Superwoman and Son

Chapter 2: A Mother's Vow

Morning light filtered through the curtains of the Kent farmhouse, casting a warm glow over the room where Kara sat, cradling Kal in her arms. It had been a few days since they had arrived, and though Earth was still strange to her, this moment felt almost peaceful. Kal stirred, his tiny fingers brushing against her hand, and Kara felt a rush of protectiveness surge through her chest. He was so fragile—so dependent on her now.

She looked down at him, his tiny body still wrapped in the remnants of his Kryptonian swaddling cloth. He was more than just her cousin. As she gazed at his peaceful face, a sudden realization struck her, one that had been simmering ever since they landed on this alien planet.

She was all he had. More than a protector—she was his mother now. The weight of that thought settled over her like a heavy cloak. Back on Krypton, her role had been clear: keep him safe, deliver him to Earth. But now? Now they were here, and the Kents were kind, but they couldn't understand what it meant to be Kryptonian. They wouldn't know how to raise him.

But she did.

Her thoughts drifted to her own parents, to the home they had lost. Kara had grown up in a world where family meant everything—her parents had sacrificed everything to send her and Kal away, and now it was her duty to continue that legacy. A sudden determination filled her. Kal wasn't just her cousin anymore. He was hers to raise, hers to guide, hers to love.

She was his mother now.

As if sensing her inner shift, Kal let out a soft coo, his tiny hands gripping onto her finger. Kara smiled gently, her heart swelling with affection. She would raise him the way her parents had raised her—with love, strength, and the knowledge of who they truly were. He would grow up knowing his heritage, even if they were alone on this strange planet.

The sound of footsteps pulled Kara from her thoughts. Martha Kent appeared in the doorway, her warm smile lighting up the room. "How's he doing?" she asked softly, glancing at Kal with a motherly gaze.

Kara looked up, her voice steady. "He's perfect," she replied, shifting Kal slightly in her arms. "I think he's hungry again."

Martha chuckled, stepping forward to help. "Babies tend to be. It's part of the job."

Kara hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering with a brief uncertainty. She knew the Kents had raised children before; they had experience in this. But this was different. Kal wasn't like their son. He wasn't human. He was Kryptonian, and no one on Earth could understand what that meant except her.

Martha handed Kara a bottle, her hands steady and reassuring. "You're doing a great job, Kara," she said kindly, sensing the young woman's inner turmoil. "I know this must be overwhelming, but you've got a good heart. You're already a great protector for him."

The word "protector" echoed in Kara's mind, but it felt incomplete now. She wasn't just his protector. Kal was more than her responsibility—he was her purpose. She stared down at him as he suckled from the bottle, feeling the bond between them grow stronger with each passing moment. A fire burned inside her. She wasn't just here to keep him safe. She was here to raise him, to love him as if he were her own.

Because he was.

Kara lifted her gaze to meet Martha's. "I'm not just his protector," she said quietly, the words feeling foreign on her tongue but right in her heart. "I'm his mother now."

Martha's eyes softened, and for a moment, the older woman said nothing. She simply looked at Kara, her expression full of understanding. She, too, had raised a child that wasn't biologically hers, and the depth of love and commitment she saw in Kara's eyes was something she understood intimately.

Martha placed a gentle hand on Kara's shoulder. "Then he's lucky to have you," she said softly.

Kara nodded, feeling the weight of her decision settle over her, but it wasn't a burden. It was a responsibility, yes, but it was also a gift. She had lost everything—her home, her parents, her life as she had known it. But she had Kal. She had a future now, not just for herself, but for him.

The days that followed were a whirlwind of adjustment. Kara threw herself into the routine of caring for Kal with an intensity that both impressed and worried the Kents. She refused to leave his side for more than a few moments, even as they tried to reassure her that it was okay to take a break.

"Jonathan and I can watch him while you rest," Martha suggested one evening, as Kara sat by the crib they had fashioned out of an old wooden bassinet. "You've been up with him every night."

But Kara shook her head. "No. I'm fine," she said, her voice firm. She wasn't tired—at least not in a way that mattered. Her Kryptonian physiology allowed her to handle more stress than an Earthling could, but it wasn't just that. She couldn't let anyone else take over. Kal was her responsibility now, and no one else would understand what he needed.

Still, Martha and Jonathan tried to help in other ways. They showed Kara how to bottle-feed Kal with formula since she didn't have access to Kryptonian sustenance. They explained how Earth babies developed, how to soothe him when he cried, and how to manage his sleep schedule.

Kara appreciated their kindness, but deep down, she believed she knew best. Kal wasn't like human babies. He would grow up faster, stronger, and different. And she had to make sure he was prepared for the truth of who he was.

One afternoon, as the sun dipped low over the horizon, casting long shadows across the Kent farm, Kara stood by the window, watching Kal sleep in his crib. Her mind was racing. She couldn't rely on Earth's methods forever. Kal was Kryptonian, and he needed to know about his heritage. Kara's memories of Krypton were still vivid—the cities, the stars, the advanced technology. She couldn't let that fade. Kal needed to know where they came from, and it was her duty to make sure he would grow up with that knowledge.

But there was something else gnawing at her. She hadn't yet told the Kents the full truth about their situation. Kal wasn't just any baby; he had a destiny, one tied to Earth's future. And Kara knew she had to prepare him for that, even if she wasn't sure what it would look like.

Kara sighed, running a hand through her golden hair as she turned away from the window. She crossed the room to where Kal lay, peaceful and unaware of the weight of the future that rested on his tiny shoulders. Gently, she reached down, brushing a strand of dark hair from his forehead.

"I'll make sure you're ready," she whispered, her voice filled with resolve. "I'll be the mother you need."

That night, Kara sat alone on the porch, her gaze fixed on the stars. The vastness of the sky reminded her of Krypton, of her parents, of everything she had lost. But it also reminded her of the promise she had made to herself—to protect Kal, to raise him, to love him like her own.

She closed her eyes and let the cool breeze wash over her. She had a lot to learn about being a mother, but she wasn't afraid. She had already faced the destruction of her world, the loss of everything she had known. Being a mother, she realized, wasn't just about being perfect. It was about being there, about making sure Kal grew up knowing that he was loved.

And she would make sure of that, no matter what.

With that vow cemented in her heart, Kara stood, casting one last glance at the stars. Krypton might be gone, but she and Kal were still here. They had a future, and she would make sure it was a bright one.

She wasn't just his cousin. She was his mother. And from now on, she would act like it.