☆ 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭.

A few booths back from the countertop, a blonde woman in a long, brown overcoat coughed. The white mutt sitting on the bench beside her tilted his head in confusion, leading the girl to scratch behind his raised ear as she downed the rest of her Thanagarian liquor.

“Clark is out late, tonight, isn’t he? Whatever happened to early bedtime for younger cousins, huh?” The girl chuckled as the mutt licked her face.

“. . . in other Super news, Mayor Shuster has announced our very own Man of Tomorrow is to receive the coveted Key to Metropolis City in a ceremony scheduled for next month. We turn to my co-anchor Julie with the latest news on that. Julie, do we know the date of the ceremony, or, even how Superman received the news, for that matter?”

The blonde girl dropped her hand from the pooch and forcefully exhaled. She reached for her glass cup, but found it was empty.

Krypto whined beside her.

Kara Zor-El, however, was finished listening to the ramblings of the television.

“Al!” Kara called out to the lone bartender behind the mahogany bar. “How about something other than the boring news? You got MTV on that thing? It’s stuffy in here!”

Al, the bartender and owner of the alien speakeasy Kara found herself in, shrugged as he dried a glass cup with a rag. “No can-do, Blondie. This television’s only got three channels, and Music’s been off the air since yesteryear.”

The Kryptonian sighed as she begrudgingly went to stand, wobbly guiding herself - and her glass cup - to the bar. Krypto followed, nibbling on her leg once he understood her incoming request. Kara shrugged the pooch off.

Before the female Kryptonian could ask for a refill, Al raised his hand.

“Miss, I told you that was our last bottle of Thanagarian. No more, until the ship arrives next year.”

Kara’s open mouth closed into a tight frown. She blinked, her peripherals becoming… spinny. She gripped the counter as the liquor finally began to work its way through her system. “Okay then, how about—”

Atleast until another delicious smell filled his nose as the sound of footsteps approached.

He pulled off his now deceased prey and dropped his body to the ground, wiping away any excess blood that spilled past his lips.

“Beautiful dog you have there, Mademoiselle…” Lestat said with a small fanged smiled.

“Krypto! Wait!” Kara called out as she stumbled after the dog. The Kryptonian nearly tripped over her own feet as she skidded to a halt behind the dog at the mouth of the alleyway.

Kara blinked.

Then she rubbed her eyes.

The millisecond the human’s heart ceased to beat, Krypto let out a sad whine.

“Um. .” Kara started, as she took two steps to approach. . what was the human term? What was this man?

“Excuse me..” she staggered as she thrust her hand out to grasp a nearby dumpster; her visual world began to spin, again. “You remind me of someone. You seem. . familiar. I don’t feel so good.”

As soon as the words escaped her lips, the Girl of Steel took a tumble to the dirty alleyway floor.

Even the toughest of beings could rarely hold their own against Thanagarian liquor.

The air in the containment room reeked burnt flesh and scorched metal. Chains hissed faintly where they met his skin, humming with silver and green mingling light. Kryptonite-infused silver — enough to make every movement feel like drowning in fire and make rescue difficult.

James lifted his head just enough to glare at the camera watching him from the corner. His coat hung in tatters, blood drying at his collar. The last thing he wanted was his help. Not after the words they’d exchanged. Not after Superman had stormed out and left him in the cold.

But Lex Luthor didn’t care about heartbreak.

A red light blinked to life above the comm unit. Lex’s voice drifted over the intercom, smooth and venomous. “Say the words, Mr. Norrington. Or I’ll find someone less… sentimental to encourage him.”

James’s hissed. He’d rather swallow glass! But when one of Luthor’s guards flashed UV light upon him, the pain arced through him like fire, forcing a growl from his throat.

He finally broke— low and cold, his British lilt cracking under the strain. He could feel Luthor’s smug eyes behind the lens. “Superman…” His voice cracked with restrained venom and pain. “ I— I need your help. Please… hurry.”

The moment the red light flicked off, he let out a rasping breath and sagged forward in the chains.

James sagged against the chains, eyes half-lidded. “There. You got your bait,” he muttered toward the mirrored wall. “But don't hold your breath that he'll come for me, we're not exactly on speaking terms.”

He let his head drop forward, voice barely a whisper now.

"if he does... he’ll hate me more for it.” he mutters more to himself than Luthor.

A low, satisfied chuckle filtered through the intercom — rich, deliberate, and unbearably smug.

“Oh, Mr. Norrington… you underestimate just how predictable your caped paramour really is.”

The hum of the containment field rose slightly, bathing James in a brighter wash of green.

“For all his righteousness and restraint, he can’t resist a damsel — or whatever it is you count as these days. He’ll come charging in, heart first, head last. And when he does…He’ll see exactly what his sentimentality costs him.” What James cost him.

𝐀𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐢𝐱 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬.

“Thanks, Superman!” The tiny brunette girl exclaimed as the Man of Tomorrow handed over her rescued tabby cat that was previously trapped up the tall, oak tree. Superman smiled, but the expression did not reach his eyes.

𝟏𝟕𝟕 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬.

"Gee blue, its kinda lookin' like ya been either smackin’ the goons a lil too hard, or ya ain’t givin’ ’em nearly enough oomph! C’mon, what’s the deal, huh? You losin’ ya spark?" Spoke the mischievous Harley Quinn as she was escorted — once again — out of the Hall of Justice.

𝟒,𝟐𝟒𝟖 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬.

“Clark, I’ve never seen you like this. In this much. . pain,” Lois Lane admitted with a concerned tilt to her voice. “This is even worse than when I. . . When you.. when we..” she coughed, not wanting to verbally continue that train of thought. “Smallville, you should really talk to him. Try to salvage what you two had. It’s gonna kill you if you don’t.”

𝟏𝟓,𝟐𝟗𝟐,𝟖𝟎𝟎 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬.

“𝘚𝘢𝘺, 𝘚𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯. . 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘦? 𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘰𝘸? 𝘔𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘴, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥, 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺. 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵?” Asked the unnamed reporter from The Daily Star.

Clark tried to distract himself by diving even deeper into the role of Superman… but in the back of his mind, that clock still ticked.

The seconds felt like hours, and hours felt like months.

The sun began to dip over the Metropolis horizon, which brought another reminder of him. Of the man he once loved.

Of the man he thought he’d spend forever with.

A few booths back from the countertop, a blonde woman in a long, brown overcoat coughed. The white mutt sitting on the bench beside her tilted his head in confusion, leading the girl to scratch behind his raised ear as she downed the rest of her Thanagarian liquor.

“Clark is out late, tonight, isn’t he? Whatever happened to early bedtime for younger cousins, huh?” The girl chuckled as the mutt licked her face.

“. . . in other Super news, Mayor Shuster has announced our very own Man of Tomorrow is to receive the coveted Key to Metropolis City in a ceremony scheduled for next month. We turn to my co-anchor Julie with the latest news on that. Julie, do we know the date of the ceremony, or, even how Superman received the news, for that matter?”

The blonde girl dropped her hand from the pooch and forcefully exhaled. She reached for her glass cup, but found it was empty.

Krypto whined beside her.

Kara Zor-El, however, was finished listening to the ramblings of the television.

“Al!” Kara called out to the lone bartender behind the mahogany bar. “How about something other than the boring news? You got MTV on that thing? It’s stuffy in here!”

Al, the bartender and owner of the alien speakeasy Kara found herself in, shrugged as he dried a glass cup with a rag. “No can-do, Blondie. This television’s only got three channels, and Music’s been off the air since yesteryear.”

The Kryptonian sighed as she begrudgingly went to stand, wobbly guiding herself - and her glass cup - to the bar. Krypto followed, nibbling on her leg once he understood her incoming request. Kara shrugged the pooch off.

Before the female Kryptonian could ask for a refill, Al raised his hand.

“Miss, I told you that was our last bottle of Thanagarian. No more, until the ship arrives next year.”

Kara’s open mouth closed into a tight frown. She blinked, her peripherals becoming… spinny. She gripped the counter as the liquor finally began to work its way through her system. “Okay then, how about—”

Keep reading

Considering his mind far too gone to even remotely attempt telepathy, Clark’s plans were safe.

Oh how Clark adored Deckhand Norrington with all of his heart.

James was incredibly grateful to have a lover who could complete both sides of his personality, and knew how and when to give him what he needed. Though James tried to be the same, Clark was the first person James had ever been with that understood the switch in him.

Love was an enigma to Clark.

Once one enters the front door of the Kent house, the downstairs bathroom can be found just beyond the stairs on the left. As Ma and James gave playful banter, Clark gave a quick kiss to his boyfriend’s temple, then motioned to the civilian clothes in his grasp before darting away for the privacy of the bathroom to change back. The alien was gone in a rush of air, but Martha barely flinched.

Clark was only gone long enough to put on his comfortable clothing and wash his hands. He returned to his family at a human pace, watching as their mother ran a finger across the labels of her various board games. Clark scanned the labels himself, his eyes pausing once he read two labels.

“Ma, I think James here would enjoy either the 90s, or 2000s version of Trivia Pursuit,” the alien replied before giving a nudge and a wink to his boyfriend, knowing full and well that he was asleep for the majority of those two decades.

Martha Kent, however, was unaware of this fun fact about her new son, and questioned in a genuine voice: “Is that so, son? Is that what you’d like to play, James?” She had retrieved the box and displayed it towards her older son.

No doubt James Norrington did not understand 99% of the references that decorated the outside cover of the trivia game.

Martha laughed softly as she laid the box on the table “Oh, James, you do have an air of stubbornness about you. I’m kinda curious to see you navigate the trivia of recent decades. Who knows? Maybe you’ll surprise us both with how much you remember,or even learn something new. You never know, do you dear?”

James wore a playful smirk, addressing both Martha and Clark. “Now, now, don’t tempt me with your faith, Mum. I’m more comfortable with battles on the high seas than battles over pop culture. But, I suppose I can muster some effort. I know Clark’s been eagerly waiting to see me struggle a bit.” He let out a light chuckle, clearly enjoying the friendly banter.

Martha, gently teasing as she prepared to set the board up on the coffee table, nudged the vampire “Oh don’t worry, dear, a little competition never hurt anyone. And if you do stumble a bit, we’ll have plenty of opportunities to laugh it off and help you out. After all, isn’t that what family—and especially game nights—are all about? Why don’t you help me set the board up, James?”

“Very well, Mum, but if I embarrass myself, I fully expect you to take my side against your son’s inevitable gloating.” He reached for the deck of trivia cards, examining them with mild suspicion before giving Martha a sidelong glance. “Also, if any of these questions involve… what is it—'boy bands’ or 'reality television'—I may have to rely on your kindness to keep my dignity intact.”

“You wot?”

Two words. Two syllables. Six small letters.

Clark wasn’t trying to act cocky but. . his sensitive, alien ears heard something else. You sure you didn’t accidentally say “you win”, huh, my love? Clark playfully asked his boyfriend in his mental voice.

“Me? Want you to lose? Nonsense!” Clark scoffed as he arranged their chairs properly for game night. “This is me having faith in you that you’re a very smart, both man, and vampire.”

The moment James spat out the word “boy bands”, Clark snorted. Meanwhile, Martha reassured that there were no winners or losers, but only seeking a fun evening together.

Internally, however, Clark admitted what was at stake:

If you win, nothing changes, and you sleep wherever I sleep tonight. But if I win. . . that’s a week you have to sleep - separately - in your coffin. Clark, acting like nothing transpired, picked up his deck of cards.

“Ma? James? You two ready?” Cue a side glance towards the vampire. Let the games begin.

“Ready, son.”

Clark heard the little girl’s bedroom door open, but by the time he could turn around, she had already bounded herself into the kitchen, launching herself - and wrapping her tiny arms around - her smiling father. In a smooth motion, Clark took the handle of the spatula James was previously holding, now becoming in charge of the eggs and meat.

“You’re up early, sweet pea!” Clark said milliseconds before the spat of grease popped upon her cheek. Both men gasped in shock and horror, Clark at once retrieving and holding out a napkin for James to use, only for James to use his finger alone to wipe it away. A small glance was exchanged between both fathers as she gave a non-reaction to what would have normally caused minor (or major) burns to a regular human.

An issue for another day, Clark mentally remarked after shrugging his shoulders.

As the father / daughter conversation continued, Clark had finished preparing the special breakfast.

As she recited her naval directions—declaring "STARBOARD!" then "PORT SIDE! BOW! STERN!"—James beamed with admiration. Watching her command the room like a true little captain, he recognized that her cleverness and discipline were gifts that would guide her through life's vast seas.

Proud of the brilliance of his little girl's display of intelligence and affection, James resolved that such a day deserved to be celebrated in grand style. He decided that they would embark on a special outing—a day of treats, adventures, and cherished memories. Nothing could make him happier than spending a day devoted solely to honoring the smart, sweet soul that was his daughter.

James gently ruffled Adeline’s soft, dark hair as she finished her lively recitation of naval directions. His eyes, glistening with pride and affection, reflected the endless possibilities that awaited them. He imagined the gleam in her eyes as she took in the grandeur of a real ship or the gentle murmur of a flowing river, her curiosity ignited by the promise of new adventures. " That's right my little captain. By Jove, I think you've got it." He teased.

With a final affectionate squeeze, James set Adeline down gently at the kitchen table, smoothing out the ruffles of her pink dress with careful hands. “There we are, Princess,” he said, voice brimming with warmth. “Every captain needs a hearty breakfast before setting sail for adventure.” He kissed the top of her head before stepping back, watching as she wiggled excitedly in her seat, her little feet kicking beneath the table. Her joy was infectious, filling the room with an energy that made James feel like the luckiest man in the world.

Turning toward Clark, James leaned against the counter with his usual composed grace, though his eyes still shone with adoration. “Darling, I think today calls for a grand outing,” he announced, tilting his head slightly as a playful smirk touched his lips. “Our little navigator has proven herself quite the scholar, and such brilliance must be rewarded properly. I was thinking we could take her out—perhaps to the park for some fresh air, a treat or two along the way, and maybe even a stop by the harbor to see the ships.” His gaze drifted back to Adeline, who gasped in delight at the mention of ships, her green eyes glittering with excitement.

Addy had listened when her alien father had described how it felt to linger out in the sun. “It’s like. . . a special, warm blanket envelopes your entire body. All of your bad thoughts go away, and, for the moment: everything is perfect. You feel your strength return to yourself, and with that, your courage to accomplish anything.”

While Addy mostly agreed with Daddy Clark’s sentiments (save for the sun’s rays sometimes felt like Pop Rocks on her skin), she felt his words adequately described another situation. . .

. . . Whenever Dada James felt pure joy, his exuberant energy radiated from father to daughter - like solar ray to solar panel. All the excitement Dada felt, the empathic Adeline Maeve felt reverberated down to her bone marrow. She held her head up higher, and her toothy smile shone brighter as her father’s paternal proudness flowed through her tiny body.

“That’s right, my little captain,” Dada James had complimented as he ruffled her soft, curly locks.

Adeline gave a snicker as her tiny hand reached up and gently touched right beneath his eyes, testing if the liquid she saw was just regular tears, or blood tears.

James nodded at Clark’s request, no doubt half excited to show her his long history as detailed by his many artifacts. The happy vampiric son lead their mother away, arm-in-arm as Clark busied himself by first placing the second bottle of blood rum in the fridge (in the very back), then tossing the box it came in in the garbage. Clark finished his task long before James was finished with his tour, but the alien chose to linger within the kitchen, as to give his fiancé a few moments of privacy with their mother.

He leaned against the kitchen island, holding out his hand so he could once again inspect every single microscopic detail of that precious piece of metal that rested upon his left ring finger. He began to daydream of their future… Oh where will their wedding venue be? What is he going to wear? What would James want to wear? Would he wear a regular suit, or should he wear his naval uniform? The guest list… the honeymoon… kissing the man he loves so much underneath the altar…

“Clark, Darling, could you bring our mum a bottle of sparkling water, please?”

His fiancé’s words snapped him out of his wedding daydream. Clark stood to attention, rotating as he reached for a glass cup from their cupboard, and filling it up with water from the tap. He opened the fridge and retrieved one of his snack cheese sticks. Quickly enough, he entered the living room with a smile, extending the refreshments to their mother.

“Ma has never really liked sparkling water. She’s always said straight-from-the-tap makes her happy enough,” Clark gently corrected his fiancé, earning a thankful nod from Ma.

“Thank you sons, both of you,” she said gratefully as she began to nibble on her cheese stick.

James chuckled softly at Clark’s remark, settling into an armchair across from the couch where Martha sat. He grabbed the remote and flicked through the streaming services until he landed on a selection of Christmas movies. The glow of the television cast a warm light across the elegant living room as he pressed play on It’s a Wonderful Life.

“I thought this would be a fitting choice,” James mused, crossing one leg over the other. “A classic, timeless, and all about family, wouldn’t you agree?”

Martha smiled, taking another small bite of her cheese stick as she nodded. “I do, James. Though I have to admit, I didn’t take you for a sentimental type.”

James smirked, tilting his head slightly. “Well, I do have a soft spot for stories about good men overcoming hardships. Besides,” he gestured toward Clark with a twinkle in his eye, “your son has made me quite the sentimental fool as of late.”

Martha let out a delighted chuckle, her gaze warm as she looked between the two of them. “It’s nice, seeing you both so happy,” she said.

James nodded, the weight of centuries of loneliness feeling like a distant memory now. He leaned forward slightly, his tone shifting to something gentler. “Martha, I wanted to mention something.” He rested his forearms on his knees, regarding her seriously. “I know you love your farmhouse, but if you ever wanted to update it—renovate, expand, or modernize anything—I would be ever so happy to share my wealth and make that happen for you.”

Martha blinked, clearly taken aback. “Oh, James, that’s incredibly generous of you, but I—”

James held up a hand, shaking his head. “No objections. You’ve welcomed me into your family, treated me as one of your own. This is the least I could do.” His expression softened. “Besides, if I have the means to make life easier and more comfortable for the people I care about, why wouldn’t I?”

Martha looked down at her glass of water, her lips pressing together in thought. James watched as her fingers tapped against the glass before she exhaled and gave him a warm smile. “That’s… That’s very kind of you, James,” she said softly. “I’ll think about it, I promise.”

Clark spared a glance over towards the large television screen, and he admired how the lessons he gave his fiancé on how to navigate the TV’s menus were finally paying off. Look at you go, Clark mentally remarked with a smirk.

Once It’s a Wonderful Life was chosen, Clark’s snarky smirk turned into another proud smile as he knew his mother would appreciate the choice of movie program. It’s Ma’s favorite holiday movie, as Grandma Clark used to play it for her every holiday when she was a little girl, the alien informed the vamp. (Clark was given his name in dedication to Martha’s maiden name).

“Your son has made me quite the sentimental fool as of late,” James admitted.

Clark replied: “You have done a lot of good for a lot of people in your past, James; it’s about time you’re reminded of your heroism. It’s past time for somebody to explain to you what a good, kind-hearted man you are..” No matter your diet, Clark concluded mentally.

“It’s nice, seeing you both so happy,” Martha remarked with a content sigh, mindlessly rubbing her alien son’s bicep.

Clark very gently bumped her shoulder with his shoulder as he blushed from the compliment. “Never felt happier in my life, Ma.”

Clark wanted to say he didn’t expect the next words out of James’s mouth… but frankly, it was absolutely in the British man’s nature and character to be giving… to want to improve his their mother’s life, in any way possible.

Again, was it possible to love the man even more?

“That’s beyond kind of you, love,” Clark spoke his thanks as he took a moment to think of some improvements himself.

“She’s beautiful,” Martha Kent cooed, as she received the newborn baby from her son, Clark.

Clark beamed as he momentarily removed his glasses to wipe a stray tear from his eye. No matter what his eyesight told his brain, he still couldn’t believe it. . . he now had a child. A daughter.

And she was perfect.

James’s eyes widened as Clark spoke, his voice tinged with confusion and sorrow. The words were raw, and for a moment, James wondered if they were born from a lingering nightmare. The alien's hand reached out, but his eyes were unfocused, struggling to piece together the disorienting fragments of his surroundings.

James Clark’s voice rasped as he made weak eye contact, his face pale and drawn. James felt a pang in his chest—there was something wrong, something deeper than just the situation they were in. He couldn’t quite place it, but the sorrow in Clark’s voice told him that.

Clark attempted to push himself up, but his legs were unsteady, like they were made of rubber. His entire body swayed as he struggled to regain his balance, and before James could react, he saw his husband crumple to the floor.

“Clark!” James called out, panic lacing his voice. He rushed forward, knees hitting the carpet with a soft thud as he knelt beside Clark, trying to catch him before he fell completely. The Kryptonian’s large frame was too much for James to support in his own weakened woozy state, and with a weak grunt, he found himself unable to lift Clark’s weight.

The room spun, and James’s vision blurred, his own dizziness threatening to bring him to swoon. No… not now, he thought, struggling to clear his head. His body wasn’t cooperating, and it was a fight just to stay steady beside Clark.

James rubbed his own temples as he tried to regain his composure. Half below Clark, both huddling on the carpet. “You’re right, darling,” he murmured, his hand hovering over his husband’s. “Something is wrong. We’re not… we’re not where we were supposed to be. And I can’t… I can’t barely…lift myself let alone you.” He trailed off, the frustration thick in his voice as he tried and failed to support Clark’s weight once more.

James struggled to keep himself from panicking. “Clark, we need to figure out where we are, but right now…” His voice cracked slightly as he reached for Clark’s hand, trying to offer any comfort he could in this strange moment. “ We ..seem to have a bit of an audience.” They were both drained—physically, mentally. It was clear that whatever had happened to them, it wasn’t just their surroundings that had been altered. But there were more pressing matters at the moment.

“And I can’t… I can’t barely… lift myself, let alone you,” the vampire wheezed underneath the alien’s large frame.

Clark coughed, sending a mental apology his husband’s way as he used a burst of strength to push himself off of the trapped man, to now lean upon the coffee table beside them.

Seconds ago, Clark was in a daze, caught in the world between the dream of his greatest reality and his waking world. Now, the Man of Steel was allowed a few moments to catch his metaphorical breath.

James’s eyes fluttered open, and the sharp, pounding headache that greeted him was the first sign that something had gone terribly wrong. His senses were dull, a strange heaviness weighing on his limbs as if he were half-dreaming, trapped between wakefulness and unconsciousness. He groaned softly, reaching up to massage his temples, but that only seemed to make things worse.

When his vision finally cleared, he noticed immediately how off everything felt. He was no longer in the bed he had shared with Clark the night before. Instead, he was in a strange room—an unsettling mix of a home and a prison.

The walls around him were smooth and sterile, but the furnishings—an uncomfortable sofa, a coffee table, and a low bookshelf filled with neat stacks of books—felt eerily domestic. There was even a glowing hearth in the corner, crackling with a fire that didn’t seem to emit heat, merely light. It was all too perfect, too curated, like some kind of mockery of a cozy home.

But it was the wall that drew his attention.

One entire side of the room was a giant, clear window. His first instinct was to look outside, but as he stared through the glass, the truth hit him all at once. What he was seeing wasn’t the outside world. It was… more alien. Strange figures moved around in the distance—beings of various shapes and sizes, some humanoid, others completely unrecognizable. Their eyes locked onto him immediately, and their gazes were intense, cold.

The scene looked like something straight out of a zoo, but this time, they were the exhibits.

James pushed himself into a sitting position, his body sluggish, and as he glanced around, he realized that he wasn’t alone.

Across from him, slumped awkwardly against the sofa, was Clark. His bright blue suit and red cape were crumpled, his head resting on his hand as he breathed deeply in his sleep, unaware of their captors—or the very bizarre situation they found themselves in.

James’s mind raced as he pieced together what had happened. The last thing he remembered was lying beside Clark in bed. They had been together, content, comfortable. And now… here they were, trapped in some kind of glass cage, watched by who knew how many alien creatures.

“Well,” James muttered, his voice rough and dry from sleep, “I suppose our captors figured they’d try to make us feel at home. Too bad they missed a few details.” He glanced around at the unnervingly perfect room before his eyes settled back on the large window. The alien onlookers were staring at them like they were nothing more than curiosities, amusement—or something darker—in their eyes. “Homey little trap, isn’t it?” He was calm .. too calm.. he would normally have run over to Clark the moment he saw him in that state but they .. had clearly done something to them both.. whatever had kept the kryptonian out this long had affected James in a similar to make him this .. docile, this un-phased.

“She’s beautiful,” Martha Kent cooed, as she received the newborn baby from her son, Clark.

Clark beamed as he momentarily removed his glasses to wipe a stray tear from his eye. No matter what his eyesight told his brain, he still couldn’t believe it. . . he now had a child. A daughter.

And she was perfect.