Close to Home - chapter 11

[iesika]

Close to Home

11

The woman's name turned out to be Justine, and she was Dalton's girlfriend. Kon had taken a moment to wash his face in the canteen sink and grab his own cup of awful institutional coffee, and then they'd all gone to the nurse's station to sign the necessary paperwork.

"I have a key, but we don't live together," she said, as they walked down the hall. "Alex was worried he might become a target, challenging that stupid anti-evolution law. I have a daughter with my ex-husband, and she lives with me most of the time, so we thought it was safer that way. For her sake. And God, I can't tell you how glad I am she was with her father last night! Otherwise she would have been with me when I got there and - " she sighed. "I honestly thought he was dead," she said, softly, her head bowed.

"I'm so sorry," Kon said.

Justine shook her head. "Alex would shout us both down if he heard you talking like it was your fault, somehow. He's really proud of you, Conner. Of what you've been doing. He's been coming home with stories all week about this brilliant young activist -"

Kon laughed, despite himself. "Brilliant? I - No, I'm pretty sure he means Mel or somebody. I'm not - "

"And he says you're a joy to have in his class. You always have questions he's never thought about."

Usually after he'd been fighting giant insects or something. And he'd been damned glad he'd asked all those stupid questions about mollusks. He really couldn't think of a way to explain just how helpful it had been been to know that squid were really fucking smart when he was trying to beat up one the size of a large house.

He was saved from further embarrassment when they got to the right door. Really, it was kind of obvious now that they were here, because there probably weren't a lot of doors on this floor with cops sitting in front of them.

"Ma'am," the guy said, and touched his forehead.

"This is Conner," Justine said. "I've just added him to the visitors' roster."

"Sure," he said. He nodded at Kon. "Hi kid."

Kon nodded back. They went inside.

Oh God. Kon had always kind of hated hospitals, and now he realized why. The sounds were all wrong. He could hear Dalton's breathing, and it was - it was wrong. Wet and weak and - he made an effort to tune it out, but it was hard. His heartbeat was faint, and slow. He focused on the whir of the ventilator, the beep of the monitor, but that wasn't any better. Justine's watch was ticking. Okay. He could focus on that. Tick Tick Tick.

Justine pushed back the curtain, and Kon forced himself to step up to the bed. God, he looked so small. He was swaddled in bandages like a mummy, with gauze all around his head and tubes up his nose and down his throat. The skin Kon could see was alternately white and bruise-blue, except for his hands, which were bright red where his fingers peeked through the bandages.

"What happened to his hands?" Kon asked, hoarse.

"Hot water," Justine said, sounding oddly proud. "The stove was on and there was pasta all over the floor. The police think he used the pot as a weapon." She sat down in a nearby chair - this one a more subdued grey, with actual padding and armrests - and motioned for Kon to do the same. "The burns are superficial - just a scald."

Kon pulled the other chair closer to the bed and took a seat. He didn't know what to do with himself. He'd been so focused on getting here he hadn't even thought about the next step.

"He hasn't woken up," Justine said quietly. "Not even for a minute or two. It's been about twelve hours. The doctors told me... most people, if they don't wake up within 24 hours, they don't wake up at all."

A creaking sound made Kon glance down, and he quickly let go of the armrests to knot his fingers together in his lap. "My friend..." he started, trying to sound hopeful, "his dad was in coma for six months." Tim hadn't told Kon about it at the time, of course - they'd barely known each other. It wasn't until after he'd quit and come back that he and Tim had ever really sat down and talked about Tim's family. "He had to do therapy and stuff, but he was fine after a while." Kon looked up at Justine, whose lips were pressed into a tight line. "He got-"

Justine's mouth softened. "He got..?"

"Married," Kon said, with sudden self-consciousness. He wasn't sure how to talk to a teacher's girlfriend about relationships and stuff. It was kind of like if Martha were to start dating again, or when he thought about all those times he'd hit on Lois.

Justine smiled, but Kon got the feeling she was amused rather than reassured. "Good to know. But - well, Alex has a living will. If he isn't breathing without a machine within a few days...

"Of course he's not breathing right!" Kon snapped. "His ribs are all-" he stopped. "Uh. Taped." He checked. Yes, they were taped. That was good. He didn't ever want to try to explain the sound of those muscles pulling against bones that weren't whole.

"It's more than that, Conner. He was hit in the head, hard. He survived the blow, but he was bleeding in his brain. That's very bad. The bleeding's stopped, but we won't know what kind of damage was really done until the swelling goes down. He's not out of the woods, yet. They put in shunts for the pressure, but he's still at risk of secondary injury. He might have a stroke, or a seizure." She looked up at Kon. "I want him to wake up. Of course I want him to wake up. I want him to wake up right now. But if he doesn't... Alex wouldn't want to be a vegetable. You understand?"

Kon watched Dalton's chest rise and fall in a crude imitation of breath. No one's breathing was that regular. Not even Tim's. Not even when he was sleeping. "If he were awake right now, he'd say something about not doing photosynthesis."

He heard a strange sound and turned his head. Justine had both hands over her mouth, and she seemed to be laughing and crying at the same time. "He would!" she gasped, and bit her knuckles.

Kon shared his tissues - not the soggy ones, but the handful he'd stuck in his pocket, in case. "Can I do anything for you?"

She sniffed. "You're sweet. But unless you can bring me the head of the bastard who did this..."

Kon was trying. But...Obviously not hard enough. It hit him all at once with a vicious stab of anger and self-loathing. Matt's killer had been on the loose for over a week, and now he'd struck again. If Kon had caught him sooner, if he'd been working harder, if he'd spent more time on the case and less planting fucking tomatoes, if he hadn't distracted Tim from the lab work for half the night -

"Can I have a minute with him?" Kon asked.

Justine looked at him strangely, but she nodded and got up. "Coffee?" she asked.

Kon shook his head. When she'd left the room, he stood and carefully lifted Dalton's bandaged hand, cradling it in both of his. "Tim says people in comas can't really hear you."

Dalton didn't answer, of course. The mechanical rhythm of his breath didn't change. His eyes didn't flutter. His pulse stayed steady. He didn't grip back.

"Maybe that's a good thing? I don't know. I shouldn't be doing this, just in case. But..." Kon took a deep, shaky breath. "I'm going to get the bastard. Okay? I'm gonna - " He broke off as his mind filled with gruesome revenge fantasies - broken limbs, broken faces, broken necks. He closed his eyes against a sudden wash of red, but he could see it even behind his eyelids. "I promise you he's not going to hurt anyone else. I promise."

The machines whirred on. Kon just stood there for a while, feeling Dalton's blood beat through his fingers, the only thing about him that still felt right and alive.

When Kon heard the soft pad of stocking-feet in the hall, he opened the window and slid out, shutting it again behind him.

The reception on the roof was crap, so he landed in the park again before he called Tim. "I need those results," Kon said when Tim picked up, before he had a chance to speak.

Tim's sigh roared like static in his ear. "I'm on my third panel."

"What?"

"I've been up all night. I got the first set of results back after you left. The part that took so long was the isolation and replication, so I'd have enough material to work with. Now that I've got it-" He sighed again. "I've run two different sets of tests, already, and I'm waiting on a third. I keep hoping I've screwed up somehow but..."

"What are you saying?"

"The samples you brought me are negative for the active meta-gene, Kon. All of them. I've been over and over the numbers but - what was that?"

Kon sat down on the tree he'd just knocked over. "Nothing. You're sure? Absolutely- "

"Positive," Tim insisted. "Our suspect's not here. This is the worst case scenario, because we can't rule anyone out from this. We were just looking for a starting point. Lockers are hardly secure, and team-mates share things all the time... And it's possible your killer is there, but he just didn't leave anything in his locker this weekend."

"I know," Kon growled. He punched the trunk beside his hip, sending chips of bark and wood flying. "Tim," he heard his voice crack. "What am I going to do? My teacher-"

"I know," Tim said. "I've got the reports. It's the same as before. No prints, no trace evidence, blunt trauma, excessive force, meta-level strength-"

"Dalton fought back," Kon said, softly. "He fought the bastard. He threw boiling water all over the place. He could be hurt. Is there a way to find out if someone in the area's getting treated for burns?"

"I can try," Tim said. "I'll get Oracle on it. We'll check hospital records, emergency calls... But he's a meta, Kon, he might not need medical attention."

"I know," Kon said, helplessly. "I know. But it's all I can think of!"

"Get me pictures," Tim said, decisively. "There's only two shots with the report, and they're of your teacher, not the crime scene."

Kon got to his feet. He took off his glasses and folded them carefully before sliding them into his pocket and unbuttoning his shirt. "I'm gonna need his address."

*

Dalton's house was small, and close enough to the school he could probably have walked to work. There was yellow tape around the carport and over the doors, but there was no one in the building and no cops in sight.

The wood around the deadbolt was a splintered mess; their meta had obviously been here. Kon made a fist and touched it to the epicenter of the blast, a deep hole that went nearly through the wood. Yeah, it had been punched. He could feel the shape of someone's knuckles in the compression under his hand. Whoever had done this wasn't as big as Kon though, or at least his hands weren't. Or hers. He kept forgetting that they didn't know if the killer was a man or a woman. Cassie would beat him up if she knew. Kon snapped a few shots of the door, one with his hand for reference, and then pushed it open and stepped into a short hallway with open doorways to either side. One of them led to the living room, and the other to the kitchen.

They hadn't cleaned up the pasta. It was all over the linoleum in strands and clumps, stained faintly pink like the tile itself where blood and water had splashed across the floor. The color was darkest near the stove, a dark red-brown the color of old brick.

Kon added marinara to the list of things he'd never eat again, right after sausage and calamari. He took the pictures, though, swallowing hard the whole time and being careful not to breathe in through his nose. He snapped shots from every angle he could think of, sent them off to Tim, and then he flew the hell away.

He made a few laps around the town, burning off some energy and checking up on people. Rebecca was at home, sitting with two other women in her kitchen. School was nearly over. He counted up the club members and found them all in their classes, except for Jake. He wasn't in the library and he wasn't in the art room. He wasn't at the shop or the diner, either. Kon didn't find him until he was almost home and saw a familiar old pickup in the driveway next to Martha's.

He landed behind some trees, half a mile away, and walked up the gravel road. Krypto came to meet him with a rusted bicycle frame in his mouth, the back end gnawed to a polished shine. Kon patted him on the head and took it before scanning the house. Jake was sitting at the table with Martha, drinking iced tea. No one was looking out the windows, so he whirled around and threw the hunk of junk like a discus, sending it spinning into the lower stratosphere.

What was Jake doing there, anyway? Kon had ben awful to him that morning, and nearly as bad the night before when he'd panicked and left him in the driveway. No wonder Conner Kent didn't have many friends. He was kind of a jackass.

Still, they were waiting, so Kon jogged up the road and around to the back porch. When he opened the back door, Jake jumped up to greet him. "Conner," he breathed with obvious relief. He took a few steps forward and then stopped in the middle of the floor looking indecisive.

Kon resolved his dilemma with a quick hug and a pat on the back. "You okay?"

Jake stepped back and stared at him, incredulous. "Me?"

"Yes you! Dude, I'm so sorry. I just kinda lost it-"

"-which is why I was worried!" He sighed and rolled his eyes. "I called three hospitals and nobody would tell me anything, and then finally somebody said they'd seen you, but you were gone, and then no one knew where you were, and - you were so-" he sighed again.

"Called me, frantic," Martha said from the table. "I told him you'd be home eventually and he was welcome to wait." She smiled, and her eyes twinkled. "He's about as good at waiting as your friend up in Keystone."

Oh god. Kon wanted to laugh despite everything, because really? No one could be as bad as Bart.

"Took in the laundry for me," Martha went on after a sip of her tea, "folded it, and all. I think he'd have mucked out the chicken house if I hadn't let him help me put up pickles."

Jake's complexion didn't really show a blush, Kon realized. His ears were sure red, though.

"He's a good boy," she said quietly. "A good friend."

Kon figured anything he tried to say would just embarrass Jake even worse, so he patted him on the shoulder, instead, and sat down. "I just...needed to clear my head. I...walked around. Talked to some people."

"Tim?" Jake asked as he sat down beside him. When Kon nodded he asked, "Did you...um. Do you know yet if he'll be here Friday?"

Martha really did an excellent job of hiding her surprise, but Jake must have noticed anyway, because he flinched. "It's so nice to get advance warning when your friends visit," she said with forced cheer. "I'll have to make a pie. A blueberry pie."

Kon flushed to the roots of his hair. "He said he was sorry!" he said quickly. "You know how crazy that city is! He had," he glanced at Jake, "obligations. And you know what his family's like!"

Martha snorted. "You're just like Clark, letting that whole bunch run roughshod over you. Alfred needs to take each and every one of those boys over his knee, the way they've been acting."

The image of thin, dour Alfred with Batman over his knee was enough to make Kon choke on his own laughter and drop his face to the table.

"You think I'm joking," Martha said archly. "I know he's a good boy, Conner, and I know he cares about you. But I hope you're thinking things through."

Kon didn't know what to say. Jake hadn't said a word about the dance, unless he'd mentioned it before Kon got home. What did Martha think was going on? He couldn't exactly ask, with Jake there. Was it because of the club?

Jake himself was sitting awkwardly at the end of the table, staring intently at the amber-tinted ice cubes at the bottom of his glass. "I should, ah. Get going.

"Oh, no," Martha said, before Kon could open his mouth, "Don't let me run you off, Jacob."

But Jake was already standing. "I took off from school as soon as they let us out of the gym. Dad's got to be furious. They'll have called him." He ducked his head at Martha. "Thank you for letting me wait. And the tea."

Martha looked amused, but she nodded back.

Kon stood to walk him out. "You don't think he'll go easy on you, considering what happened?"

Jake didn't answer until Kon had shut the door behind them. He leaned on the porch post nearest the steps without looking back at Kon. "I've gotta tell him first, don't I?"

Kon paused behind him just before the top of the steps. "Oh," he said, because he didn't know what else he should say.

Jake chuckled without sounding any happier. That was something he and Tim both did - laugh when nothing was very funny. The harshness of the sound made Kon reach out and touch Jake's back, between his shoulders. His heartbeat was strong under Kon's fingers, a little faster than usual but nothing like during his panic attack outside Whoa Nellie's.

"I feel better about it now than I did last week," Jake said quietly. "Knowing I'm not the only one - well, it helps. I mean," he laughed again, "I'm still terrified..."

Terrified. Terrified like Matt had been, when his father found out? "Do you want me to come with you?" He offered.

Jake shook his head, 'no,' and then he turned around quickly and grabbed the front of Kon's shirt. Kon didn't have time to do much more than fall forward and make a startled sound as Jake leaned up.

The kiss was brief and chaste, just the press and slide of lips together. After a few seconds, Jake rocked back on his heels and let Kon go, looking anywhere but at him. "Sorry," he whispered, and licked his lips. "I was just - it didn't seem fair. Having to come out to my family, and I'd never even kissed a guy."

Something in Kon's chest clenched, and he made a snap decision. He put his hand on Jake's chest and pushed, pressing him back in an awkward, wide-eyed shuffle to bump against the post. Jake's mouth dropped open, and Kon leaned in to lick his way inside. He cupped Jake's jaw in one broad hand, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

Jake's eyes fluttered closed, and he made a tiny sound in the back of his throat that was caught between their mouths. Kon sucked at his tongue, thick and hot between his lips - licked his pallete and his teeth - bit, just hard enough, at his bottom lip. He drew on all his wide - and varied - experience and did his damndest to make it the best kiss he could.

When he stepped back, Jake stayed slumped against the post with his eyes shut and his lips parted. He drew a long, shaky breath and then opened his eyes. They were wide and glazed to the point of fever.

"Now you've kissed a guy," Kon said.

Jake just stared at him.

"You'll be okay. Worst-case scenario... Ma likes you, and there's room." Which wasn't quite accurate. He knew without a doubt that Martha would take Jake in if he needed it, but the real worst-case scenario...

The real worst-case wasn't going to happen.

Kon stood on the porch and watched Jake get into his car and drive into the distance. When he disappeared from view, behind a clump of trees. Kon took off his glasses and his button-down and left them on the porch.

He beat Jake into town, of course, but that was okay. Jake wasn't the only person in Smallville who needed looking out for. School was over, but Mel and Katie were out on the field for marching practice. Hamilton wasn't with the football team in the weight room, but Kon found him on his next loop, talking to Chase in the parking lot. Clarence and Delilah were walking together a few blocks from the school. On his third pass, they were standing in a driveway, and by the sixth they were watching TV with Charlotte Moore. Matt's mother was in bed with the covers over her head even though it was still light outside.

Daniel was at the public library. Beth apparently worked in the kennels at Dr. Ford's vet clinic. Caroline was driving down highway forty-one entirely too fast. He buzzed her car on his next pass, and she slowed down after that.

He couldn't see as far as Clark. He couldn't hear as clearly. He didn't have Tim's gadgets or Bart's speed, but if he just kept moving, he could cover the whole town. On every tenth circuit or so, he widened his path, zipping over the farm and then on to pass over the hospital, where Dalton lay like a rock and Justine was curled uncomfortably in her grey plastic chair.

There was shouting when Jake got home. Then there was talking. And hugging.

Kon smiled.

He flew on.

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