Chapter Text
“How about a dog?”
“A dog? Lois, do you really want to reward this behavior with a puppy?”
“I think he's depressed, Clark. An emotional support animal could help.”
“You're making excuses for him.”
“Well... what if it was a cat?”
“Lois—”
“They're less maintenance, Clark!”
If Jon's parents thought they were talking in hushed tones, then they really needed to reevaluate what hushed meant. Their voices carried through their closed door, down the hall, and into Jon’s room where he sat. Alone. Contemplating.
He was a complete and total screw-up. Worse, his parents had finally figured it out. Their worries, disappointment, anger—it seeped through the air, making it hard to breathe.
Jon grabbed a hoodie and made a beeline for the stairs, only detouring to stop by his parents’ room. He knocked softly, wishing they wouldn’t hear. It'd be so much easier to slink off. Disappear.
Instead, their voices suddenly became silent. A few moments later, Mom swung open the door.
“Jonathan.” Her cheeks turned red. She definitely thought she’d been caught red-handed, talking about him.
Jon shoved his hands into his hoodie’s pocket. The last thing he needed was to talk about that. “I’m going to for a jog,” he said.
“Oh.” Mom let out a hitched breath. “Yeah, okay… wait! Who are you going with?”
His chest felt tight. There was that lack of trust again. “Jogging tends to be a solitary hobby, Mom.”
“Take your brother.” Dad’s voice carried across the room. Jon peered inside to see his father at the dresser, not even bothering to look at him.
Jon scoffed. “Jordan doesn’t like exercise.”
“Well then maybe I can—” Mom started to say.
“Come on, even prisoners are allowed yard time.”
Mom stared at him, looking like she’d been slapped. Dad finally turned toward him, his eyes pinched in a glare that told Jon he was doing everything in his power to keep the heat vision in check.
“Tell you what Jonathan,” Dad said, “next time you get arrested for drugs, we won’t fight to keep you out of juvie. Then you can tell me just how much privacy and free time prisoners get.”
Jon looked down at his feet. Dad wasn’t exactly wrong. He was lucky. Lucky to be home instead of locked up. Or sent away. Or kicked out. He knew better than to keep making trouble after all he had done.
Mom grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Just keep your phone on, okay?”
Jon’s head snapped up. “Does this mean I can go?”
Mom nodded.
He couldn’t believe it. After mouthing off like that, after everything else he had done, she was letting him leave the farm unsupervised? It seemed so small but right now, it was the biggest win he could imagine. He mumbled a thank you than ran down the stairs before she could change her mind.
By the time Jon reached the Hubbard’s farmstead, he already felt winded. All those weeks off from football practice had done its number on his endurance. Still, he pushed forward. Burning lungs, aching joints, it was all better than being at home. Fear gnawed in his stomach with each step. He pushed through.
Just keep running. Just keep running.
Just. Keep. Running.
An unearthly scream shot through the air, stopping Jon in his tracks. What… what the hell?!
He didn’t have time to pause and catch his breath. Someone, or something, was out here. And they were terrified. In danger. He dove head first into the cornfield.
EEEEYAAAR!
Jon’s heart thumbed. He was getting closer.
EEEEEYAAAAR!
Sweat poured down his face.
Eeyar!
He pushed through another row of cornstalks and on the other side came face to face with—
What even was it?
Its piercing green eyes were the first thing he noticed as he stumbled back, falling against the cornstalks. Then its furious fangs. And its otherworldly green fur.
It clawed at the air, Jon just out of its reach.
Jon’s eyes landed on the creature’s far leg—on the contraption its paw was stuck in.
It was… hurt? Oh, the poor thing. It must had been so scared.
He knew better than to approach a wild animal—especially one so... what even was it? It'd almost look like a mountain lion, if it wasn’t for all the green. But did cougars even live in Kansas? Though perhaps it escaped from a research facility. Perhaps the thing was someone’s horrible experiment.
All Jon could hear in his mind was Jordan's whining. Don't touch it! You'll get hurt! It could carry diseases!
His mind flashed back to a couple years ago when he found an injured raccoon in the backyard of their old brownstone. Jordan had told him to stay away. But it was hurt, caught in the fence. The poor baby just needed some help. All Jon had to do was get out and—
And the trip to the ER and several rounds of rabies shots should have taught him his lesson.
Should have.
He took a step closer. A stick cracked beneath his foot, alerting the green beast. It barred its teeth and opened its mouth for a roar.
But all that came out was... a chirp? Was that a chirp?
This thing was definitely not from this planet.
"Hey buddy," Jon said, keeping his voice steady. "It's okay. I’m just like you. I'm not from around here either... well... half of me."
Its lips seemed to tremble then relax. It was saying okay. I trust you.
Jon took another step closer.
It whined.
The poor thing.
He was close enough now that the creature could have grabbed him. If it wanted. But instead the beast watched with intense terror. Jon knelt down beside its backpaw—the one caught in the trap.
The beast growled at him.
“Shh,” Jon said, slowly reaching out toward its back. Krypto always liked butt scratchies. The instant Jon’s hand touched its fur, it seemed relax. Its growling subdued, transforming into groans and grunts instead.
“You’re okay, buddy. You’re okay.” Jon inspected the trap that the strange animal’s paw was caught in. The fur on its hind legs was matted in blood. The poor thing. It must be in so much pain.
“I’m—I’m gonna release the trap,” he told the beast, as if it could understand him.
It blinked at him. Not like its lids were too heavy to keep open, but like it was saying, “I trust you.”
Jon read online once that cats communicate with their eyes. A slow blink was like a “kitty kiss”. It meant “I love you.”
Jon blinked back at it, nice and slow.
The creature seemed to nod and Jon slowly pulled his hand away and toward the trap.
It grunted again. Its leg seemed to tense. “I hope this doesn’t hurt,” Jon said to himself. If it did, God help him. As intelligent as the creature seemed so far, it was doubtful it would understand what an accident was.
Jon gripped the trap, bracing himself as his mind drifted back to that raccoon from all those years ago. He grimaced as he pulled it open.
Eeeeeerk! The trap squeaked open.
The animal crawled forward, pulling its leg free. It pulled itself onto its legs—the three uninjured ones. The injured one stayed raised in the air.
Still squatting down by the trap, Jon was careful not to make any sudden movements. He studied the creature as it took careful steps toward him, it hopping slightly each time it had to move its hind leg. Step by step, and hop by hop, it got closer. He shouldn’t have felt so calm. So trusting. The raccoon had looked harmless too.
But this was different. This guy understood.
Step by step.
Hop by hop.
Finally, it reached Jon. Its face was inches from Jon’s. A soft rumble came out of the creature.
Prrrrrrrrrr.
It nuzzled its face against Jon’s shoulder and kept on purring.
Jon froze with shock, unable to do anything but reach out and pet its fur. Slowly, he felt his muscles relax.
Whatever the creature was, Jon knew one thing: it was his duty to protect it.