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Chapter Sixteen

Lois tried to wait as patiently as she could, but every second that passed made her more anxious.

Everything had been left off so horribly with Jon-El, they had made so many mistakes… She knew that he would come home, that he would probably do anything to get out of the prison, but how much would he have changed? Would he even be the same boy?

Whether or not she had meant to, she had hurt him. She hadn't even tried to listen to him after everything with Jordan. She had just sent him away. She hadn't even tried to give him the same decency and respect as her other children, she had sent him away without listening and called it justice.

Lois tried to push the guilt down, but she couldn't. She knew that with her father once again in charge of the DoD, Jon-El wouldn't have been starved or beaten to death, but that cell was not a place for an innocent fifteen year old.

The punch hadn't even been premeditated. What Jordan had done was.

Lois swallowed and shut her laptop. She had tried to continue working after Clark had left, but she couldn't. Her mind refused to focus on her story. Instead, it focused on her family, the problems that they had, and the huge mistakes that she and Clark had made…

They couldn't ever make a mistake like this again. It had almost destroyed Jon-El's life…

She sniffed, then wiped the few stray tears away from her eyes. She had to do better for all of her sons. She couldn't fail them again. Lois couldn't pretend like she knew Jon-El's past, but she did understand that he needed a family who loved him.

She had to be that for him. She couldn't be another person on his list of people who had broken him.

She stood up and walked to the kitchen. For a moment, she wished that she was a better cook. Lois knew that if Jon-El was anything like her other boys, he would come home hungry. He would want something to eat and she wanted to have something to offer him.

So she looked around until she found one of Martha's old recipes. Her mother-in-law had really been one of the best cooks ever, and she had even tried teaching Lois how to cook, but it had only sort of stuck.

It was a casserole, something easy that only required a bit of the skill Lois was lacking in. It was also the only thing that Lois could consistently not mess up. Plus, her boys loved it. Perhaps Jon-El would too.

As she sliced the vegetables and peeled the potatoes, she still couldn't turn off her brain.

She knew that people made mistakes, that parents made them too, but what had happened… Nothing like it could ever happen again. They had messed up so badly and Jon-El had been forced to pay the price of it.

But perhaps it did help with something. It showed how flawed their rules for Jon-El had been. How there was no way for him to grow as a person or truly become a member of their family with such rules in place.

It had been a prison still, it was just disguised as a house.

As Lois was chopping up the leftover roast beef from the night before, she heard what had slowly become one of the most familiar sounds in her life.

It was like a rush of air, a sound that sometimes came with a loud thud and sometimes didn't.

Clark was back.

She put down her knife and untied the apron around her body. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, full of anxiety and joy.

Lois made it to the door at the same time as Clark. It opened up right as she reached out to grab the handle.

Immediately, she could see the face of her husband. There was a mix of emotions on his face, both a smile and dried tears.

Then she saw him, the child she had been longing for. The one who she had hurt, the one who meant the world to her.

She acted on complete instinct and pulled Jon-El in for the tightest hug she could give him.

At first, Jon-El held on just as tightly, but then his shoulders began to shake with sobs and his grip loosened.

Lois couldn't keep the tears out of her own eyes either, even as she tried to soothe the boy.

"I missed you so much," Jon-El whispered between his tears.

At his words, Lois once again tightened the hug. She couldn't believe that she had ever let him go in the first place. "I missed you too, sweetie."

They stayed in the hug for a few more minutes, then Lois pulled away.

She took a good look at him, and she couldn't help but feel the guilt in her chest double. His normally bright blue eyes were abnormally dull, his skin red and dry from so much -too much- light exposure, and he looked more tired and weak than normal…

What had she done?

She ran her fingers through his hair, and she didn't even care about how the oils from his dirty curls felt on her fingers or how thick it felt from being unwashed for so long. She had him back.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Perhaps it was the wrong question, because Jon-El winced. "I…" he began, but couldn't continue as he burst into another set of tears.

Lois froze. She didn't know what to do. Her mind screamed at her to comfort him, but she didn't know how… Did he want another hug? Did he need her to tell him that he was safe and home now? Or did he need her to back off?

Thankfully, Clark stepped in.

He placed his hand on Jon-El's shoulder. "Why don't you go get a shower and change into something comfortable?" he suggested. "There should be food ready for you by the time you're done."

Jon-El wiped at his eyes, and Lois frowned when she saw his wrists. They were purple with bruises and covered in scrapes and cuts.

Instantly, she wanted to ask what had happened, but she knew better than to do that right now. What Jon-El needed was a few minutes where he wasn't hounded with questions.

Jon-El nodded in response to Clark's suggestion. "Okay," he said, then began to make his way up the stairs to the bathroom.

As soon as Lois heard the bathroom door close, she turned to Clark. "Did you see his wrists?" she asked. She couldn't keep the panic out of her voice.

Clark sighed, then nodded. "I did," he said. "I didn't ask what they were from though, not yet…"

Lois walked back into the kitchen and tossed the casserole into the oven. "It looked like handcuff injuries, but that doesn't make any sense," she said. She had seen it many times during her time as a journalist and as a daughter of a general. "Why would he be handcuffed?"

Clark shrugged as he sat down at the table. "I don't know," he said. "I can ask your dad if you want me to."

Lois sighed as she sat down beside him. She leaned forward and rested her head against her hands. "Clark… What did we do?"

She felt as her husband placed his hand on her back. It was as gentle and comforting as always, and she couldn't help but lean into the touch.

"Hey," he soothed, just like his touch, his voice was calming and comforting. "We're gonna fix this."

Lois looked up at Clark. In her mind, she could see Jon-El's face. The damaged skin, the dull eyes…

"I hope it isn't too late…"

Jon-El tried not to look at himself in the mirror. He tried not to look at the bruises that covered his chest, or the cuts on his wrists.

Those came with memories, things he wanted to forget. Fists colliding with his body, steel-toed boots snapping whatever they hit…

He turned on the shower water as hot as it could go. It had been so long since he had last had a shower.

When he stepped in, the heat from the water made his burned skin feel like it was on fire, and he bit back the tears as he let the water rush over him.

Jon-El wasn't even sure if he had been in this much pain after Ally had attacked him.

He let the water wash away the grime, the memories, the tears he couldn't keep in any longer.

How long had he been in the cell? How long had he been forced to endure those lights? The taunts from the people who brought him food?

How long had it been since..?

Jon-El shook his head, pushing the memory away.

He had been too weak to stop the guard who had towered over him.

At just the thought of it, the cuts on his wrists stung, and the purple bruises throbbed. A reminder of what had happened to him.

He let out a shuddering breath and hoped that Clark wasn't able to hear it.

Had he heard it when the guard attacked him? Had he cared if he did?

Jon-El let the water run for as long as he could before he felt guilty for using up all of the warm water, then he quickly washed his hair.

By the time he was finally done, he was exhausted beyond belief. He had hoped that the hot water would soothe the pain that covered his body, but it had only made him dizzy.

And the memories were still there… Being kicked down, cuffed…

No one had heard his screams. The guard had laughed.

Slowly, he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel loosely around his waist. If he had been smart, he would have brought something to change into from his room, but he had completely forgotten.

He couldn't let anyone see the bruises. He was pretty sure that Lois had already seen the cuts on his wrists…

As quietly as he could, he walked back to his room, and as soon as he was in, he shut the door behind him.

Luckily, he remembered not to slam the door. He still knew the rules.

The room hadn't changed at all.

The bed was made, his clothes were hanging up in the closet… His jacket was still draped against the chair.

He reached out and touched the black leather. It would have been ruined, if not stolen, if he had been wearing it when he went back to the cell.

He couldn't fight back the tears at the thought of it.

Jon-El knew it was stupid to be so attached to a jacket, he could practically hear his father's taunts at the idea, but he couldn't stop himself. It was all he had left from his home world, all he had left of the person he was before…

Who was he now?

He was powerless.

He was weak.

He was broken…

He was Jon-El.

This was a rough one, but I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!