Chapter Summary: Kon saves the day!
CW: Blood, Surgical Procedure
AN: New chapter, fresh off the press! Enjoy!
Of all the things Kon expected from visiting the Kents—his parents? Grandparents? It was complicated—, a spaceship crash landing in their backyard was not one. Neither was watching someone with a Kryptonian house crest sewn onto their chest crawl out of the smoldering wreckage.
Martha walked up from behind him, a frown decorating her face as she wiped her hands clean on her apron. Kon wondered why she didn't seem too upset over the fact that a spaceship landed on her property, before he realized that was how they first met Clark. If anything, she looked more troubled over the crops being ruined than anything else.
Kon lurched forward with a shout as the spaceship exploded, dropping the basket full of wheat to shield Martha from any flying shrapnel. After making sure nothing hit Martha, however, he jumped down the crater, landing near the Kryptonian.
She was badly injured, he noted. He kneeled next to her assessing her wounds. Most of them centered on her back, burns from the explosion and surprisingly, stab wounds. There were other signs of a fight; a cut that grazed her ribs, small knicks that lined her arms, and a bleeding gash on her thigh. The worst, however, was the piece of shrapnel lodged in her stomach. It pressed dangerously against her stomach and cut into her intestines. If left untreated, she would die.
Kon used his speed to grab his comm and rush back to the unknown kryptonian. He put pressure on the wound on her thigh, the only one that was bleeding and safe to administer pressure to. With his other hand, he flicked the comm on, "Superboy to Watchtower, I need a medical extraction immediately."
Martha's heartbeat rose, rushing over to the two kryptonians with a worried look. She nudged his hand away, taking over applying pressure to the thigh wound. The comm crackled, "Watchtower to Superboy. Reasons for the medical extraction?"
"An unknown kryptonian crash landed on the Kent Farm. She's minutes away from bleeding out." Kon said swiftly, more focused on monitoring the kryptonian's vitals. A sharp inhale sounded before the faint sound of typing, "Medics arriving shortly. ETA 30 seconds."
A flash of light emerged from the barn and a small team of six rushed out. Some quickly rifled through their packs while others approached the unknown kryptonian. Two of the watchtower's medical personnel settled on either side of him, assessing the damage. They whipped out a kit filled with an impressive array of medical supplies, patching up any of the small wounds they saw.
"How long had she been in this state?" A medic asked, head angled slightly towards him.
"About two minutes, she was already badly injured from the crash. The explosion just made it worse." Kon said, helping where he could. He took orders from the medics wherever they barked them out, trusting the professionals' advice. Martha did the same.
The medic hummed, eyes behind the visor narrowing.
The last four medics approached with a large cloth adorned with handles on the side. They swiftly yet gently deposited the kryptonian onto the cloth and lifted. Kon observed that the medics had worked together for a long time. They completed their tasks swiftly and with little to no communication.
Martha laid a hand on his shoulder, a worried expression on her face. Kon laid his hand on hers, knowing they both needed the comfort. A new kryptonian was always a cause for celebration—except for when they were evil and aiming for his family or earth, but Kon didn't believe that was the situation here— so seeing her on the verge of death without even getting to know her, it hurt.
While Clark was more proactive about learning about Krypton, it wasn't as if Kon was completely uninterested in them. He wanted to know more about the world his very DNA originated from.
How did it develop? Did they have similar animals to Earth? What were the people like? These questions circled his brain whenever he thought of Krypton and its people. Learning about it from an impersonal and cold AI was just not the same as speaking and getting close to a living breathing kryptonian.
The medics began to move towards the barn and Kon paused. What if she passed away despite all the effort put into the kryptonian? That wasn't something he wanted to face, having his hopes crushed before it could even blossom. He's been burnt too many times to not be cautious with his feelings.
"Go." Martha pushed him forward, a soft, urging expression on her face. His lips spasmed, then twisted into a smile. He tossed a 'thank you' behind him as he hurried after the group, entering the barn just behind them.
The Zeta Beam whirred to life and transported them into the Watchtower. A team of medics and surgeons surrounded them, tending to the kryptonian the moment she appeared. They made haste wheeling her to the emergency room, nurses and medics hooking her up to monitors and IVs. They disappeared behind a door, a light stating 'In Use' flickered on.
Kon stood there for a moment before remembering that Clark had a meeting in the Watchtower. He was sure if Martha hadn't broken the news to him otherwise Clark would have sped down here already. He doubted Clark would appreciate having to learn this from a stranger when he was already involved.
Kara, however, would have to wait. She was off gallivanting in other worlds and he had no way to reach her currently. Perhaps he could borrow some of the Watchtower's interstellar communication devices?
A surgeon stopped him as he was making his way to Clark, grabbing him by the arm. "Superboy, you have the ability to influence whatever you are touching, correct?"
He nodded. The surgeon's hand dropped, relief spreading over her face before she cleared it. "Then we will need you in the operating room. Go get decontaminated and put on some scrubs."
Kon blinked, then flashed over to the decontamination room. He scrubbed himself thoroughly, removing his glasses and donning the surgical gown and net. The operation room door was slightly ajar so he let himself in and took his place directly behind her head.
The kryptonian was fitted in her torn suit, pieces cut off surgically to expose her wounds. Tubes entered her veins from the crook of her arms to her wrists. An IV hung off to the side, intermittently pumping its liquids into the kryptonian. Beside him, monitors sounded loudly, recording her vital signs. Her oxygen mask occasionally fogged up, which Kon took as a good sign. As long as she was still breathing, she was alive.
The doctors were already operating on her, stitching the wounds that needed to be and wrapping those that were small enough. Kon was instructed to remove any shrapnel that was embedded into her skin, doing so carefully. He painstakingly ignored the pained whines that emerged and the blood on his gloves.
"She doesn't need a kryptonite scalpel?" He asked once he fished out all the shrapnel in her arms, curious. He noticed the lack of kryptonite in the room when he arrived, but he had thought it was so it didn't distract or hurt him when he was operating on the unknown kryptonian.
One of the surgeons shook their head, "She hasn't taken in enough sunlight for her skin to harden. Regular scalpels will suffice for the time being, or at least until we bring in the sun lamps."
He nodded, humming in acknowledgment and going back to his tasks. All that was left was the biggest problems, the wounds on her back and abdomen. There wasn't much he could do with her back, it was free of any foreign bodies and needed to be stitched up. Her abdomen, however, was shredded from the shrapnel embedded in it. The ride over to the Watchtower made it pierce through her stomach and was currently the most severe wound.
He laid a hand softly over her midsection, concentrating on the feedback his TTK gave him. If he was careful and maneuvered it just right, he would be able to remove the broken pieces of the ship from her insides without harming her any further.
Kon closed his eyes, his TTK giving him enough input for him to not need his sight. He concentrated, grabbing the smallest piece first and smoothly guiding it out of her body. It let out a small sound when he released it onto a metal tray. He did the same for the rest of the pieces, leading them out of her body without damaging her. The last, and largest, piece fell into the nearly full metal tray.
"Thank you, Superboy. You can go now." Kon nodded, spent from the amount of energy he needed to focus on his last task. He glided out the room, making sure not to create any great gusts of wind, and entered the decontamination room. Stripping off the surgical gown covered in blood along with the net and gloves, he trashed them in the bin. He grabbed a clean towel and wiped the sweat off his brow. He hadn't used his powers like that before. Even the few operations he did during battle had not needed such precision from him.
He plucked his glasses off the counter and wore them, adjusting them when they slid off. He let out a shaky breath then straightened himself.
Now, to find Clark.
AN: Forgot to say this last chapter, but the idea for the jurimtul/cheek press came from t00thpasteface on tumblr. The specific posts are her Shark!Superman drawings. Go check out her amazing art!