebrows shooting up. Perry slowly turned his head, his glaring eyes locking directly onto Clark.
Clark froze, a look of sheer, burning mortification washing over his face. He scrambled frantically into his jacket pocket, years of self-control the only thing keeping him from crushing the phone to pieces as he tried to silence it.
From the other side of the conference table, a loud, obnoxious snicker broke the silence.
Steve Lombard chuckled, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head, a smug, self-satisfied grin plastered across his face. "Nice ringtone, Kent. What’s next on your playlist, the Barney theme song? Did your mommy pick that out for you so you wouldn't miss your afternoon nap?"
A few of the younger interns snickered, and Clark’s face burned a deep crimson. He knew exactly what had happened. Lombard must have snatched his phone off his desk while Clark was down in the archives. It was just like the time Lombard had mocked him for calling his parents during his first week at the paper, always looking for a way to paint the 'farm boy' as a joke.
"Mr. Kent," Perry White said, his voice dropping into a dangerously low, gravelly rumble. "Unless that teapot is whispering the exclusive identity of the Batman, you had better turn it off before I throw it out the window. Along with you."
"I am so sorry, Chief. Truly," Clark stammered, his fingers finally hitting the mute button. He looked down at the glowing screen to power it down, intending to apologize again and tuck it away.
Then his heart stopped.
The caller ID didn't say Steve Lombard, and it wasn't a prank number.
The screen read: Ma.
It was 10:15 on a Thursday morning. Martha Kent never called him at the office during working hours unless it was an absolute crisis.
Instantly, the embarrassing ringtone and Steve Lombard's smug face vanished from Clark's reality. A cold, heavy spike of raw adrenaline shot through his veins. His mind immediately raced back to Smallville, to the girl living in his old bedroom. Kara. Had she had another nightmare? Had her powers come through only to flare out of control? Had she hurt herself?
He stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floorboards.
"Perry, I—I have to take this," Clark said, his voice suddenly completely stripped of its usual mild-mannered tremor. There was a sharp, unyielding urgency in his tone that made Lois look at him with a focused, curious frown.
"Kent, we are in the middle of a brainstorm meeting-" Perry started.
"It's my mother. It's an emergency," Clark interrupted cleanly, already moving toward the glass door. "I'm sorry."
Before Perry could roar a response, Clark ducked out of the conference room, the heavy glass door clicking shut behind him as he pressed the phone to his ear, his breath catching in his throat as he braced himself for whatever disaster was waiting on the other end of the line.
“Ma, is everyone okay?” The words rushed out of his mouth as he searched for a quiet corner where he wouldn’t be overheard, already looking for a way to duck out unnoticed if he had to rush home. He could always crawl out of the bathroom vents again.
“Clark you have to come home right now,” came his mother’s demand from the other end of the line, the panic in her voice adding urgency to his steps as he quickly ducked into the male bathrooms. “Kara’s gone. We have no idea how long she’s been out but she left a note and she’s not coming back, Clark, so you have to come home and find her. Pa’s already out looking.”
A chill ran through his body as his mind involuntarily pictured every which way a little girl all on her own on the streets could end up hurt. He could only hope that she didn’t get far.
“I’m on my way.” Clark said in lieu of a goodbye and quickly hung up, tearing off his suit and balling it up under his arm. He was out the bathroom vent in a flash, the clothes in his arms thrown haphazardly onto the rooftop where he’ll collect them later.
First he had to go find his cousin, then he had to bring her home. Perry could eat a brick for all Clark cared about the consequences of missing the rest of that meeting.
— — —
He made it to the farm in minutes, his mother already waiting for him at the edge of the property, a piece of white paper clutched in her hands.
“I knew something was wrong.” She cried as soon as he was within reach, giving him the note and covering her face with her now free hands to wipe at her eyes. “That poor sweet girl was retreating so fiercely into herself, I should have noticed the signs sooner. I should have done something.” She admonished herself.
Clark’s eyes scanned the note hastily, lines of worry etching themselves across his forehead as his lips pursed.
It was a goodbye. Kara must have taken her time with the note with how neat it was, but the message was very clear. She left and she didn’t want them following her. There was a part thanking them for all that they’d done, and a confession that she felt that she was too much of a burden for them so she decided that it would be better for everyone if she left.
What a load of horse hockey!
Clark was irritated, but his mother was in distress so he had to calm her down first before he went out to find his cousin. With both hands on her shoulders, Clark firmly rooted her in the present again, “I’m going to find her, Ma. I have literal super powers. If anyone can get her back it’s me.”
His mother was shaking her head at him though, giving him that look she gave him when she thought he was being stubborn or missing something, “she doesn’t want to come back, Clark.” She pointed out, gesturing at the note, and he couldn’t possibly understand her less. So what if she didn’t want to come back? She’s a kid! Her staying with them wasn’t up for debate.
“She’s thirteen, Ma. She doesn’t get to make that choice.” Clark pointed out the obvious, taking a few steps back so the gust of wind and dust he’ll leave in his wake doesn’t hurt his mother.
“Clark, wait-“
But he was already gone.
— — —
He could see all of Smallville from up here, but Kara was smart. He knew she wouldn’t go for the town center. She’s somewhere on the outskirts, he could feel it.
He put his fingers to his mouth and let out a whistle that was at a high enough frequency only certain animals could hear it. Mainly dogs.
A cacophony of barks assaulted his ears almost immediately. But the thing about Krypto was that he wasn’t just any dog, he was an alien. And for some reason, alien dogs didn’t quite sound the same as any dog Clark had encountered here on Earth. Maybe it’s something only his super-hearing could pick up on, but whatever made his barks different made it easier for him to pick them out from the sea of noises. He cocked his head in the direction the sound came from and thanked his lucky stars he could only see a couple roads and fields for at least a hundred miles. It would be easy to spot a lone girl and a dog walking along the side of the road.
And spot them he did. It took him just shy of seven minutes to find his cousin walking alone down the road leading out of town, Krypto at her feet, her bag slung over both shoulders and looking like it was weighing her down. Krypto saw him first, gave an excited bark as he turned to look up at Kara, then back at Clark. The small pup faltered for a second, looked like he was about to go to Clark, before he ultimately chose to stay with his girl.
“Kara!” Clark called after her, saw her register his voice, the falter in her step. She paused for what could have only been a second, then the girl had the audacity to just keep walking.
“Kara, stop! Where are you even going, huh? What’s the plan here?” He stalked after her. His strides were long enough that he could have easily caught up, but he kept a few feet of distance between them. He honestly didn’t know what he’d do if he reached her and she refused to go back with him. At this point, he wouldn’t put it past himself to just pick her up, sling her over one shoulder like a haystack, and march her back home to buy time to talk some sense into her later. But he didn’t want to resort to that—she’d only run away again—so he continued to follow her as he tried to reason with her.
“We can talk this out back home. I know you’re angry at me for not coming over last weekend but I think this is taking it a bit to the extreme.”
Complete silent treatment. She gave no indication that she even heard him. He started to panic.
“Kara Zor-El you get back here right now or I swear to God-“
She finally stopped, halting mid-stride so abruptly that she startled the words right out of his mouth. For a moment that stretched on, they just stood there: him frozen in place, clueless as to what to do; her with her back to him, refusing to turn. She yielded first, turning around so that they faced each other.
“Do you not read?” She spoke first, breaking the silence with a sharp accusation in a foreign language and a heavy accent. The look she was giving him reminded him of Ms Blanchard, his fourth grade English teacher who was known for her endless patience with difficult students but somehow his restlessness and inability to focus in class tested that claim and pushed it to its limits. Kara looked like her now, someone who was on a tipping edge.
“I leave a note. I write clear. In English.” She added after, when it appeared to her that he wasn’t going to answer her first question.
“I read your note.” Clark finally spoke up, the words coming out sharper than he had meant them to be. He wanted to take them back, soften the edges, make them dull and incapable of breaking the thin ice they treaded on. He couldn’t, so he made sure he gentled his next, “But you can’t just up and leave your family like that. You’re thirteen-“
“I already leave my family. The Kents are not family. My family is dead.” Kara cut him off, her words delivered with such stillness and nonchalance it visibly shook him.
“That’s not true.” He tried to rebut, but that was as far as his argument went before she scoffed at him, a dark grin tugging at the corners of her lips even as her eyes welled with tears.
“Which part is not true? My family is dead or the Kents are not family?” She asked, moving a step closer, hands shoved in the pockets of her hoodie and her body language relaxed and uncaring in sharp contrast to her words, “Because I am sure both is true. The Kents are kind but they are not my family. They are human. I am not. I watch my people die. My family get sick. The ground was poison. They are dead. And I am alone. It is true.”
“But I’m right here!” Clark rebutted, his tone dripping in frustration and rising in volume as he pointed to himself, trying to remind her of their familial ties. “I’m your family.”
“You are Clark!” She spat back, louder than him, angrier. His confusion must have been written all over his face because she continued, “You are not Kal-El. You are not family. Family is dead. Krypton is dead. Kal-El is a ghost and you are human.” She said the last word as an insult, though he took offense to all of it, taking a visible step back as if to get out of the line of her fire.
He wasn’t scared of her, but he was hurt. He couldn’t help but let her words get to him. And she knew that, she could see that she hurt him.
For a moment they stood off in silence, Kara out of words, Clark lost for them. Kara looked at him and her face softened then crumbled. Tears sprung to her eyes and she frowned in frustration. She turned away from him and pinched the bridge of her nose against the oncoming headache. She was tired of crying.
She was tired in general.
“I just want to go home.” She whimpered, the words Kryptonian because they weren’t meant for Clark, but she wanted to hear her own language again, wanted the comfort it brought when little else did.
“I know.”
She involuntarily gasped, turning back to him so fast her world spun. The accent was atrocious, he knew, the words coming out awkward and wrong. But they were undeniably Kryptonian. It must have been her first time hearing the language from something other than a machine or her own mouth in over a month.
“Clark-“ she started, and he could see the questions written across her face, she wanted to know when he learned that, or why he never practiced with her, or even told her he was making an attempt to learn. He should have realized earlier how much this would mean to her, but he was so self-conscious of his progress compared to hers that he kept it under wraps and hoped he would’ve been able to continue doing so until he at least got to a conversational level, then he could surprise her. He genuinely thought that was a good plan.
“We build a new-… We build. Us.” The words came out chopped but he was sure she understood him. She’d just used the word home but she said it too fast he couldn’t even attempt to copy her pronunciation.
She started crying in earnest, shaking her head in refusal. Clark’s arms felt empty with the need to hold her—he hated seeing people in distress in general, but this was worse because she was his family—yet he kept a respectful distance.
“No, Clark. I want to go home. I want to go home. Take me home. Please. Help me fix the pod and send me on my way and you won’t have to worry about me again. I want to see my parents again. I need them.” She begged, breaking his heart with every plea she made.
“I can’t, Kara.” He said apologetically, hands pressed to his chest over his heart like the sincerity of the words and the gesture would make the fact she knew to be true easier to digest somehow. “We are all that is left of them now. It’ll have to do.”
“It’s not enough!” She cried out, stomping her foot in frustration. He held his hands out placatingly, like she was a cornered animal he was trying to soothe. She didn’t let him comfort her, instead she continued to air his misgrievences. “We aren’t all that’s left of them. I’m all that’s left of them. You may be the last son of Krypton, but I’m the last true Kryptonian. The language, the culture, the history, it all dies with me.”
“Then teach me! I promise I will learn the language, I will learn our customs! And one day I’ll pass it on to my children, and you will pass it on to yours. Krypton will live on through us, but that can’t happen if you leave.” He tried to reason, studying her face to see if he was winning the argument. Something flashed across her features, an expression he couldn’t quite decipher, and then it was gone, replaced by a cold 'gotcha' moment.
“You left first,” she pointed out matter-of-factly, switching back to cold English. Clark shrunk into himself with shame.
She was right. He did leave first. He was a fool to think that leaving her at the farm wasn’t basically abandoning her. He didn’t manage to call every night like he promised, he was already skipping weekends before they were even a whole month in, he was slacking off before they even really began. She was struggling and his parents could see that and they tried to warn him but he still turned a blind eye, hoping that everything would magically resolve itself.
“You’re right.” He admitted, finally gathering up the courage to meet her eyes. “I messed up and I’m sorry. I truly did think I was doing what was best for you by keeping you at the farm but I see now that I was wrong.” He continued, squaring up his shoulders with newfound determination. This new plan was going to work. This was the right path. It had to be, he was running out of options.
“Come live with me in Metropolis.” He offered, watching her eyes widen at the prospect, so he continued, painting her a clearer picture, “I’ll still have my day job, and being Superman is pretty demanding, but at least that way we’ll get to spend more time together. I promise I’ll make it work, just give me another chance to prove it.”
Kara considered him for a moment, and he could practically see the gears turning in her head, a wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows as she furrowed them in thought. He wondered why it looked so familiar for a moment, before remembering the picture Lois took of him while he was locked in in front of his computer, focused on his next article, and she wanted to tease him for how serious he looked when he was thinking.
In that moment, the family resemblance was uncanny. You’d think she was his sister, not just his cousin.
“It changes nothing. It doesn’t bring our family back and it doesn’t bring me any closer to the home I’ll never get back to.” She switched back to Kryptonian, arms folded across her chest, unwavering in her resolve.
“It changes everything.” He countered, “It won’t bring our family back but you can help me keep their memory alive. It won’t bring you closer to home but together we can build a new one.”
She just shrugged, and Clark was left feeling helpless. He was negotiating with a child, and a stubborn one at that. He had one more card up his sleeve, but he didn’t want to use it, he didn’t want to put that weight on her shoulders. But she left him no other choice.
“It is your duty, Cousin.” He reminded her, using the formal Kryptonian word for the title he had picked up from her.
“You promised our parents to teach me our customs, our way of life. You’ll be failing your mission if you leave now. And what little I know of our House leaves me certain that the House of El does not give up this easily.”
Her hands fell to her sides and her fists clenched in frustration. He knew he had her then. But he hated that he had to evoke the memory of their dead parents to realize his goal.
She marched over to him then, Krypto hot on her tails. She stopped only a foot away, seizing him up, admonishing him with just a look alone for stooping that low. The dog had no such qualms, already propping himself on Clark’s hip and reaching out for attention. But Clark was too preoccupied locked in a staredown with a thirteen year old pint of a girl whose very top of her head didn’t even reach his collarbone. That put her at eye level with their family crest, and she broke their staring contest to look at it instead. The final physical reminder of their House softened whatever was left of her resolve, and between one blink and the next he had a backpack shoved into his chest with more force than necessary. It would have hurt if he was human, somehow he doesn’t think she would have cared either way.
Without another word, she started walking back, leaving a trail of dust in her wake with how forceful her footsteps were, fully expecting him to follow her.
“Wait!” He called after her, moving to catch up. When he reached her, he silently slung the backpack so that he could wear it backwards, and turned his free back to her as he kneeled on one knee once more, the action familiar from a month ago. “Come on, flying is faster.” He urged.
“We walk.” Kara protested in English, taking a step back.
He tilted his head to face her. “The sooner we reach the farm the sooner we can let Ma and Pa know that you’re okay. And the sooner you can apologize to them for leaving without telling anyone.” He let the admonishment slip out easily, even if they stood on fragile ground. She could be cross with him all she wanted, but the Kents did their best to make her feel at home. He’s the one who messed up and she’s more than welcome to take it out on him but his parents didn’t deserve the same treatment.
“I tell them. I leave note.” Kara argued, unable to see how she could possibly be in the wrong here.
He twisted his whole upper body to face her then, taking note of the stubborn expression she bore. Lord give him patience, she was going to be a handful, and probably the reason behind him going grey earlier than he would have liked.
“That’s not how we do things, Kara, and I know you’re smart enough to see how that was wrong. You really think it’s unreasonable for them to worry about a thirteen year old entrusted in their care suddenly up and leaving in the middle of the night to go survive on her own in an alien planet where she barely spoke the language? All because she left a note?”
She didn’t say anything to that, but the way her jaw ticked was answer enough for him. They spoke no further, instead she just climbed onto his back and wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a now familiar gesture. Krypto gave a yelp, and Clark smiled for the first time all day as he scooped the little pup. There was no space in the overstuffed backpack, so he had to carry him, but Clark didn’t mind. Afterall, it was Krypto who helped him find them, and the man silently promised the dog he’ll get him a treat just for that alone.
— — —
They landed a few feet away from the porch, and by the time they’d made it to the front door it had swung open and Martha came rushing out, crying out a “Oh thank Jesus!” as she unceremoniously grabbed Kara by the shoulders and pulled her into her arms, trapping her in a bear hug so strong the girl couldn’t even move her arms from her sides to hug the woman back.
“I helped, too.” Clark protested quietly, more to lighten the mood than anything.
Jonathan picked up on it and grinned, though it didn’t quite last nor reach his eyes. He gave his son a pat on the shoulder, then patted Kara’s back, since Martha wasn’t letting go of her anytime soon.
“You worried us something fierce, young lady.” Pa admonished, and that triggered Martha to pull away, but only far enough so that she could cup the girl’s face in her hands as she looked her over for any injuries.
“Oh, Sweetheart, we’re just so happy you’re home. We’ve been worried sick. Promise us you won’t run away like that again. My blood pressure was through the roof, I’m too old to handle stunts like that.”
“Your blood pressure was fine.” Jonathan countered from the back, and the Kent men shared a knowing look and a smile at Ma’s dramatic antics.
“I am okay. Promise.” Kara reassured the woman, her hands free now to hold them over Martha’s own. She turned slightly to Clark, pleading with her eyes for him to help her out of this.
Clark gave her a pointed look. She just stared back at him, eyes widening ever so slightly. He arched one eyebrow, insistent. The exchange was completely nonverbal, but he knew the message was understood when she turned back to the Kents, gently peeling Martha’s hands off her cheeks but keeping them in her own.
“I am sorry. For worry you. I think before note was okay. I know now I was wrong.” Kara at least had the decency to look chastised as she looked down at her feet, looking all of three inches tall.
“That’s okay, Sweetheart. We’re just relieved you’re safe and back home.” Martha, like a true mother, was quick to forgive, happy to just have the girl back in front of her.
Kara turned once more to Clark, raising an eyebrow. ‘Happy?’ it said. Clark gave her a subtle nod in reply. ‘Yes, thank you’.
“Go on upstairs. Gather the rest of your stuff.” He used his words this time, prompting her with a jut of his chin in the direction of the stairs. “I’ll come help you pack up in a couple minutes. I have to catch them up first.” Clark added, gesturing with a head tilt at his parents, who had equal expressions of confusion on their faces.
Kara didn’t need any further prompting, slipping away from the Kents’ watchful gaze and bounding up the stairs with all the grace of a teenager, Krypto, ever her shadow, following her up.
“What’s going on, Son? What happened out there?” Jonathan asked him, because Martha looked like she was about to cry.
Clark’s expression softened and his heart pulled at the image of his mother in such distress. “Come here, Ma.” He prompted her, holding one arm open for an embrace. He’d long ago grown taller than his mother, and now whenever they hugged he got to return the favor of all the times her arms had enveloped him in the safest hugs on Earth.
“We failed her. She wants to leave.” His mom sobbed, and he rubbed her back soothingly as he was quick to reassure her.
“You didn’t fail her. If anyone failed her it was me for not being here enough. You guys did everything in your power to make her feel at home.” He promised them both, though he had a sense that his father, who had always been the wisest man he ever met, knew that this plan wouldn’t work from the very start.
“You were the best parents an alien baby could hope for,” he told them both, looking to his father and holding his mother tighter to soften the blow, “but Kara’s situation is different. She’s not a baby. She’s too Kryptonian to ever settle for a normal human life, and she’s dealing with a lot right now. Things she needs me to help her through. I’m the only family she’s willing to accept right now.”
Martha didn’t like it, but he felt her nod her understanding before she pulled back to recompose herself, wiping at her eyes. “We’ll be here, then. Whenever she’s ready for more people to love on her. She’s already a part of our family, but we’ll wait until she’s ready to accept us as a part of hers.”
She turned to him then, her hand steady on his arm. “And we’re still here for you. Whatever you need, my sweet boy. You have to look after her now, but remember that you’re never too old for us to look after you, too.” She grinned at him then, an amusing thought coming to her that she was quick to share, “We are quite frankly the only other people on the face of the Earth who can relate to the struggles of raising Kryptonian kids. So you’ll have to come to us for advice when you hit a wall.”
Clark frowned in confusion at that, not really following along. “Well, it won’t really be the same. It’s not like I’m raising her-“
“Oh but you are.” Jonathan interrupted, “She’s thirteen not thirty. She still needs a parent to guide her, and a parent you will be. Not just to her but that will have to be your cover story as well. It’s improper otherwise. A single man in his twenties taking his thirteen year old ‘cousin’ to live with him raises a lot of eyebrows and puts you in danger of having her taken away by the authorities if any well meaning bystander decides to report it. You’ll have to tell people she’s your daughter that you only learned about recently. That keeps you both safe.”
“But I’m twenty six. People will do the math. I can’t have fathered her at thirteen.” Clark protested.
“It’s rare, but not completely unheard of. And with the family resemblance it’ll be hard to dispute it. You’ll get funny looks and a couple rude remarks that people may have the decency not to say to your face. But be grateful the roles aren’t reversed. The world will take more kindly to you just for being a man.” Jonathan continued, and when he put it so simply Clark couldn’t possibly argue. He knew his father was right, he was rarely ever wrong.
“Well, it’s not the traditional way but I did always hope you’d give me grandchildren.” Martha added, quick to lighten the mood, patting his chest comfortingly. “I can be Nan, and Pa can be Pops.” She decided unilaterally.
Clark covered his face and groaned, “I think my world is about to spin off its axis.” He complained, feeling the early stages of a stress migraine set in.
“Welcome to fatherhood, Son. That’s exactly how it feels sometimes.” Jonathan said with no shortness of amusement, patting his shoulder in solidarity.
“Sometimes?” Clark squeaked in protest.
“Most of the time.” Jonathan amended, much to Clark’s horror and his parents’ delight.
— — —
Carrying a girl, a dog, and a backpack was doable, even if it threw off Superman’s balance.
Carrying a girl, a dog in a carrier hastily bought, a borrowed suitcase, and two of Ma’s premade freezer dump and bake casseroles that she insisted they take with them was logistically impossible. He had superstrength but he only had two arms. So as ridiculous as it sounded, Clark had to take two trips to Metropolis, when he used to be the guy who refused to do two trips to the car for all the grocery bags.
At least for the first round he just took the suitcase and the cooler bag, allowing him to be faster than he usually allowed himself to be when carrying human passengers.
When he came back for Kara, he found her trapped in another hug, this time from Pa, and he got close enough to catch the tail end of his advice to her, “-patient with him. He’ll make mistakes but his heart is in the right place.”
He pretended he didn’t hear him, or her response to that.
“Ready?” Clark asked Kara, and she turned to him and gave him a quick nod, moving to his side. He rested a hand on her shoulder and turned to say goodbye to his parents. “We’ll probably spend this weekend settling her in, but we’ll try to visit next weekend. And we’ll call when we can.”
He turned to look at the younger girl, pausing to see if she had anything else to add, but she barely paid him any attention, her focus on the house instead. She looked pretty tapped out, standing on her last leg. He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and mumbled a quiet, “We’ll be alright.” That was more to her than to his parents.
“You two look out for each other. Kara, don’t let him run himself thin running around the city trying to save every cat stuck in a tree. Clark, make sure she gets enough sleep.”
“Yes, Ma.” came Clark’s amused response in the same breath as Kara’s more serious, “Yes, Martha.”
With one last exchanged look between the cousins, Clark knew Kara was ready, so he turned and she easily climbed onto his back, getting more familiar with the setup the more she did it.
The transition from the flat, open cornfields of Kansas to the towering, concrete canyons of the Eastern Seaboard took only minutes.
Below them, Metropolis was a sprawling, glittering grid of midday traffic, bustling sidewalks, and shimmering glass reflecting the high sun.
"Welcome to Metropolis," Clark said softly, turning his head slightly so his voice wouldn't get entirely lost in the rushing wind.
Kara didn't say anything. She just leaned her chin slightly against his shoulder, her wide blue eyes drinking in the sheer scale of it all. It wasn't Argo City, and it certainly wasn't the quiet, dusty expanse of Smallville. It was loud, dense, and bursting with a chaotic, organic energy. For the first time, she didn't look entirely repulsed by Earth; she just looked fascinated.
Clark drifted downward, angling toward the outer edge of the New Metropolis district, finally slipping onto the fire escape of a modest, brick apartment building. He unlocked the window with a practiced nudge of his thumb and stepped inside, letting Kara slide off his back. Krypto immediately let out a small whine from his carrier, and Clark unlatched it, letting the alien pup scramble out onto the hardwood floor.
The apartment was small, but undeniably nicer than what a junior reporter's salary at the Daily Planet should realistically afford. The truth was, the citizens of Metropolis were stubborn. Whenever Superman stopped a robbery or saved a business, owners from all over the city insisted on gifting him things. The owner of a massive supermarket chain out in the suburbs had forced so much store credit onto him that he practically had to do his grocery shopping in full costume just to use it. He thought he looked ridiculous but if he ever tried to redeem those credits as Clark Kent, his secret identity would be blown by the time he hit the checkout lane. So, Superman routinely pushed a shopping cart through aisles ten miles away from home, which only added to the public's perception that he was just a surprisingly normal, neighborly guy. And sometimes when the city was quiet, the gossip rags reported on what brand of fish sticks Big Blue prefers, and the next time he goes out flying some poor intern runs around the city trying to get his attention only to let him know the brand wants to gift him an airfryer to go along with the fish sticks. So even some of the appliances and furniture in his home were basically PR freebies.
It was ridiculous and he felt weird about the whole thing but it let him do the job he loves while living comfortably while also continuing his superhero stints without being officially sponsored, and therefore controlled, by anyone. The money he got to save here and there and the financial rewards some citizens forced on him as gifts helped him afford a place like this.
"It's a one-bedroom," Clark explained, gesturing around the neat, mostly empty living space. “But this space here is technically supposed to be the dining area. I never eat at the table unless I’m at the farm and I just use the breakfast bar so I never got a dining set. I thought it could be a decent home office but it works as a bedroom, don’t you think?” He rambled on, turning to get her input.
Kara looked around the open DLK space, the dining a little separate from the other two spaces by being tucked in a little alcove to the side, having its own three walls but missing a fourth to make it a proper room. Clark was already thinking how he could add curtains to make the space more private but the curved archway entrance would get in the way. An accordion separator then, he decided.
“It works.” Kara finally turned to him, parroting the words he used and giving a nod of approval. Clark didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath for her verdict until she gave it and he let out a sigh of relief.
“We’ll get you a bed and furnish the room, but for tonight you can take my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch. Then later down the line we’ll go apartment hunting for something a little bigger. The market is notoriously brutal, but we’ll make it work.”
She frowned in confusion, and he knew he lost her at some point. It made him wonder how property ownership worked on Krypton. Did anyone even rent?
“Couch is small. You should keep bed.” Kara argued, still sticking with English.
“I insist. I’ve slept on that couch more times than I can count because I was too tired to make it to the bed. It’s comfortable enough.” He reassured her with a self-deprecating smile, which Kara only partially mirrored.
For the next hour, they worked together in a surprisingly comfortable rhythm to make room for her. Clark cleared out a stack of old journalism texts and empty storage boxes, while Kara began unpacking her heavy suitcase. As Clark helped her fold her clothes into a newly emptied set of dresser drawers he dragged from his room, a wave of warmth hit him. He recognized the faded flannel shirts and the oversized hoodies—they were his own old clothes from his teenage years in Smallville, pieces Ma had carefully preserved and handed down to Kara to keep her warm.
In the bathroom, they stood side-by-side as Clark showed her where he keeps everything and Kara carefully placed her toothbrush into the ceramic holder next to his. It was a tiny, mundane action, but seeing the two toothbrushes sitting together in the shared bathroom made the reality of the situation settle heavily, but comfortably, in his chest.
‘This is it.’ He thought privately, ‘we’re a household now.’
While Clark sat down on the couch, pulling out his notes to finish the layout drafts for Perry, the apartment fell into a quiet, companionable silence. A short while later, Kara quietly emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered and changed, and came over to join him, sinking into the opposite side of the couch and pulling out her tablet to continue her English modules. Krypto followed close behind, curling up contentedly at her feet.
At one point, Clark paused his work and retrieved his phone. He had a massive professional fire to put out.
To: Perry White
Perry, I am incredibly sorry for walking out of the meeting today. It was a severe family emergency and I had no choice. I will make up for the missed hours by finishing the layout drafts from home tonight and will have the corrected proofs on your desk by 6:00 AM tomorrow.
He hit send, bracing himself for the inevitable lecture, but he didn't care. He tossed the phone onto the coffee table and went back to his notes. They worked together in silence for a long time, the quiet only broken by the soft tapping of Kara's tablet screen.
Then, a loud, deep rumble echoed through the room.
Clark paused, looking over at Kara. The younger girl’s cheeks flushed a rapid, deep crimson. She stubbornly kept her eyes glued to her tablet, pretending the sound hadn't occurred.
Clark chuckled softly, the sound breaking the ice. He glanced at the clock; it was already past six. He suddenly realized the gravity of his new reality: his stomach was rumbling too, and he had to worry about dinner. He didn't have the energy to do anything complex, and a quick flight to a hot dog stand wouldn't cut it anymore because he had another mouth to feed and she needed something more sustaining for dinner or else Ma will have his hide.
"Ma's casseroles are frozen solid," Clark noted, looking toward the kitchen, "They’ll take at least ninety minutes to be ready, and I don't think either of our stomachs can wait that long. You want a pizza?"
Kara blinked, her brow furrowing as she struggled with the word. "What is... a peetzuh?"
A bright, genuine smile spread across Clark's face. "It is easily one of Earth's absolute best inventions. Trust me, you're going to love it."
He picked up his phone and dialed the speed-dial number for the local parlor down the block. The phone rang twice before a familiar, gruff voice answered over the ambient noise of a roaring kitchen.
"Bo’s Pizza, this is Charlie."
"Hey, Charlie. It's Clark Kent," Clark said, his voice instantly relaxing into his familiar, friendly neighborhood tone.
"Hey, Clark! The regular? Large thin-crust, half mushroom, half plain cheese?" Charlie asked automatically.
Clark looked over at the couch. Kara was currently leaning over the armrest, dangling a piece of packing string above Krypto, a tiny, rare giggle escaping her lips as the pup clumsily pounced on it. The sheer warmth of the sight flooded Clark’s chest.
Twelve hours ago, his phone had gone off with a ridiculous ringtone, his cousin had run away into the night, and he had to make such a public exit he was sure Lois was going to grill him about it the next day. His entire life had threatened to spin off its axis. He had been terrified, and he almost lost his only blood family and connection to his home planet that he had left. But looking at her now, safe, smiling, and right where she belonged, he knew everything had broken exactly the way it was supposed to. He had a massive responsibility now. It was his own duty to her and to the memory of their parents, and he couldn't mess this up.
"Actually, Charlie, let's change it up today," Clark said into the receiver. "Let's do two large pies. One pepperoni, and one deluxe with everything on it. And set it as my new regular."
On the other end of the line, Charlie went silent for a beat. "Two larges? And a deluxe? Clark, you haven't changed your order since I started working the phones here four years ago. What gives?" Charlie asked, nosing for gossip, but Clark just smiled at the man’s antics. They were practically friends at this point, he’ll forgive a bit of harmless curiosity.
He kept his eyes on Kara, his smile softening with an absolute, unshakeable sense of peace.
"Change can be a good thing, Charlie."
"Yeah? So this is a good change?"
"Yeah," Clark whispered, his chest swelling with a quiet, profound certainty. "This is a great change."