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mischiefandspirits · 3 years

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Titanic Beginnings

Part of the Six for the Age of One AU

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Dick was excited when Bruce helped form the Justice League, babbling on about Bruce’s new friends and begging to meet them. Damian also wanted to meet the JL, but to appraise them to see if they were worthy of his father’s time and ensure they were capable of watching Batman’s back.

Not wanting the boys to get involved in the more punishing missions the JL faced, Bruce continually denied their requests.

That was ruined during a meeting a month later when Superman sheepishly admitted that his sons had also been badgering him and his wife to meet the other JL members and asked if he could bring the boys to the next meeting.

Green Arrow, Hawkgirl, Green Lantern, and Martian Manhunter appeared as resistant as Bruce. However, Wonder Woman adored children and agreed before any of them could speak up. She even offered to bring her young sister to keep them company. Aquaman agreed as well, mentioning that his apprentice could use the land experience. Flash and Black Canary were fine with it, which left the League at an even split.

At a nudge from Canary, Arrow broke the tie by reluctantly agreeing to bring his protégé.

Any ideas Batman had at keeping his boys out of it were dashed when Lantern turned to him and asked if he would also be bringing his kids. Superman sent him a look that clearly stated he would invite the boys if Batman didn’t so the Gotham vigilante nodded after giving Lantern a fierce glare.

Batman, Robin, and Serin were the first ones to the temporary headquarters the Justice League were using while Batman, Arrow, and Lantern finished the work on the space station they were retrofitting.

Before they arrived, Bruce had reminded Dick that, allies or not, only Superman knew the Bats’ identities and it was to remain that way for the time being. He had also negotiated with Damian. The boy wouldn’t challenge anyone to a fight and would abide by sparring rules with anyone who challenged him, no matter what abilities they may have. In return, the boy could assess whoever he wanted. He also allowed the boys to bring their dogs, hoping that would help keep Damian from going too far.

Titus (or Birdhound as Dick insisted despite Damian’s arguments that Great Danes weren’t hounds) had swapped out his red collar for a yellow one that matched Serin’s belt and had a tag with Serin’s logo on it. He also wore a grey ballistic vest with dark coral straps and handle. Haley (or Bitewing, a play on a character from Dick’s favorite story in Bruce’s extraterrestrial files) had a green collar with Robin’s logo hanging from it in place of her usual blue. Her vest was red with canary straps and handle.

Robin and Bitewing immediately went off to explore while Serin and Birdhound stayed at Batman’s side as he got things ready for the meeting. The boy kept an eye on the meeting room’s door, so he was the first one to notice the Supers’ arrival.

Superman was talking to his foster son when they walked in, his younger son flying over them with wide eyes. Superboy (aka nine-year-old Jonathan Kent) nearly looked like the spitting image of his father with his blue-black curls and neon blue eyes that didn’t quite look human, though his nose and lips were shaped a bit more like his mother. Meanwhile Hyper (aka fourteen-year-old Christopher Kent) only shared his foster father’s physique, his skin not having that same natural sun-kissed look while his hair was a dirty blond and his eyes were a bright amber that was just a little too close to yellow to be humanly possible. Superboy was wearing jeans, red high tops, and a Superman costume shirt that had a small red cape attached. Hyper was even more underdressed in just jeans, black tenner shoes, a yellow and blue flannel, and a black shirt. A black band wrapped around his wrist, appearing to all the world like a watch though, having helped create it, Batman knew it was a device to help Earth’s newest kryptonian keep control of the powers he’d developed on arrival.

Robin reappeared suddenly, dropping down onto Superman’s shoulders. “Heya, Kal!”

“Hello, Robin,” the man chuckled.

The twelve-year-old did a backbend so he could hold a hand out to the older boy. “Hi! You’re Hyper right? Kal’s told us about you.”

“Oh, yeah. Or K’Riss. Uh, K’Riss-El, but just K’Riss is fine,” Hyper said, accepting the hand.

“And I’m Jon!” Superboy said, dropping down in front of Batman and Serin. He smiled up at the man before holding his hand out to the other boy. “Dad’s told us about you too. Nice to meet you. I like your dog. Can I pet him?”

The eleven-year-old looked at the hand, then glanced over Superboy’s outfit. “No. What kind of attire is that for fighting crime?”

The half-kryptonian looked down at his clothes and shrugged. “I thought it looked cool.”

“It offers no protection.”

“They’re kryptonians,” Robin pointed out as he stood up on Superman’s shoulders so he could pet Bitewing, who was leaning out of a vent on the ceiling. “Their skin is better armor than the stuff we wear.”

“What if they were to lose their abilities? A shard of kryptonite would easily pass through that flimsy shirt.”

Superboy frowned and glanced back at his dad, which gave Batman time to give his son a reprimanding look and hold out his hand.

Serin scowled and palmed him a small lead case.

The Supers didn’t notice the actions, distracted by unsuccessfully trying to get Bitewing out of the vent.

“Neither of us really dressed for fighting crime,” Hyper said over Robin’s soft cackling, pulling away from the vent. “Jon’s too young for that stuff and I’m still getting my powers under control. Our superhero names are more honorary than anything.”

Clicking his tongue, Serin crossed his arms. “Heroes or not, we are in the base of a team of superheroes. You should be prepared to be attacked at any minute by any of the members’ various enemies.”

Superman aimed an incredulous look at Bruce, who shrugged.

His son wasn’t wrong.

“Hello there!” Wonder Woman called as she walked in with a teenage girl in red and black Amazonian armor.

The girl looked exactly like a fifteen-year-old version of her sister with her curly brown-black hair, warm olive skin, and dark green eyes. She gave a smile that looked a bit more forced than her sister’s, which quickly dropped away when she noticed Superman still near the vent with Robin clinging to his back. “Why is there a dog up there?”

“She likes it in there,” Batman grunted when Wonder Woman looked like she was going to try to help as well.

“She’s Robin’s,” Serin added, which did explain it if you knew Robin.

“Dogs shouldn’t be inside vents,” Wonder Woman said pointedly.

“And children shouldn’t nap in chandeliers,” Batman muttered, earning snorts from Serin and Superman. Accepting that the issue wasn’t going to be dropped, he gave Robin a look.

The boy pouted, then gave a sharp whistle. Instantly the pitbull sprung from the vent, hopping off superman’s chest, then Hyper’s shoulders, before landing on the ground as gracefully as her boy despite her missing limb. Robin dropped to the ground next to her and scratched her neck before grabbing the handle on her vest and going over to greet the Amazons.

Wonder Woman introduced her sister as Troia, who had recently left Themyscira so she could learn more about Man’s World at her sister’s side.

After respectfully greeting the sisters, Serin turned to Superboy. “See, the Amazons wear armor.”

“Well, they aren’t quite as durable as us,” Superboy shot back.

“They also don’t have a well-known weakness to a rock, yet they still understand the necessity to be prepared for battle.”

“So that one is definitely Spooky’s,” Lantern joked as he walked in with Hawkgirl.

Robin did a cartwheel into a backflip, landing in front of the two with Bitewing racing to stay by his side. He gave the heroes a wide grin, leaning cutely against the alert dog. “Hi, I’m Robin! It’s so nice to meet B’s friends! I like your wings, Ms. Hawkgirl! They’re very pretty!”

“Thank you,” she said, bemused.

Lantern gave Batman a smirk as he shook Robin’s hand. “You sure this one’s yours and not Supe’s or Wonder Woman’s?”

Robin’s grin turned sharp, then he pulled away.

A green flash lit the room and Lantern was left in just a black tanktop, Flash sweatpants, and mismatched fuzzy socks. The man yelped and looked down to find his ring missing from his hand. His gaze shot up, but Robin and Bitewing had disappeared with the light. “What the heck!?”

The boy’s laughter echoed around the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere.

“Okay, maybe he is yours.”

“Why is Lantern in his sleeping clothes?” Martian Manhunter asked as he and Aquaman came in with a young Atlantean.

“Robin stole his ring right off his hand,” Hawkgirl answered with poorly hidden laughter in her voice.

The test pilot scowled and held out his hand. His ring shot out from inside Batman’s cape. As it slid onto Lantern’s finger, returning his suit in a flicker of green, Robin and Bitewing poked their heads out of the fabric. He pointed at the smug boy. “You won’t do that again.”

“Unless I want to.”

“Kid -”

“Hey, my first idea was to come up and throat-punch you so be glad I just stole your ring,” he snickered, slipping back into the shadows. “Can’t talk bad about my family if you can’t breathe.”

“It seems the Bat’s family are as entertaining as he is,” Aquaman joked. He set his hand on the young Atlantean’s shoulder. “Speaking of family, this is my mother’s ward and my apprentice, Aqualad. Lad, this is the Justice League and their young companions.”

The boy appeared to be around fifteen with alabaster skin that was edging towards grey. His eyes were plum-colored and his hair was long and pitch black. With teeth slightly sharper than a human’s, he smiled and gave a small bow. “A pleasure. You may call me Garth.”

Baring the Bats, the group all greeted Aqualad cheerfully. Batman grunted and nodded with Serin copying his actions while Robin’s hand poked out of the cape to wave.

Before anyone could introduce themselves to the newcomers, Arrow and Canary entered with a grumpy thirteen-year-old.

Speedy had fair skin and pale red hair, alongside eyes hidden behind a domino mask like the ones Robin and Serin wore. Batman knew from his day-life that Speedy’s backstory wasn’t too far off from Robin’s. He’d gotten Oliver Queen’s attention during an archery contest so when the boy’s adopted father died, Oliver took him in.

“Are we the last ones here?” Canary asked.

“We’re still waiting on Flash,” Wonder Woman answered.

“As per usual,” Hawkgirl joked.

“Well, in the meantime,” Arrow set a hand on Speedy’s shoulder, “this is Speedy.”

“‘Sup,” he said, giving a sarcastic salute.

Introductions went around. Robin took the distraction as his chance to slip out and greet Aqualad and Speedy properly. As the time for the meeting grew closer, the group got the kids settled in a room near the meeting room. Just as they were about to leave for the meeting, a steak of red shot into the room.

“Sorry I’m late,” Flash said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’re actually on time,” Superman said. “Though you’ll have to wait to meet the kids until after the meeting.”

“About that…”

A second streak came into the room, which turned out to be a red-headed teenager. The boy was tan and freckled. When he pulled up his goggles to smile at the group, his eyes proved to be a grassy green. “Hi, there! I’m Kid Flash!”

The group turned to Flash, who was pinching the bridge of his nose. “My nephew became a speedster last week. I’m training him how to use his powers.”

“Then I’m going to be his sidekick!”

Batman held back a snort at the imploring expression Flash gave him and Superman. The kryptonian patted the speedster on the back and led him out of the room with the others following.

Behave, Batman said with a grunt, giving his boys the kind of glare that would have the JL flinching back and the criminals of Gotham fleeing.

Robin batted his eyes innocently and Serin gave a half-hearted nod.

When the meeting was through, the adults returned to find the room worse for wear.

Robin and Kid Flash were sitting cross-legged on a battered table (one of the few remaining pieces of furniture) with Bitewing draped over their laps. They were both fidgeting with the dog’s ears and tail as they happily talked about a fight the Bats had recently had with Penguin.

Serin and Troia were standing off to the side near some cracked flooring, talking about the Amazonian knife she was showing him. Superboy was sitting on the floor next to them, though he appeared more focused on the pets he was giving Birdhound.

The last three boys were standing next to a hole in the wall. The older two were inspecting the hole with guilty frowns while a snickering Speedy patted Hyper on the back, looking more relaxed despite the bruise on his cheek.

“What happened in here?” Arrow asked, all the adults except Superman and Batman looking shocked at the destruction.

“Sparring competition,” Superman answered, proving he’d kept an ear on the kids throughout the meeting.

“We locked a bunch of superpowered and vigilante children in a room together. I’m just pleased the room’s still standing,” Batman added.

Robin and Kid Flash laughed while Speedy bit down his own laughter at a look from Arrow.

Lantern slapped the archer on the back. “Lighten up. As much as I hate to admit it, Spooky’s got a point. We should have known the kids would screw around and set them up somewhere a little less fragile. So, who won?”

“Troia, technically, since Robin was disqualified after the tournament was over,” Kid Flash said.

Batman turned to Robin, who gave a wide grin. “I don’t want to know.”

“I would have won had I had my full arsenal,” Serin said petulantly.

“He was eliminated because Superboy managed to bear hug him right at the start of their go and he couldn’t squirm free before the time ended,” Robin explained.

“You utilized kryptonite in your spar with a kryptonian so I do not see why I couldn’t!”

Superman gave Batman a look and the vigilante sighed, holding out his hand.

Robin skipped forward and dropped a lead case into his palm. “For the record, I brought blue kryptonite.”

“Was that why you were disqualified?”

“No.”

I will be having a conversation with both of you when we get home, he said with a grunt and put the case in his belt.

“And how did you fare?” Aquaman asked his apprentice, coming over to set his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“I won my match against Kid Flash, but Robin proved too formidable an opponent.”

“I lost first round to Troia,” Speedy said before Arrow could ask as he and Canary came up to the teen.

“His close combat abilities could use some work, but his skills with a bow are comparable to some of our best archers,” Troia argued. “Had our arena been larger, the fight would have been much closer.”

“Yeah, Arrow’s not too good at close range either,” Canary said, earning a huff from her boyfriend. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll show you a few tricks.”

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If you're wondering why I put Donna in armor instead of one of the suits she wears in the comics, I ask you this: Why the flip would she want to wear some spandex suit when she could wear sick Amazonian armor? This applies to Cassie too.

And yes, Dick's treatment of Hal is a reference to a certain movie and a certain TikToker. Thanks for asking.

#batman #dick grayson #robin #damian wayne #teen titans #Robins are the Same Age AU #fanfiction #64ao1

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riley1cannon · 5 years

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Presently Untitled Superbat Fic

Yes, so, I have been wrestling with this thing since July, with many starts and stops, and no title to be found (at this rate it really may end up being called “2 Idiots Sitting Around Figuring Stuff Out”), but there is a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel, for this first half, Clark’s POV, anyway.

Anyway... It’s DCEU, post-Justice League, and really is just Clark and Bruce sitting around talking--about Harvey Dent, about how Smallville celebrates the 4th of July, with side trips into Alfred headcanon and references to recent JL undercover missions, and there will be a special cameo appearance at the end of part two. But this is part one, so it’s only Clark, Bruce, and Martha Kent. I don’t even want to contemplate the Bruce POV half right now...

“Clark: Chapter One”

He might not feel the heat and humidity like everyone else, but Clark could still enjoy a nice cool shower that sluiced it all away at the end of a long day. Now, if he could have a quiet night with no emergencies, no crisis anywhere, he would chalk that up as a small blessing. He knew better than to count on that, however.

He had changed into cargo shorts and a white t-shirt, and was weighing the pros and cons of rocky road versus Chunky Monkey, when his mom called.

“Clark! Clark! Turn on the Weather Channel!” she told him before he could even say hello.

“What?” He found the remote and scrolled through the channels, wondering what was up with the note of hilarity in her voice.

“Just turn it on, sweetie. You’ll see.”

He found the channel, tuning in just as a woman standing by a fountain in downtown Metropolis was saying, “Couldn’t he, like, tilt the axis of the Earth, or something?”

What? “Ma, what is this?”

“They’re asking people on the street what they think Superman should do about this heat wave.”

Oh for… Now a guy was saying he’d heard Superman had some kind of freeze breath, so why didn’t he just fly around and blow on everybody. Another was saying, “How about if he fixed the Moon so we always had a total eclipse going? That bleep’s bleeping cool.”

“Is this real life?”

“Guess it is, sweetie,” Martha said, laughter still running through her voice. “Guess you can’t blame folks too much. It’s a bad summer.”

Growing up on a Kansas farm, Clark was only too familiar with the weather as adversary. If it wasn’t too hot, it was too cold. There was either too much rain, or not enough. And if, for one rare moment everything was exactly right, ten minutes later a thunderstorm would come roaring out of Colorado to send tornadoes tearing across the landscape.

“Yeah, I don’t blame them,” he said. He did press the mute button before he got too boggled by the suggestions people had. “You know I’d do something if I could.”

“I do know, Clark. Don’t fret about it now.” She sounded like she was rethinking calling him. “I just thought you’d get a kick out of it.”

“Mom, it’s okay. It is funny. It’s just,” he shook his head, “I’m not sure how much good it would really do if I flew around blowing on everyone.”

Now she had a smile back in her voice. “Yeah, that does call up an interesting picture. So,” she let out a breath, “how was your day?”

He told her about it, the highs and the lows, most of it pretty routine. “Just a one thing after another kind of day,” he finished up.

“Uh-huh.” His mother had a note of skepticism in her voice now. “Bet those folks you rescued off that roller coaster didn’t think it was no big whoop. We watched it down at the diner. There were some mighty big smiles when you got everybody back down on the ground.”

“Yeah, that was pretty good,” he admitted, remembering the looks of fear that had given way to relief when he arrived on the scene. Moments like that were a joy. They were a huge help whenever he longed for the days he could help people and not have it be breaking news. There was no turning back time, though, and things probably never had been as simple as he liked to remember them. “Did you have a busy day at the diner?” he asked, hoping to change the subject.

“Oh, smooth,” his mother teased, a smile still in her voice. He could hear her moving around, the creak of the screen door that told him she’d gone out on the porch, and a soft patter that sounded like rain. “Well, Pete Ross came in and said he felt like changing things up, so he ordered a club sandwich instead of his usual BLT.”

He laughed now and shifted the phone to his other hand as he went back into the kitchen. “Sounds like exciting times.”

“Oh, yeah, things are hopping here all right.”

“Is it raining?”

“Little bit. Supposed to be a cold front coming down from Canada. That’ll help.”

And it would soon be August, with the end of summer looming not too far off, and harvest time coming up fast. Clark already had time scheduled to get back home and help out with that.

“So,” she was patting the porch swing, calling the dog to her, “have you talked to Bruce?”

Oh boy. “I have talked to Bruce,” he confirmed as he opened the fridge. A BLT sounded pretty good, actually, and he checked to see if he had all the fixings on hand.

Infinite patience in her voice, his mother prompted, “About?”

“About…three days ago.” He got out the bacon, checked the lettuce and tomato was fresh. “He wanted some input on the Justice League logo. The headquarters is going to look pretty snazzy when he gets it all pulled together.” Ah, there was the mayonnaise, way at the back.

“Clark Joseph Kent, you know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Mom…” He sat down at his small kitchen table, white Formica trimmed in red, and wondered how hard he could bang his head against it without breaking it. “It’s not that easy.”

The pattern of rain sounded louder in the background as his mother said “Looked pretty easy when he was visiting us. Ask me, you two already went out on a couple of dates. You just need to make it official.”

Clark doubted Bruce would share that viewpoint. Then again, Bruce had been known to surprise him--on a pretty regular basis, actually. After all he hadn’t expected him to show up in Smallville to celebrate the Fourth of July with them. That had been one of a hundred things they had talked about during a stakeout on a rainy Gotham night back in March. He’d never thought Bruce would remember, let alone actually follow up.

He thought about that night a lot. He had been surprised at the invitation to join Bruce, and had been ruthless about clamping down on the thrill of excitement that shot through him. It was because his x-ray vision and super hearing made him useful, he reminded himself. Nothing more. If Bruce had occasion to stakeout an aquarium, he’d call in Arthur.

Although why Bruce would ever put an aquarium under surveillance Clark could not have said. Nor had he expected anything but the most cursory information and instructions about the current job. Sit, watch, listen, report what he picked up. He’d been proved wrong as soon as he located Bruce, parked across the street from the Iceberg Lounge.

Bruce popped the passenger door and waved him over. As always, decked out in designer duds, Bruce looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ. Even the top buttons of his shirt were artfully undone. Clark, in jeans and a plaid shirt from the Tractor Supply store in Smallville, had a brief thought of being that thing that wasn’t like the other. It was there and gone in and instant, though. All Bruce had ever said was to once inquire if he’d die if he didn’t wear plaid. When Clark quipped back, “Don’t know, maybe,” he’d heard no more about it--but he had glimpsed Bruce biting down on a smile.

“Don’t tell me: you’re thinking of buying it,” he said, looking over at the night club. Until recently the place had been the hottest spot in Gotham, and you had to be a Bruce Wayne or part of his entourage to get inside. Now, with Oswald Cobblepot locked up in Arkham--again--it was shut up and dark.

“Funny,” Bruce grumbled. “Is anything going on over there?”

As Clark checked, Bruce told him about information he’d turned up that Two-Face--Harvey Dent--might surface at the club to muscle in on what was left of the Penguin’s operation. That was unexpected. He had gathered Harvey Dent was an especially sensitive subject, and one that Bruce didn’t share easily. He wanted to read volumes into Bruce letting him in on this. Best to pare that down to Cliff Notes, though, he suspected.

“It’s quiet,” he reported, completing a scan of the club. “No signs of life to speak of.”

Bruce canted him a look, eyebrows raised. “To speak of?”

Clark shrugged, “Couple of rats in the kitchens.”

“Four-legged variety?”

“Yep.”

“Hhn. Health Department gave it a passing score on its last inspection.”

“And of course there’s no corruption in Gotham.”

Bruce’s only comeback was a grumpy look. He relaxed back into the driver’s seat and reached for one of two cups of coffee. He jerked his chin at the other one. “That’s yours, if you want it.”

Clark nodded his thanks and reached for it. He took a sip, savoring the flavor. Smooth and rich, not as sweet as he usually took it, but with plenty of cream. “It’s good.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

Clark smiled and took another drink, skewed in his seat so he could watch Bruce and keep on the eye on the club. “Do you do this a lot? Just sit and watch?”

“That is the definition of a stakeout.” Bruce took a long drink of his coffee, to all appearances relishing every drop like an elixir of life. Every drop that was likely strong enough to peel paint, and untouched by any taint of cream or sugar. Clark didn’t know how he did it.

He also didn’t understand his sudden fixation with that glimpse of Bruce’s throat, with watching the muscles work as he swallowed. Well, that was the story he was sticking with anyway.

There wasn’t anything sudden about it, either, if he was being honest. Clark had been struck by him that first night, at the library gala. Perry had meant the red carpet assignment to be a reprimand, and Clark had felt it. Bored out of his mind and chafing to be anywhere else, he had been ready to provoke more wrath from Perry when a sleek Aston Martin pulled up. Everything changed the instant Bruce got out of that car. Clark’s attention had perked right up and been riveted on the newcomer, the other man’s charisma sparking the atmosphere. It had called to Clark so strongly that, even without the Gotham connection, he felt he still would have sought Bruce out in the crowd.

He thought about that night sometimes. Now and then. Wondered about the what-ifs. Impossible to know if anything could have played out differently, let alone if it would have changed anything. What mattered was they were here, now, on this rainy night in Gotham, and this second chance eclipsed all the what-ifs. He wouldn’t trade this for a Pulitzer.

“Something funny?”

Clark dialed down his smile and shook his head. “Nope.”

“Hhn.” Bruce eyed him with a flicker of suspicion and set his cup back in its holder “It’s a longshot Harvey will show up,” he said, shifting in his seat. “The last solid intel on him was that he’d gone to ground over in Bludhaven.”

Clark nodded, careful not to betray any surprise that conversation had come back to Harvey Dent. Maybe he wasn’t meant to contribute anything, just be a sounding board. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained, he decided. “You’ve known him awhile.”

Bruce’s fingers flexed on the steering wheel. Nothing else betrayed any sign of tension. Seconds ticked by and Clark was ready to accept that there would be no reply, when Bruce’s shoulders relaxed a fraction and he eased back in his seat. “We go back,” he admitted. “Used to paint the town together.”

Nostalgia whispered across Bruce’s face, caught in a wistful smile as he spoke. Clark knew the facts. How Handsome Harvey Dent, Gotham’s dynamic, young district attorney brought mob boss Sal Maroni to trial, and how Maroni retaliated by splashing acid in Dent’s face, scarring him physically. How the scars went much deeper, his mind turning on him so that he emerged as Two-Face, flipping a coin to decide if someone lived or died today.

Those were the facts, stark and brutal. Clark doubted they came close to conveying the impact of the tragedy on those had cared for Harvey Dent.

Offering his sympathy was feeble, he knew, but he had to say something. “I’m sorry.”

Bruce shrugged it off, tried to anyway. “It’s a long time ago now.”

“And you’re supposed to be over it?”

“So I’m told.”

Not by anyone who really knew him, Clark would bet. Not by anyone who had experienced the loss of a loved one. Almost twenty years had passed and he still felt the ache of his father’s death at unexpected time--while working on their old tractor, or watching Patrick Mahomes throw a game-winning touchdown for the Chiefs. He didn’t know how to begin to mourn for Krypton, for the mother and father he’d never know. One of his secrets was that he even grieved for Zod, for lost chances and what could have been if only Zod hadn’t been hellbent on annihilating all life on Earth.

Time did heal, but the memories were never far from the surface.

“Could you have saved him?”

Bruce sighed, fingers tapping on the steering as he aimed a pensive stare through the windshield. “Maybe not. I’ll never know for certain.”

Since he’d made it this far, Clark edged out a bit further. “Could you have guessed he’d become Two-Face?”

Bruce shook his head. “I knew he had some...anxieties, that he had that coin flipping fixation.” His hands flexed on the steering wheel. “Nothing that prepared me for Two-Face.”

“But you beat yourself up about it anyway.”

Bruce offered him a wry smile. “He’s my friend.”

Clark nodded. He didn’t miss the present tense wording, nor was he surprised by it. Not anymore. The contrast between when they believed the worst of each other and now, when they could sit and talk like this, verged on the surreal at times.

He shifted around in his seat and took another drink of coffee, starting to feel a buzz of his own anxiety. It had been there since he came back, a creeping unease that whispered the walls were too close and confining even in the middle of the Daily Planet bullpen. Distractions helped, and he reached over to scrub at the fogged up windshield, scanning up and down the street.

“Something?” Bruce asked, tensing as if ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

“No.” Clark shook his head, relaxed back into his seat. “Everything’s still quiet.”

Bruce gave a sharp nod, as if confirming something to himself. “I don’t think he’ll show,” he said, half to himself. Difficult to be sure if relief or disappointment threaded through the words. “We’ll give it a few more minutes.”

“Okay.” Clark watched drizzling drops of rain slither down the windshield, that random twinge of claustrophobia easing away as he concentrated on absorbing the cozy intimacy of the setting. Something else it would be best not to dwell on, and he scrambled for a new topic, prompted by a comment Barry had made in passing the other day. “So did Diana and Alfred really do the tango when you took down the Jade Jaguars?”

Bruce scootched around, eyeing him. “Someone’s been telling tales, I see.”

“Was it meant to be a secret?”

“Apparently not.” Bruce took another sip of coffee, pulled a face and put the cup down. “It was the foxtrot, not the tango, and it was part of their cover, not a celebration of the takedown…”

to be continued

Note: The idea that, in the wake of being dead, Clark might suffer bouts of claustrophobia was the inspired idea of @oneiroteuthis.

#superbat #superbat fic

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brainy-storm · 5 years

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49 for Brainy and Alex?

49. “Three cups of coffee wasn’t enough?”

Post 4.08 - ‘Bunker Hill’ [Also on AO3]

Overtime

Alex was at the D.E.O. archive, poring over the pages and pages of regulations that the organisation had compiled in relation to both Supergirl and Superman. There was surely something in here that would allow her to make a case to allow Kara to stay without revealing her identity. In the meantime, she wanted to brush up on the protocol they had when working together with Superman as they would apply to Supergirl now too. She did not want to give Colonel Haley any reason to be able to reprimand her when Alex did inevitably try to work with Supergirl again.

She moved to take another sip of coffee only to realise that it was empty. She set the cup down with a frustrated sigh. Damn it.

“Three cups of coffee wasn’t enough?”

She stood up, her chair rolling away from her from the swift movement, and went into a defensive position. She relaxed a moment later, on seeing that it was Brainy, arms behind his back and teetering just at the doorway of the room. “Brainy, what are you doing up this late?”

“The same as you,” he nodded towards the documents she had scattered across the desk she was standing in front of. “Although, I finished reading the online versions a few hours ago and have since been running simulations to calculate our next course of action. The simulations projected a high probability of you being here.” He brought out a cup of coffee that he had been hiding. “I also calculated when you would finish your third cup and deducted that you would want more.”

“Thanks, Brainy.” She gestured for him to come in. While she sometimes found that Brainy could be excessive at times, she did appreciate his good intentions. Especially now, when she needed to stay awake. “I’m surprised you knew about this place. I think most other agents don’t even know we have an archive.”

“I memorised the building’s layout when I first arrived,” he said, presenting this information as fact, as usual, rather than something to be impressed by. “It is also not too far from Lab 3, conveniently.”

“So that’s where you were.” She accepted the coffee from him, pulling her chair back towards her and settling back down. “I’ll let it slide this time.”

Brainy was now looking around the room. “Why, may I ask, do you still have paper copies of these documents?”

“Our internal network has been compromised a few times in the past,” she explained. “That and I prefer reading over things on paper. It has a better feel to it.”

“I see. One of the legionnaires collects artefacts to read and he said the same thing.” Alex held back a laugh, seeing the expression on Brainy’s face that distinctly said that he thought it to be a silly notion. She supposed it was understandable, seeing how he could absorb information by only lifting a finger.

They settled into a momentary silence; Brainy decided to pick a random (or perhaps not, based on his fondness of systematic decisions) folder and began reading it. He did not flip through it quickly, as Alex imagined he would, but seemed to be taking in the contents carefully. Unlike her, his concentration didn’t seem to be affected even though it was - Alex gave the clock on the wall a quick glance - almost two in the morning.

“How many cups of coffee have you had?” she asked.

“None.” He didn’t take his eyes off the file. “I have stayed awake far longer than this to work on Legion projects. Additionally, the coffee of this time is also not very effective in providing extra energy for Coluans. It seems to work well for humans, though, and the cup I gave you should be your last for the night. Four is the recommended daily amount for humans.”

“Kara told me Nia Nal was having at least three the other day, and she was still falling asleep.”

“Unsurprising, given that Nia Nal’s anatomy would be vastly different from humans, assuming that her’s are the same as - ” He snapped the file he had been reading shut and looked straight at Alex. “That level of subterfuge is not nearly enough to get me to speak about subjects that may disrupt the timeline.”

Alex would argue that she had nearly got there, but Brainy already looked ruffled by his near-slip and would most likely not welcome her pointing it out.

“Speaking of Nia, good work out there today. Looks like you enjoyed being out in the field.” Alex could tell by the way the mission report (that she had not fully read yet) had doubled in length.

“I used to object being sent out, however, I had become used to it with the Legion and it made me reminiscent of our missions.” He paused, and Alex wondered if perhaps she could consider sending him out more. “It…was also an honour to work with Supergirl more closely.”

“You’ll get to do it again, I promise you that.” She turned back to her documents. “There’s no way I’m letting them tie Kara down. We’ll fix this.”

“Yes, we will,” he agreed. Without an indication that he was going to do so, he occupated the chair next to her and pressed his fingertips together. “I will once again be running several simulations. Please inform me if you require any assistance.” Before she could reply, he shut his eyes, face expressing full concentration.

Despite previous instances of Brainy suggesting that he preferred to work alone, he was here instead of going back to the lab. While as the director, his work methods weren’t always easy for her to deal with, his fierce loyalty to both her and her sister was something she could not ignore. Perhaps their goal to allow Supergirl back into the D.E.O. made him want to smooth out any final knots in their work relationship.

Or perhaps like her, as the worry over Kara’s situation was starting to get to her, he appreciated some company.

Alex smiled and went back to reading her documents, deciding that she believed it was the latter reason.

#cw supergirl #brainiac 5 #alex danvers #my fanfic #agentdox #brainy #my post #yayyy I wanted to write them at some point #I like how she can get frustrated at him working #as it should be #working with brainy should not be easy #also I got super inspired to write this after the episode #as you can see I will not tackle your prompts in order #cyclone-rachel #supergirl spoilers

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argyle-s · 6 years

Text

The Shape of Things to Come Chapter 3/?

Rating: Mature

Read at Ao3

Start at the Beginning

After a year in the past, Kara makes her public debut as Supergirl.

Chapter 3 - Rebirth

Notes:

In this story, Kara will occasionally lapse into Kryptonian. The first instance of this happens in this chapter. The Kryptonian in this story is taken from Doyle Kryptonian which is where most of the Kryptonian used on the show is taken from. Translation was done using the resources at Kryptonian.info, and I suspect the quality of the translation will vary widely.

In the earlier drafts of this story, I either didn’t use Kryptonian, or I wrote the sections in English and set it off using special formatting, but I was unhappy with that, so I went back and rewrote them in Kryptonian. The problem with that is, the Kryptonian sections were written out of order and my skill with the language (such as it is) has improved considerably over time.

I’ve tried to go back and fix any errors, but:

1). The dictionary is fragmentary and I’ve had to work around holes in the language, or when I couldn’t, construct new words with guesswork.

2). I am absolute shit at learning languages that are whole and functional, so one that only exists in fragmentary form is even worse.

Any errors are mine. Any weirdness with the language and phrasing is either me being an idiot, or an artifact of my take on how Kryptonian culture and religious beliefs would influence speech patterns. My Krypton sticks as close as possible to the show, but I have made huge changes from comic canon to make Krypton fit more closely with our current understanding of what the reality of life would be on a planet in order around a red sun.

Most translations are fairly literal translations, though the order of the words is different, because English uses a Subject Verb Object sentence structure, whole Kryptonian uses Verb Subject Object sentence structure (example: The sentence "Kara punched Maxwell Lord" would be "Punched Kara Maxwell Lord" in a Verb Subject Object language like Kryptonian). In some cases however, the meaning in English can vary from the literal translation. In those cases, I will give the literal translation first, followed by the Semantic Translation.

Two final notes.

1). I take it as a given that Alex speaks Kryptonian, because she grew up with Kara, and she spent two years fiddling with Kara's pod and the hologram, and anything in canon that says she doesn't will be cheerfully ignored because it's bullshit.

2). Kara *does* know how to swear, but she’s only good at it in Kryptonian.

Update: This story has now been betaed by @ifourmindbeso. Any remaining mistakes are entirely my own.

Kara Danvers’ Apartment. National City. Earth 38, October 8th, 2015

(One Year Later)

Kara opened the door to find a very annoyed J’onn standing there, glaring at her.

“Good morning,” she said brightly, waving him in. She walked over to the kitchen and pulled down a package of Chocos and a glass, which she filled with milk.

“You do realize the DEO is not eHarmony for aliens, right?”

“Compatible Partners,” Kara said as she took a bite out of her pre-breakfast bagel.

“What?” J’onn asked as he picked up a cookie and dunked it in the milk.

“eHarmony only does listings for straight people. Compatible Partners is the one for Gays and Lesbians. Besides, I use Chemistry.com.”

“I don’t care if you used gayalienbootycall.com. This arrangement is not so you can vet your dates.”

Kara sighed. “J’onn, I am not *dating* Maggie Sawyer. We’re just friends.”

“Oh, so you aren’t meeting her tonight at some place called Girlbar?”

“Well, yes, I am. But I don’t date women who are still heartbroken over their ex-girlfriends. Think of it as recruitment.”

J’onn held up his finger and started to say something, then stopped. He started to speak again, but stopped, before finally just shaking his head. “First you wanted me to do a full security clearance on that little computer nerd. Now this. How does any of this help us with your friends from Fort Rozz?”

“Winn helps because Winn is one of only six or seven hackers on the planet that can go toe to toe with a Coluan and come out on top, and unless you’ve suddenly managed to convince Victor Stone, Felicity Smoak or Rabiah Zinoman to sign up, we don’t have a lot of other options, because Tim Drake and Barbara Gordon are serious no-fly zones and the other two people who could potentially pull this off are definitely not on our side. Maggie Sawyer, on the other hand, will give us an in with NCPD, which is going to be incredibly useful when it comes time to lay the smack down on Maxwell Lord.”

“You know, you keep talking like you’re in this fight, but so far, all you’ve done is sit on the sidelines and feed us a few names.”

“You’re mad about the armored car last night,” Kara said.

“You’re damn right I am. Two agents in the hospital. One of them may never walk again. You could have stopped it, but instead, you’re fetching coffee for some-”

“Don’t finish that sentence, J’onn,” Kara said. “You know nothing about Cat Grant and much as I like you, if you insult her in front of me, I will put your green ass through a wall.”

J’onn sighed and held up his hands in surrender. “Fine.”

“Besides, you’re every bit as capable as I am, and you didn’t do anything to stop it either. We both have our reasons for keeping secrets.”

“Yeah, but your case is a little different.”

“It is,” Kara said. “But it would expose me while the leader of the escapees was away. If that happened, there would have been open war in the streets.”

J’onn sat down on one of her stools and picked up another Choco, dunking it in his milk. “You keep talking about this leader like you know him.”

“Her,” Kara said.

J’onn froze, with the cookie half way to his mouth. His eyes narrowed. “You do know her.”

“I do. General Astra In-Ze, War Leader of the House of Ze, Daughter of In-Ze and Myara Bar-Ul, and twin sister of Alura Zor-El.”

“She’s your aunt?” J’onn said.

“Yes,” Kara said.

J’onn popped the cookie in his mouth and started chewing, and Kara watched the emotions playing over his face.

“I didn’t tell you until now, because I thought you might decide I was a security risk.”

“Then why tell me now?”

“Because this is the last thing I need from you before I openly declare myself. Once Alex is safely out of the way in Geneva, little Kara Danvers is going to take the first of Astra’s heavy hitters off the board.”

“You have a plan?” J’onn asked.

“I do. You’re probably not going to like it, but I do.”

He reached up and started rubbing his temples. “What else is new?”

***

She smiled at Winn as he approached her with his tablet, walking beside her on her way to her desk.

“Did you see this? There was an armored car robbery last night. Now, there were no witnesses except this homeless guy who swears the perp had horns.”

“Thanks,” Kara said as she excepted a shipping tube from Brad with the proof of the new bus stop poster Cat needed to approve.

“Like, on his head,” Winn said as she turned back to him.

“Well, that’s usually where horns go,” she said. “But you’re sure it wasn’t just a prominent brow ridge?

“Come on Kara, it’s an alien.”

“I don’t know, Winn. I mean, Superman’s an alien, right? He seems to look pretty normal.”

“Well, how do we know? He could be hiding anything under that suit.”

Kara shrugged. “Isn’t James Olsen taking over the art department today? Maybe we could ask him. They seem close.”

“Now you’re just making fun me.”

Kara shook her head as she sat down. “Never. Well, except for when you lose at Small World.”

“Hey, your sister cheats.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Fine,” Winn said, as he went over to his desk and sat down, pointedly turning his back to her, which gave her just enough privacy to zap Cat’s Latte with her heat vision. “I won’t invite you to go see ‘The Martian’ with me then.”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah,” he said, turning back to her.

“I can’t,” Kara said. “Maggie and I are going to Girlbar.”

“Really?” Winn said, a grin on his face. “When are you gonna introduce me to your hot cop girlfriend?”

“Winn,” Kara sighed. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Winn shook his head. “I never should have started you on Rizzoli & Isles. Now I’m destined to lose my gaming buddy to some tall, dark Italian Detective with a smoky voice.”

Kara laughed. “I told you I’m into blondes, but the medical examiner thing is just icky. Besides, Maggie is Latina and shorter than you are, which is saying something since I’m pretty sure you get carded going into PG-13 movies”

“That hurts,” Winn said, putting his hand over his heart. “That really hurts, Kara.”

“You were asking for it, standing there, being so short.” She paused for a moment, then looked up. “She’s here,” she said as she stood up, picking up her tablet and Cat’s Latte.

The elevator door opened, and Kara’s heart gave the same small little flutter that it always did when she saw Cat.

“Good morning, Ms. Grant,” she said, letting every bit of the happiness she felt come through. She’d been in the past for a year, and seeing Cat walk off that elevator never got old.

She saw the small tug of a smile that pulled at Cat’s lips before she started on her tirade. “The only reason I bought this building is because it has a private elevator. That way, I don’t have to get soaked in cheap cologne every morning getting to my office. Find out who used it, and have them reprimanded, or bathed. I don’t care which.”

Kara just nodded as she followed Cat into her office. “Here’s your Latte, Ms. Grant. Hot.”

Cat took it from her. “As always,” she said. “I have a meeting with the board today at lunch, so cancel sushi with my Mother.”

“Got it. Should I also cancel your therapist, since you aren’t seeing your Mother?”

“Good idea, Keira,” she said, then took a sip of the Latte. “Hmmm… This tastes different.”

“Noonan’s was out of hazelnut so I got you almond instead. I hope that’s okay.”

“I don’t hate it, but do have a talk with the management down there. If they’re going to take up space in CatCo plaza, they should at the very least be able to keep their supplies stocked. Also, I’ve emailed you a list. Prepare termination letters for the Tribune as noted.”

“Oh. Ms. Grant, I’ve been thinking about that and I’d like to make a recommendation.”

“You’ve been thinking about a decision you knew nothing about until ten seconds ago?” Cat asked.

“I’ve been thinking about it since the financials came in back in January. The Daily Planet’s the only print newspaper that isn’t taking a beating, and that’s pretty much entirely Superman’s doing. They put him on the cover something like fifty-three percent of the time.”

“Are you going to tell me something I don’t know, Keira?”

Kara nodded her head. “Well, we already do a lot of content sharing with digital, but I was thinking, why not merge the Tribune with digital entirely and try doing an interactive newspaper.”

“And how, exactly would that work?”

“A smartphone app. We could put QR codes at the end of each story, which link up to a digital expansion of the story. It’s sort of a hybrid monetization model. Digital gets the basic story for free, but people who buy the tribune get free access to the expanded story content, but digital-only users have to subscribe to get the expanded content.”

“Hmmm… That’s actually an interesting idea, but it doesn’t solve the immediate issues with circulation and it will increase the editorial load.”

“Not if we’re sharing the content across digital and print. We can even tie in to broadcast by including video segments as part of the expanded articles behind the pay wall. And the best part is, we can do a hybrid subscription model as well. Customers can choose to watch an ad before the video segment and have inline ads embedded in the expanded article, or they can pay for the content to get it ad free. We’d have to eat the losses on the Tribune while we restructured and built out the new workflow, but it would save a lot of jobs and we’d be ahead of the curve on digital and print integration.”

Cat stared at her for a minute, then nodded. “Hold off on the letters for now. Type this up as a proposal and go get me the layouts from the new art director.”

Kara grinned. “The proposal is already in your drop box. I added it last night. I’ll go get you the layouts now, Ms. Grant.”

***

She stepped into James’ office with no small amount of trepidation. Her relationship with James was one of the biggest regrets of her previous life. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been attracted to him. She liked guys well enough, from a purely physical stand point. She mainly told people she was a lesbian because homoromantic bisexual was confusing to a lot of them and that was before she even got into questions of species. The problem with James was, she’d been more in love with the idea of him than she had been with him and James had been more in love with his idea of her than with her. Things might have gone differently if they’d gotten together before Myriad and her death ride with Fort Rozz, but that day had changed something inside Kara. It had burned away so much of what Eliza and Jeremiah and society in general had saddled her with in terms of expectations of who and what she wanted to be and left a truer, purer version of herself behind. Her feelings for James had been part of that, but it had resulted in a lot of awkwardness and hurt feelings on James’s part.

It didn’t matter, because Kara was determined not to not make the same mistakes again. No dating James and no Battle of CatCo plaza, either.

“Mr. Olsen, are you here?” Kara asked.

“I’ll be just a minute,” came a muffled voice.

Kara stepped a bit further into the office, and spotted James digging through a pile of boxes.

“I’m just here for the layouts,” she said. “If you tell me where they are, I’ll get out of your way.”

“No trouble. Just let me finish here and I’ll get them for you.” He looked up from the box of trophies and plaques he was going through and stopped for a moment. “Hey,” he said as he stood up. “I’m the new guy.”

Kara nodded. “James Olsen, I know. Clark speaks very highly of you,” she said.

“You know Clark?” he asked.

“Of course. Oh,” she stuck out her hand. “Sorry, I’m Kara Danvers. Clark’s my cousin.” She saw a bit of surprise in his face, probably at the idea that Kara would be so open about their relationship. “Don’t tell anybody though. Cat would probably think I’m spying for the Planet if she knew.”

James laughed and took her hand, shaking it. “Now that does sound like the Cat Grant I know.”

Kara looked over, and let herself smile as she caught sight of the print of James’ photo of Kal. “And there’s the photo,” she said, letting go of James’s hand, and stepping around him. “You do good work. This almost looks like he posed for it.”

“He did,” James said. “Don’t tell anyone though. They might take away my Pulitzer.”

“Couldn’t have that,” Kara said as she lifted the print. “I’ve got to ask. What what’s he really like?”

This time James smiled, and Kara wanted to kick herself for not seeing the way he felt written on his face the first time they’d had this conversation. “He’s everything you want him to be and more. I mean…” He chuckled. “I was scared to move out here, but, uh, he told me the biggest risk was never taking any, so…”

Kara nodded and looked down at the print again, running her fingers over the image of her baby cousin in all his heroic glory. It was easy to let the longing shine through. She hadn’t seen Clark since she came back, and before that, he’d been dead for years in her personal timeline.

“Take it.”

“Hmmm?” she said, looking up at James.

“Take it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Kara smiled. “Thank you.” She looked down at the print for another moment, then back up at James. “Layouts?”

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah.” He picked them up off the light table and handed them to her. “Nice to meet you, Kara Danvers.”

“And you, James Olsen,” she replied, taking the layouts. “I’d better get these back before Ms. Grant fires someone.”

***

In the year since Kara’s trip back from the future, she’d mostly avoided dating. She hadn’t done it at all in the first month or so, but Eliza had kept hounding her. Finally, during Thanksgiving Dinner, she’d just told Eliza she didn’t want to be set up on a blind date with her old college roommate’s son because she didn’t want to date men at all. That had gotten Eliza to back off for exactly two weeks.

It wasn’t terrible, but Kara always felt a little guilty since the dates weren’t going anywhere. She wasn’t really over Sara and the Supergirl thing was coming. She knew what that would do to any potential relationship. She dated mostly to humor Eliza, and to help Alex keep Eliza off her back. She’d actually made a handful of casual friends she hung out with now and then and she’d managed to talk Cat into adding an LGBT-focused section to the CatCo website and to the magazine, which had done so well Cat was considering launching three topic-focused print magazines, and five topic-focused websites.

Maggie, though, had been one of the few good things that had come out of the dating thing. She knew the woman from the previous timeline of course and never would have agreed to a date with her, because dating your sister’s future wife was surely against some rule somewhere. But she’d been sitting in a bar, nursing her third virgin strawberry daiquiri after one of her Eliza-arranged blind dates had failed to show, when Maggie had sat down next to her and ordered a whiskey.

Kara couldn’t believe her luck. She’d struck up a conversation and for the last four months, she’d spent almost as much time with Maggie as she did with Winn. There wasn’t anything romantic about it, mostly because of the future Kara had lived through, but also because Maggie had been going through a long and nasty break-up with a girl named Darla, so Kara had spent a lot of time being a shoulder to cry on.

It hadn’t even really been much of a decision to bring Maggie into the fold earlier than before, because Maggie was amazing.

Tonight though, was something Kara had arranged carefully. She’d checked to make sure the bar had TVs that ran local stations so she’d get the news. She’d also set up news alerts for flight 237 Geneva and National City Airlines and directed them to her burner phone. The driver’s license in her purse was a duplicate, and the glasses she was wearing were a pair of cheap reading glasses she’d picked up at a Walgreens. The purse had a few other odds and ends in it. A spare lipstick, and a tube of lip gloss, a half empty tin of breath mints, a couple of tampons, an expired can of pepper spray left over from her college days. A couple of Noonan’s receipts, a bit of loose change, 62 dollars in cash, and a prepaid debit card. Nothing she couldn’t afford to lose, on the off-chance Maggie reacted poorly to finding out she was an alien without almost a year of history as Supergirl under her belt, but enough that it looked like it was Kara’s actual purse.

The whole thing would look careless to Maggie, like she was in a blind panic. Maggie, being Maggie, would try to return the purse and that would give Kara a way to induct her into team Supergirl.

She spotted the woman sitting at a table, checking her watch. When she looked up, her eyes fell on Kara, and Kara waved as she walked over.

“Hey, Maggie,” she said as she dropped into the seat across from her.

“Hey,” she said. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” Kara replied. “Not too bad yourself.”

“How’s Cat treating you?”

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old. It’s a good week though. She’s only fired me twice.”

Maggie laughed. “Only you would consider that a good week.”

Kara shrugged. “It’s not like it ever sticks.”

“What’s the count up to?” Maggie asked.

“One hundred and ninety-eight. Looks like Kelly from fashion is going to win the pool.”

“I bet Winn will be disappointed.”

“Probably,” Kara said. “How’s the X-Files treating you?”

“Oh, you know, same old, same old. Men in black apparently abducted a birdman in Chinatown last night, and a Klingon with a glowing axe jumped the fence at the airport.”

“Sounds like a fun week,” Kara said, but she felt a small moment of worry. The Klingon with the glowing axe sounded a little too close to Vartox for comfort.

“Yeah. One more day and it’s over,” she said.

“Any plans for the weekend?”

“Not really,” Maggie said.

Kara rolled her eyes. “You are not going to sit at home and mope over she who will not be named.”

“I’m not moping,” Maggie said.

“No, you’re not. We’ll do something.”

“Like what?”

“There’s a women’s volley ball tournament down at National City Beach this weekend. We could go watch.”

“More like go so you can drool over the players.”

“I was thinking something more along the lines of me being your wing woman.”

“Kara, you would make the worst wing woman in history.”

“I would not!”

“Oh, do not give me those puppy dog eyes. No one is going to take a second look at me if you’re there.”

“That wouldn’t be an issue if you’d let me introduce you to my sister.”

“Your sister is straight,” Maggie shot back.

Kara snorted. “My sister is in denial,” she replied. “Trust me, she’d take one look at you and there would be an Alex-shaped hole in the closet door.”

“I’ll pass on the sister and the volleyball. Seriously, I-”

Kara held up her hand as she turned around.

“If you’re just joining us, shortly after take-off, National City Airlines, Flight 237 bound for Geneva is experiencing some loss of altitude. The pilot seems to be circling the city after apparent engine failure.”

Kara turned back to Maggie as she pulled open her purse, and took out two twenties. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go,” she said as she threw the money on the table.

“What? Why?”

“That’s my sister’s flight,” Kara said as she started towards the door. She didn’t wait to see if Maggie followed her. She didn’t need to. She heard the scrape of the feet of the bar stool as Maggie stood up. Heard the sound of the soles of her shoes hitting the ground. Felt the disturbance in the air as Maggie chased after her.

Kara moved more slowly than she could have. She knew she had time to spare. She’d picked the bar because it was along the flight path, and this time, she was neither out of practice flying, nor was she unfamiliar with the aircraft in question. She was already pulling her jacket off as she ducked into the alley, and she could sense Maggie coming around the corner as she tossed it aside. She ripped off the cheap drug store glasses and threw them in the same direction as the jacket as she ran, then she bent her knees and kicked off.

She nearly laughed when she heard Maggie scream, “Holy shit.”

Then she put everything out of her head but the task at hand.

She approached faster this time, her flight skills fresh and practiced from her regular runs out to Sanctuary, which is what she’d named her own not so little Fortress of Solitude. When the engine broke free, instead of plowing through it and showing the city with flaming debris, she caught it, and with a deft spin and shove, sent it splashing down gently into the bay. She wasted no time trying to push against the wing. Instead, she flew up under the plane and punched through the skin, grabbing the frame member tightly, and pushing up. There was no desperate turn to keep the wings from getting clipped. The plane cleared Otto Bender Bridge easily, and then Kara started a slow, gentle turn. The plane cleared the bridge a second time, before Kara guided it down gently into the water.

Once it had settled into the water, she kept pushing, sliding it along the surface, using her x-ray vision to make sure she didn’t hit anything until she ran it aground near the I-210 off ramp for National City Bay Beach. Once the nose of the plane was pushed up on dry land, Kara let go of the plane, and swam out, climbing up on the right wing. She stood, watching through the skin of the plane as people took movies and snap shots, before she gave Alex a nod through the window, and shot into the sky.

***

Kara had gone back to the alley, not at all surprised to find her purse, jacket and glasses gone. She’d known Maggie wouldn’t leave them. She’d been a bit worried she’d find the detective at her door, but as luck would have it, she was alone. She’d showered, eaten an order of fifty buffalo wings, and was most of the way through her large supreme pizza, while watching the news coverage.

“The passengers of Flight 237 appear to have a guardian angel. When, what many report to be a female flying form rescued them from certain death.”

“Leyna Nguyen is live at the scene.”

“Thank you, Rick. Guardian Angel would appear to be right. Not only did she rescue the passengers from a tragic end, but reports also indicate that she caught one of the plane’s engines as it broke free and kept it from falling on the city, and prevented the plane from hitting Otto Bender Bridge not once, but twice. Then, after setting the plane down in National City Bay, she pushed the plane up on shore, making rescue efforts and clean-up easier and much safer.”

“Oh, my god,” Alex said.

Kara hopped up from her spot on the couch and hugged her sister, careful not to bruise her this time. She stepped back, holding Alex by her shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, thank you.”

She watched as Alex rubbed her forehead, and did her best not to sigh. She knew what was coming, and she’d been dreading this part of the night.

“Let me get you a drink,” she said. She walked over to her small kitchen and poured Alex a glass of the Johnny Walker Blue Label Alex kept at her apartment. She put the glass in Alex’s hand, and waited for her to drink it.

“So, let’s hear it,” Kara said.

“Hear what?” Alex asked.

“The part where you yell at me for exposing myself to the world, and tell me I can never use my powers again.”

“It sounds like you already know what I’m going to say,” Alex said.

Kara nodded. “You know, given how much you complain about Eliza, you sound just like her.” It was a low blow, and Kara knew it, but the flinch from Alex still made her wish it hadn’t been necessary.

“Because she’s right about this, Kara,” Alex said. “It’s not safe. What if people figure out who you are? What you are?”

“Then they figure it out. I didn’t travel two thousand light years to be an assistant my whole life. I had a mission, and maybe, yeah, it was already over when I got here, but that doesn’t change who I am. /.nahn khuhp w ,kahrah,zor,ehl .nahn khuhp w tiv inah ewuhshehd im ,kryptahnium, .nahn khuhp w aonah wukhaiiu zrhythrev ,ehl,/ My mother was Alura In-Ze, the chief Adjudicator of Argo, my Aunt was Astra In-Ze, a General and the War Leader of the House of Ze. I am the granddaughter of In-Ze, Myara Bar-Ul, Seg-El and Nimda An-Dor and descended in direct line from Erok-El and from the War Queens of the House of Ze.”

“Do you know what that means? My people, my culture, my entire world may be dead, but I am still a child of Rao. /.nahn ,rao, i chahvehd shokhpahs w pahdh tiv aorghahs ni waila/ I have not forgotten, and I will not bring shame to my house by hiding who I am like some coward. There are people out there who need me. People who I can help. If that means I have to take a few risks, then I will take those risks.”

“Kara-“

Kara held up her hand. “No. No, you should go. Go home, get some rest. Get used to the idea that this is happening.”

Alex huffed, in that special way all big sisters have when they want to let their little sister know they’re being annoying and unreasonable. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Alex said.

Translated from the Kryptonian:

.nahn khuhp w ,kahrah,zor,ehl I am Kara Zor-El

.nahn khuhp w tiv inah ewuhshehd im ,kryptahnium, I am the last daughter of Krypton

.nahn khuhp w aonah wukhaiiu zrhythrev ,ehl, I am the eldest child of the house of EL

nahn ,rao, i chahvehd shokhpahs w pahdh tiv aorghahs ni waila Rao’s first law is to make the universe whole.

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 7 years

Note

How does Kara meet James in the Cool Aunt Kara AU?

I swore I would incorporate this into this AU, so here we go:

“Whatdid I say?”

“...Isnow really a good time—”

“What.Did I say?”

Clarksighs, and hefts an SUV onto his shoulders.

“...Stayaway from LexCorp.”

“Stay.Away. From LexCorp,” Kara repeats. Then, she throws her arms outwide, gesturing to the surrounding chaos. “This does not look like'staying away' to me, Kal.”

Clarkmoves the car to a safer area, calling over his shoulder as he doesso. “Not our finest hour, I'll admit.”

“I told you this would happen!” Kara continues, still irate. “Ispecifically said, 'Clark—stay away from Lex. He'll turn you and/oryour friend into a giant rampaging turtle monster.'”

“Ithought that was...some weird sort of figure of speech,” Clarksays, and, catching Kara's withering stare, “oh, don't look at melike that. It sounded ridiculous, and you know it.”

“Andyet,” Kara points to the giant rampaging turtle monster, “herewe are.”

“Youcan lecture me later,” Clark assures her. “For now—can we focuson saving Jimmy?”

“We'rewaiting for Lex,” Kara says with a wince as James roars, lashingout at one of the bridge towers. Both cousins take to the skies,flying in erratic patterns, trying to keep James' attention on them,as opposed to his current fixation: picking a fight with thebridge.

“Whatdid he want this time?” Clark asks, having dealt with the CEOenough times to know that working with Lex usually comes with aprice.

Jamesswats almost blindly, flailing his large, scaly limbs as fast as hecan manage which—as he is currently a turtle—is not all thatfast.

“Nothing,”Kara tells him, though he detects an incredulous air; her frown seemsto support this conclusion. “Yet, anyway.”

There'sa sudden blast from somewhere upriver, from the northern side ofMetropolis. Clark startles.

“Military?”he asks, worried. Well, more worried than he was before.

“Maybe,”Kara squints towards the source of the sound. “I thought Lois saidshe'd stall the General?”

“Shesaid she'd try.”

Butit's not the military. Rather, it's a blue blur that hurtles towardsthe bridge, shooting past the two Kryptonians, circling James, andultimately coming to a stop five feet over the bridge, beforedropping to the asphalt.

LexLuthor.

Wearingsome sort of ridiculous armored...suit...thing...and looking smug asever.

“KeepJames distracted,” Kara tells Clark, “And away from the tower.”

“Gotit,” Clark says, racing off.

Karatouches down in front of Lex, not at all looking forward to the ensuing conversation.

“Doyou have the antidote?” she asks, dispensing with any sort ofpleasantries.

“Ido,” Lex smiles. It's fairly chilling. Kara represses a reflexiveshudder. “Armed and ready to go.” He whips out a small device,vaguely gun-shaped, and loaded with a vial of bright blue liquid.

Karaeyes his suit.

“Isuspect you'll want to administer it?” she asks, as there are fewthings Lex loves more than his face on the front page of the Planet.

“Naturally,”Lex nods. “Though I'll need him to stand relatively still, so youand your...sidekick...will have to keep him occupied.”

“Fine,” Kara sighs. “You get the credit, and Ja—this innocentbystander—gets the antidote.” she readies to leave, but Lexdoesn't move.

Hejust...smiles that smug smile of his, and appears...almostthoughtful.

“Youmake it sound as though we're square,” he says.

Karanarrows her eyes. “Well. Aren't we?”

“Hardly.Do you know how much this project cost?” he gestures to James.

Karacrosses her arms. “No, Lex. I don't know how much 'giant mutantturtle monster' projects usually run, these days.”

“Itwas a significant investment. Add to that the delays, the destructionof private property, the trespassing...”

AndKara wants to kill Clark, because he's given Luthor the onething—the one thing—the man needs to level the playing field between them.

Leverage.

“Whatdo you want.”

Lexshrugs.

“Idon't know yet,” he says. “But I definitely want something.”His grin is an awful thing, thin and yet, somehow, all teeth. “Youcan owe me.”

Karascowls, and James roars; there's an ominous, metallic groan comingfrom the bridge.

“Fine,”she spits. “Fine, Lex. Just. Help him.”

Lexdoes, engaging the flight controls on his suit and shooting upwardsinto the air. Kara is close behind, and joins Clark in circlingJames, keeping his eyes on them, and not on Lex.

Lex raises the gun, takes aims, and

[Whathappens next defies several known laws of physics, and some of theunknown laws of physics as well, and can really only bedescribed in terms that neither the human mind nor theKryptonian mind can fully comprehend—thus, it is in everyone's bestinterest to skip ahead exactly eight minutes:]

“Sothat happened,” Clark says, helping his friend to his feet,offering him his cape to cover the ruined jeans and polo.

“Uh...”James mumbles, still half out of it. “What happened,exactly? I'm...I'm having a hard time—”

“Ishould take him back to LexCorp for further testing,” Lex insists,taking a step towards James. Before he can so much as blink,Kara is blocking his path, arms crossed, eyes blazing.

“No,”she says, low and firm. “You've done your part, Lex. And the pressis on their way. You stay here, and smile for the cameras—we'lldo the follow-up, thanks.”

Lexrecoils, as though slapped. “Do I need to remind you,” he snarls,“that you owe me?”

“Sois this it, then? You're calling in your favor now?” Kara raises aneyebrow. “That's fine by me. More than fine, actually.”

Lexopens his mouth, but all that comes out is a strangled puff of air.

“What'llit be, Lex?” Kara's voice takes on a mocking edge. “Are wesquare?”

“Takehim,” Lex grunts, throwing up his hands and stalking off towardsthe police barricade at the end of the bridge. “Take him. I'llcollect my payment...some other time.”

Karamakes a show of rolling her eyes, you don't scare me, Luthor, eventhough he does.

“Comeon, Kal,” Kara says. Clark scoops up a disoriented James, and theyhead for the Fortress.

WhenJames comes to, several hours later, he is:

Freezing

Free of scales, shells, and an urge to destroy local infrastructure

Confused as to why that thought even crosses his mind

Seriously freezing.

Sohe knows, before he sits up and looks around, that he's at theFortress. Which means whatever went down prior to this? was bad.

Not that he’s surprised. Clark’s cousin warned him about Lex, but Clark had gone ahead with the investigation anyway, and James had followed, because, well. He was young, and reckless, and very much caught up in the thrill of being pals with a superhero.

“Oh,hey, you're not dead,” a relieved voice sounds from somewherebehind him. “That's—that's really great. It was...touchand go there for a while.”

“Supergirl?”James croaks.

She puts her hands on her hips and glares at the ground. “I‘m never going to shake that name.”

“Yup,”Clark joins them. “Not unless Cat decides to switch things up inthose op-ed piec—uh, what...?” his cousin is no longer glaring at the floor, but rather, is glaring daggers athim. “Um. Am I missing something? Did she finally decide to stopinsulting—”

“Kal,”Kara hisses, and says something in a language that definitely isn’t English.

Andthen Clark chuckles nervously.

“Ah,see, funny thing.”

James knows a reprimand when he sees one--that sort of thing tends to transcend language. He makes an educated guess as to the subject, and extends his hand for a shake in an effort to keep the peace.

“Souh,” he starts, “I know Clark is Superman. And Ialso know you're the only section editor I've ever met whoactually bothers to learn the interns' names.”

There'sa split second of hesitation; James suspects she's deciding whetheror not she can come up with a lie good enough to get out of this.

Theanswer to that silent question must be 'no,' because after a resignedsigh, she shakes his hand, the smile on her face tentative.

“Niceto formally meet you, James Olsen,” she says.

Hesmiles back. “Likewise, Miss Kent.”

#stranger writes #cool aunt kara au #supergirl fic #also to clarify: the age difference + power imbalance is such in this AU that kara x james won't be a thing #...man I gotta make a timeline for this thing #long post #Anonymous

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