Your life is like one big cosmic joke. And you’re always the one delivering the punch line.

————————

The one thing that they’ve trusted you to do is take care of Kal. Baby Kal who doesn’t have a clue what’s going on—who shouldn’t have been brought into this world under the circumstances; who shouldn’t have been—you don’t have time to contemplate shit about this, with your family telling you to watch your head and giving you unceremonious shoves into the cramped little ship.

You hit your head, then watch as they load in Kal, and he shoots away. A kid sized bullet. You follow the path and turn just in time to see your uncle with his back turned.

You watch as your home burns. Stony faced, eyes wide open.

And then you fuck up during take-off.

————————

She hits the ground and realizes that something’s wrong—that this isn’t the normal feeling she should have. Like she’s just woken up from a long sleep. Stumbling from the rocket all bleary eyed, hollow eyed, and then pulling up from a crater. Kara, she’s talking to herself. Kara, what are you going to do? Kara, Kara, Kara, get yourself together. Find Kal! Kal! She’s screaming at herself, practically. Looking around the field where she’s landed with a pounding heart. There are no cries—nothing distinctive that she can see to pick Kal out from the landscape. Just her. A very big hole in the ground, and her.

Then someone pulling at her arm, forcing her to face them. Her instincts tell her that this is wrong. This is not normal behavior. Not what she has been told about this place—the stories, legends. Nothing is fitting together.

Kara’s in a game of tug-of-war with her arm. “Get your hands off of me!”

“Where are you from? Where did you come from?”

“I said,” she pushes against the stranger’s chest, and he flies back a few feet leaving a long skid mark in the field. “Get your hands, off of me.”

There’s only a split second for her to paste a shit-eating grin on her face before he’s up on his feet.

In front of her before she can blink.

He looks down at her and she looks up at him and they stand there staring at each other until she cracks. “No one told me they made earth boys like you.”

“Because they don’t.”

The boy—man?—has something familiar about him. Something that Kara can’t quite place her finger on. “Nice having this talk with you, but I need to get going. I need to find someone.” She tosses a look over her shoulder, not the least bit fazed by the mess she’s made. “My cousin. I need to find my cousin.”

He frowns. “Cousin?”

She should realize that normal Earth boys don’t act so calm around maybe-Aliens, who’ve just crash landed on their planet. “Yes. My cousin. Excuse me—I’m not aware of your name. So, just excuse me. And good-bye!”

Kara starts in at a run—he catches up for her. “What’s your cousin’s name?”

“I’m not sure that’s any of your business, sir.”

“That’s for me to decide.”

“Look, buddy. I don’t know what your problem is—”

“A name! I just need a name!”

“Kal-el. His name is Kal-el.”

“That’s not possible.”

“I assure you, it is.”

They’ve come to a stop, and she’s crossing her arms over her chest. “And like I said. It’s no business of yours Mr—”

“Kent. Clark Kent. And it is my business. Because I know where you’re from. I just don’t know how it’s possible. It shouldn’t be possible—Krypton burned—” Her heart catches in her throat.

“Kal?”

————————

“Excuse me? Sir? Sir? I’m looking for—can you—hey! Wait! Where are you going?” This off balance blonde girl has her “fuck you” finger raised in the air, pointed in the general direction of a man in a suit too busy pretending to talk into a cell phone to actually pay attention. “Yeah, thanks buddy! Thanks for nothing!” Slinging a bag further over her shoulder, she sighs.

It smells like cow shit here.

She tries again when she sees a woman, crow’s feet around her eyes look at her funny. “I’m looking for Kent Farm. Think you can point me in the right direction? The last three people I asked just walked away without saying anything—I thought that Smallville was supposed to be a friendly place!”

“Uh, Kent Farm’s about about miles that direction—”

“Great! Thanks!”

————————

She meets Lois Lane while she’s sitting in a pile of coffee grounds.

The words ‘hysterical blonde’ are thrown around, and Clark peers out from the bathroom to look at Kara, the remains of his coffee maker in her hands—wearing one of his Smallville High shirts and not much else. “I was just trying to surprise you!” she screams. “I was trying to be a good cousin! I was trying to—I just wanted to make coffee!”

“You smashed the percolator, Kara.”

“I didn’t mean to!”

————————

“She grew up in, uh.”

“Kr—”

“Canada! She grew up in Canada. Saskatchewan! Very backwards in, uh. Saskatchewan.” Clark gets frustrated with her.

So she latches on to Lois.

Lois teaches her things and tells her that she’s a growing girl, she really shouldn’t let Clark pick out her clothes for her. And she should really invest in some deodorant that doesn’t smell like—Old Spice. “People might get the wrong impression,” she says. “Or just think that you’re strange.”

“Because I like… Old Spice?”

“And you’re dressed in your cousin’s hand-me-downs.”

“I like them!”

“Kara, you can’t wear Clark’s old underpants and Clark’s old jeans and Clark’s old shirts.”

“Can I still wear his shoes?” They both look down at her feet that slip out of the boots Kara’s convinced fit her perfectly. When she stuffs socks into the toes. Lois sighs. Clark meets them in front of a dive a few blocks away from the Daily Planet offices, craning over the two women struggling to carry a mesh of bags and boxes. Or, one woman struggling. He almost cracks a smile.

Almost.

The corners of Kara’s mouth tug up instead, and she shoves her packages into Clark’s arms. “I got something for you! It’s fabulous. Lois told me it was called a Virgin Mary. You pray in front of it! Give thanks and everything. Also, I bought five. They’re so cute, Clark!” She digs around in the bag closest to her—pulls out five plastic wrapped statues. “Apparently she gave birth to Jesus without doing the fornication thing. At least, that’s what Lois told me. Isn’t that the silliest thing you’ve ever heard?”

Lois shrugs. “Guess Saskatchewan isn’t big on religion.”

And Kara shakes the five Marys in his face until he nods, says, yes, Kara, they’re lovely. “Lois also helped me pick out dresses. That other people have worn before, she says, but that’s okay with me. It gives themp—what do you call it? Character! Right, character. There’s one with little ducks on it, and another that looks like a funeral dress. I think someone might have died in it. It’s white and smells funny. But that is also okay with me because Lois is going to take me to the ‘coin laundry’ and we’re going to have a great time!”

She pauses for a breath. “Please hold on to her, Clark. She’s the best. And if you let her go, I’m going to kick your ass into next week.”