Chapter 14

Earth-TUD22

6 months earlier

Natalie drifted slowly into consciousness, her mind a haze of confusion. A strange but familiar voice spoke words she could not yet understand. She gently opened her eyes, blinking as she peered out into the still emptiness of space, her memory reluctantly returning as she took in her surroundings in the ship's cramped pod.

'Natalie, wake up,' the voice spoke again.

It was Hetty, her ship's AI. Of course, it was. There was no one else here. She was completely alone in this nothingness.

Suddenly she remembered why she had been placed in hibernation in the first place. Her dad!

'What's going on?' Natalie asked, panic rising in her voice

'You've been in hibernation for 6 months – you're body needs time to…' Hetty began to caution, but Natalie cut her off.

'Where's my dad?' Natalie asked, breathing heavily and looking around the pod for any signs of what the AI might have detected.

'I was able to pick up the locator beacon for the war suit,' Hetty explained.

'You found him?' Natalie asked, hope replacing the panic that had been there moments before.

'I found the suit…' Hetty continued, her voice belying warning, 'the chances that your father also survived are…'

'That is not helpful Hetty,' Natalie cut the AI off again, refusing to hear the AI's pessimistic warning. 'We need to leave now. Follow that beacon!'

She looked up at the screens, trying to decipher the readings Hetty had picked up and what they might mean. Could her dad really be out there waiting for her to find him?

'Our resources are limited – we may not be able to survive the trip,' Hetty cautioned again, and this time Natalie allowed the reality of her situation to sink in.

She looked down for a moment, doubt and hopelessness threatening to push through her conviction. As she considered how close she might be to the end of her young life, she noticed a photograph floating towards her in zero gravity.

It was the one photo she still had of her and her parents. They hadn't exactly had time to pack before they were forced underground. She stared at it for a moment, just floating in front of her like a flying messenger, reminding her of what she was fighting for.

Instinctively she reached out to grab it, forgetting she was strapped in. She fought against the safety straps holding her to the seat, getting just close enough for her fingertips to pull it closer. Once the photo was in her hand, her eyes misted up, the memories the image stirred up almost overwhelming her in the dark and lonely pod.

Her grief for her mother was still so painfully present and unprocessed. They just hadn't had time, it had all been 'fight or die' for so long. Her eyes drifted to her father's face smiling back at her.

Her dad wasn't' gone. Not yet.

'All I need is you dad. Just you and I'll be happy,' she spoke softly.

'Natalie, what would you like me to do?' Hetty asked, diligently awaiting instruction.

Determination rose up like a fire coursing through her, and she sat up straight, shifting her energy to action-ready mode.

'Get me to my dad,' she replied firmly.

Without another word from Hetty, the ship's navigation screens activated, and Natalie braced herself for the journey ahead.

Clark basked in the warmth of the midday sun, his body relaxed into the camping chair he'd managed to dig out from the barn. He held his coffee mug in one hand and his other brushed lightly over the skin of his bare chest.

All the bruising was gone now and, as he applied a little bit more pressure, he was happy to confirm that there was no pain or tenderness at all anymore. Between the sun lamps at the DOD and these last few hours of direct exposure, it seemed his physical wounds were completely healed.

Even his superpowers were starting to return.

He focused his super hearing on the sounds of the farm. The comforting soundtrack to his childhood offered almost as much nourishment as the bright warm rays his skin was lapping up so hungrily. His eyes stayed closed and he breathed gently, keeping himself as peaceful as he could as he listened to the gently swaying corn and the distant clucking of hens.

The insistent murmur of the Pinster's harvester a few hundred yards away drew his attention and he turned around, zooming his telescopic vision in on his neighbour's familiar determined face. He smiled as he remembered how close he had been with his dad, always popping by to offer a helping hand or complain about the weather or the birds.

Clark was grateful they had moved back to Smallville for so many reasons, but today he felt that gratitude more than ever. This town had been a safe haven for him ever since his parents had opened that pod and brought him out into that corn field. The people of Smallville had taught him what it meant to trust the good in people, to know that everyone was looking out for each other.

Right now, he needed that feeling of safety more than ever.

He felt a pang of grief, wishing desperately that he could speak to his mom or dad. That he could be comforted by their reassuring words or loving embrace. They'd both been taken so young, his dad especially. He tried to just be grateful for the time he'd had with them, but it was so much harder than he let on. They were his anchor, the only people who really knew him his whole life. They reminded him every day that he really was Clark Kent, their son… not just an alien wearing a disguise.

'You're a disgusting alien abomination!'

Clark shivered at the unwelcome flash of memory and tried to return his thoughts to the people he loved. He had Lois now. And the boys. He knew as long as he had them, they would never let him forget how much he belonged here.

His conversation with Lois in the bedroom was still weighing heavily on his mind. He could hardly believe what had come out of his mouth. He'd felt himself surrender to her insistent invitation to acknowledge his fear, and finally accepted how much was bubbling beneath the surface.

Now he felt like he was drowning.

'You need to be around more Clark. The boys need to see what a strong, loving, vulnerable man looks like.'

His mom's voice suddenly appeared from his memory, whispering an echo of Lois' own assertion.

'What your father was to you,' his mom had said.

Clark reflected on those words, going over and over their meaning in his mind.

Was his mom right? Had his father shown him what a vulnerable man looked like? Or was it more complicated than that? What did vulnerability even mean?

Jonathan Kent Snr was the strongest, kindest, most generous man Clark had ever known. He lived his life in service to others - to his country as a soldier, and then to his community, for no reason other than that he cared. He wanted to help.

He approached every situation with honesty and integrity and showed every person he encountered an equal level of respect - even when others might say they didn't deserve it.

Clark's dad had always had time for him. He taught him as much about the world outside the farm as he could, whilst also encouraging him to stop and appreciate the glorious beauty of something as simple as the Kansas sun setting over the cornfields.

Clark had been working with his dad on the farm as soon as he was old enough to hold a wrench, just basking in the man's simple and dignified way of being. He knew he wouldn't be the man he was today without his father's unshaking ethics and values to look up to.

Jonathan Kent Snr been protective of Clark, of course. When it came to keeping his origin a secret, he was like an immovable object. In fact, discussions around anything that might risk exposure were the only times he ever really saw his dad angry. Clark understood now he was a father himself, just how scared he must have been.

But he always made sure Clark knew how proud of him he was. They may have found him in a field, but Jonathan Kent Snr made sure Clark knew he was HIS son. That he loved him.

So, he was vulnerable, in a lot of ways.

He was not an emotionally closed-off man by any means. There were many things for which he would shed a tear, his pride for his son or his love of his hometown included. Clark remembered looking over and seeing a tear slipping down his father's cheek one year when a special collection for their struggling neighbors had been revealed at the harvest festival, and the whole family had fallen apart with tears of gratitude, hugging everyone in sight.

Clark only had to look at his dad's relationship with his mom to see how tender and soft the man could be. How much he valued the very essence of love. It was how he tried to be with Lois and his own sons every day.

But Clark had to admit, Jonathan Kent could also be a proud and stubborn man. He didn't like to admit defeat, especially where the farm was concerned. He would often work himself to the bone and shrug off any suggestion he should slow down. His dad and mom would often butt heads about his reluctance to pay for a farm hand to reduce the load, as though letting an outsider in somehow meant surrender.

There were also clear areas of his past that were dark clouds never to be spoken of. Clark knew his dad had been in the army, but he knew next to nothing about his time in the Vietnam war. He'd seen all the medals his dad had stored away with his football trophies, but he'd heard none of the stories that go with them.

Even after he died, when he'd asked his mother about it, she'd shrugged it off. 'Some things are just too painful to reminisce about,' she'd told him.

He'd just accepted it at the time, but with everything going on, he had to wonder if his dad had ever talked to anyone about the horrors he must have seen. The people he lost. The pain he endured.

Clark suddenly felt a memory rising into consciousness as he gazed towards the barn, bringing forth a long-forgotten conversation with his father about a year before he died.

'Dad!' Clark exclaimed, rushing over from the farmhouse to the barn after hearing a loud cracking sound followed by strangled cries of pain.

His dad was standing next to one of the wooden pillars, looking down at his hand and cradling it gently with his other, cursing under his breath. Clark could see the splintered wood of the pillar where it had obviously been hit with something. Hard.

'What happened?' Clark asked, and his dad looked up like a deer in headlights, clearly not having heard him at all the first time he spoke.

'I'm sorry son, I didn't mean to scare you,' his dad said, his tone forced like he was trying to cover his emotion, 'It was just an accident, nothing to worry about.'

'Dad, what did you do to your hand?' Clark asked, his eyes still fixed on the hand cradled at his father's waist. It looked swollen and the knuckles were bloody.

Jonathan sighed. 'Don't tell your mother, will you?' he said, his tone resigned.

Clark walked over to his dad, who was looking anywhere but directly at his son. He approached tentatively - he couldn't be sure, but it looked like his dad had been crying. There was clearly something wrong, and something told him to go slow.

He lifted his dad's hand and gently blew some of his newly discovered cold breath on it to ease the swelling.

'Thanks, son,' Jonathan said quietly, still not looking up.

Clark pulled over a large bale of hay, encouraging the older man to sit down. He did so wordlessly, looking wistfully out towards the cornfields.

'What's going on, dad?' Clark asked softly, searching his father's face for answers.

Jonathan looked up at his son, regret, and grief swirling in his dark grey eyes. 'I just got some bad news,' he revealed. 'It's your uncle Bill. He passed away last night.'

Clark felt his heart hitch in his chest and tears of his own began to swell.

'Dad, I'm so sorry,' Clark replied genuinely.

Uncle Bill was one of his dad's army buddies, and he'd been to visit many times over the years. He had never seen his dad laugh like he did when he was with Bill. There was a bond there that ran deeper than time or space, and the minute they were in each other's company they both seemed to come alive. Like they really were brothers.

'What happened? I didn't even know he was sick,' Clark asked.

'He wasn't… exactly. Clark, this isn't easy to say but…' his dad began, clearly wishing he wasn't having to announce this truth. 'Bill, he… he took his own life.'

'Oh,' Clark simply uttered, sitting down next to his dad on the hay bale.

'Yeah,' his dad said defeatedly, and the two of them simply sat there in silence for a few moments.

'I'm so sorry dad,' Clark repeated, breaking their reflective silence.

'Me too, son,' his dad replied, appreciative of his son not trying to make it better somehow. 'Bill's one of the best men I ever knew. Saved my life more times than I could count. No matter what happened… and believe me, we saw some horrors together. Even in our darkest nights, he never ever let me down.'

Clark smiled softly and placed a hand around his dad's shoulders. 'Sounds like someone I know.'

'I guess that's what caught up with him in the end though,' his dad mused. 'Always being strong for everyone else, but never really looking at what was going on inside.'

He paused for a moment before pulling out of Clark's embrace and standing up, running his good hand through his hair.

'I'm sorry Clark,' he said, turning back around, his face full of conflict and regret.

'Sorry?!' Clark replied, utterly confused. 'For what?'

'I'm sorry I let you grow up confusing pride for strength,' his dad responded, his voice full of regret.

'Dad, you're not making any sense,' Clark countered. 'You are one of the most humble men in town.'

'Oh pshh, sure, when it comes to material possessions and whether or not we win at Friday night tombola, I'm humble as hell,' his dad argued, his voice full of emotion. 'But I never let you, or anyone else, see my fear. Not even really your mother. I just pretend everything is fine, even when it's not. I haven't admitted how deeply some scars go. That every night when I close my eyes, I hear strangled cries of pain and relive moments I wish I could forget. Son, I've tried to bury a lot of things in my past… just like Bill.'

'Dad…' Clark tried to defend his father again while also processing what he was revealing.

Obviously, he knew that his dad must have been through some traumatic experiences in his time at war but hearing him say it out loud left him sort of speechless.

'No Clark, I really need you to hear this,' his father said, sitting back down beside him and looking him straight in the eye. 'I know you are going to carry a lot of responsibility on your shoulders when you leave this farm and become whatever it is you are going to become… and there will probably be plenty of reasons why you'll want to hide any fears or doubts you have… but son, don't ever try and pretend away your feelings.'

Jonathan looked down at the picture of Bill in his hand, allowing fresh tears to fall.

'They will always come back to haunt you, in the end,' he breathed.

Clark tried to digest the full meaning of what he'd remembered. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten that day… but he'd been so young at the time, he just hadn't really understood his father's meaning.

Over the years, it's not like he'd intentionally hardened himself to fear and pain, but he knew it had happened. Gradually. Every enemy he'd faced had left their mark. Every time he'd been first on the scene of a disaster and seen things he hoped his sons would never have to… he'd pushed a part of himself further down. Then after Lex…

This was it, wasn't it? The events of the past few days… this is what his dad had been warning him about. This is what Lois was trying to get him to see.

He wasn't going to be able to pretend he was invulnerable anymore.

Before he had time to let the weight of it all sink in, Clark's super hearing suddenly picked up gunshots and cries for help from a bank somewhere in Mexico.

Feeling somewhat relieved by the opportunity to distract himself from difficult revelations, Clark decided he was well enough to handle a simple robbery. After all, it would be good for him to be reminded of who he was, to let that sense of purpose restore a bit of faith for him again, wouldn't it?

In a flash, he left the boys a note on the counter, grabbed his spare costume, and flew up, up, and away.

Lois opened the door to the Gazette with her spare key, concerned that it was still closed at 11am. She saw her boss, Chrissy, asleep on top of a pile of files with Morgan Edge's stamp all over them, and she smiled at the endearing picture.

It felt good to be taking a beat to plug back into the investigation. So much had happened this last 24hrs, and although they may not have realized it immediately, it all linked back to Edge.

Between the information Jon had learned on The RV and what John Henry Irons had told her dad, they knew several things about Edge that were beyond mind-blowing. They knew he was kryptonian, that he was implanting people with kryptonian consciousness and that his end goal was to take over the world.

Nothing too intimidating.

John Henry was obviously so terrified of what was to come that he had been willing to kill to prevent it from happening. While Lois knew he was mistaken about her husband ever having any involvement in that on this earth, she took his fear seriously. This wasn't just some wack job with a maniacal but realistically silly plan – if they didn't stop him, millions of people could actually die.

Now that the DOD headquarters was a bombsite, Clark was at home recuperating and John Henry had been kidnapped by Rosetti, Lois knew it was down to her to figure out exactly what Edge was doing and how they could stop him without relying on an army stocked with kryptonite weapons.

Chrissy suddenly lifted her head off the desk, a stray piece of paper still stuck to her cheek.

'Lois!' she exclaimed, frowning slightly as she noticed the paper and then clambering to get it off. 'I was so worried about you, why weren't you answering your phone?'

Lois felt a pang of guilt. She'd seen Chrissy's calls and messages blowing up her phone, but she was just in too much shock to be able to work out what was safe to say. Now that she'd had time to settle down, she'd been able to decide how much she would be able to share of what she'd learned.

She hated how much of her life was figuring out the degree to which she had to lie to the people around her, but she knew how important these secrets were to keep.

'What happened?' Chrissy asked again, her voice a little calmer as she regarded Lois's grim expression.

'We should probably sit down,' Lois suggested, pulling out another chair next to Chrissy's own and taking a seat.

'Oh boy, you weren't just in a dead signal zone, were you?' Chrissy attempted to lighten the mood and returning to her own seat.

Pausing for a moment to figure out where to start, Lois then began, 'You know that reporter Marcus Bridgwater?'

Chrissy tensed slightly at the sound of his name. Lois knew her boss hadn't liked this outsider coming in and trying to sidle up to her best (and only) reporter. She took her expression as enough recognition and continued.

'Well, it turns out that's not his real name. His name is John Henry Irons,' Lois explained.

'I knew it!' Chrissy exclaimed. 'I knew we couldn't trust a guy who just showed up saying he wanted to help you with a story, I mean, who does that?'

'Chrissy, wait…' Lois put her hand out. 'There's more. That's who he is, but the weirder part is that he's dead. On this world anyway.'

'This world?' Chrissy responded sceptically.

'Yeah,' Lois sighed. 'Multiple universes. It's a thing. I don't have the time or the energy to convince you, so just go with me here.'

Chrissy bit her lip but nodded.

'Morgan Edge was doing the same on his world as he is on ours,' Lois continued. 'Well… did. On that world he succeeded. Millions of people died.'

'Oh my god, wha…' Chrissy trailed off, her mouth hanging open.

'He's kryptonian, Chrissy,' Lois added, dropping in the final bombshell. 'And he is implanting kryptonian consciousness into people. Like Leslie Larr. And Derek Powell.'

'Kryptonian?' Chrissy said, tipping her head and frowning like she was searching her memory for something that felt familiar. 'Wait… like Superman?' she announced when the pieces finally clicked in place.

Lois simply nodded and the two sat in silence for a moment. Chrissy seemed to be struggling to make sense of the information, but Lois noticed she at least wasn't laughing it off or calling Lois crazy. Thankfully her boss had a pretty open mind. She knew that her star reporter had run into more than her fair share of out of this world stories.

'Wait…' Chrissy stood up suddenly, rushing over to a pile of files on the table across from them.

She rifled through them anxiously and Lois stood too, curious about her boss's sudden burst of action.

'Oh my god, that's what this executive program is about!' she said, looking at Lois as though she should know what she was talking about. Realizing from Lois' confused expression that she didn't, she added, 'You really should have checked your messages, Lana has been trying to contact you too.'

'What's the executive program Chrissy?' Lois asked impatiently.

'Lana came in with these files yesterday when she couldn't get hold of you or Clark,' she explained. 'She said that Edge had her selecting candidates for an 'executive program'. If he's really trying to turn people into kryptonian's, maybe this is where he's going to start!'

She plopped the first file down in front of Lois, and she recognized the face staring back up at her. Clark's old school friend. Avery Pan.