Relative History, Part 2
By: C. Leuch
The Hub tower was abuzz with police officers and the press as Diane pulled up to the scene, causing her brows to furrow in question. Starting about the time she got up from her desk, she had felt an odd sense of foreboding, as if something were terribly wrong, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. The feeling had only intensified as she approached the scene, but the more she puzzled over it, the more she probed at it, the more dark and hollow she began to feel, like some important part of her was missing. It was hard to put into words, hard to quantify, but she knew what her eyes were seeing wasn’t at the root of whatever it was. Outwardly, everything looked like a normal, active crime scene. There were no gristly sights, no loud demonstrations in front of the building. Officers stood guard at the elevators and stairwells, only allowing authorized access to the upper floors where the robbery happened, and they appeared almost bored as they manned their positions.
The elevator ride to the top took an eternity, the emptiness inside of her inexplicably growing as she ascended. Her first tangible hint of what was wrong came as she reached her floor and the doors opened, and she noticed the distinct lack of any super assistance, even though Jon had made it known that he was on his way. “Johnson!” she said, signaling to the nearest officer.
He greeted her with a small nod. “Kent. Not much to see here, I’m afraid.” He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. “It was a smash and grab, with the suspects disappearing into thin air. It’s a weird way to go, but…” he shrugged. “They didn’t leave any clues or notes, gave us nothing to go on.”
“What about security camera footage?” she asked, easily picking out the camera locations in the ceiling. Given that the office housed a diamond exchange, she doubted that there was an inch of office space not under surveillance.
Johnson pointed toward the back of the office. “We’ve been watching the recordings in the General Manager’s office, but I’m telling you, there’s not much to see. It’s just like the other ones.”
Diane opened her mouth, anxious to ask whether Superman or Crimson Superman had been around, but officially she should have no reason to believe that they’d be there, and professionally she didn’t want to give the impression that they should somehow be relying on super assistance. Deciding that the question was best left unasked, she closed her mouth, gave Johnson a small smile, and made her way to watch the recording. On the way, she kept her head down and her ears sharp, listening in on the conversations going on around her. And while she overheard some things she would be better off not knowing, she didn’t hear any mention of her husband, and that only made her unsettled feelings increase.
In the General Manager’s office, several officers were circled around a computer, watching a recording of three masked men. Every now and then the view would change to a different angle as the recording cycled through the cameras in the office. “What’s the word, Meeks?” Diane asked the ranking officer in the room.
“See for yourself,” he said, gesturing toward the screen. “They turned the place over pretty well, grabbing a lot of high value loot.”
Diane watched as the three men rifled through drawers and cabinets, shoving items into large duffel bags they carried with them. Oddly, though, the search didn’t seem random. Not every drawer was touched, and at one point one of the men produced a piece of paper, reading it before searching for the correct drawer. “Do we know what they took?” she asked. “More to the point, do we know why they only seemed to take certain things?”
“We need to inventory to know for sure what’s missing,” Meeks answered. “As for the why, I’m not sure I care until we figure out the who.” As they watched, the picture on the screen seemed to shimmer, and just like that, one of the men took a step and vanished. Soon it happened again, but before the third man similarly vanished, there seemed to be the brief flash of something.
“Did you see that?” Diane asked, lunging forward to put her finger on the screen.
“See what?” Meeks asked. “They disappeared.”
“No, right before the last one did. There was something else. Back it up.”
Dutifully, the officer operating the computer backed up the recording, and once again she could see what looked like a blur, but only maybe for a frame. Looking around the room, Diane realized that nobody else saw what she did. Her stomach began to clench up, and the feeling of foreboding began to form into something more concrete. What if Jon had been there, after all? What if he saw the robbery in progress and tried to find out where it was the suspects went by going through the porthole? What if he was that blur?
“Excuse me,” Diane mumbled, abruptly leaving the room. If that was him, then the fact that he was able to follow them through the looking glass could lead to a big break in the case. And maybe that’s where he was, but her gut told her there was something more. Making her way toward a quiet corner of the office, she reached for her cell phone and quickly punched the icon to call Jon. Rather than ringing, the call went directly for voicemail. Taking a deep breath and silently telling herself to calm down, she entered the number for the Daily Planet, then punching the extension for her father-in-law.
“Clark, hey, it’s Diane,” she said, trying to add some cheer to her voice. “I don’t suppose Jon made it back to the office yet did he?” Upon hearing that he hadn’t, she hung up and took another shaky breath. Jon disappearing for a while to take care of some disaster or crime was nothing new. She couldn’t count how many nights she’d spent worrying before she figured out that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He’d always come back before, and he would again, despite what her gut kept trying to tell her. Without another thought, she went to work, surveying the scene, making notes, chatting with her colleagues. She had just wrapped up her duties and was headed toward the elevator when her phone began to ring. A quick glance showed it was her brother-in-law, Sam Wayne, on the phone.
She didn’t even have to say hello before he began to speak. “He’s missing isn’t he?”
“What?” Diane said as a shiver worked its way up her spine.
“Jon. Went through a pothole of some sort. That sound about right?”
“How…?”
“Because he sent me a letter.” Sam said, a hint of amusement in his voice. It was the same inflection that Jon usually found infuriating. Diane couldn’t disagree.
“A letter?” she said, more impatient than confused.
“Yeah! Haven’t you seen Back to the Future 2? He sent you one too,” Sam answered, and this time she most definitely was confused. “Why don’t we meet for supper and talk about it? I’ll have Laura fly me up there.”
“Look, I have to get the twins before 6, and I don’t want to talk about the fact that their father is missing in front of them. Meet me at my office in a half hour.” With that she hung up the phone before he could object or get in any more quips. It was with renewed purpose that she turned toward the elevator en route to her office. If Jon really was stuck somewhere – the past? – then she was going to do what she could to bring him back, vague feelings of emptiness be damned.
---
The sun hung high in the cloudless sky as Jon located his grandparents’ farm. He flew in a large, lazy circle above it, observing, calming his nerves, before finally landing at the end of their gravel drive. Even from high up in the air he had been able to smell the scent of bacon, his stomach growling ever so slightly at the thought of BLT sandwiches with juicy, farm-grown tomatoes, just like he had in bygone summers gathered around the table just beyond those walls. A large pitcher of iced tea sunned itself on the porch, just waiting to be served with a late lunch. The farm really wasn’t much different from what he remembered, he thought as he looked around. The vehicles parked by the garage looked different, and the tree was maybe not as big, although it was still massive by City standards. The tire swing he used to love so much hadn’t quite made its way to the large tree branch yet, though the big wooden swing hung from the porch. The place still felt the same, well-loved, like a home away from home, like the haven away from the city where he escaped for a week each year. But now he came here as a stranger, and a part of him feared that they would refuse to help, even as he reminded himself that they were the kindest people in the world and would never dream of turning away a person in need. And he was counting on that, because he didn’t know where he would go if they did.
A quick glance told him that his grandmother was in the kitchen, gathering plates and glasses for their meal, while his grandfather was putting some tools away in the barn. Slowly, Jon, started walking up the drive toward them, glancing down at himself and frowning slightly at the fact that he hadn’t brought a change of clothes with him. He was still in his guise as Crimson Superman, and one glance at the S on his chest would immediately reveal his family association before he had a chance to tell them the whole story. It would be so much easier to simply present himself as a stranger, but... he would wind up telling them the truth eventually, he supposed. And anyway, he looked enough like his dad that they would surely notice the relation right away. Best to just get the confrontation over with. He picked up his pace, and after a moment he seemed to catch the attention of his grandfather.
“Clark?” his grandfather said, some hesitation in his voice, probably due to the different uniform. Jon paused ever so slightly, then held up his hand in greeting and resumed his pace. “Martha! Clark’s here!” The elder Jonathan Kent took a few steps toward his visitor, then stopped, his brow knit together. “Wait, you’re not…”
Jon slowed his pace, not wanting to frighten him. He was close enough now that his grandpa could probably see him quite clearly. “Actually, I…”
At that moment, Martha Kent barreled out of the house. “Clark!” she said with a smile, which faded quickly as she got a good look at her guest. “What are you wearing? Who are you?” Her posture rapidly changed from welcoming to defensive, and her husband moved to her side much more quickly than Jon would’ve expected for someone his age. The reaction was probably to be expected considering the New Kryptonians had invaded their town, what, a year earlier? Maybe less? Jon bore a Kryptonian symbol on his chest, and although it was the family emblem, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t be one of them, at least in their eyes.
Jon sighed, then halted his progress. “My name is Jonathan Kent,” he said. The words served to soften the expressions of his grandparents, though their body language still spoke of distrust. “Look, I know you’ve seen a lot of strange things over the years. I know that your son comes from another world, that he does incredible and wonderful things as Superman. I know you’ve met others from the same planet as him, some who were friendly, but others who tried to take this world for their own. You’ve seen things and experienced things that any normal person would label and crazy or impossible – clones, vindictive billionaires, angels, dead gangsters, and any number of other odd things – but were very much real. So believe me when I say I appreciate how crazy this sounds, but if anyone can handle the bizarre and unusual with love and understanding, it’s you.” He took another couple steps toward them, and they did not flinch. “I was named after my grandfather. You.” He nodded toward Jonathan. “I’m from the future, the year 2025 to be exact, and I need your help to get back to my own time.”
His grandmother’s eyes met his, and he could feel her looking into his soul, trying to find the truth. Without breaking eye contact, she moved around her husband and toward Jon, stopping directly in front of him, then shifting her gaze to his face, drinking in his features until finally looking down to his chest. When her eyes met his again, he could see moisture in the corners. She reached one hand up and cupped his face, taking another long look before closing the gap between them and embracing him warmly. Reflexively Jon’s arms came up and he closed his eyes and returned the hug. After a moment, he felt another hand on his back, and he noticed that his grandfather had made his way over to show his acceptance and love in his own way. Jon smiled at him, and he knew everything would be okay.
After a moment they pulled apart, and the spell was broken. “We were just sitting down to lunch,” Martha said. “Would you like to join us?”
Despite having already eaten with his wife before accidentally going back in time, Jon couldn’t think of anything he would rather do. “I would love to,” he said, and they all went in the house.
As they dined, his grandparents quizzed Jon about his life – where he went to school, what he did for a living. They danced around questions about his family, probably not wanting to be too presumptuous in case he was still a bachelor, but he offered up the information readily. He pulled the chain holding his wedding ring from beneath his suit top, then remembered his cell phone, which held numerous pictures of his wife and children. At first they seemed more interested in the phone, which was understandable considering what he had observed of cell phones in 1997, but photos of his children quickly captured their attention. After a while, once he had gotten through the basics of his life and the sandwiches were gone, they settled into a comfortable silence.
“So you said you need our help?” Martha said, and Jon nodded. “Can’t you talk to your folks?”
“I don’t want to do anything or say anything that might change the future. It would be so easy for something to slip out when I’m not paying attention to what I’m saying. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever called my dad by his name, even at work. All I would have to do is call him ‘dad’ once and the jig will be up.”
Martha put her hand on his arm and smiled. “Oh, honey, all anyone would have to do is take a good look at you and they will know the truth. You truly are a spitting image of Clark.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Jon said with a half smile. “And that’s another part of the problem.”
“So, wait a second,” Jon’s grandfather said. “If you don’t want to change the future by being around anyone close to you, then why are you here?”
Jon looked at the ground and tried to think of how to break the news, but his grandmother saved him the trouble. “Isn’t it obvious?” Martha asked, her voice calm and resigned. “It’s because we aren’t there.”
“I’m sorry,” Jon said quietly, bringing his eyes up. Martha squeezed his arm and smiled at him again, reassuring him.
“Don’t be. Can’t say I’m surprised. It happens to all of us eventually, though I must say that I’m disappointed that we won’t be around to see these beautiful children.”
Jon gave a pained smile. “Well, you’re seeing them now. And your spirit is there, certainly as long as Dad is around.”
His grandfather stood and patted his shoulder, before continuing to the counter and grabbing an apple from a bowl. “Well you need to get back to your family, sooner rather than later. How did you get here in the first place?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Jon said, then told them about the case he had been working on. “I followed the suspects through a shimmery porthole, which should’ve brought me to wherever they went, but instead brought me to this time.”
“Does anyone know you’re here?”
“Dad knows,” Jon said. “I saw him this afternoon, at a hotel fire. I thought he was acting weird…everyone was acting weird. No wonder, I guess, considering that I shouldn’t exist in this time.”
“He’s probably confused about who you are. We should know,” Martha said with a smile. “I bet it takes years before he figures out what he really saw today, especially if you aren’t planning to talk to him. Does anyone else know you’re here?”
“My wife knew I was chasing after those guys. It won’t take her long to figure out that something’s wrong, but anything aside from that…?” he shrugged and sighed.
“Couldn’t you send someone a message?” Jonathan asked. “Twenty eight years isn’t exactly forever. I think I have socks older than that.” He chuckled. “It shouldn’t be too hard to send someone a letter.”
“Back to the Future 2,” Jon mumbled, then smiled. CJ would most certainly appreciate the situation he found himself in, and in his place would probably send a certified letter Western Union just for the novelty value. “The problem is figuring out where to put it or who to give it to so it will get where it needs to go at the correct time. I can’t just slip it into Mom or Dad’s desk, or hide it in a box. It has to be delivered.”
“So you need to give it to a person who will be in your life in 28 years, and who can keep a secret.”
“Batman!” Jon said, sitting up straighter.
“The vigilante in Gotham?” his grandfather asked.
“My brother,” Jon said with a smile. “At least in 2025.”
“Really?” his grandmother asked, amused.
“It’s a long story,” Jon said. “But the current Batman’s still around giving him a hard time. Their base of operation should be the same now as it will be in the future, and I would trust him with my life, even if he has no idea who I am right now. Could I borrow some paper?”
“Of course, sweetie!” Martha said, then rose and grabbed him a notepad. The paper had the symbol of a seed corn company in the upper corner, Jon noted, as did the pen that she handed him. A memory suddenly came back of all the other little they had around their house with seed corn advertising on it – refrigerator magnets, coffee mugs, hats, calendars. It was big business in this part of the world, and the little trinkets were everywhere. The familiarity made him smile. “We’ll leave you alone. And if you want a change of clothes, there should be some old stuff up in Clark’s room. Come on, Jonathan.”
Martha shooed Jonathan out of the room, and Jon got down to business, composing a letter to his brother. If Bruce got curious and read it ahead of its intended delivery date, he might end up somewhat confused, since it was filled with personal references and a fair number of time travel movie comparisons. It also gave CJ enough information to find and retrieve him, which was the goal. Satisfied, Jon folded the letter and placed it in the envelope his grandmother gave him. He was about to seal it up when he hesitated. Diane was probably worried about him, and would no doubt be involved in whatever effort they undertook to get him back. She deserved at least an acknowledgement from him that he was thinking about her. Jon took another piece of paper, and as he pondered what to say to his wife, a wave of emotion suddenly and strongly washed over him.
Of course he knew fundamentally where and when he was, that his life was three decades in the future, a span of time greater than he had been alive. But even upon finding that out, he had been calm, buoyed by the idea that it was a temporary situation. He wouldn’t be here long, and whatever had allowed him to get here in the first place would certainly allow him to get back where he was supposed to be. Besides, now that CJ was on the case, the solution should be in the bag. But…what if it wasn’t? How many time travelers did he know, anyway? It was the thing of science fiction, for the most part. And even though his parents spoke of a time traveler that they had met several times, they also said that the chaos he inevitably brought with him made them relieved when his visits ceased. He doubted they would willingly summon him again if Jon told them his predicament, which he wasn’t planning to do in any case. If CJ couldn’t figure it out, there was the real possibility that he wouldn’t see his kids for another 28 years. And his wife would enter the world in 2 years or so, but she wouldn’t be the woman he knew and loved for a very long time. They were the best part of his life, and an existence without them would be incredibly hollow, even if he had his grandparents to lean on.
With a deep breath and a shake of his head, Jon pushed his emotions aside. No point in becoming negative now. And there was no point in writing his wife some sort of flowery declaration of all the ways she fulfilled him, and how much he missed her. She knew all that already, and she hated sappy platitudes. “Diane,” he wrote, smiling as his pencil moved along. “Sorry I ruined our lunch. I promise I will make it up to you when I get back. Please give the kids big hugs for me when you see them, and let them know that everything will be okay. I will be there before you know it, even if I have to wait for the passage of time. I would prefer not to, though – stay on CJ until he figures this all out. Remember, I love you always.” Signing his name, he folded the note and wrote her name on the outside of the paper before slipping it into the envelope.
He quickly stood and located his grandparents on the porch. He exited the house through the old screen door, drawing their attention. “I’m going to drop this off, if you don’t mind. But I’ll be back soon. And I’d like to help you out around here, if I could. Do something to make up for the hospitality you have shown me, and will show me. It’s the least I can do.”
They both nodded. “It’s not necessary, you know,” Martha said, moving toward him and wrapping an arm around his waist.
“You don’t know all the stunts my brother and I will pull on our visits here. Trust me, it’s necessary.” He returned the light embrace, put a hand on his grandfather’s shoulder, then took a step away from them and took off toward Gotham.
Even under the glare of the afternoon sun, Gotham City was a dark and gloomy place. It had always felt like a distorted mirror image of Metropolis, the type of place where happiness was in short supply. In recent years, hope had emerged from the darkness under his brother’s example. But the Gotham of 1997 seemed to hold only ugliness and violence, and a few short minutes in the skies above the city was all Jon needed to see that the Batman had his work cut out for him. It gave Jon a new appreciation for the work Bruce did, seeing now where the city had been when he was still new to the job. His gaze was quickly drawn toward Wayne Manor, a place that looked no different now than it would in the future, and the cave sitting below it. At this point in time, the souvenirs were in short supply, and the advance technology looked positively ancient through Jon’s eyes, though it could well be the best that 1997 offered. In front of the vaunted bat-computer sat a very young Dick Grayson in a very hokey Robin outfit. Jon could only stare for a moment, unable to reconcile the lanky, innocent-looking teenager with the bitter man he knew. Blinking a couple times, Jon shifted his gaze to the letter in his hand. It was probably a good thing that Dick was there, since that meant that someone could witness his delivery. It didn’t look like it would be too difficult, especially since most of the security systems that he was an expert in circumventing had yet to be installed. Well, he supposed, might as well get on with it. It a matter of moments, the letter was placed on the desk in front of Dick and Jon was making his way back toward the Midwest.
His grandparents were no longer on the porch when he landed again at the house. “All right,” he said, pulling the door open and entering the house. “Mission accomplished. Now, please, put me to work.”
He rounded the corner and stopped cold. There, standing in the kitchen with his grandparents and looking right at him, was his father. Jon felt like he had been punched in the gut, and he was aware of a squeak escaping his mouth as Jonathan and Martha turned toward him, apology in their expressions.
“Hello,” Clark said, and Jon started to consider where exactly he could run away to from there. But he knew there was nowhere to go.
“Uh, hi,” he said, then swallowed hard.
“Why don’t we all go sit down,” Martha said, gesturing toward the kitchen table. Jon wasn’t entirely sure he could move at that moment even if he wanted to, but he ended up not having to find out as his father declined the offer.
“No, I don’t plan to be long,” Clark said to her, then turned his attention toward Jon. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“You have?” Jon asked weakly, trying to put an element of surprise in his voice, but failing miserably.
“I have so many questions.” His expression was eager.
“Do you? I, ah, I’m not sure I have the answers you want.”
Clark took a step toward him, and Jon was aware that his eyes had gotten wider.
As if sensing Jon’s discomfort, Clark put his hands up defensively. “Just tell me, you’re not from New Krypton, are you?”
Jon shook his head vigorously. “Actually, I’m from Metropolis.” He cringed a little, realizing that he might have said too much.
“Really?” Clark took another step forward, his hands dropping. “Then why haven’t we met before? Where have you been before today? Why did you act like you knew me?”
Jon subconsciously took a step back, which halted Clark’s progress. “I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you that.”
Clark’s expression softened. “It’s so rare that I meet anyone like myself. I feel like if we could just talk…”
“…we would have a lot in common.” Jon closed his eyes and took a breath. He was so close to his Dad, and their talks always had been something he looked forward to. It was becoming almost painful to say no, and looking at Clark’s face, seeing the sincerity it held, wasn’t helping. He kept repeating to himself that he couldn’t talk to him, that his dad couldn’t know anything about what was going on. But it was already a little late for that, wasn’t it? Jon had been the one to let the genie out of the bottle in the first place at the hotel fire, talking to Clark as if they were in his own time, but that was before he realized where and when he was. He certainly didn’t want to make things worse now, but…he still existed, his future hadn’t been destroyed, and there was probably no reason to be as afraid of his father as he felt right now. It was an odd feeling, completely unnatural, and the young boy inside of him kept looking for that spark of recognition in Clark’s eyes, to be comforted by the man who had always been there for him before. But Clark still saw him as a stranger, and maybe that didn’t necessarily have to be the case. His expression softened. “You’re right about that.”
“My wife and I were hoping you would come over for dinner tonight,” Clark said. “There would be no expectations, and we wouldn’t have to discuss anything you didn’t want to. I just…” he shrugged. “I’m curious about you, and would like to, I don’t know, compare notes I guess. And if Mom and Dad trust you, then I do, too.”
“Okay,” Jon said, the word coming out before he consciously got a chance to ponder the question.
Clark smiled broadly. “Seven o’clock eastern. 348 Hyperion Avenue.” With that he disappeared, and Jon looked helplessly at his grandparents. Slowly, he walked toward them, then sunk into a kitchen chair.
“What did I just do?” he asked, conflicted.
“You’re just having dinner with your parents,” Martha said. “You’ve probably done that a thousand times before. You’ll be fine.”
Jon signed and nodded. They were right. And there were no expectations, that’s what his father said. Surely he could get through it without too much trouble.
“So, I hear that you want to get put to work?” Jonathan asked. At Jon’s crooked smile, he clapped his back and then turned toward the back door. “Well, change your clothes. I’m going to keep you so busy, you won’t even have time to worry. Meet me in the barn for your first assignment.”
“Yes, sir,” Jon said, and with that he got to work.
