Chapter 13 - Forced Smiles
Jon spent a couple of days in bed after the incident with the guards. He expected it to be more miserable than it ended up being. The whole experience had wiped him out enough that he spent half the time sleeping, anyway. The pain was bad, but General Lane came in to keep him company, bring him books and food and ice and painkillers, and change his bandages. They watched movies together on the laptop every day, and Jon got a double helping of ice cream each night after dinner until the bruises faded. He wasn't going to argue with that.
The worst part—after the fact that Jon was helplessly lying on his stomach with no way to see if anyone was sneaking up on him, and being too weak to defend himself—was when General Lane brought in a tablet and made Jon look through the faces of every guard who had ever been posted at the cage. Jon didn't recognize a lot of them, and he didn't remember being harmed by most of them—at the time, it had felt like every guard was constantly looking for ways to terrorize him, but now that he was looking through, he realized it was a handful that always seemed to be placed on duty at the same time.
It wasn't easy to open up about who had hurt him, but he didn't end up having to. General Lane, as usual, seemed to be able to read his mind. When Jon had looked through all of the photos, General Lane put aside the tablet with a soft, "You'll never see their faces again," and he stayed with Jon and talked with him about basketball and swimming and other things for an hour, until his heart rate had slowed down.
When Jon was well enough, he went back to his usual routines, but he also started going with General Lane on his errands when it was needed. He never thought he would ever be thankful for something as simple as being allowed to go to the grocery store, but aside from helping with his feelings of being cooped up all the time, it turned out to be another chance to convince the man he was settling in. He had to hide the fact that his voice was almost shaking as he did it, but he asked for a few foods he liked from the store. General Lane bought him every one of them, with a smile.
Jon assumed General Lane had gotten permission to take Jon out of the house, which meant those guards had probably been fired. He wondered if General Lane had mentioned the incidents to his family, though he wasn't sure how they'd react. Jordan would probably say Jon had deserved it. Jonathan might feel sorry for him. The Lois and Clark of his own world might not care. He didn't know much about this world's Lois and Clark.
True to his word, two weekends after his grandsons had come to visit, General Lane took Jon to the Kent farm in his truck. Jon spent half the drive working up the courage to ask whether General Lane had told them about the guards, to which the man just said, "Didn't think they needed to know. Jon felt a little better at that, but when they arrived, he didn't even want to get out of the truck, remembering the last time he had been here. It was better if he didn't talk to General Lane about that, though, so he made himself get out of the truck and follow General Lane to the front door.
General Lane was the one who knocked, and Clark was the one who answered the door. Clark's eyes did a double take when they fell on Jon, and then his lips curled into a smile.
A forced smile.
Jon knew what a forced smile looked like on his father's face. He'd seen it a thousand times. Seen it on his own face, too. Been told more often than he could count, Behave for the cameras. They're watching you. Forced to smile and play a part no matter what else was going on.
The week his first girlfriend dumped him.
The day his first cat died.
The month he was grounded, for missing curfew the night of a press conference and cussing out his parents.
No matter what was happening, he had to put on a face, the face they expected. The cameras were on him. He was always being watched.
And he was being watched now. He forced a smile, which was easy with all of that practice.
"Come on in," Clark said, and they both did. Jonathan and Jordan were helping Lois in the kitchen. Sam hung up his sweater, and Clark held out a hand to Jon. "Take your sweater?"
"No, thank you, sir."
Clark nodded, and he went to go set the table.
Jon slowly wandered toward the table, wondering if he was really going to sit here, so close to all these people who he had originally come to hurt. There were six chairs at the table. That probably meant the other guys would sit next to each other and he would be next to General Lane.
He didn't dare assume. He wouldn't sit until he was told to.
And then Lois came into the room.
Jon's breath stopped. He had seen her before, of course, but he hadn't really looked at her. Now, her eyes met his, and she gave him a hesitant smile, and years of memories came rushing back.
His mother had always been the one to comfort him when he didn't want to come out and face the cameras. She would listen to his anger, wipe away his tears, hold him when he was hurt. At some point, he had realized she was only doing it so that he would come out and play the part he had been expected to play, but right now, he would have forgiven her for all of that if he could have just seen his mom again, just once.
And this Lois had the same face. The same body. She was exactly the same.
He couldn't take it anymore. He said a quiet, "Excuse me," and he ran until he found the bathroom and locked himself inside.
Jon paced in front of the sink. He could pretend he was sick, fake a stomach flu. That had never worked back home, even before he had his powers and couldn't physically get sick, but he was pretty sure he could throw up right now if he tried hard enough. He hadn't eaten for a few hours, though, so it might not be very convincing. Maybe he could fake something else. A migraine, or appendicitis, or…
A knock on the door.
Right. He wasn't going to be able to get away with hiding for very long. General Lane was supposed to be supervising him, especially here. Technically, he was probably still considered a flight risk, even with the ankle monitor. "Not feeling well, sir," he said. "We should just go back to the cabin."
"Can I come in?"
That was his mother's voice. "Uh..." He couldn't decide whether maybe this was the one time he would be okay to say no. He had never had any privacy in his cell, but he had always been given the right to privacy since he had been staying with General Lane. And seeing as he was in the bathroom, and no one could see him, it was probably fair to pretend he was indecent.
"That's okay," she said. "Would it be alright if I talked to you from here?"
Slowly, Jon lowered himself to sit on the floor.
She seemed to be waiting for a reply from him, but he didn't know what to say, and eventually she just started to speak. "Did anybody tell you anything about a girl named Natalie Irons?"
"Who?"
"A girl from another world." Lois spoke softly enough that Jon was pretty sure nobody would be able to hear from the dining room, although for all he knew, the whole family could be piled up outside the door. He doubted it, though. "She and her father, John Henry, they ended up stranded here, away from everything and everyone they knew."
"They're from my world?"
"No, another world."
He blinked a few times, wondering how many places there were out there to be stranded.
"It's a long story, but they came because Natalie's mother was killed on her planet. Her mother's name was Lois Lane."
Jon felt like his heart had stopped.
"The first time she saw me when she arrived here, and she ran to me… I had no idea who she was. And for a long time, it was really hard for her to be around me. Genetically, she's my daughter, but we don't share blood, we're not… I'm not her mother. But she's an amazing young woman. I'd be proud to be."
Jon pulled his knees into his chest.
"I'd like to get to know you. Like I'd like to get to know Natalie."
"You already have a Jon."
"You have some things in common with him, but you're not the same person as him."
"Did Natalie ever try to kill your sons?"
"No, but her dad tried to kill my husband."
Jon sat up straight. "Really?"
"He was doing the best thing he knew how to do based on the information he had. I think you were doing the same."
"Did John Henry ever kill anybody?"
"That's not the point. The point is… I know it's been hard, and I know it's hard to be around us now. I will never replace what you lost, but from everything my dad tells me, you're a good kid."
Here it came. She was finishing up the part where she tried to comfort him, and now she was going to make him come back, satisfy the people who were watching and expecting something from him. It was always the same. He felt his muscles tense, determined not to cave.
"Take all the time you need," she said. "If you need to stay in here for the rest of the night, my dad will understand. He doesn't expect you to pretend you're okay when you're not."
His throat tightened. That was the last thing he was expecting. "Okay," he said.
"If you'd rather hang out somewhere a little more comfortable, you can go up to my room. I can bring you something to eat."
"Thanks," he said, although he wasn't sure if he said it loud enough for her to hear.
He heard her footsteps trailer off, and in the distance, he could hear chattering in the kitchen.
Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet. She really wasn't going to put any pressure on him. He was really free to do whatever he wanted.
It was enough. He unlocked the door and headed out to the kitchen.