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Chapter 7: It's Hard to Admit How It Ends and Begins
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Early March 1997
9 months, 18 Days Since Clark Left Home

"On his face is a map of the world...
From yesterday, it's coming
From yesterday, the fear
From yesterday, it calls him
But he doesn't want to read the message..."

From Yesterday by 30 Seconds to Mars
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Almost all of the scars had disappeared already. Counting the three days he'd spent with Zara and Ching in the Earth's upper atmosphere reacclimating to the yellow sun, and the time he'd been back in Smallville...it'd only been ten days. Barely more than a week, and they'd disappeared. Like nothing had ever happened, like he hadn't suffered at all.

He stared at himself in the mirror wearing only a towel after his morning shower, hoping Lois wouldn't come in before he'd gotten dressed. There was one scar left, and part of him wondered if it would ever fade like the others had. He ran his fingers over the right side of his abdomen, over the jagged line of gnarled flesh and unnaturally pink and rough scar tissue surrounding it—a stab wound from an assassin's dagger, dragged as it had exited his body. Not his first wound, but certainly the worst. The pain of it still scarred his memory; it'd felt like a dagger made of Kryptonite ripping through him.

He closed his eyes tight to stop the memory. He didn't need to remember, didn't need to feel. <<Kao-zha-aovem-u.>> He had hated the wounds, the resulting scars. On New Krypton, they'd only served to remind him...of so many things. Too many things. But mostly that he was different there, not himself. That he was not in any way invulnerable. And the constant reminders of his mortality had been terrifying.

Now? Back on Earth? It was almost as though the scars were some kind of proof of all he'd been through. They'd been his reminders that he'd suffered but survived everything that had tried to kill him. And having them just vanish, disappear...it made him angry. It was as if all of a sudden, the past year didn't exist.

He looked again at the remaining scar—the proof that he hadn't been as prepared as he'd thought, that he'd almost died up there and never made it back, that he'd spent weeks in a hospital bed fighting the poison ravaging his body. Proof that he'd...survived...

But had it all been worth it? Was the cost of what he missed at home and all the suffering he'd been through, was still going through, worth the lives saved on New Krypton, the lives lost, the changes made?

In truth, though, nothing had been worth it. Nothing.

He'd missed everything he'd ever dreamed of because he'd been fighting in a war, a war he’d been supposed to prevent. Killing people, with his decisions and his hands. All this while Lois had been...

His stomach clenched painfully, and he tried to push the feeling aside.

<<Kao-zha-aovem-u.>>

He should be grateful. He knew he should be. Especially for the lack of a deep scar above his right eyebrow. It wouldn't do for Clark Kent to have the same scar as Superman...assuming Superman even came back.

He studied his face in the mirror—and someone else's eyes stared back darkly at him, piercing, accusing. These were not Superman's eyes. Superman wouldn't have...

<<Kao-zha-aovem-u.>>

The yellow sun did nothing to heal his mind, erase what he'd seen, what he'd done. He had to find a way to live with that, shove that down in the mental vault he'd had to hide his feelings in for so long. He couldn't burden Lois with any of it. If yesterday had shown him anything, it was that the feelings were too strong. Too painful. He couldn't do that to her. Wouldn't do that to her.

And...he needed—desperately—for her to still believe that his goodness, his kindness still existed. That her hero and the man she loved hadn't died up there on that cold and barren planetoid.

If he just focused on Lois and Kallie, on learning how to be a father, maybe he could somehow distract himself from everything he'd been through and make up for lost time. Time that he'd never, ever get back. Time that he'd given so freely—so foolishly—because...what? Because his birth father had said it was his destiny? That the people needed him to lead them?

Given how it’d all turned out...

Couldn't they have done it without him? Had his role been so pivotal, the New Kryptonians so entrenched in their dynastic alliances, that they couldn’t have done it without him?

All he felt now was resentful. And angry.

*#*#*#*

Mid-May 1996
2 Days Since Clark Left Home

"The Code before the nation. Nation before family. Family before self. It isn't just our traditional toast; it's an edict, a manifesto for New Krypton..." she trailed off and stared into the middle distance. "Our expedition—pioneered by your father, Jor-El—wasn't expecting to be orphaned by our home planet's demise. He'd thought we'd all have more time, that he'd be able to persuade the Council to take action."

Clark could sense how sad she was, a mere echo of how he'd felt thinking he was the lone survivor of his home planet all these years. The same planet, but her loss was more sharply felt.

"I'm sorry," he said. "That must have been hard."

"I was an infant at the time, like you. His last message to us was to tell us he had managed to save you." She looked up at him, the emotion she was trying to conceal becoming plain on her face. "He dreamt of a peaceful Krypton, a new planet and legacy to bring us from the darkness and chaos of a dying planet into the light of peace. We thank Rao that he was able to save you."

"But...why...send me to Earth? To be raised, and to live, and to love...only to be taken away later...well, now?"

"Well, partly because our expedition had only just left, and all we knew of our target destination was that it was a desolate, rocky planetoid. We weren't yet confident of our ability to colonize it. That, and..." She paused, like people did before they gave you bad news. "Well, it all gets a bit technical and..."

"Please, Zara," he said as he felt a knot form in his stomach. "Continue. Jor-El...my father...never mentioned why I was sent alone."

"The route to what's now New Krypton was more direct, in a different galaxy but closer to Krypton." Zara tented her fingers again and watched as she splayed them apart, one of her nervous habits, he was starting to realize. "The course to Earth was a labyrinth of intricate trajectories through what we call hyperspace. Though the technology on Krypton at the time was advanced, they'd only managed to send unmanned probes through hyperspace before."

He sat silent for a moment, trying to take in the information.

"Your father," she continued, "was as brilliant a scientist as he was a champion of pacifism. His invention of the hyperlight drive was able to take probes further and faster than ever before, yet with the same reporting capabilities. Even still, he lacked sufficient time to convert it for piloting manned spacecraft."

"He mentioned something about that, but I didn't know what he meant," Clark said quietly. "All this is a little..." He gestured over his head and over to the vast sea of stars visible through the porthole window. "Over my head." He laughed humorlessly.

"It's a lot," Zara agreed, putting a hand on his shoulder, he assumed in an effort to reassure or comfort him. "Jor-El worked tirelessly, your mother by his side, trying to outfit a modified probe to safely carry...you. There wasn't time for anything else. Their last concern was to save you, so that you would live on even if they couldn't."

Clark felt his heart clench, hearing even further evidence of his birth parents' love for him. How Kryptonians had evolved into a seemingly uncaring society without room for love and kindness, he couldn't fathom.

"He saved you, Kal-El. And though he couldn't have known our expedition would be successful, that our race would prosper, he ultimately saved New Krypton, too."

What did that mean? How had he saved New Krypton?

As he was quickly learning was the case with Zara, he didn't always need to voice his questions out loud; sometimes his thoughts were broadcasting loud and clear without his control.

"The alliance held strong as Lord Zor-El of the House of El, your uncle, ruled our people and successfully colonized New Krypton, ensuring our survival as a race and advocating ardently for the continuation of your father's work."

"There's more. I can sense you're holding back."

Zara nodded slowly. "Six years ago...Zor-El died unexpectedly. He was old and a bit frail, but Kryptonians aren't as fragile as humans, even on New Krypton."

"And...?"

"He had...he'd wanted change for New Krypton. A better way. He had been trying to reform the government, but he was met with resistance at every turn. Some say that he was assassinated, but given his somewhat declining health at the time, no investigations were held."

He wasn't sure what to say, but he didn't need to speak yet. There was still more.

"You were a last resort, Kal-El. He wanted to leave you to your life on Earth and what he hoped was your happiness. As our birth union dictated, you were the next in line for the throne. He didn't want that, thought it would only encourage the old ways too much. And he thought you deserved to live out your days on Earth as you had begun them.

"But he died too soon. The change he'd wanted to effect was still too much in its infancy. No one understood it; they fought against it, too unlike the old ways it was for them to believe it was good for anyone."

His mind was reeling a bit with all the new information, part of him wondering why he hadn't gotten the full story when he was on Earth, when they were trying to convince him to come along. Would he have? Would it have made his choice easier? Harder?

He thought he could tell where this might be headed. Or maybe he was finally starting to read her mind? Telepathy did, in fact, work both ways; he just wasn't sure how yet.

"Given my union to you, Kal-El, and the knowledge that you had been saved, the Council of Elders permitted my appointment to the throne. They gave us five years. Five years to complete your father's work on the hyperlight drive and find you, bring you home."

"But I..." How could they have wanted him, someone who knew nothing of Kryptonian ways. And Zara...he could read what was in her mind. "They didn't want a woman ruling."

"You must understand, Kal-El. Hundreds of thousands of years of tradition are not given up so easily." She paused and shook her head gently at him. "Do not feel sorry for me, Kal-El. This is the way. I'm proud to serve my people in the way that they choose, and I was supported by the Council."

"They couldn't have been happy..."

"The alliance was conciliated about my enthronement by the promise that Project Kal-El would only be permitted five years before they would allow the next in line to take my hand—Lord Nor." She paused again, briefly, when she noticed him cringe. "Yes, Project Kal-El was the initiative to convert your father's hyperlight drive for a manned spacecraft and find you. The alliance grew more unstable as each year passed without hope of success."

"But here you...we are," Clark said, looking around at the seemingly non-spacecraft-like walls in wonder. "This runs on my father's technology?" he asked, feeling...unexpectedly proud.

Zara nodded and smiled warmly. "Yes. The conversion was successful about a year ago, and the time since has been spent building this craft and deciding when the journey would take place and who would come." She ducked her head again, taking a deep breath, and he sensed a bit of shame from her.

He stayed silent to let her continue, knowing what she would say next.

"And as you know, we spent some time on Earth observing you and testing you to ensure your aptitude for being Lord of New Krypton. You must understand that the Council, the citizens of New Krypton, had their misgivings and reluctance for placing someone on the throne who'd lived on another planet for effectively his whole life. A careful series of criteria were set that, without having met, you wouldn't be here." She pleaded with her eyes for forgiveness, though her station and her customs dictated she need not ask for it.

He nodded his understanding, if not his full forgiveness. They'd put innocent lives at risk to gauge his worthiness, his ability and willingness to adhere to Kryptonian traditions, laws, and societal mores. The resentment was too fresh a feeling still.

She continued. Maybe to fill the silence? Maybe to sate his curiosity? "With the uncertainty of Project Kal-El's success, Lord Nor saw opportunity to sow discord and fear in an egomaniacal bid for power under the guise of keeping the old ways, tradition. The stability of the alliance is presently...how you'd say on Earth...holding on by a thread."

He sat, still in silence, a feeling of grim acceptance and duty coming over him. He hadn’t realized the full magnitude of the situation. How could he have?

She turned to face him, urging him to look into her eyes, hear her thoughts...her gratitude. "You've seen how eager and hopeful the people were to see you assume your birthright; the sentiments at home on New Krypton are a hundredfold. You are saving us from civil war, Kal-El." A beat. "Clark," she said, using his real name as if to throw more weight behind her words.

He didn't want her gratitude. Or the people's adulation and obeisance, their genuflection. Their unquestioning acceptance and trust of his leadership now that he was officially Lord Kal-El of the Noble House of El.

It didn't matter that he'd supposedly won the people just by assuming the throne, just by having the right name and the right gender. He knew he didn't have the full trust of the Council, and it was clear that the nobles of the other houses in the alliance remained hesitant, holding their collective breaths until they saw him in action. And that worried him greatly. He didn't speak the language of the law or the land. Hell...he didn't know the law, either.

"Clark," Zara repeated his name, this time with different intent, to interrupt his spiraling. “Take some time to rest and process in your bedchamber. Have your emotions there, for you cannot show your weakness of sentiment and emotion in front of the people. Ching will begin training with you in a few hours.”

“Training?” He was almost afraid to ask.

“Yes. Lieutenant Ching is an accomplished Drei master and will teach you how to fight, to defend yourself, and to attack.” She sensed his protests. “You must. It’s in your best interests and that of your people.”

He nodded reluctantly.

“You’ll also train in Jahghah. Restraint," she answered before he could ask. "A Kryptonian, especially a ruler, a leader, must show strength, discipline, and self-restraint. Jahghah will help you deny and control your emotions.”

He tried to block the emotions now, the onslaught of so much unfamiliarity and homesickness and heartache and fear and grief and wonder and uncertainty.

Zara closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Ching will show you.” She turned and walked away towards her own bedchambers. “Rest now, Kal-El,” she said before disappearing into her room, the doors hissing shut behind her.

*#*#*#*

He could see her out of the corner of his eye, watching him from the armchair as he changed Kallie’s diaper. “What?” he asked, irritated.

She opened her mouth and closed it again, shaking her head slightly and then pretending to read her book again.

Kallie had been fussing the entire time, and he’d noticed she had a bit of a rash. She had let it be known to the whole household that she had not liked the feel of the baby wipe against her sensitive, red skin. He was doing his best to calm her and hold her still while he grabbed the baby powder.

“Just say it, Lois. I don’t know if I’m doing something wrong if you don’t tell me.”

She looked up from her book, her lips twisted just shy of a scowl. “It’s just...the cream works a lot better for the rashes. The baby powder doesn’t really do much.”

He huffed a short breath and set the powder down and grabbed the cream. “Then why is the baby powder even here?” he asked tightly as he applied cream to Kallie’s rash, then fastened up her diaper followed by her onesie.

“I don’t know!” she said, exasperated. “The book said buy it, so I bought it. But it doesn’t work very well for the rashes.”

She was standing now and heading toward him. He picked Kallie up and cradled her, her fussing at least quieted now that the diaper issue was resolved. Lois reached out for the baby. “Here, let me have her...”

“I can do it!” he ground out quietly, sounding slightly more curt than he'd meant to. “She’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

Lois grabbed her chest then let go and reached for Kallie again. “She’s hungry.”

“I can feed her,” he offered. She’d been the one so insistent on including him.

He watched her take a deep breath to try and calm herself. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice softer now. “All the stuff for the pump isn’t washed right now. If I don’t do it, I will hurt.”

“Oh...right," he said quietly, frowning. "Sorry.” Despite his irritation, the guilt and frustration of not knowing, not remembering all these little things, bled through. He handed Kallie over, and watched Lois deftly reseat herself and get the baby latched all in one movement.

He sat on the corner of the bed facing Lois. He’d been trying to focus on only letting in the good feelings, but the more he did that, the more all the feelings came through. It was becoming increasingly harder to hide the other feelings.

He hated bickering, being so irritable with her. He hated feeling resentful of all the things he'd missed and all the things he didn't know. He hated the guilt that gnawed at him and the pain of knowing he'd hurt her, was still hurting her despite how much he tried not to feel it. He hated being home but feeling like he didn't quite fit in in his own home, his own family.

Where? Where else was he supposed to feel at home if not here? They'd taken everything from him, everything he'd ever wanted, dreamed of. And now that he was back, he couldn't even feel...comfortable, normal, in the only place he'd ever felt truly accepted, the only place he'd ever truly belonged—with his parents and with Lois.

He had never, never felt more alienated.

And it was killing him. He watched, his heart painfully twisted and clenched, as Lois nursed Kallie in their not-so-comfortable silence. She didn't look comfortable either, and he was sure he could feel her anguish in his chest, bleeding into his. Forgive me.

<<Kao-zhalish-odh khahp.>>

She looked at him, and his voice came out a strained whisper. “If I’d have known...” He gestured at their daughter, so innocent in all of this.

Lois’ smile was tight, and he was having trouble reading her emotions, if there was resentment mixed in with the anguish. If he tried, all the emotions started flooding in, hers and his. She didn’t say anything.

“I never should have...” He felt a lump forming in his throat.

<<Kao-zha-aovem-u.>>

“What, Clark? Never should have what?” she said slowly, impatiently, almost daring him to say the wrong thing.

“I never should have left!” he blurted out.

“No. You shouldn’t have.” Her voice was low and serious, and he could see her slight trembling from the effort to keep her tears from spilling.

"But I had to,” he strained to get the words out, a hoarse plea that had no hope of making things right again.

"I know,” she whispered as the tears started slipping out. “I know.”

And then all the emotions bombarded him at once, his stomach knotting and his chest constricting painfully. His. Hers. New. Old. It was too much and he needed escape.

He stood abruptly and muttered some apology. “I need...need space.” And he left, not looking back because he couldn’t bear to see the look on her face.

He was out of the room and the house in seconds, the whack and creak of the screen door thumping shut behind him as he took off into the sky. And her voice, oh her voice, full of anguish, reached his ears despite her whispered cry, “Don’t leave me.” It ripped through him, sharper and more painful than any of the daggers had been.

<<Kao-zhalish-odh khahp.>>

It was only a few minutes before he came back down, for fear of anyone seeing a flying man in the Kansas afternoon skies. He caught sight of his treehouse and was drawn to it, craving the solitude the little fortress provided.

He flew inside, sat on the familiar but worn planks of wood that made up the floor. And then he buried his face in his hands and cried.

**********

It was hours later when he finally came back to the house, and everyone was asleep already—he'd checked. He felt every bit a coward for it, too. Part of him wondered and almost hoped he'd catch flack from his mother for missing dinner, but she'd probably spare him the lecture, all things considered.

Kallie seemed to be in his parents' room for the night, and Clark wondered if it was just their pre-determined schedule for night feedings or if Lois had arranged it in hopes of waiting up for him. As he slipped into their room and closed the door silently behind him, the guilt tugged at his heart. Don't leave me, her plea echoed in his mind.

She moaned lightly in her sleep and rolled over beneath the covers. He longed to go to her. Needed to go to her. Part of him didn't feel like he had any right to, especially after how he'd taken off for hours with no explanation. It didn't help that they'd been bickering more lately. This wasn't at all how it was supposed to be.

The pain and yearning in his heart outweighed the guilt, though. The nights on New Krypton had always been the hardest, and the times he'd missed her the most...the times he'd been allowed to miss her. So, he silently changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants to sleep in, and he climbed slowly into bed.

He tried his best not to disturb her, but as he was almost settled under the covers, she made another light noise and shifted again. He laid his head down on the pillow gently and tried to stay still so as not to wake her. And then he watched, frozen in apprehension, as she moved toward him and nestled herself against his side with her head coming to rest in the crook of his shoulder. Her heart rate told him she was still sleeping, but she'd sought him out. He wrapped his arm around her more fully, and she snuggled in closer.

"I'm so glad you're home." Her voice was just a murmur, but its sound reverberated through his chest.

He placed an achingly tender kiss on her forehead, wishing he could somehow convey everything he needed to say to her, how sorry he was, and how fiercely and endlessly he loved her.

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