Green Captain, Red Daughter

Chapter 8: Hard Truths

Katya let out a hoarse gasp and a litany of Kryptonian words Jor-El would not have included in his dictionary for his son as Oliver finished temporarily dressing the wounds. Her vision was swimming, and she leaned her forehead on his shoulder. "That didn't take long." She said sardonically.

"We knew you coming out was a risk." Oliver answered, something grinding in his voice. "It's not ARGUS. They know your tolerances too well, and it would have been liquid." He pushed a lock of hair of hair off of her forehead. "We'll figure it out, Дорогая." He sighed. "I'm going to go get the kryptonite to Vasiliy, see if he and Anatoly can track it, and burn the burnables. Keep the red lights on until we're sure it's all out, and clean up as best you can. No restrictive clothes, and fast food menus are in the end table by the door."

Katya gave him an wan indulgent smile, and a smart-assed little gesture. "Yes, Doctor." She teased.

The corners of Oliver's lips turned up, but it was as much of a smile as he'd show in front of Kal-El. Speaking of the annoying Kryptonian. "You." He said, looking at the man. "You are a guest, Kal-El. You got to her in time, and for that reason, I won't lay you out flat for upsetting her in the first place, but try not to stick your foot in your mouth again, or I'll put an arrow up your self-righteous ass. Are we clear?"

"Clear." Superman said, swallowing hard.

Katya tilted her head at him. "It's probably strange that I find you threatening people endearing, солнышко моё, but no beating up my baby cousin."

"Have you met the man you call your brother, ?" Oliver asked, fighting the urge to smile. "And if we humans are so harmless, he won't worry anyway." The acid had crawled back into his voice, making that last statement a threat.

"Fair point." Katya replied, waving as he left.

She waited for a moment after the door closed, before sliding off of the table with a wince. Without looking at Superman, she headed to the bedroom of the apartment. She somehow managed to peel out of the rest of the costume, and tossed the mask on the bed, before finding the loosest dress she could in her wardrobe and sliding it on. Returning to the kitchen, albeit favoring her side and wincing most of the way, she reached for a cloth to clean up the table. "Thank you, Kal." She said softly. It rankled her that she had been sent to protect him, and yet it seemed like she was always the one who needed saved.

"Here, let me help with that." Kal-El said, pulling another cleaning cloth from the tub by the sink and trying not to focus on the fact that he was cleaning up Kryptonian blood.

Normally, Katya wouldn't have let him, paranoid as she was about her blood, but she threw her cloth in the fireplace, and headed for the menus. "Pizza, Chinese, or Mexican?"

Clark still felt queasy, but he knew from experience food was necessary to heal. "Pizza's good."

Katya nodded and ordered four large pizzas and two two liters of cola, before flopping on the couch with a wince. "So, tell me about your life, Kal. I want to hear everything."

Clark really wanted to ask questions more than he wanted to talk about his utterly normal life, but seeing Kara so vulnerable tonight had made him more sympathetic to her than he thought was possible, especially after he saw her burn that thief, and after he had heard about the dead kidnappers. The scars and her companion's short answers told a hazy story, but it was not a pleasant one. So, instead he told stories. All the little stories that made Lois call him Smallville even now, happy stories of Ma and Pa and Kansas. He had just reached the awkward teenage years and the first emergence of his powers, when the intercom buzzed.