Chapter 1 - The Beginning
As Mon-El Gand steps out into the busy office lobby, a well-practiced fake smile adorns his face and a name tag that reads 'Mike Matthews, LuthorCorp Intern' dangling around his neck.
Mon-El is a master of charm and charisma. Every interaction is a well-rehearsed performance, each smile and greeting genuine and infectious. As he glides through the sea of employees, his presence seems to brighten the atmosphere, making the bustling workspace feel a bit warmer.
With his crisp, tailored attire and polished demeanor, Mon-El fits right into the corporate world. He effortlessly greets colleagues, offering them a cup of coffee with a gleam in his eye. Eve Teschmacher, the CFO's assistant, is no exception. As he hands her the steaming cup, her face flushes with a mix of excitement and flattery. Her eyes lock onto his, captivated by the magnetic aura he exudes.
Their exchange is playful and easy, laced with coy banter that leaves Eve giggling like a schoolgirl. Mon-El revels in this act, but beneath the façade, a part of him can't help but feel a twinge of guilt. He knows he's leading her on, even if unintentionally, but he can't risk blowing his cover.
As he moves on, he spots James Olsen, the CFO of LCorp himself, and approaches him with a respectful smile. James acknowledges the gesture with a nod of gratitude as he accepts the coffee. Mon-El's charm is not just a tool, it's a genuine extension of his personality, allowing him to connect with others on a level that feels authentic.
Yet, as Mon-El returns to his desk, the air of charm dissipates like smoke in the wind. The weight of his mission bears down on him, and he finds himself yearning for the past, for the simpler days when he was simply Mon-El, unburdened by the secret identity he now assumes.
He glances at the news application on his phone, learning that Lena Luthor is attending the Venture launch, her absence at the office leaving him with a mixture of relief and sorrow. Relief because it minimizes the chances of any unexpected encounters, and sorrow because director John Jones will not be too please to hear about this.
A sense of unease fills the air as a solemn social worker ushers a 12 year old, Kara Zorel into the foster home situated in National City, California. Kara's heart beats with trepidation, unsure of what awaits her within these unfamiliar walls. The echoes of past experiences and the weight of uncertainty clings to her every step.
As Kara cautiously enters the common area, the other children residing in the foster home cast hesitant glances her way. With a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, they extend tentative smiles, attempting to welcome the newcomer into their shared space. Yet, it is the presence of a particular boy that captures Kara's attention—the boy with unruly brown hair and stormy gray eyes.
When the introductions begin, each child shares their name reluctantly, hesitatingly reaching out to Kara with their stories and experiences. However, when the turn comes to the boy with the captivating gaze, he remains resolute in his silence, adamantly refusing to speak. The social worker positioned behind Kara, growing increasingly impatient, reprimands the boy, referring to him as "Monroe."
In a startling display of defiance, the boy abruptly jumps out of his seat, his voice resonating with determination. "My name is Mon-El!" he proclaims, his words laced with an unwavering conviction. With a surge of rebellion, he spells out his chosen name, demanding that the social worker listen.
Kara is taken aback, her wide eyes reflecting a mixture of shock and curiosity. She has never before witnessed someone, especially a child, speak to an adult with such unwavering defiance. But to avoid any future problems, she immediately etches it into her memory for future reference.
However, the unfolding scene takes an unforeseen turn. Another social worker intervenes, his approach less gentle than Kara expects. In her young and compassionate eyes, she perceives a roughness in the way he grips Mon-El's arm, guiding him forcefully towards what she assumes to be his designated room. The audible click of the door locking from the outside reverberates through the hall, a poignant reminder of Mon-El's perceived misbehavior.
The social worker sternly declares that Mon-El is in "time out," an attempt to discipline the fiery spirit that resides within him. Yet, unfazed by the consequences, Mon-El boldly mocks the man's authority, his words dripping with defiance and resilience.
Throughout the remainder of the day, Kara's eyes search for glimpses of Mon-El, curious about his actions. However, her quest proves fruitless, as Mon-El remains absent, even during lunchtime where laughter and camaraderie temporarily fill the void. The hours seem to stretch on endlessly, the clock's ticking only amplifying Kara's sense of restlessness and uncertainty.
Finally, as the day draws to a close, it is time for Kara to be led to her own assigned room. With her small bookbag clutched tightly in her hands, containing only a meager selection of clothes, the attire she presently adorns, and her mother's cherished necklace nestled against her chest, Kara retreats into the quiet confines of her personal haven.
As she settles into the unfamiliar bed, her thoughts swirl with a kaleidoscope of emotions. The weight of the foster home's ambiance, combined with the memories of her past and the uncertainties of her future, envelop her being.
As she tries to bring herself to sleep, her attention is abruptly drawn to the distant, at almost muted sounds of sobbing. Her curiosity becomes insatiable, propelling her forward in search of the origin of such heart-wrenching cries. Leaving the familiarity of her own bedroom, she follows the plaintive melody, allowing it to guide her through the dimly lit corridors of the foster home. The mournful notes lead her to a closed door, behind which she senses a world of pain and sorrow.
Kara hesitates for a moment, her hand hovering over the doorknob. Memories of her own parents comforting her during times of distress flood her mind, reminding her of the profound impact a comforting presence can have. With a determined resolve, she gently turns the knob, revealing a room bathed in subdued hues and engulfed in the desolate symphony of a broken soul.
As her eyes adjust to the dimness, Kara's gaze falls upon the source of the agonized cries, the rowdy boy from before...Mon-El. His tear-stained face, etched with anguish, tugs at her heartstrings, evoking a mixture of compassion and curiosity within her.
Drawing closer, Kara notices Mon-El's sobs growing softer, yet still punctuating the melancholic atmosphere. Unable to discern his words amidst the emotional cacophony, she focuses on the raw, unrestrained emotions that reverberate through the room. It is a symphony of pain, conducted by a soul steeped in sorrow.
Driven by an innate understanding, Kara tentatively reaches out, her fingers brushing against Mon-El's tousled brown hair, mirroring the tender touch her mother had once bestowed upon her. With each gentle stroke, the sobs begin to subside, replaced by delicate whimpers and eventually, a fragile silence that envelops the room.
Startled by the cessation of his tears, Mon-El's stormy grey eyes flicker open, meeting Kara's gaze with a mixture of surprise and vulnerability. In that shared moment of connection, they find solace in each other's presence, two lost souls reaching out amidst the shadows of their respective journeys.
As Mon-El slowly rises from the bed, his voice carrying a quiet tremor, he utters a simple yet profound question: "Why?"
Averting her eyes momentarily, Kara contemplates the weight of Mon-El's unspoken question. Why had she come to him? Why did she extend a comforting hand, unburdened by judgment or preconceived notions? She doesn't know him, and her first impression wasn't the greatest.
"I don't like when people in pain," Her voice quivering slightly as she responds.
Mon-El nods, the flicker of a silent understanding passing between them. For a brief moment, they remain in each other's presence, words dissipating into the delicate silence.
In the stillness that follows, Kara begins to turn away, under the impression that her presence is no longer needed. But just as she takes a step, Mon-El's voice breaks the stillness, gratitude and remorse intertwining in his words.
"Thank you," he whispers, his voice filled with genuine appreciation, "An-and I'm sorry for my behavior earlier. I hope I didn't hurt your feelings."
Kara's surprise lingers, mingling with a newfound appreciation for Mon-El's vulnerability and his capacity for reflection. With a warm smile gracing her lips, she reassures him, "You didn't hurt me. We all have those moments, s'ok." She says, before she walks out the door and disappears back to her room.
As the morning sunlight bathes the foster home in a soft glow, Kara and Mon-El find themselves seated side by side at the breakfast table, surrounded by the chatter and clatter of other children. A comfortable silence settles between them, the unspoken understanding growing stronger with each passing moment.
Their eyes meet, and a subtle smile dances upon Mon-El's lips as he slides his chocolate milk towards Kara. He had noticed her love for the sweet beverage and the sadness that dimmed her light as she finished hers.
"Here, this is for you." Kara's heart swells with gratitude as she reaches for the drink, her eyes meeting Mon-El's in a silent exchange of appreciation. With each sip she takes, the sweet taste of the chocolate milk washes away some of the lingering sorrow in her heart.
Mon-El watches her intently, a genuine affection evident in his gaze. In that moment, Mon-El realized he loved her smile and the comet-like shine of her blue eyes. His smile widens, mirroring the growing warmth within Kara's chest. When she finishes the last drop, he presents her with a napkin, his voice playfully teasing her about a fictitious chocolate mustache.
"Your mustache is the best thing I've ever seen."
Kara chuckles, a sound that brings a flicker of joy to the room, as she wipes away at the remnants of her indulgence.
In tranquil ambiance that follows, Mon-El breaks the silence, his voice, brimming with genuine curiosity. "How did it happen?" he inquires softly, his words laced with a mix of trepidation and empathy.
"I mean, why-why are you here?" Mon-El winces, instantly regretting the blunt nature of his inquiry. Realizing, his words may have struck a painful chord within Kara's heart, Mon-El's expression to shift swiftly into one of deep concern.
He hastens to amend his approach, realizing the need for caution. "I'm sorry," he stammers, his voice laced with sincerity. "You don't have to answer that. I didn't mean to butt in." Mon-El acknowledges the delicate nature of Kara's situation and regrets any unintentional distress he may have caused.
Kara takes a moment to collect herself, appreciating Mon-El's genuine empathy. She takes a deep breath and decides to share her pain, knowing that it might bring them closer. "I-I lost my parents in a landslide while we were camping," her voice trembling with a mix of grief and resilience. "Th-then I-I was put in a foster home with my cousin, Clark b-but he's a baby and I'm not...so."
Mon-El nods, understandingly. Clark was adopted already while she was transferred here instead.
With a mixture of curiosity and compassion, Kara turns the conversation back to Mon-El, curious about his own family situation. However, his response is a mere shrug, leaving her perplexed yet determined to uncover more about this enigmatic boy. There's a depth to his gaze, a hidden story waiting to be unraveled.
As breakfast draws to a close, Mon-El surprises Kara by collecting both of their trays. His thoughtful gesture leaves her momentarily adrift, unsure of what to do next. Before she can make a decision, Mon-El reappears with a beaming smile on his face, clutching yet another chocolate milk in his hand.
Kara's confusion is evident in her furrowed brow, but Mon-El is quick to explain. He shares a secret with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "The lunch lady like me, so she lets me sneak out some snacks." Mon-El continues to smile, "And now that you're my friend, I can sneak some out for you too."
Kara is taken aback by the realization that Mon-El considers her a friend, the weight of that word settling warmly in her heart. Though she is momentarily lost in her thoughts, Mon-El gently takes her hand, his touch a gentle reassurance.
With a skip in their step, he leads Kara towards the library, their fingers intertwined, embarking on an adventure of books, shared laughter, and the blossoming of a friendship that neither of them could have anticipated.
As Mon-El attends his mandatory therapy session, Kara decides to join the other foster children in their game of hide and seek. She hopes it would be a fun distraction while Mon-El is away, a way to pass the time and forget about the weight of the world for a little while. With a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, she joins in the laughter and cheers of the kids, eager to enjoy a carefree moment.
The game brings back cherished memories of her childhood, the days when she would play hide and seek with her father, feeling his warm embrace as he discovered her clever hiding spots. The joy of those moments was tinged with a pang of sorrow, the reminder of the happiness she had lost.
Kara's heart races with excitement as she finds a perfect hiding place inside a closet, the familiarity of the game and the thrill of being discovered filling her with a sense of childlike wonder. However, as the minutes tick by and the laughter of the other children grow distant, Kara begins to realize something was amiss.
At first, she brushes off her concern, assuming they are just taking their time searching. But as the silence envelopes her, a knot of unease tightens in her chest. She tries to call out, her voice echoing in the confined space, but it seems like no one could hear her.
The panic grips her, the walls of the closet seemingly closing in on her, suffocating and stifling. The air feel thin, and each breath becomes a struggle. "Guys, I'm in here!" she calls out, her voice wavering with fear and urgency. She pounds on the door, desperately trying to free herself, but it refuses to budge.
"Guys!" she calls out again, hoping they would realize she wasn't playing anymore, but her voice echoes back to her unanswered. The air inside the confined space grows thinner and thinner by the second. The darkness is suffocating. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. It was like being trapped in her own nightmare. In her desperation, she tries to force the door open again, but her efforts futile.
"Help!" she manages to gasp out, her voice barely audible now, as if she were submerged underwater. "Somebody, please!" she whispers, her voice choked with emotion, memories of loss and tragedy crashing over her like a relentless wave. "No..." Kara whispers, as she stumbles towards the corner. "No..." Her mind flashes back to the disaster that had taken her family, the feeling of being buried alive, unable to escape the suffocating darkness that surrounded her.
But just as she felt herself slipping away, a loud crash echoed through the room, jolting her back to reality. The closet door burst open, and Mon-El's concerned face appeared before her. In that moment, it was as if the world had righted itself, and she was safe in his arms.
"Kara, stay with me!" Mon-El's urgent voice cut through the haze in her mind. She felt him lifting her in his arms, cradling her as he carried her out of the closet and into the open air. His touch was a lifeline, grounding her in reality as she clung to him. The relief of his presence floods through her, but she still trembles with the aftermath of her ordeal.
He brings her to the nurse's office, staying close by her side. Kara's eyes fluttered open, her tear-stained eyes finding comfort in the concern etched across Mon-El's presence offered solace, a reminder that she was not alone.
"Mon-El," she whispered, her voice shaky. The words poured out, carrying the weight of her fear and vulnerability. Mon-El listened intently, his heart aching for her pain, understanding the depths of her fears.
"You don't have to be scared anymore. I'm here, Kara," he murmured, pulling her into a protective embrace. His arms were a shield, protecting her from the darkness that had engulfed her in the closet. "You're not alone. I'll always be here for you."
As she clung to him, her tears soaking into his shoulder. "Always,ok?" Mon-El reassured her as his warmth and support enveloped her, providing a sense of security she desperately needed. He is her anchor. The unbreakable bond they shared, forged through just several months of history, was a beacon of hope, guiding both of them through the darkest of moments. With him by her side, she knows she'll find the strength to confront her deepest fears and navigate the maze of emotions that swirls within her heart.
In solemn solitude, Kara stands before her best friend's final resting place, her gaze unwavering on the chilling stone marker that reads: "Monroe Elliot Valour."
It is just another thing that her friends can never truly understood about him. Mon-El has always loathed that name, it's not him, it's only an incongruent label that doesn't define who he really is.
The cemetery exudes a solemn stillness, mirroring the heaviness in her heart. She musters a fragile smile and starts off with a joke, desperately clinging to the notion that he has kept his promise, that he will be late to game night.
But as the seconds tick by, the weight of her loneliness and despair begins to seep through her façade. Tears well up in her eyes, and the floodgates of vulnerability swing wide open. In the presence of the silent grave, she feels compelled to express her unfiltered emotions, knowing there will be no response.
"Mon-El," she confesses, her voice trembling with raw honesty, her words pouring forth like a torrential downpour. "I've been so lost without you...I-life doesn't feel real anymore." She gulps, trying to steady her voice, but the emotions within her refuse to be contained.
"Th-there this void... so big in my life, th-that I don't know how to fully comprehend... th-that I can't seem to fill." She continues, her words carrying a weight of longing and vulnerability. "It's like a hole in my heart that no amount of time can heal. And I-I just wake up..." She cries, "and I don't want to do anything and I don't want to talk to anyone. I just want to go back to sleep and dream of you, dream of the moments we shared and the laughter we enjoyed together." She furiously wipes away at her tears.
"I miss your stupid jokes, your unwavering support, your bright smile that could chase away the darkest of clouds," she says, her voice trembling with emotion. "You were my anchor, my best friend, and my heart feels incomplete without you by my side."
"And I-I know you wouldn't want me to push everyone away, b-but I just don't want to sit through them trying to comfort me because they don't get it...y-you were the one who truly understood me, Mon-El," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.
She reaches out to touch the cold stone, her fingers lingering, seeking solace in the one who has always understood her."I-I don't know how to fill this void, Mon-El. It feels like a part of me is forever missing, a piece of my soul that went with you when you left."
"Mon-El...why did you leave me..." She crumples to her knees, clutching the grass beneath her fists, as if searching for an anchor to keep her from being swallowed by the pain.
"You j-just disappeared." She sniffles, "A-and I-I couldn't even say goodbye. How could you leave me like this, Mon-El?" She pleads, her voice choked with emotion. "Tell me!" She yells as clutches her heart as if trying to physically soothe the ache within. The words hanging in the air, as if seeking a response from the departed. But there is none.
No comforting words from Mon-El to ease her pain. No gentle touch to reassure her that everything will be okay. Nothing.
"Mon-El..." She sighs, exhausted. "I-I love you." She trails off, her heartrending confession hangs in the air, echoing among the gravestones, and the weight of her grief settles upon her like an unyielding burden. She should have said it before. As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a golden glow upon the cemetery. Through tear-stained eyes, Kara gazes at the lifeless stone, longing for a connection that can never be restored.
A/N: Here we go! I'm thinking maybe around 12 or 13 chapters? So weekly uploads on Sundays. But the chapters will be much longer than Off World.
