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Jordan let out a huff of frustration as he placed the butter knife down on the counter.
The moment he’d pulled it out of the drawer it had twisted horribly under his fingertips, as if it were made of warm clay.
It was disheartening, to say the least.
After over a week of practicing with his recent surge of strength it felt like he should have a better handle on things. But moments like these were still far too common and there was clearly no way in hell he was ready to get back to his real life.
He was doing his best to listen to his father’s encouraging words and believe that it really would improve soon, but it was somewhat hard to hold onto.
The world suddenly felt like it was made of the thinnest most delicate glass and nearly everything he did caused some sort of destruction.
He was sick of it.
All he wanted to do was go back to school. Or at least butter himself a piece of bread without destroying half of the silverware. Was that really too much to ask?
Apparently, it was.
Jordan tried to take a deep steadying breath before setting his sights back on the cutlery drawer.
Before he could mangle yet another knife, however, the sound of an unexpected voice snapped him away from his task.
“My apologies for the intrusion.”
With his focus set on this mundane but suddenly impossible activity, he had allowed his ears to wander and hadn’t heard the sound of the new arrival.
Jordan turned abruptly, brow furrowing in annoyance and confusion as he saw the unwelcome figure of Tal-Rho leaning casually against the entryway to the kitchen.
“Still figuring things out, nephew?” the man asked in his smooth voice, his eyes drifting to the mangled cutlery.
He didn’t seemed surprised in the least. And, as much as Jordan wasn’t thrilled to see him, at least he didn’t have to come up with a cover story for the damage.
Like it or not, Tal-Rho knew the truth. And he was one of the few people on the planet who had actually gone through the same thing.
He wasn’t really in the mood to admit his shortcomings, however, so he simply shrugged. Doing his best to shift the focus from himself and his inability to control his surging powers.
“Are you looking for my dad?” he asked gruffly, making no effort to offer the niceties he would have put on for virtually anyone else.
Sure, his uncle had saved his father’s life. Twice. And then he’d helped literally save the world(s) from Ally Allison’s terrifying cult. But, in Jordan’s eyes, that didn’t totally erase the past.
This person had also spent decades trying to revive a lost planet and hadn’t cared how many innocent humans got hurt along the way.
They all put up with the tentative new relationship his father seemed determined to build with his estranged brother—because they knew how much it meant to him. It didn’t mean that the rest of the Kent-Lane family had to do the same, however. His mother barely tolerated his occasional visits (and usually found an excuse to go out when he arrived). And Jordan and Jonathan generally fled too, and still called him Uncle Jerkface in private.
Neither twin had much trust in the man. They did trust their father, however, and Jordan tried to cling to that as he faced the new arrival with a growing frown.
“Yes, I have matters to discuss with Kal,” the intruder explained, “but he is unexpectedly occupied for the time being and asked me to meet him here.”
Jordan pursed his lips, mildly annoyed that his dad had done that. He knew that Jordan was home (indefinitely, until he figured out how to act normal again), and he knew how much his sons tended to avoid their so-called uncle.
The teen paused for a moment, scanning for signs of his father only to latch onto his familiar heartbeat somewhere near Thailand.
He let out another sigh. It was probably going to be a while.
“Okay,” Jordan muttered, unsure how else to respond. “I, uh, I’m gonna head back to my room.”
He took a step, trying ignore the surprisingly disappointed look that flashed across Tal’s face.
He wasn’t a fan of that lost puppy vibe the guy sometimes seemed to give off. It made him feel oddly guilty, even though he knew that he had every right to dislike someone who had such little regard for humankind.
“Please,” the man interjected quickly, holding up his hands in a motion of surrender, “don’t let me stop you from enjoying your meal.” He eyed the unbuttered bread and warped knife once more.
Jordan searched for another excuse but, before he could come up with one, there was a sudden blur of speed and his uncle appeared at his side.
It took every ounce of self control not to run up the stairs just as quickly, but he managed to hold back. He already felt hopelessly exposed and he didn’t want to put any of his other weird traits to use right now.
As always, he didn’t want Tal to linger on their unfortunate similarities. Though it was probably too late for that.
The man paused before picking up the hopelessly mangled knife and effortlessly bending it back into its original shape. He smiled, holding it out for Jordan to take.
“There you go,” he said, looking quite pleased with his offering. “Give it another try,” there was a short pause, “but hold it with the tips of your fingers first and then gradually work towards a more natural grip. As gently as you possibly can.”
Jordan definitely wanted to say no.
It made him uncomfortable that Tal seemed to recognize his struggles, and he definitely didn’t want to expose his ongoing failure to someone he could barely stand. Feeling like a hopeless freak in front of the rest of his family had been hard enough.
But his stubborn streak made it impossible for him to back down. He wanted to prove that he could do it. (And he hadn’t tried that type of slow grip his uncle was describing yet…maybe it was actually worth a shot).
He squared his shoulders before gingerly taking the knife— first with the tips of his thumb and index finger then very carefully allowing the pads of his fingers to move into place. It still looked awkward in his hand, and he felt like a weird toddler learning how to hold a utensil for the first time, but it did seem to work.
He slowly scooped up a dab of butter and spread it on his bread.
Even though he could feel his uncle watching annoying carefully, he did feel a flash of triumph at this tiny victory.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
Until he slowly placed the knife down to see the distinct imprints of his fingers pressed into the sides.
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.
It was less damaged than it had been before, but he still couldn’t manage to use the thing like a human.
“Progress is progress,” his uncle remarked sagely, offering him a surprising smile that caught him off guard.
He couldn’t help but be struck by the resemblance to his father in that moment, but he quickly shook the thought away.
“It took me weeks of trial and error to reach that point after my arrival here,” he noted again, “I know how hopelessly frustrating it can be, but we have no choice but to make due. Our planet is gone and we must adapt to this one.”
Jordan’s head snapped up at that final remark.
Whenever Tal was around, the conversation inevitably seemed to drift towards Krypton. And Jordan’s connection to it.
In all honesty, Jordan didn’t always hate it. He knew who he was, and he was curious to hear about the place he was connected to but would never see.
This past week had thrown him back into a somewhat dark tailspin, however. He’d always gone through ups and downs when it came to his own self-acceptance, and his recent power surge had definitely pulled him down.
Right now, he didn’t particularly want to be a freak who couldn’t touch everyday objects. Nor did he want to think about the mind numbingly insane reasons why his body functioned this way.
He just wanted a break from it all.
“Earth is my planet,” he couldn’t help but mutter, his eyes fixed on the dented metal that seemed to mock his assertion.
“And yet you are clearly a son of Krypton,” came his uncle’s frustratingly proud reply.
Jordan had to fight back a roll of his eyes. The man wasn’t wrong. He was obviously struggling to blend in on this planet as his many alien traits surged.
He definitely couldn’t remember what being human felt like at this point, if he’d ever really felt it at all.
Still, he wanted to protest— wanted to point out that part of him was human too. But he wasn’t sure what that would accomplish in that moment.
He didn’t really want to get into his complicated identity issues with his uncle. Perhaps the guy could understand what it was like to effortlessly bend metal, but he didn’t know how it felt to be stuck somewhere in between. And his Kryptonian pride would probably always blind him to the reasons Jordan sought to maintain a connection to the people here, no matter how alien he felt.
So, instead of putting up a fight, Jordan simply agreed.
“Yeah, okay,” he said softly, picking up the piece of bread from the counter and thinking about how to finally make his way out of the room.
He looked towards the staircase longingly, taking a step.
“Jordan, wait.”
As much as he wanted to keep going, he found himself once again frozen in place.
“I am aware that many things are still new to you boys,” his uncle continued, that pleading look in his eyes once more. “I did not intend to make you uncomfortable with my remark. I merely wanted you to know that you are not the only one to struggle with these matters. I understand how it feels to calibrate your every movement.”
The remark seemed annoyingly genuine but it didn’t really help Jordan feel any better about things. He didn’t want to be understood by Tal-Rho.
Tal-Rho was a sociopath who had tried to resurrect an alien species.
(Their species, an unwelcome voice muttered in the back of his mind).
After countless days of struggle, he’d have given anything to experience the world like everyone else. It felt unfair that such a small number had grappled with the same things. And that one of them happened to be an Uncle who’d both kidnapped and attacked him in the past.
He wasn’t sure if there were enough apologies in the world that could make amends for that, though he begrudgingly gave the man credit for trying.
He felt his jaw tense and he turned back to look towards him.
For whatever reason, he still couldn’t bring himself to go.
(Was it possible that he found a twisted comfort in being around someone else like him? No matter how much dislike he felt?)
“I get it,” he said, the bitterness seeping into his tone as he began his retort. “You’ve decided that I’m the last great hope for Krypton or whatever,” shook his head, exasperated by the mere thought.
He’d done a lot of thinking about his uncle’s recent behaviour towards him and it seemed pretty apparent that this was the case. All of the comments and prideful gazes. He’d somehow gone from seeing him as Kal-El’s annoying offspring to someone who represented the next generation of an entire planet.
It was way too much pressure to put on anyone. The man clearly couldn’t see that he was just a kid who was trying to get through high school without causing too much damage.
“I see the looks you give me,” he added, doing his best to stare Tal down with a pointed look of his own, “and I know how much I take after my dad. But that doesn’t mean I have any interest in your quest to revive your planet. I’m just trying to figure out how to get through the day.”
He felt a bit pathetic for his indirect admission that getting though a day was a struggle at the moment, but he did his best to stand firm.
Tal was still starring at him. With that same odd combination of pride and hope and longing.
And maybe a bit of disappointment now too (he hoped so).
The man drew a long breath, trying to gather his words before he spoke.
“Perhaps this is not what you desire. But your mere existence— which I once deemed impossible— keeps Krypton alive, nephew,” he said slowly, as if he was worried Jordan might dart away at any moment. “I know that you do not yet believe me, but my quest has changed. Away from my father’s grasp, I have come to see that there is a better way for our legacy to continue. It was Kal who had it right all along, and I am in awe that he now allows me to bare witness to what he has created.”
Tal smiled at that— smiled at him. Jordan was sure that his earlier message had not gotten through in the least.
Maybe it wasn’t the absolute worst thing, but it seemed that Tal would never stop seeing him in such a way. No matter what he said.
“You are I’m under no obligation to follow any predetermined path, but you are a Kryptonian. With so few of us left, it would be a great honour for me to share what I know with you boys,” his eyes glanced towards the butter knife, perhaps thinking of the countless other tips he could offer to a struggling teenager with an increasingly alien body. “You are family and I want you to know that I am here to help. Despite my past mistakes.”
Begrudgingly, Jordan had to admit that he probably could be helpful at times. His father would always be his primary mentor, but another perspective and other tactics would be useful when initial approaches failed.
Just like they had today.
It occurred to him that Tal’s experience was a little closer to his own. His father had started getting powers at six, and sometimes struggled to remember how that adjustment felt. It was simply how he’d always been. Tal had arrived at eleven. He remembered feeling normal in Krypton, and hadn’t been able to explore his abilities outside his sunless captivity until he was in his later teens.
He looked back towards his uncle reluctantly. He was pretty sure that he wanted to speak in lofty terms, and offer grand cultural and historical insights that he felt Jordan should know. Tal wanted to talk about legacies and pride and carrying on traditions.
Jordan wasn’t ready for that.
Not today. And certainly not with him.
But maybe he was willing to gain a few practical tips. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do, and the sooner he got a handle on things the better.
“Alright,” he said, placing his buttered bread down on the counter and flexing his fingers in anticipation. “Do you have any tips for doing up zippers? Because I’ve destroyed, like, three of my favourite shirts already and I don’t want to ruin my jackets.”
Tal looked taken aback, but pleased, by the sudden request.
He gathered himself quickly.
“Yes, I remember that challenge well,” he paused, the memory filtering in, “go get one of your coats, and I can show you what I do.”
He could hardly believe that he was actually rolling with this (what had come over him?)— but Jordan found himself following the request.
He disappeared from the room at top speed and reappeared with an old jacket on hand. One he was less worried about ruining.
He didn’t miss the fact that his uncle was grinning at his casual display of speed. He realized that, for some reason, he didn’t feel as weird about it as he had before.
“This is all about easing into the grip as well,” his uncle began to explain expertly as Jordan gingerly put on the coat, “and going incredibly slowly until you can safely work your way up to a human pace…”
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A little while later, Clark arrived to an unexpected scene in the kitchen.
Jordan was wearing his old jacket (“I did it up myself, dad!” he proclaimed with excitement and relief)— and half of loaf of buttered bread covered the kitchen table.
His brother, who was leaning against the counter smoothing the fingerprints out the last of the butter knives, offered him an uncharacteristically wide smile.
“Sorry it took me so long. The floods were terrible,” he said, looking back and forth between the two figures he hadn’t expected to find together.
He’d been wary about sending his brother ahead to the house with Jordan home, but maybe it hadn’t been the worst idea after all.
Jordan shrugged, and Tal continued to grin.
“No apology necessary, brother,” the other man proclaimed, his eyes drifting towards Jordan. The teen’s back was turned and he didn’t catch the look of pride he was currently receiving. “This has rapidly become one of the best afternoons I’ve had in a long while.”