Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

[Title Page Artwork by Sisaloofafump]

Zor frowned at the stack of paperwork piled up on his desk. He’d just returned to the office, extra early this morning specifically to catch up, but now in the thin grey light from the window he could think of only a few things that were less enticing.

Well, returning to his own somber home down the street, to the bed in the room with his silent and mourning wife was one, but…

He sat anyway, and pulled the yellow telegraph paper from his vest.

Jorge Kalebson of the House of El sending a telegraph rather than a letter was no unusual thing, both brothers were enthusiastic and likely supported a fifth of Kryptown’s telegraph office all on their own. But what was less usual was that he sent it now, instead of visiting himself or even staging a kidnapping for their health. It’s what he had done the last time Zorion and Alazne had lost a babe.

Zor tapped the telegraph paper against the wood of the desk, and supposed that Jordi’s matter could be the first he tackled.

He pulled his glasses from the drawer and began to leaf through the papers, sorting by who and what they concerned.

But ten minutes later, he had several smaller piles of papers he didn’t want to go through, and nothing from Jordi.

Huh.

Zor’s brother could, at times, become rather invested in a single matter or design and forget to talk to another human for days on end. But he would not tell Zor to check letters he had not sent.

Zor stood, and made his way to the door. Perhaps he could check downstairs. Or, perhaps his father knew what Jordi meant.

His hand had barely touched the doorknob when he heard a cry from downstairs.

He moved quicker.

“Sarabeth?” he asked, hurrying down to the small lobby where the secretary and his father’s office separated the House Of El’s town storefront with his parent's living quarters.

“Oh, Mister Zorion, hurry!”

When Zor flew down the stairs, he found Sara in tears, standing by her desk and clutching it with one hand as if it was the only thing keeping her standing.

By the open door, Zorion’s father stood, with a shaking girl it took him a moment to remember the name of. Hana Lee, one of the few his sister-in-law trusted as a stable hand.

She was in nightclothes and a shawl, covered in mud and soot from bare feet to uncovered head. Her loose hair and red eyes were wild.

“I looked but I couldn’t find anyone else who was still-“ Hana gasped.

“What happened?” Zor asked. “What’s going on?”

Kaleb Segison turned to him, his face pale as a sheet. “There was a fire at Jordi’s estate.”

Zorion, like the rest of his family, was a craftsman. He’d been trained for a fine attention to detail since he was old enough to read, and probably from a younger age than even that. But like the rest of his family, he was also a scientist. In another life, he might have even been a doctor. Turning observations into conclusions was something he excelled at.

A fire, a weeping woman, a stablehand who hadn’t been able to find anyone else in spite of clear signs that she was in or very near to the flames.

Zor did not want to think about the conclusion.

“We have to go, now.” He grabbed his coat. He could see out the open door the large horse: Phantom, patiently waiting because Lara always trained her horses the best any Van Lawrence had ever, in a long line of increased perfection. Hana must have ridden here as soon as she'd realized that no one was leaving the building-

“Zorion.” Kaleb said, his voice cracking. “They might already be- there’s-“

“Either way, we need to go.” Zor snapped, grabbing his hat.

He pushed past his father and whistled as he grabbed Phantom’s bridle.

“Right, right.” Kaleb said, grabbing his own hat and coat and not bothering to put them on. “Sara, get Miss Lee cleaned up and some food in her, shut the office, tell anyone who calls that…”

“Yessir.”

Zorion didn’t wait to see the secretary leave, barely waited for his father to get on the horse behind him before they were moving, dashing as fast as Phantom could.