CHAPTER FOUR:

Normal

Part One

Clark Kent's P.O.V

"Look! You can't convince me this is normal. She bruised me. She bruised me. I can't be the only one to see how strange all this is."

There was an almost shrill tone to Clark Kent's voice as he stood in his kitchen, fingers curled into the collar of his plaid shirt, flashing the pale expanse of his broad shoulder to his still tired parents trying to strip away the night's sleep with steaming mugs of black coffee. On naturally immaculate skin shone a bruise, kissed purple and yellow and green, a smudge on a marble, in the exact same place a mysterious girl had, upon turning around, bumped into him on his way into the Beanery.

Martha Kent, Clark's adopted mother, who had sat through this very conversation three times yesterday, sighed as she regretfully placed her mug down in front of her.

"I admit you aren't one to easily bruise Clark, but there are a hundred and one more reasons that this could have happened rather than the girl being… Well, like you."

Clark let go of the collar of his shirt, shuffling over to the counter, imploring his parents to… Understand. Understand what he seemingly could not verbally convey.

"I can't explain it, mom, but she wasn't… She wasn't normal. I could feel… Something. She was different, and she bruised me. No one has ever bruised me before. Not by shoulder bumping me. And you didn't see her. She looked… Well, she looked like me! Tall, black hair, same cheekbones… Given, her eyes were a little strange, but we could have passed for siblings! That can't be a coincidence."

As his parents were prone to do in the face of one of Clark's spells of obstinacy, his mother tag teamed out for his father, Jonathan, who spoke reasonably around a mouthful of toast.

"Say she is like you, son, then what? Do you know her name? Do you know where she lives? Even if, and that is a big if, she's like you, she's gone now. How do you expect to track her down? You said yourself she seemed to be in a rush. She could have been merely visiting Smallville and be half a continent away by now."

Clark slumped over the kitchen table, slouching into a seat, defeated and a little, only a little he swore, petulant.

"She bruised me."

In that one small moment, so trivial, one tiny bruise and… Well, it was the first time Clark had felt truly human, or as close as an alien boy could feel to being human, he supposed.

That had to mean… Something, right?

And now it was gone.

One moment, and gone.

It didn't seem fair.

Clark Kent wanted answers. He wanted answers, and, perhaps most of all, he wanted to feel not so alone in the world.

If this strange girl really was like him, then there could be more, and-

And she was gone, along with her any chance of finding the truth.

Did she have a space pod in her barn cellar too?

Martha smiled softly at him, reaching over the kitchen island to place a hand over his lax one.

"Oh Clark, I know how… Lonely you get. Maybe she was like you, or maybe it was a fluke or… Something. Strange things aren't so strange in Smallville. I don't know. But you have us. You aren't alone. And if it's meant to be you'll see her again and maybe you can get some answers. Preferably without outing yourself without proof, either."

Clark grinned back as brightly as he could.

"You're right."

Jonathan pulled away from the stove, placing a heaping plate of bacon and eggs in front of the teenage boy. Clark fiddled with the fork resting on the placemat.

Martha was right.

Maybe he would see her again.

Maybe, just maybe, he could make that chance just a little bit bigger. If he went into town after school and-

"Now eat up. We have a busy day ahead of us, and we have a dinner to go to tonight at the Lang's."

It was as if his father could read his mind. Clark sighed and sagged back into the kitchen chair.

"Do we have to go?"

Clark couldn't very well go slogging around town looking to track down the mysterious girl if he was, instead, to be forced into a button up shirt and shiny shoes, making small talk over mashed potatoes and green beans.

Martha cocked a brow at him, slipping back into her coffee and confusion.

"I thought you would jump at any chance to hang out with Lana?"

This time when Clark smiled it was true, big, and bright.

Almost blinding.

"Lana is going to be there?"

All thought of the mysterious girl and the bruise on his shoulder leapt from his mind like a frog over a log, lost away in the back forest of his mind.

Martha chuckled indulgently, playfully rolling her eyes.

"Yes, and our new neighbours, the Blacks."

Clark hadn't met them yet, this family from over the field, nor saw much off them apart from the odd glimpse of a couple going in and out the house moving things into it, out of it, and around it. His mother said they had a daughter, the girl who owned the house from her Mother, Evans, who had been a childhood friend of Martha's, but Clark himself had not seen her at all.

It was likely for the best.

He never did… Well with strangers, always putting his foot in his mouth.

Jonathan gestured down at his cooling plate.

"Hurry up and get off to school, or you're going to be late."

Admirably, Clark thought there was nothing else for it. Spending an evening with Lana wouldn't be so bad, actually, quite the opposite, even if it were a chore to play at being human around the new neighbours.

An evening with Lana sounded… Nice.

More than nice.

And he could always head into town to search tomorrow.

With new vigour, Clark scooped up his fork and began to eat.

Clark Kent's P.O.V

The west Kansas sun beat down on the tarmac of Smallville, seasonably warm and golden, and in the Talon Clark Kent tried anxiously to keep his voice steady, his heartbeat stable, and his stomach in one whole rather than the million fluttering wings it wished to fracture apart into.

Lana Lang sat beside him, laughing in the golden light, and he was sure, so very sure, he had never seen anything quite as beautiful before.

They were alone too, just them, they, we, and Clark liked the thought of Lana and him as we, a unit, two letters that made one word, and this was his chance.

School was over for the day, and Lana had caught him out on the steps on the way home, offering a walk back together seen as both were going to the dinner party that evening, and Clark had jumped at the chance, perhaps embarrassingly fast, and now they were here in the closed Talon, the local coffeehouse and hotspot of Smallville that Lana was running, with Lex's help, and Clark no longer felt as if he was dying from exposure to Lana's necklace now the awful thing was gone.

It was a win-win, and Clark was walking on cloud nine.

Cloud ten, if Lana kept smiling at him like that.

He was speaking before he had truly finished his thought.

"You know, I was thinking we could-"

And, obviously, that was the precise moment the front of shop bell rang, alerting the pair of teens to a newcomer. Clark's smile fell and shattered at his feet, a scowl creeping into its place where the grin had been, turning from the table, from Lana, to tell the newcomer the coffeehouse was shut for that night.

The scowl, too, vanished when he saw the approaching individual.

If he was going to be interrupted from asking Lana, finally, out on a date, Clark supposed he wasn't too mad at this particular person for being the one to do so.

He did own the building, after all.

"Hi Lex. What are you doing here?"

Lana was turning too, purse slung over her shoulder, and Clark watched Lex wave the folder in his hand, his car keys jingling with the motion of the stack of paper.

Business it was then.

"I thought we had agreed to go over the tax returns paperwork tonight?"

Lex asked Lana, and the girl in question immediately flushed, timidly, bashfully, beautifully.

Clark was in deep.

Real deep.

"Oh, right, yes! I'm so sorry Lex, it completely slipped my mind. Nell's having a dinner party and I've been busy setting up for that and-…"

Lana cut herself off, smiling regretfully.

"And you don't need to hear my excuses."

Lex, all six-foot-odd of him, waved her off with his free hand, propping the folder in the crux of his elbow, away and stashed for a later date.

"If you're busy, we can reschedule for next week. No rush."

Brilliant! Maybe Lex would leave and Clark would still have a chance to-

He glanced her way, and found Lana staring at Lex with a glint in her eye.

A glint Clark knew all too well.

Determination.

It looked like his date proposal would have to be put on the back-burner for a little while longer yet.

"You know, I think the real question is if you're busy."

Rightfully so, Lex grew weary, a rigidity to the slope of his shoulder, the prop of a ginger brow on a pale forehead, a long, sweeping drawl to his voice.

"Not particularly, no."

Lana grinned brightly and hopped off her stool.

"Then how do you fancy coming to Nell's dinner party? We can go over the paperwork before hand, and then have a nice dinner."

Lex hummed, gaze flittering between Lana and Clark huddled at the table.

"Any special occasion I should know about? I'm not going to be gate crashing a date, now, am I?"

Clark spluttered, and Lex only smiled wilder, sharper, keener, like a big cat that smelled fresh blood.

Thankfully, Lana was oblivious to the hint, to the gentle, friendly barb between Lex and Clark, an almost brotherly prodding, and shook her head.

"No, we have new neighbours. The Blacks. Nell's sort of having a neighbourhood jamboree to welcome them into the fold that is Smallville. It might be good to have the local millionaire there. Give a good first impression."

Lex's smile sank to a curious frown.

"You don't see many new faces around Smallville."

Lana, however, was unmindful of the unasked question, and instead made way for the exit of the Talon, forcing Clark to stumble after her if he wished to keep up.

That's what it always felt like with Lana, as if he were forever stumbling after her shadow.

Lex brought up the rear of their odd little trio.

The ex-cheerleader turned barista, the alien farm boy, and the manic-millionaire.

What a set they made.

"They've taken over the old Evans floristry. Their adopted daughter is the granddaughter to Rodger and Hyacinth Evans, the last owners."

If Lana had adopted anything from her aunt, it was the uncanny ability to stitch together gossip from tiny bits into something bigger.

Sometimes it was a blessing. Sometimes it was a curse.

Particularly when she aimed that detective like abilities in Clark's incongruous direction.

"You've met them?"

Lana nodded at his question, stepping out into the setting light of Smallville, and, again, always again, Clark was struck by… By her.

Just her.

"They're originally from England. Lovely couple… Odd names. Remus and Sirius seem friendly enough, their goddaughter, Zodea…"

Behind him, Lex chuckled, patting him on the shoulder as he walked passed, by Lana, towards his expensive Porsche.

Yeah, he knew about Clark's crush alright, and the younger man was never going to live it down.

Lana, trailing after Lex, carried on.

"She seems friendly but… Lonely. Nell was talking to Sirius the other evening after inviting them over for tonight, and apparently she had a rather nasty immune disorder that meant she grew up in virtual isolation. Home schooled until she was eleven. She had a return bout of it last year and had to be taken out of school from what Nell could pick up. She's better now, they said but… Well, they thought some country air might do her good. As I said, lonely."

Lana's hand tightened on her purse strap, blinking up at Lex.

"Which is all the more reason for Lex to come, don't you think? The more welcoming faces, the merrier!"

Clark too turned to face Lex, painting on his best smile.

The more the merrier indeed, if it meant more being present so less focus was on Clark should he…

Slip up.

Lex, nevertheless, was scowling behind his ray ban shades, and Clark couldn't really blame him.

A rural dinner party wasn't ever going to be Lex's scene, and, as the silence drifted between the friends, Clark was expecting a polite decline, perhaps even a promised next time, but-

Lex eyed Lana.

"English, you say?"

Lana nodded, a little confused by the strange question.

A smile crept into the hollows of Lex's cheeks, as if he had heard a joke only he knew the punchline to.

"Slight Scottish brogue?"

Lana's head tilted, hesitant.

"How do you know that? Do you know them? Zodea?"

Lex merely turned on his heel, unlocking his car door on the driver's side with a beep of the alarm, slipping into the leather and lush.

"Hop in, I think a dinner party sounds rather lovely this evening."

The two teens, momentarily, eyed each other, curious about the odd turn in Lex's mood, before shrugging and following his lead.

With a roar of an engine, the three were away down the Kansas road under the golden sun.

Zodea Potter's P.O.V

Krypton was a land of beauty and brutality. A stark white terrain of jagged crystalline plateaus stretching broadly under heavy, dark burgundy skies of its red sun. This was my home. My home that I could, and would, do anything to protect.

That is why I marched on the Ruling Council, despite what others, Jor-El and his ilk, would later say. Not for glory. Not for fame. Not for power. I marched for the love of my home. My men, soldiers I had fought with, bled with, witnessed the tragedy of Kandor with, marched at my back, at my side. My own looming shadow sweeping across the land. It was by our hand, and our hand alone, that Krypton would survive.

And it would.

It had to.

"General? The man you requested we bring you, Onn-Bal."

The soldiers entered my pavilion, wrenching forth a dishevelled man before me. He floundered, fell to his knees, weak and fragile, bloody and bruised. So was the price of war. And that was what I knew. What I had been born for.

A general that waged no war was no general at all.

I glanced to Faora, standing proud at my side, a stiff nod her only encouragement. My boots thudded raucously on the crystalline ground, echoing the man's frantic heartbeat.

"Tell me where the Council is hiding, and you may leave this place with your life, Onn-Bal."

Onn-Bal did not glance up at me, nor did he flinch when he, quite clearly, heard the whistle of my Pistol Bolt charging up. I aimed the muzzle at the crown of his head.

"Last chance, Onn-Bal. Where are they hiding?"

His ragged intake of breath rang wet with blood.

"I won't ever tell you."

"Shame. It appears you will be joining your wife."

The shot was a mercy. Fast. Efficient. Kind. I had done, and seen, worse deaths than a single shot to the back of the head. His limp body crashed forward, still, cold, seeping.

"Get rid of the body. Find me the-"

The expanding pool of blood crowning Onn-Bal caught my gaze. Dark and decadent, and reflective. A face stared back at me.

A face not my own, and yet, could be nothing else but mine.

A girl, brushing womanhood, similar but irrevocably different, with alien eyes a green not often seen outside of Kryptonite, stared back. Her head cocked as mine did. She blinked as I did. She frowned as I did, because, there, in that foreign reflection was me.

Krypton would survive.

The House of Zod would survive.

I would survive.

I raised my pistol, aimed it right at my strange reflection, and fired-

Zodea Potter awoke in a tangle of limbs, gasping for unneeded breath as a thump ricocheted out from her front door, chiming with the jingle of a bike bell as the newspaper boy carried on riding down the lane to finish his rounds. Cursing, she scrubbed at her tired eyes.

A dream. It was just a dream. Odd, and frightening, and a little disconcerting, but just a nightmare.

A nightmare that had all but faded to a hazy recollection of a gunshot ring and the sight of splattering burgundy by the time Zodea came ambling out the shower and stumbling downstairs for breakfast.

Breakfast was already waiting for her, Remus up and ready for the day at the breakfast table.

Sirius was likely still in the tangle of sheets in the master bedroom, snoring up to the ceiling and back.

Zodea sunk down at the kitchen island, Remus chatting to her from over his shoulder at the cooker.

"Morning, sleepyhead."

Zodea, already presented with a plate full of English fry-up, grumbled into her fork full of baked beans and toast. Finding a newspaper folded neatly by the teapot, brazenly titled The Smallville Ledger, she flicked open the pages and took a gander down the bold type text.

Water shortages on page six.

Someone had stolen Farmer Hancock's tractor on page four.

A knitting group had crafted sixty woollen hats for the local hospital on page three.

LuthorCorp was donating money to local small businesses on page two-

Zodea halted over the title, peeping down to the grainy, inky photo on the slip of paper held between her fingers.

She didn't recognize the first man in the photo, bearded, thin, hair long brushing shoulder, he seemed to have a wiry strength, the shot taken from their back as they were dipping into a car, hand held up to hold off the paparazzi flash of a camera bulb, but-

Well, she recognized the man standing next to him.

The same forest-haze eyes.

The same jawline, and nose and lips and-

Bald head.

Zodea glanced down to the line of script beneath the photo.

Lionel Luthor and Lex Luthor leaving their home on Monday to-

Zodea slapped the paper closed and shoved it away, nearly knocking the pitcher of orange juice off the island.

Lex Luthor…

LuthorCorp…

Now she had a name for the coat, she thought.

A name that was clearly attached a large price tag.

It almost seemed outlandish to Zodea. What his life must have been like, one of socialite parties and midnight memos, fame and dinner parties where champagne poured freely and-

And it didn't matter.

It wasn't like she was ever going to see him again.

They plainly walked in two very different worlds, and Zodea's world was a place no one else could ever walk in.

Zodea shoved her plate away too, turning to face Remus at the cooker.

"How do you do it?"

Remus shot her a parting glance as she tried to formulate her words right, something Remus was always telling her to do.

"You're stronger than Sirius due to your… Well. You're stronger than him, even when the moon isn't full. You could snap him in half if you lost control or… Or by accident or…"

The sound of stirring whirled softly in the kitchen, twirling with her thoughts.

"Zodea?"

She faltered, unsure, doubtful.

"How do you get close and not be scared of hurting him? Of hurting anyone? Is it…"

She chewed it over and, finally, spat the right words out.

"Is it worth it? Restraining and hiding a part of yourself to have Sirius or anyone?"

The spoon in the pan was tapped on the side, a tink, tink, tink before it was laid gently on the counter, Remus turning to face her head on, leant back, open and honest.

"I don't restrain myself. Not with Sirius, and not with you. It took me a long while to learn that, with the right people, I didn't need to be scared anymore."

Spotting her doubtful expression, Remus sighed tenderly.

"When you find the right person, Zo, you won't have to hide. Not even the ugly parts of yourself, for, to them, they would be just as beautiful as the rest of you. It took me meeting Sirius to discover that. It's hard, and it's scary, opening up to people in such a vulnerable way, but its… With the right person, it's easy."

It's easy.

Zodea, just as she couldn't quite grasp Lex Luthor's life from a printed page, could not quite imagine that either.

Funnily enough, people scared her.

Made her scared of herself.

Remus grinned wolfishly.

"Am I to take this sudden line of probing as a signal? Should I be worried about that man's coat you came tumbling home in, cub?"

Zo flushed horribly, brightly, hotly, sputtering, daring not to glance back at the newspaper.

Remus was too quick, and too smart, and entirely wrong.

"What? No! No… I just…"

She sighed.

"I just wondered if I'm ever going to be normal, and have normal things, and do normal stuff. You know… Like everyone else."

Remus kicked off the counter, coming to lean over the island. His voice was clear cut, a glass pane, honest and brutal in its sleek barrenness.

"No you're not."

Zodea grimaced, almost wounded, but Remus was quick to carry on.

"You're never going to be normal, Zo. You can't change that, no matter how hard you try. This is you… And you are special, and… However, those you allow into your life, those you open yourself up to won't, or shouldn't, expect you to whittle yourself down to any shape other than that of yourself. If they do want you to change things you can't, they aren't worth it. They aren't worth you. It took me a long while to learn that lesson, and I won't let you go through the same."

Remus stretched over the table, ruffling her sleep entangled hair. Zodea smiled and chuckled as she ducked out of his reach.

"And as one werewolf to another possibly supernatural being, normal is overvalued. You'll find your way cub… Just learn to be okay in your own skin, and you'll find your way."

Remus winked, just as something thudded from the master bedroom, followed by a groggy curse that would have made Morgana blush.

"When do you think he will stop rolling out of bed?"

Zodea laughed.

"Sirius? Learn? Never."

Zodea Potter's POV

Zodea glanced around her bedroom, just to make sure no one was lurking in the shadows, no accidentally view from her window, no cracked door to peek through.

When she spotted the coast was clear, she stood before her wardrobe, angled her hip, and coyly peered over her shoulder, fluttering her lashes.

Immediately, she winced, cringing hard at her reflection from the adjacent mirror.

Merlin, she looked as if she were having a stroke.

How did other girls do it?

Look so pretty and feminine and elegant without looking gangly and awkward like a-

Like a rhino in a tutu with an eye spasm.

"Dea?"

Wide-eyed, it had been a while since anyone had been able to sneak up on her, Zodea squinted over to her bedroom door and found Sirius peeting around the bend, already dressed and ready for the dinner she had spent the last hour and a half dressing for, ruffling through her embarrassing amount of torn jeans and t-shirts for something-

Something new.

Something vibrant.

Something that made her feel a little bit braver than what she really was.

Sirius stared.

And stared.

Zodea clumsily shuffled in the middle of her room, flapping her arms out like featherless wings, helpless and feebly shrugging.

She was in a pinafore dress, a little floral thing that Remus had gotten her one Christmas, that had been shoved into the back of her closest and never brought out again, a turtleneck from Sirius that had joined the dark depths of cupboard, the one good pair of tights she had, white and without a ladder up the leg, and she had gone as far as to put a pair of little flats on her feet instead of her tatty laced up kicker boots.

She had even spent a torturous half hour combing her monstrously messy black curls and braiding it from her face.

"What do you think?"

Still.

Sirius was still, and silent, and staring.

Any shred of bravery Zodea had swiftly fluttered away as she recoiled and retreated to her closet.

"I knew it. I just can't… Do dresses. I'll go get changed and we can-"

Sirius was beside her before she could move much more, shattered out of his stupor, hand on her wrist, tugging her away from the handles of her closet.

She let him lead her hands away.

"Don't you dare."

He dropped her wrists for her shoulders, and smiled at her the only way Sirius could.

Recklessly warm-hearted.

"I just… You look beautiful, and every day you look more and more like your mother. It just… It threw me for a moment."

He jostled her slightly, a movement she followed lest she stood stock still and hurt his hand, and his silver gaze was a little bit foggy with memories, a little bit too bright, and a little bit wet.

"Lily would be so proud if she saw how much you have grown up."

Zodea blinked over at him.

"You really think so?"

Sirius let his hands fall, nodding resolutely.

"I know so. James too. Never forget that, love."

Zodea found her eyes darting to the mirror across the way, questioning if her mother had ever felt as she did, constrained by her own skin, awkward in her own bones, blundering beside her own reflection.

Maybe Lily had.

Maybe, at some point, every teen felt like they were playing dress-up in clothes too big for them.

Maybe that was the point of growing up.

To fill them.

The truth was, however, for Zodea, her costume didn't end at her clothes, didn't stop with jeans or dresses, and it wasn't something she could whip off at the end of the day, weary and ready for bed.

She was always going to be pretending she was human, soft and small and harmless, and she would forever going to be wearing that mask.

It felt suffocating then.

Too tight and too small and too much of nothing at all.

She was always going to be wearing shoes too big to fill.

Nevertheless, she spotted Sirius smiling at her in the reflection, and she doggedly stomped down on her sudden self-misgivings and smiled back.

Perhaps that was a problem to tackle later.

Now… Now she had a dinner party to face, and a friend to make, and for once, just once, despite what Remus had said, she was going to be a perfectly normal teenage girl for one whole night.

Just one was all she was asking for.

"Come on, we're already ten minutes late."

Sirius swore and dashed for the door, calling for Moony to move his arse.

Thoughts?

A.N: I don't know what it is about my profile, or whether it is this site, but I can't seem to update recently with chapters larger than 5k, or the update alerts readers and doesn't actually show up for a good twenty-four hours lol. So, I had to split this one in two, hence the part one bit up top. That said, part two is ready, and should be coming in hot sometime between Sunday-Wednesday. I didn't want to leave you lovely readers too long when you've all waited so patiently for this next chapter so long already.

Nevertheless, this part is important, as it adds a bit of context, draws similarities between Clark and Zodea, and gives a bit of foreshadowing. It also sets up the dinner party in the next part perfectly. Hence why I couldn't just cut it out and jump straight into it.

But it is coming! The long awaited dinner party.

How well do you think it's going to go? Lol

Hoped you all enjoyed this instalment! As always, if you have a spare moment, drop a little crumb in the box over there and hit send, and I will see you all again soon.