A/N: Hey y'all! I haven't been getting a lot of feedback lately, and I had several ideas and arcs for this story, but I've been thinking about ending this one soon. Tell me what you guys think. Thanks for reviewing, favoriting, and following!

Chapter 21

Clark Kent's life could be summarized by the breadth of his achievements. At 15 he began using his powers to help the citizens of Smallville. He saved lives and changed perspectives, maintaining a tight moral code that many of his friends had abandoned throughout their pursuits in justice. By 18 he had already saved the world and witnessed the slow burning sadomasochistic tendencies of the man he had once called his best friend. When he turned 20, he had begun his ascent into becoming the hero his fathers and his mother had all believed he could be, and the destiny that everyone seemed to know except him became more and more clear. He started to see things the way they had always been, and he accepted it wholeheartedly. At 22 he crafted the life he wanted for himself, pulling himself out of his failures, out of his mistakes and creating a reality that illuminated the best this world had to offer. At 24 he abolished the darkness brought by Darkseid, completing the last step to becoming Superman, and at 30 he married the love of his life. Invariably, every success had been preempted by heartbreaking loss and failure, and his life could be totaled through those. Through the mind-bending failures that he couldn't help but feel broken at.

At 15 he had sparked the psychotic obsession of Lex Luthor, creating a never-ending cycle of violence and egos clamoring for dominance. Thousands of lives lost in the struggle between good and evil, between morality and corruption. By 18 his failures resulted in the death of his father—the man who molded him and showed him the values he needed in order to be the hero earth deserved. When he turned 20, he had his heart broken more times than he cared to remember and witnessed the banishment of one of the most important people in his youth. At 22, he made a mistake that would haunt him for the rest of his life through the death of his best friend's husband.

But he knew the mistake that fleshed his heart and clawed from the inside out because at 24 he met a young girl with bright blonde hair and blue eyes so afraid and scared that he felt his heart break at the sight of them. He met a 13-year-old little girl wearing white clothes so pristine that they hardly looked as if they had just crossed the universe for 24 years. He led her by the hand to a house he knew would be safe, thousands of ideas rattling around in his brain. What do I do? Am I doing the right thing? Can I afford to keep her? Can I take care of her? He knew the answers, he understood what he owed this little girl, but he also knew what he wanted. He knew that he wanted this girl to be cared for—to be loved the way he was.

But he knew he couldn't do it.

He couldn't care for this girl who was a teenager in every right but numbers. He couldn't give this girl the best life this world had to offer just as his dad and his mom did for him. So he tuckered in his pride and offered this girl to two doctors with a girl not much older than her, and he prayed that he made the right decision. He hoped that she would retain the normalcies that he had while still being true to herself. He hoped that this wouldn't break her or embitter the last remaining parts of hope that existed in a heart that was too large for this world. He hoped that the sadness in her eyes would be erased by these gentle people who had dedicated their lives to helping him unlock his potential. He wished that this girl would find a friend in their daughter, and that the life she would lead would be entirely her own. That it would be entirely of her making that helped remind and console her on a loss he couldn't even begin to understand.

He led her, hand in hand, to the Danvers and when he reached the door—he let go. He slipped his hand out of hers, narrowly missing the burst of strength that would have clasped his hand to hers and steadied him by her side. He shook it out and turned around, leaving as quickly as he had just come, flexing the boundaries between running and superhuman speeding away. He ignored the tears that filled his eyes and the lump that grew ten sizes since he left. But he couldn't help it. He sped a half a mile away and turned around, his abilities allowing him to see crystal-clear fear in her eyes. Fear that he hadn't seen since she landed, and in that moment, he understood Jor-El and Lara in a way he wished he never had to. He understood the heartbreak it took to relinquish a person you loved with all your heart to someone else.

It was logical. It made sense on paper, but the emotions that filled the pen and the words behind them tore at his insides with red-hot fury that couldn't help but make him want to scream. He turned around quickly, taking to the skies and zooming towards the apartment that he and Lois lived in. That he, Lois, and Kara had lived in. He sped through the door, slamming it shut behind him, the boom reverberating throughout the plastered walls. He jammed his fists into his eyes, trying to ward off the rivulets of tears that came from the burned in memory of that look. Of that look of betrayal.

He didn't feel Lois come up to him and cradle him in arms that were always his home. He didn't hear her whisper in his ear—trying to justify what he just did. He didn't notice when his hand flew down to the counter and took a chunk of granite with it after he tried to steady himself. All he saw was the resigned abandonment that filled her eyes, searing into her soul. He saw the mark he made on her life right then and there, and it killed him.

More than Doomsday. More than Darkseid. More than heartbreak.

"Clark, look at me," Lois commanded.

And he did. He was never good at denying her anything.

"Clark, you did the right thing."

He nearly laughed. Then why does my heart feel like it's torn in half? "Did I, Lois? Would she have been better off with us? She stayed here for a month before I took her to the Danvers. She was fine." He tried to tell himself that. He tried to come up with a reason to rush back to that house and take her back.

"Smallville, we could care for her. We could love her. We could do all of that, but the life we have chosen to live would deprive her of a choice that she should be able to make on her own. Without the influence of us. Without the influence of that 'S' you wear on your chest. She might want to become a superhero, but she might also want to play in the sand and have a first kiss and be a regular teenaged girl. Living with us is too dangerous. People would find out—our enemies would find out, and she would be forced into that life. She wouldn't have a choice."

Clark closed his eyes, knowing that she was right but wishing that she was wrong. That she didn't know what she was talking about and they could go pick up Kara and everything would be fine. She wouldn't be in constant danger. She wouldn't be forced into a life. She wouldn't.

But he was reminded of his dad. Of his mom. Of his best friends. Each person had paid the price, even Lois, and he was a fool to think that Kara would be able to escape that.

"You're right, Lois. You're right." He looked up, seeing plates strewn across tables. He saw books opened with notes scribbled in the prettiest handwriting and in the strangest language. He saw letters connected with symbols and the little hints of a girl that lived here were interspersed throughout.

But he was weak as the years passed.

He saw the cards, the emails, the missed calls on his phone that begged for him to notice her. He saw them and responded back with excuses. Excuses that allowed him to hide away from the shame he was feeling and ignore it. He relinquished all parts of that girl to the Danvers, citing irresponsibility of lack of the wherewithal. He convinced himself that all interaction with the girl was too dangerous, and he couldn't be seen with her. He would succumb to his temptations, though, and show up unannounced at their doorstep. He didn't miss the stares or the glares from the family, only the light in the little blonde's eyes, and that was enough. It was evident he was making a mistake. It was clear he was doing this completely wrong, but he needed to see her. He needed to know he made the right choice, and then he would disappear for another stint of time only to reappear and the glares and stares would be back—but the light in the girl's eyes would be back too and that was enough.

He could be the object of hate from Alex or from Jeremiah or from Eliza. There were thousands of ways to do this correctly, but he had made his choice and it was too late to go back now. So he would show up once or twice a year for the next seven years of her life until he didn't at all. Until he would only communicate through emails and texting and chat rooms, and he didn't notice how it affected her until six years later when her hero—her Alex Danvers told him. And he knew it was the biggest mistake of his life to fail that little girl. Because now she wasn't little, and now she might die, and he hadn't seen her in years.

So Clark's life could be summed through his greatest achievements. Through Superman himself. But it could also be summed through his greatest failures. Through Kara herself. He knew he had to make up for it right then and there with a vengeance that would tear the world apart for her, but he knew deep down he had no right. He gave that up when he gave her to the Danvers. He and Lois might never be able to have a child, but Kara was the closest thing he could equate with it, and the failure ate him up as he waited. He waited for Alex to bring her back just as she always did—not him.

And she did because Alex was the greatest person he ever knew. The closeness between the sisters was unprecedented and irreplaceable no matter how much he tried to body shove his way in, and who was he to even try? He stayed back, stayed away as she healed and as she connected with Barry—a man he was happy to be in Kara's life. He stayed away, trying his best to help in a way that he already knew. He would keep this world safe and try and keep the little girl away from horrors that embodied the worst of this world.

But he knew he already failed. He failed the moment Lillian took the first shot, the moment Metallo slung her unconscious form across his body. He failed when she was thrown across earths and now as Bruce stood in front of him briefing him on the current situation, he knew he failed once more.

"You mean that Kara, Alex, and Barry are just gone?" he asked, disbelief piling up in his voice.

"Yes."

"Where are they?"

"We don't know, but Alex sent a text before they entered the facility. She said they were going to be off the grid for a while and not to worry."

Clark felt a pang of jealously immediately followed by regret. Alex was her protector. Not him. "So, what do we do?"

"Nothing. We do nothing. Alex is one of the smartest people here, and if she says not to worry than we don't worry," Bruce said, his blasé articulation angering him.

"Nothing? So, you called me here to say 'hey your cousin's missing so we're going to do nothing. Just wanted to let you know?'"

"No, Clark. I need your help. It's time we start establishing our League. I contacted Oliver on the other side and he's doing the same."

"Hold up, we're going to chase after metas who have already been doing this alone for years and ask them to join a think tank?" he clarified, hoping that by some stroke of luck, the hasty generalization of his plan would show how ridiculous this was.

"Yep. Glad you understand. First up, we're going underseas."

Oliver Queen didn't know what to say other than this was a long time coming. Felicity's and Thea's renovation of the S.T.A.R. Labs hangar was going well, and Bruce's advice to start recruiting was solid to say the least. He didn't have Barry and with his three first choices occupied he turned to the only other woman he trusted with his life.

"Ollie, you know this is insane, right?"

"Yes, Sara, seeing as how you don't fail to mention it to me every five seconds."

"Just making sure you know. Because traveling to Coast City on some kind of whim isn't what I'd call a good plan of action."

"Yes, I know! You've mentioned it!"

Sara raised her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Just run through it with me one more time. Why do you think there's something worth investigating in Coast City?"

"Something doesn't add up, Sara. Ferris Aircraft is hiding something."

Sara stopped, her hand flying out and pressing against Oliver's torso to keep him from moving. "You don't mean the Ferris Aircraft like the leading aviation company in the world, right? That Ferris Aircraft?"

"Yes, Sara, that's exactly what I mean, and now can we please keep going? We're almost there."

"Hey, how about you continue. Why is there something suspicious going on?"

"Fine. There was a test pilot that Thea, Felicity, and I heard about who nearly died after his plane crashed. No human should be able to withstand the heats that the aircraft was measured at reaching, but he still survived and came back months later without a scratch on him. Now Ferris Aircraft denies any part in the crash, but something doesn't line up. Not to mention there's been chatter on the dark web about a man clothed in emerald light. I think there's a connection."

Sara raised her eyebrow, skeptically. "Either that or you're jealous that someone's rebelling against your patent on green leathered superheroes. And since when do you go skulking around the dark web?"

"Sara, can we just focus?"

"Sure, boss. All focused. Next question. How do you plan on getting in? This is a military base and unless you can magically become a general in the next five seconds, I doubt we're going to be able to get in."

"I don't have to. Thea wrote me in as co-founder of Queen Industries. Ferris Aircraft has been coming into some bankruptcy issues, so I'm here to discuss some of the finer details with the owner—Carl Ferris."

Sara scoffed. "That's nepotism if I've ever seen it. Does Thea remember how bad you did with the last company you had?"

Oliver ignored her, walking up to the man blocking the entrance to the offices.

"Name?"

"Oliver Queen and this is my associate Sara Lance."

"Go ahead. She's waiting for you in the next room."

They walked in the door, Oliver masking the confusion he felt. He turned into the next room, seeing a pretty dark-haired woman sitting behind a desk filled to the top with papers and various folders. She stood quickly, offering each of them her hand.

"Carol Ferris, nice to meet you," she introduced herself, gesturing to the seats in front of her desk.

"Oliver Queen and this is my associate Sara Lance. There must have been a typo. I thought I was meeting with a Carl Ferris."

"No typo. The company recently switched hands after some family issues came up. Carl Ferris is my father. But I've got to say. I'm confused on why a tech company wants to help out something so far out of their wheelhouse."

"Queen Industries is looking to diversify. Your company deals primarily in aviation, but our tech applied with your aircrafts could be revolutionary. I am curious however on one thing."

"And what's that Mr. Queen?'

"Call me Oliver, please," he said, flashing her a quick smile. "Ms. Ferris—"

"If you're Oliver," she interrupted.

"Alright, Carol it is. I'm confused on the whole incident with one of your pilots."

"What do you mean?"

"You actually were looking to sue your father's company after pilot Hal Jordan was presumed dead, weren't you?" Sara interjected, alerted to the quick twitch of her eye after she mentioned his name.

"Yes, I was. But he was found alive, and I dropped the case."

"That's odd though, isn't it?"

"I don't see how, Ms. Lance. He was a childhood friend, and I was upset and needed someone to blame, but once he turned up, I dismissed all charges. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Not at all. What's hard to believe is the fact that he's still alive."

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, clearing her throat awkwardly. "I don't see how this has anything to do with what we're going to be talking about today."

"You're right, my apologies," Sara replied, her eyes betraying the good-naturedness of the apology.

"If you don't mind, we would like to have a word with the pilot afterwards."

"Of course. Now if we may?"

"Absolutely."

"Bruce, I thought I misunderstood you back there but based on the fact that we're driving straight towards the Atlantic Ocean, I don't think you were."

"No, I wasn't. Brace yourself."

"Wait! Uh, we aren't necessarily in a submarine. We're in car if you remember, and cars don't exactly float."

"Trust me, Clark."

The car zoomed off the side of the asphalt, catapulting into the ocean and sinking. Clark moved his hand to the seatbelt, aiming to rip the side of the tin can open and fly the both of them to safety, but he heard the gears of the car begin the shift. The entire front molded and snapped forward, revealing a jet underneath. The back did the same, and the automobile lurched forward suddenly, throwing both men back into their chairs.

"Bruce!"

The man ignored him and pushed the wheel forward, increasing the speed until the vehicle was nearly hopping the waves. They drove for a good hour before Bruce tilted the thing back and the whole contraption slowed to a near stop.

Clark couldn't see anything for miles, and his faith in the man was slowly giving way to complete belief that he had gone crazy.

"Bruce, where are we?"

"I met a man in Maine last year. He exhibited strange abilities."

"Strange abilities," Clark clarified. "Like what?"

"Super-strength, superspeed, and the ability to breathe underwater."

"So, you decided the only way to find him was to drive miles away in the middle of the ocean?"

"Yes. He said he would meet us here."

"Bruce, I don't thi—" A large wave of water was pushed from the bottom, the streams fading away to show a large man tattooed across his entire upper body. His hair hung loosely below his shoulders, and his eyes looked critically at the two men.

His whole body was suspended by water that wrapped around his legs, supporting him in a way that completely defied physics. Clark's eyes narrowed, examining the man and any inclinations that he may be dangerous. Bruce, on the other hand, began to unbuckle and pull himself out of the side window and on top of the vehicle. Choosing to follow the man's lead, Clark did the same until both were face to face with the enormous Atlantean.

"Arthur Curry, nice to see you again."

"Bruce Wayne. How's Gotham?" The man responded, smiling warmly at the two.

"That's what we're here about."

"We're?" He turned to Clark, his eyes moving across the length of his body, analyzing and assessing him from head to toe. "And who's this?"

"Superman," Clark responded, his chest puffing out slightly. "I'm Superman."

The man raised an eyebrow, scoffing. "Sure you are."

Clark glared at him, levitating two feet off the top of the vehicle. The man's scoff disappeared giving away to slight respect as he nodded at him.

"Well shit. I guess you are."

Bruce cleared his throat, trying to steer the conversation back to its original subject. "I'm here about that task force I told you about."

"The one I told you I didn't want to be a part of?"

"Things have changed."

"The oceans look fine. Doesn't seem like anything's changed."

Bruce pulled out his phone, swiping up to reveal a map of the world decorated with several red dots across the entirety of it. "This is a map of all sightings of metas and supers that have acted on behalf of Cadmus. That's more than doubled since last year. Something of that magnitude…that's going to end up affecting you and your oceans and you'd be ignorant to think otherwise."

Clark could see Curry's eyes furrow in deep thought as if mulling each outcome carefully. The tenseness of his muscles and the sharpness of his jaw attributed to the amount of time he was taking to consider Bruce's offer, and Clark was sure he was going to say no. To live in the ocean far away from the reach of Cadmus was a blessing. It was the ability to remain completely isolated from the conflict. For him and his people, it was important to weigh the consequences of involving themselves in earthly matters and earthly conflicts and decide when it was right to intervene and when it was right to abstain from the battle. This wasn't directly affecting them yet. They didn't need to be involved.

"I have a duty to Atlantis to protect my people," he said simply.

"Cadmus almost killed Supergirl. They went after her, and if it wasn't for a certain good Samaritan then she would have died. You think they won't target you and Atlantis? I found you all by myself. You don't think they already know? You don't think they'll come after you?"

"You don't understand. I have a duty to Atlantis to protect my people. I'll join. I'll join your little task force, but shit, it better be worth it."

Oliver Queen glanced at his watch once more, sure that this Carol Ferris was playing a prank on him. After his not so subtle attempt to stall a merge between both of their companies, Carol had basically shoved both him and Sara out the door. He knew his intentions were made blatantly clear when they mentioned Jordan, and his transparency had apparently been punished.

"Ollie, do you get the feeling that we're being played?"

"Unfortunately, I do."

"Next time I should probably take point."

"You think you could've done better?"

"Better than what happened in there? Definitely."

"And I suppose that's because subtly is your specialty? Because you're amazing at getting a job done quickly and quietly?"

Sara nodded. "Yeah."

"Beebo."

She flinched. "Point taken." She ran her fingers through her hair, her foot tapping anxiously. "Still, I don't think it's very smart to just sit her waiting for this mysterious emerald hero to just randomly show up. In fact, I don't kn—"

Her sentence was interrupted, a bright light in what looked like the shape of a fist slamming into her stomach. Her feet flew out in front of her as her body whipped back towards the back wall. Oliver tensed immediately, grabbing a piece of metal from his coat pocket and snapping it forward. The metal flexed and expanded into his regular compound bow, and he tapped a small button on the side of it to make little rows of arrows on the side enlarge. He swiftly grabbed an arrow, nocking it in and loosing it towards the glowing green man.

The intruder merely smirked and waved his hand, a shard of light smashing into the arrow and sending it skidding to the ground. Oliver's eyes assessed the messy brown hair and green and black suit that the man wore. There was an air of cockiness and of arrogance that graced the young guy in front of him. It was hidden in the way he played with the green ring on his finger and puffed out his chest. It was in the way he didn't notice Sara approaching him from behind about to smash a rock she had snatched from the ground on the side of his head.

The rock connected and the shock on his face said it all as he landed on his hands and knees, dazed from the hit. Oliver gestured to his ring, and Sara nodded, nearing the strange ring around the middle finger on his right hand. The guy spun around, and the ring emitted another burst of light that smacked into the woman and sent her flying once more. Oliver could swear he could see a small frown tip the side of his lip as Sara crashed onto the ground.

Good. Remorse. Oliver raised his bow and nocked another arrow, fully aware that it wasn't going to do much of anything once the green clad man raised his hand. The man merely stood once more, the rock that would have killed a normal person bearing no effect on him.

"You seem like a smart guy. You don't really think you can do anything with that arrow, do you?" he asked, almost gleeful in his delivery.

"Maybe not. But maybe I can distract you a little bit longer."

His attire suddenly vanished along with the emerald glow that had previously surrounded him as Sara slipped the ring off his finger. He jumped backwards, trying to snag it back, but she threw it to Oliver who caught it. He examined the strange emblem and raised his eyebrow at the intruder.

"This looks like a toy. It's the source of your powers though, isn't it, Hal Jordan?"

The man stopped struggling, his hands dropping to his sides. "How do you know who I am?"

"You're not exactly cornering the market on secret identities. I've been doing this a long time. It's not hard to find out who's been behind the recent saves in Coast City. Particularly when they regard Miss Ferris."

He shrugged. "We'll then its nice to meet you Mr. Queen. Or Green Arrow." Oliver raised his eyebrow at him. "You know…if we're doing the full disclosure thing then I thought I should reveal that I know yours as well."

"That's fair," Oliver conceded, pocketing the ring.

"Hey! That's mine!" Hal began to approach him, stopping when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around, seeing the deceiving smile of the pretty blonde behind him.

"You should take better care of your things."

Hal sighed, careful not to make any sudden moves for fear that the violent woman behind him might snap his neck. "What do you want? You invade my workplace, harass my friend, and now you're basically holding me hostage."

"I wouldn't say we harassed her. We were discussing a joint venture. And as I recall you were the one that attacked us first. Either way, we're here to propose an idea to you."

"Really? And you think I'll accept?"

"Sure I do. You remind me of a friend of mine a very long time ago. Cocky, new at the game, eager to get something done. But you're a hero. You can't sit still."

"You're not going to ask me any questions? You're just asking me."

Oliver grinned. "I don't need to. My girlfriend gave me everything I need. Father died when you were young. Inspired you to join this corporation, against your mother's wishes I might add. I don't need to know the specifics of your powers to know that you're strong-willed, powerful, and dedicated."

"You've got my attention."

Clark, Bruce, and Arthur arrived back at the Batcave, the big Atlantean almost immediately shoving his way around the area to inspect each gadget and vehicle. His inspections were usually punctuated with a profane exclamation, a nod, and then passage onto the next.

Clark pulled his friend aside, his doubts that were previously relieved being suddenly reinvigorated. "Bruce, you think this is a good idea?"

"Yes. I met him a while back. I needed his help for something, and he's one of the strongest warriors I know. I called a woman; she should be down here soon. We need to organize, Clark. And you need to lead."

He whipped his head around, certain he misheard him. "Me? You want me to lead?"

"Yes, Clark."

"Wait. Why? Why not you?"

The man ran his fingers through is hair, moving to sit in a chair, and Clark moving to follow him. "Because, Clark. You and Kara are the symbol for hope. That "s" you wear on your chest is associated with optimism, hope, perseverance, and courage. All the ideals that America was founded on. I can't be the head of this group. I work in the shadows, doing what's necessary and hard. I will be behind you, but you need to be up front. The public trusts you. It has to be you, Clark."

"I-I'll do it. If you think I can, Bruce, then I'll do it."

"Good." His phone beeped, and he dug the device out his pocket, reading the message carefully. "Oliver says that he and Sara were successful, and they might have someone that can help us get Alex, Barry, and Kara back."

"How are you communicating with them?" Clark asked, dumbfounded. Last he heard, their tech only allowed them to talk via the extrapolator.

"New phone. Cisco was able to fashion a phone that allows us to communicate across earths. He's working on more." Another beep. "They're crossing over."

They turned towards the green portal that grew partially, allowing for all three to cross over to Earth-38. Bruce looked pensively at the strange and different color, immediately on guard. From what he had seen before, the portals were usually a gradient of blues, blacks, and whites. This one was different. It was almost a translucent green.

"Oliver?" he called out carefully, reaching into his belt and grasping at a batarang.

"It's fine, Bruce. Meet Hal Jordan."

"Is this a cave? Cool," the man exclaimed excitedly, nearly running over to Bruce in a giddy skip.

He extended his hand, the green mask that covered his eyes disappearing to reveal his full face. "Hi. I'm Hal Jordan, and I think I can help you get your friends back."

"Really? How?"

"Let's just say I have a pretty advanced piece of machinery. Queen told me that his friend thinks they're in the future. This is exactly in my wheelhouse. You guys ready?" He eyed the people around him, aware to how bizarre this group looked. An archer, alien, bat, Atlantean, ninja, and then him. He wasn't sure where he fit into this, but wherever there were freaks and geeks seemed like a good enough place for him to reside.

"I don't suppose you boys would like some assistance?" The team turned around, mouths agape at the beautiful woman behind them. Her hair hung in curls, and she wore what looked like a variation of Greek armor. The revealing parts of her outfit contrasted heavily with the sword that hung loosely in her hand and eyes that followed each of their movements.

"I-I-who are you?" Hal managed to ask, words tripping over his tongue and barely managing to come out.

"Diana Prince. Now where is this Justice League I've been told about?"