Chapter 33

The Future…

Watchtower…

Mia was just checking in after departing Themyscria before she headed home to go see her aunt when Conner comes up to her, practically running.

"Mia. Thank God you're back!" her half-brother says in what sounds like pure relief.

"Um…what's up?" she asks since her brother looks haggard. Extremely haggard.

"She's been making my life miserable for weeks. You've got to come and meet her so she'll get off my back."

"Whoa. Slow down," Mia tells her. "What are you talking about?" she asks, confused as hell.

"Ma Kent."

"Huh?"

"Clark's mother."

Mia just looks at him clueless.

"She wants to meet you," Conner finally just blurts it out.

"S-she does?" Mia asks, surprised.

"Of course she does. You're her granddaughter…which she has been reminding me on a nearly daily basis," the half-human 'clone' complains with a sad shake of his head.

This is…a surprise to say the least to the young woman. While she had inevitably wondered about her Papá's family she had not really hold out much hope they wanted to meet her. Especially considering the way Lois Lane had reacted to her existence. "Uh…well, I haven't even had a chance to tell Aunt Penny I'm back."

"Oh, I didn't mean you have to come right now," Conner assures her. "I'm certain I can avoid Ma Kent for a day or two but please, please, please say you'll come meet her," he begs his sister. "I don't know how much more I can take. For someone without superpowers Ma Kent is scary as hell."

"Ok," is all Mia can find herself saying.

"Oh, thank you!" Conner says in relief as he hugs her.

"You're welcome?" Mia says, her voice rather perplexed sounding.

Conner pulls back and as he does so he notices something. "Oh, hey, those new?" he asks, pointing at the blue wrist guards that now adorn her costume.

"Uh, yes. In fact they were a 'graduation' gift of a sort from Wonder Woman," she replies before gently touching her wrists together and the blue wrist guards transform into metal bracers. "Wonder Woman that it was the least she could do for her best friend's daughter."

"Huh. I don't remember her ever getting me such a nice gift," Conner says in faux-hurt.

Mia shrugs as the bracers change back.

Conner shakes his head. "Clark would have hated them," he remarks.

"Why?"

"He hated magic since it was one of the few things that could hurt him. I guess that was why he always turned down Zatanna's less than subtle attempts to desecrate his virtue."

"He was married."

Conner snorts in amusement. "As if that would stop her."

Mia looks at him oddly.

"I'm joking…mostly. Lets just say if he was a less virtuous and honourable guy Zatanna would not have said no."

"I need to get home," Mia says, deciding she no longer wishes to continue down this particular path which involves any notion of her father and other women. She has absolutely no desire to imagine any of it. Yuck!

"Of course. Just, remember, call me when you have a free moment so we can agree a day to have you meet your grandmother."

Mia nods as she departs.


Smallville, a few days later…

"You don't look happy," Conner remarks as he flies next to his sister as the duo approach the Kent farm.

"What makes you say that?" the young Latino woman says in reply.

"I'm not that oblivious, Mia and you're not that good at hiding your emotions."

"It's nothing."

Conner scrutinises her closely. She's clearly lying. Something is obliviously bothering her. Like he said, she's not good at keeping her emotions off her face and he's been doing this a long time. Learning to read people is a necessary skill you need to have.

The two land in front of the farm house.

"Come on. I'll introduce you," Conner says as he leads the way inside. "Ma! You here?!"

"In the kitchen!" comes the reply.

"Some things never change," Conner remarks lightly with a nostalgic smile. He enters the kitchen to find Martha cooking. Though she was now grey and her body has withered slightly with age the Kent Matriarch still seemed to possess abundant energy. "I brought a guest," he announces

"Guest?" Martha queries, stopping what she is doing, frowning before her eyes fall upon the dark-haired Latino woman standing behind Conner.

"Let me introduce you. This is Mia Rojas. Clark's daughter."

Martha stared in wonderment at the young woman. My God. She could see so much of her son almost right off the bat.

"Mia. This is your grandmother; Martha Kent."

Mia rubs the back of her neck in the same nervous tick as her father. "Hello, um…Mrs Kent," she says, not sure she should just start off calling her 'grandmother'. "It's very nice to meet you."

"You don't need to call me Mrs Kent," Martha assures her. "Grandma will do."

"Abuela," Mia says it in Spanish.

"Oh where are my manners," Martha mutters. "Come. Sit," she tells the two siblings. As Conner passes her she whispers, "We'll be talking about you dropping in with my granddaughter unannounced," she warns, displeased at him.

"She has superhearing," Conner whispers back. "Also; surprise!"

"That you get from Lex," Martha says in retaliation.

"That hurts, Ma," Conner says, pouting.

"Uh huh. Just remember I know what really hurts you," the older woman reminds him.

Conner lets her win this one. Just because it's good to see some happiness in the woman he considers a mother. After Clark's death…well he doesn't really have to explain it does he?

Later that night, after Martha had gone to bed, Conner went to check up on Mia and found her up in the barn, in Clark's original 'Fortress of Solitude'. She was looking through the personal items that Clark had left stored in the trunk he used. Martha had ok'd it. "It's strange isn't it," he comments.

Mia looks up at him. "What is?"

"How an entire life can be boiled down to a few old things left in a trunk."

Mia thinks back several years to when Aunt Penny had shown her the few things her mother had left behind and realises her brother has a point but he's also missing one. "It only means something if you knew the person. If you knew what significance each item meant to them personally. What memories they invoke. Otherwise it is just a bunch of junk left forgotten in a trunk."

Conner moves to sit beside her on the couch, clasping his hands together on his lap. "Must admit that idea never occurred to me," he confesses. "But you want it to, don't you. You want these items to mean something to you. To tell you who your father was."

"Maybe," Mia half-admits.

"You only need to ask…well Ma more than me. Clark was already an adult by the time I got to know him and most of those things are from his childhood I think."

Mia picks up an old copy of 'To kill a Mockingbird'.

"Clark's favourite novel. Never saw the appeal myself but I guess that goes to show I'm not just Clark's clone."

"Never read it," Mia admits.

"Go ahead and borrow it then."

"Really?"

"I'm sure Ma won't mind as long as it gets returned."

"Uh…ok," Mia says, hoping that reading this novel will somehow allow her to get to know her father in a way.

Conner reaches into the trunk and pulls out a familiar red jacket. He chuckles. "This was your father's favourite jacket all through his teenage years," he explains it's significance. "He would still wear it whenever he got some time to come home. Ma loved to tease him it was his 'security blanket'.

Mia smiles a little as she pictures it.

"So…you care to tell me what's bothering you?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Mia. You met your grandmother for the first time yet your mind was clearly not here," he points out over her behaviour. "Look. I may not be known for giving out great advice but I can at least listen," he offers.

Mia sighs and relents. "Have you seen Lois Lane's latest article?" she asks him.

"Must confess I've stopped reading them. They were beginning to irritate me."

Mia fishes out her phone and brings up the offending article before handing the device over to her brother.

Conner looks at it and frowns, reading out the title aloud. "Why the world doesn't need Supergirl." He reads on muttering out complaints as he goes of 'Come on!' and 'That's unfair!' and alike. He finishes and looks at his sister. "I know I've said this before but Lois is still grieving and she's never been good at dealing with her grief."

"I might be able to live with that if she wasn't waging a campaign to discredit me. She has millions of followers Conner. How many of them is she turning against me? How many of them believe I'm not…" she trails off, wringing her hands as she does so.

"Not living up to Clark?" Conner guesses.

The young woman nods sadly.

Conner leans back, exhaling loudly as he does so. Boy, he wishes Ma was still awake. She's so much better than him at stuff like this. He takes a moment to think over what he wishes to say. "I know how you feel. I've had to deal with that expectation for 20years."

"Were you openly attacked in the press? Or had people whisper behind your back when they think they can't hear you?"

"Who's been whispering behind your back?" he asks with all seriousness.

Mia shrugs. "People," she replies vaguely, clearly not wishing to name names.

Conner stares at her for several moments, his brow furrowing. He is starting to get an inkling that Mia has been hiding a lot of inner turmoil from everyone. However, what he doesn't start to get out of her is any further elaboration as she clams up tight.

What Conner doesn't realise at the time is what her tamping down on her emotions will eventually lead to that fateful day when she runs into Rose Wilson.

The truth is that there is only one person who has the remotest chance of reaching through Mia's pain and grief and making her see that this is the wrong path.

Problem is that person is dead…or at least they are in this time…


The Present…

Metropolis...

Andrea was back in Kansas for a check-up with Dr Hamilton in regards to her immune-suppressant regime. Her powers had not returned and it was looking like they would never do so.

However, that was tomorrow's problem. Right now all of those worries were at the back of her mind as she enjoyed a dinner with Clark in a nice restaurant. Just the two of them. Mia was being babysat by one of Clark's friends.

And also the dinner was her idea. See, the thing is, now she knows there is no other woman, Andrea cannot use that excuse to deny her feelings for the farm boy any longer.

There has always been an attraction between them. See Mia as proof of that. But that was more physical…and being caught up in the whirlwind of their grief and heightened emotions. However, ever since Clark entered their lives Andrea has had the chance to really get to know him and the more she has got to know him the more she has started to feel. She hasn't gotten as far as trying to name the emotions just yet.

Course that could be just because she's not all that familiar with these emotions. Growing up, training to be a gymnast didn't leave her much time for dating. In fact, she can confidently say she has never had a relationship that lasted all that long or really got anywhere. That's actually pretty sad for someone approaching 30 she muses.

In the end Andrea guesses she can summarise that she's making the first step to see if her and Clark's relationship can evolve even if she's never explicitly said out loud that is what she is doing…and if it all goes belly-up she can always blame Penny for putting the stupid idea in her head.

"You look really nice."

That is what Clark had said the moment he laid eyes on Andrea as they met up for dinner and while it was pretty lame sounding it was very true. He had never seen her look prettier. She had clearly put some effort in to her appearance…and yes, he does notice these things despite what others have said about his obtuseness when it comes to women.

And when she asked him out to dinner he readily agreed. It didn't occur to him why he would refuse or that this was anything other than dinner between friends.

"So what happened to simple?" he asks.

"Hmm?" Andrea inquires softly.

"First time we had dinner together you told me you liked simple," he reminds her because this place is several notches up on that.

"I do like simple," she reiterates. "But, as Penny would say, there's nothing wrong with spoiling yourself once in awhile."

"I suppose not," Clark agrees. "Does that mean I can talk you into doing a karaoke duet with me afterwards?"

"Ok, that's random," Andrea has to say.

"Mia likes karaoke," he points out.

"Which she clearly inherits from you. You'd have to get me so drunk to stand up and sing in front of people that you'd be bordering on alcohol poisoning."

"You must have been great fun at parties growing up," he teases her.

"I didn't have time to party. Trying to be a gymnast, remember."

"Wasn't that lonely?"

"In retrospect, yeah," she admits. "Didn't seem like it at the time, though."

"You had friends, though, right?"

"Oh sure. A few. At gymnastic classes. Lost touch after Mamá died but one of them actually made the last Olympics team. Wish I could have congratulated her," she says with regret.

"I only ever had a few friends growing up too. Hard to get close to people when you're keeping a huge part of yourself secret."

"Must have been hard," Andrea reflects in sympathy.

"At times. Made me wish on occasion I could just be normal."

"Not any more though?"

Clark shakes his head. "No. I've accepted who I am. What I can do and what I have to use those gifts for."

"You realise, of course, you don't need to possess any 'gifts' to be an outsider."

Clark gets the impression she is talking of herself. Something that even after all the time they've gotten to know each other she only does reluctantly or so it seems to him. "Want to talk about it?"

Andrea reaches for her drink and takes a long sip first. "It sounds stupid considering half of all marriages end in divorce but it started when my father walked out on Mamá and me."

"It's not stupid," Clark assures her. "If it made your feel a certain way than it cannot be stupid. Only the way it was."

"Yeah, well, one day there was just this absence and there was my mother having to carry on, having to carry all the burden by herself. I can't imagine how she did it."

"I think you can, considering, you know, Mia."

Andrea laughs softly. "Wow, yeah, I guess I can imagine how she felt then."

"Did your mother ever say why your father left?"

"No. Nor has he ever been back to even check up on me. I guess I wasn't that important to him," she says, her pain and bitterness bleeding through.

"I don't like judging people without knowing the facts but I do find it hard to think of a reason he couldn't have stayed in touch."

"You're a better person than me, Clark."

"I don't think you give yourself enough credit."

"I think you're trying to forget what I did those 5 years ago."

"Believe me Andi, I haven't forgotten. I just don't think you can be judged by one moment of uncontrolled grief and anger."

Andrea smiles a brilliant, warm smile. She loves the way Clark always seems to find a way to make her feel better about herself.

Clark's glad to see her smile. It's a wonderful smile she has. Then, at the back of his head, he hears Mera's voice talk to him about his anger those few weeks ago. How he needed to let it go and forgive, essentially. Is he ready to do that? Clark doesn't have an answer.

The rest of the night is pleasant enough. They talk, though Clark is reluctant to say he's gotten Andi to open up a whole lot more about her life before that first time they met. It seems to be a barrier she's not willing to lower.

It's when the two are on the dessert part of the meal that the unpleasant part kicks in.

"Well, well, well, you didn't tell me you were seeing anyone, Clark."

Clark looks up, his eyes widening. "Cat?" he queries at the sight of his blond partner from work.

"Do you know any other hot, blond, award-winning reporters?"

"You haven't won any awards," he points out.

"Yet," she insists strongly. She then eyes up the brunette women with a critical eye as if gauging her competition. "You haven't introduced us, Clark," she critiques him.

Clark wishes he was anywhere but here right now. "Cat Grant, an old friend of mine Andrea Rojas. Andrea, my partner at work, Cat Grant."

"Yes. Clark has mentioned you," Andrea says, trying to keep her voice level and polite sounding.

"Only mentioned, Clark?" the blond seems to criticise him, sounding disappointed.

Clark mutters something in the back of his head.

Andrea saves him. "I've also read your work."

"A fan, huh?" Cat queries of Andrea with a smirk.

"More like an amateur critic. After all I was a reporter for a short while a few years back."

"Really?" Cat asks, her tone taking on disapproving tones as she places one hand on her hip.

"Yes."

"Why did you stop?"

"Had a baby and decided to focus on raising her instead," is what the Latino woman comes up with.

"Oh how…quaint," is the word Cat chooses to utter.

"So, uh, what brings you here this evening Cat?" Clark wonders.

"He does," she replies pointing at someone talking to a member of the staff.

"Isn't that the Sharks star player, Coby Derwent?" Clark thinks he recognises him from Metropolis' football team.

"Yep," Cat confirms proudly.

"Since when do you do sports interviews?"

"Since the usual person is in hospital with an appendicitis and our dearly beloved boss grabbed the first person she could find. Not that I'm complaining because between you and me that is one fine looking man. Then again this could all be a clever ploy from Ms Tess Macher…"

"That's nowhere close to her name," Clark argues.

Cat ignores him and continues, "…to try and get me off writing my cutting and insightful articles on the vigilante menace plaguing our fair city."

"How is people using their abilities to help being a menace exactly?" Andrea asks.

"You're kidding right?" Cat scoffs. "You did hear about the act of terrorism Oliver Queen committed right?"

Clark pinches the bridge of his nose. He had tried to ignore it for one night but things were worse than ever with the government using the VRA to crack down all the harder on them. Particularly Oliver whom they had named as the culprit for the facility in Alaska that Slade Wilson had in fact destroyed.

"Legislation written in haste because of unjustified fear is always bad legislation. For all the complaints about the slowness of Congress it's very purpose is to ensure legislation gets proper scrutiny," Andrea argues, bringing out her old reporter persona.

"And now it is those vigilantes that are getting the scrutiny they deserve," Cat says in absolute belief. "If you'll excuse me dinner calls. I'll see you tomorrow Clark."

Clark nods pitifully.

"You need to get a better partner," Andrea says, her mood now extremely sour.

"I think Tess thought I could change her views or something. As you can see I haven't succeeded."

"Maybe you should tell her you've saved her life, what? Twice now?" she recalls Clark telling her.

"Something like that," he says with a sad sigh.

"I sorta guessed you didn't want to talk about this stuff so I didn't but honestly Clark, you must have the patient of a saint. I wouldn't have let them get away with half the actions they've taken without responding in some fashion."

"That would just play into the image they're trying to portray us as. They're not the enemy. They're the government…but this really isn't the place to talk about it."

"No. You're right. It's isn't. Lets get out of here. I'm lost my appetite anyway."

And with that what was suppose to be a nice dinner and a chance for the two to spend some time together ends.


Author's Note: I originally wrote a different version of Patriot that I went back and rewrote as I said in an earlier note. The rewrite left a couple more future scenes on the cutting room floor to use a metaphor but I didn't delete them as I thought they could still get a use. Hence the opening to this chapter. Thanks to everyone who wrote reviews.