mithen | The House of the Earth Part 3 (6/8): Touch-Me-Nots

Title: Chapter Six: Touch-Me-Nots
Pairing/Characters: Kal/Bruce, Barbara Gordon, Pete Ross, Ollie Queen, Martha Kent, Jonathan Kent
Notes: "The House of the Earth" is an AU in which a few thousand Kryptonians escaped the destruction of Krypton to flee to Earth and conquer its people.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2400
Summary: Kal and Bruce enjoy a few days in Smallville, but their time there is cut short.

For a few gilded days, Kal enjoyed life in Smallville. He farmed with Jonathan, helped Martha with laundry, made furniture and played more "baseball" with Pete, took an archery lesson with Oliver and made everyone laugh with his complete incompetence. His hands got dirty with soil, dust, and sweat. Sometimes he would stare at them, at the dirt caught in the channels of his hands like dark paths; the sight made him feel like Clark was real, like he was Clark. He felt new parts of him opening like a flower to sunlight, parts he never knew he had. The shy, reserved stranger he had been in school, in all his life, started to give way to a person with a talent for transplanting plants and soothing frightened sheep, a person who could joke and play, who could make Barbara laugh and Oliver roll his eyes. Long days full of autumn sunlight, cool nights full of cricket song and starlight.

And Bruce. Always Bruce. They spent a fair amount of time apart with differing chores, but whenever they had free time Bruce was there, joking and insulting and talking about his childhood as he showed Kal how to start a fire with sticks, how to pick raspberries, how to skip stones. Long walks along the creek lined with bright orange flowers. "Touch-me-nots," Bruce said with a wry smile, showing Kal the seed pods that sprang apart at the lightest touch, flying to pieces, scattering.

Touch-me-nots.

Kal had never felt closer to Bruce then here, where they never touched. The space between them was full of...something. Maybe not friendship, but something.

And then one day he came in with Bruce through the back door and heard that space collapsing in on itself.

In the living room he heard a high, haughty voice. "This plantation is crawling with filthy humans. I counted at least a third again more than I ever purchased! Jonathan, if you have been buying new slaves without my leave I shall--"

"Master Gur-Ko." Jonathan's voice was tense with worry. "I assure you that all is in order." Martha was in the hall outside the living room, her hands pressed to her mouth, her face white. The look she turned on Kal and Bruce was anguished, tight with fear. In her pale gray eyes Kal could see it all falling apart, could see Gur-Ko finding the seed stores, the archives. See Jonathan and Martha and everyone on the plantation carted away or executed on the spot.

"This kind of chaos and disorder is unacceptable. I shall have to do a full check of the premises now to see what else you nasty little things have been doing."

Martha shook her head numbly from side to side. Bruce reached out to pat her back, his eyes filled with plans, possibilities, calculation.

And while he thought, Kal acted.

He reached up and wrenched the silvery slave collar from his neck, the collar nothing but Kryptonian strength could remove. He put it in Martha's hands; she stared at it. "Stay here," he whispered.

Then he lifted his feet from the worn wooden boards and floated into the living room.

Both Gur-Ko and Jonathan turned to face him, their eyes surprised for different reasons. Gur-Ko--a fussy, older Kryptonian, his hands covered in white gloves, his nose turned up in a permanent fastidious sniff--broke off his tirade and glared at Kal in confusion.

Kal bowed slightly. "My apologies, citizen. The extra humans roaming the plantation are mine."

Gur-Ko's nose wrinkled as he took in the rough human clothing Kal was wearing;  Kal hoped there were no dirt or grass stains on them. "You had no right--"

Kal drew himself up to a towering height. "Do you know who I am, citizen?"

"N--No," said Gur-Ko hesitantly.

Thank Rao for that, thought Kal. "Well, I am Van-Ve, and I work for Zhon-Mal. Perhaps you have heard of him, citizen?"

"Oh yes. Yes. Zhon-Mal," stammered Gur-Ko.

"We're conducting a survey of food quality on the various Midwestern farms."

"I was not informed of such a thing," protested the other man.

"Oh?" Kal said mildly. "Well, you may bring it up with Zhon-Mal later. I believe tonight he is dining with his close personal friend, Zor-El. Is that name familiar to you, citizen?"

Alarm and something close to fear skittered across Gur-Ko's face; he cringed. "Of course, honored sir. Of course. But this is highly out of order..."

He wasn't going to leave, Kal thought with a stab of panic. He had to do something more. Gur-Ko was wringing his gloved hands, looking uncomfortable, trapped, but stubbornly refusing to go. He had to find some way to make the man leave.

"Bruce," he said loudly, clapping his hands together.

Bruce scurried into the room, his posture bent and crabbed, his eyes cast down. Kal's heart twisted at the sight, but he bit down his chagrin, used it to turn his voice harder. "Bruce, did I not tell you to keep all of my slaves in one place? Why are they wandering free around the plantation?"

Bruce bowed deeply, nearly groveling. "Master, forgive me. I didn't think it would cause any harm..."

He glanced up at Kal and as he looked up, Kal backhanded him across the mouth, one sharp blow.  The wet crack of impact turned Kal's stomach; he swallowed against a wave of nausea. Bruce went sprawling near Gur-Ko, and the Kryptonian pulled back with a squeak of panic. "Did I give you leave to think, vermin?" snarled Kal.

There was a short, startled silence; Kal saw Bruce touch his bloody lip, then scrub at his face, daubling scarlet across it. Bruce shot him one brief glance that slid toward Gur-Ko. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, his eyes locked back on Kal's, full of urgency and meaning.

Kal pounced forward, grabbing Bruce by the shirt collar and lifting him like a kitten. Bruce's face was covered with blood; saliva running down his chin. Kal thrust the bloody human at Gur-Ko so their faces nearly touched. "Yes, yes," Kal said, exasperation lacing his voice. "Now apologize to our host."

"S--S--Sorry," Bruce managed, causing even more blood and saliva to run down his chin. Gur-Ko shuddered, his eyes rolling.

Kal pushed Bruce to his knees. "Kiss his robes," Kal said.

"No!" Gur-Ko cried, pulling back, his face white. "No, that will not be necessary. Not necessary at all. Please."

Kal tossed Bruce aside like a rag.   "I'm so sorry," he said to Gur-Ko. "I seem to have made a bit of a mess. I shall have one of my reliable slaves clean it--which one is the one I mean, Bruce?" He snapped his fingers impatiently, not looking at the man on the floor. "You know. The tall one. With the hair."

"Oliver?" said Bruce from the floor.

"Right! That one. He's a genius with stains." He smiled at Gur-Ko. "And you may send Zhon-Mal the bill for what you think is reasonable recompense when you get back to Kryptonopolis."

"Back to--back--" Gur-Ko seized on the phrase like a lifeline. "Yes, I'll be going back now." Bruce made a horrible drooling spitting noise and Gur-Ko shuddered all over, gagging. He backed out of the room, keeping an eye on Bruce as if he were a dangerous animal, and was gone.

For a long time no one in the living room moved, remembering the sharpness of Kryptonian hearing. In the doorway Kal could see Martha, her eyes wide, holding his abandoned collar. Jonathan was staring at him. Bruce was still looking down, wiping at his mouth, his hands covered with his own blood. Kal's eyes were burning, his face was burning. He wanted to be sick. He wanted to fly away, to bury himself in the earth if it would have him. No one moved.

Pete came bursting through the door. "He's gone, he--" He stopped dead, looking at the tableau, Kal floating in the middle of the room. "What the hell happened?"

: : :

"That was brilliant!" Bruce's grin threatened to widen the split on his lip.

"Please hold still," said Kal, dabbing at the nasty wound.

"Totally caught him off guard. Wham," Bruce said gleefully, mimicking Kal's backhand. "When I heard him squeal, I realized what you were up to. Brilliant, just brilliant."

"Don't," Kal said, looking down at his hands.

"Don't what? That was perfect, Kal. I was a little afraid you wouldn't think of shaking me in his face like that, but you got the hint. I was lying there on the floor almost trying not to laugh at the poor bastard, we got him so good. Man," he said with relish. "That was great." He frowned at Kal's expression. "What's the matter?"

"I promised I'd never hurt you," Kal said.

"What?" Bruce seemed honestly surprised.

"I promised," Kal muttered.

There was a hand on his chin, forcing his face up to meet Bruce's gaze. "It would have hurt me a hell of a lot more to see my friends executed and this outpost destroyed, Kal. We have to make hard choices sometimes. You did the smart thing."

Kal daubed petroleum jelly onto his fingers and smoothed it onto the broken lip; Bruce flinched a little, then relaxed into the touch. Kal got a little more of the clear balm and applied it again, his fingers tracing the line of Bruce's lower lip slowly. Bruce exhaled, a long slow breath that brushed at Kal's fingers. Kal finished following the line of Bruce's lower lip and traced the curve of his upper lip, very lightly; Bruce's eyes drifted half-closed and he drew in a slightly shaky breath.

Kal pulled his hand back and put the lid on the balm, trying to steady his own breathing. "Are you all right?" Bruce asked. When Kal looked up in surprise, he went on with a small smile, "Did you hurt your hand on my head?" Kal didn't have time to answer before Bruce was taking his hand in his, tracing along the knuckles with exaggerated care, a feather-light touch.

Kal felt like he was falling apart, scattering to the wind, splintered with yearning. "I think I'm okay," he managed.

"Much more than okay," Bruce said, but he let go of his hand with a small smile.

There was a knock at the door and it opened to reveal Martha, a plate of cookies and two glasses of milk balanced on her arms. "I thought you might need some fortification after all that," she said cheerfully.

Kal felt the stab of shame go through him again; exposed as a Kryptonian, an enslaver, an alien conquerer. To know that she and Jonathan and Pete would never see him the same way again...he felt walls going up all around him, blocking him in. "Thank you," he whispered, "And I'm sorry."

Martha chuckled. "Sorry? For saving us all?"

"Sorry for lying to you."

Martha put her hands on her hips and frowned at him. "Lying to us?"

"About being human."

At that, she threw her head back and laughed. "Oh Clark," she said, wiping her eyes, "Jonathan and I knew all along you were a Kryptonian. It wasn't some kind of secret."

Kal stared at her. "You knew? But you didn't say anything."

Another frown creased her forehead. "We didn't feel it was necessary. What difference did it make?" She pointed to the plate of cookies as Kal gaped. "Don't let those go to waste." Then she marched out of the room.

Bruce grabbed a cookie, then shrugged a little sheepishly at the look Kal turned on him. "I was afraid if you knew they knew it would make it harder for you to relax."

"Everyone knew?"

Bruce shook his head as he gingerly took a bite of cookie. "Just Jonathan and Martha."

"Oh." Kal felt worry close in on him again.

Bruce grimaced. "It won't matter to everyone."

"But it will to some."

"I won't lie and tell you otherwise," Bruce said with a sigh. He turned to look at the window at the sun setting in the west. "I guess it's time we move on to our final stop anyway," he said softly. "But it was a good time here, wasn't it?"

Kal remembered the smell of the earth, the crack of a ball against a bat, the taste of raspberries. Touch-me-nots under his curious fingers, springing outward into the unknown future. "It was."

: : :

The morning skies were graying as Kal and Bruce piled into the truck again. Jonathan, Martha, and Barbara were there: Martha hugged them both and Jonathan clasped their hands. "There's always work here if you want to come back, son," he said to Kal, and Kal swallowed and nodded.

Barbara's hug was more tentative, more hesitant. Kal couldn't really blame her; after what she'd been through he was surprised she came to say goodbye at all. The walnut dye was starting to give way to her natural red again. "Take care," she whispered.

Bruce was starting up the truck when there was a yell from down the street. Kal looked to see Oliver and Pete arriving at a gallop. "You're not getting away without saying goodbye to us," Oliver said, thumping them both on the back.

Pete hung back a bit, eyeing Kal. He scuffed one toe in the dirt for a bit. "You could have said something," he muttered. "I feel like an idiot."

"I'm sorry," said Kal.

Pete stepped forward and gave him an awkward hug. "Thanks for everything."

"No, thank you," Kal said. Pete looked up at him. "For...showing me around. Letting me play baseball."

"I guess you let us win at that," Pete said.

Kal couldn't help a startled laugh. "Are you kidding? I never figured out the damn rules!" Everyone else laughed, and after a moment Pete joined in.

"Time to go," said Bruce. Kal hopped into the car.

Everyone waved as the truck pulled away from Smallville and turned onto the road heading west.

"How's it feel to have friends?" Bruce asked.

Kal watched the farm dwindle away behind them, reluctant to turn his face west just yet. "It felt good," he said.

"You don't need to use the past tense," said Bruce. He reached out with one hand and slapped Kal's head. "Dork."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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cursor-mundi.livejournal.com

Ok, so this was great, and you really had me worried about whether Clark/Kal would think on his feet (or float...whatever!) and do the smart thing versus the noble thing, but that last line? It KILLED me. I totally wasn't expecting it and works so well!

Dork. Hee! *wanders off, snickering*

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