Chapter Text
Kyle closed the door to the private office, and Jonathan felt his heart seize. This was the one place where he had started to feel valued—not as a famous son or a troubled brother, but as a worker who showed up and did the job. To lose it because Jordan couldn't control his impulses was more than he could stomach.
He had become an expert at the mask, though. He kept his expression neutral and waited for his boss to speak.
“I hope you understand I’m asking this because of the evidence in front of me,” Mr. Cushing said, leaning against the edge of his desk. “It is not an accusation. It’s a question.”
Jon nodded. “I understand, sir.”
“Are you back on XK?”
“I am not. Nor have I been—not since the day I was caught. I meant what I said to you, Mr. Cushing.”
“There was ice inside. You didn’t go in, did you? Someone else did. Someone with... abilities. It’s obvious by the pattern of entry that a human couldn't have been the one to clear that room.”
“I did not go in, sir. I stayed by the truck, just like the orders I was given.”
“Did you see anything? Was it Superman?”
Jon’s gaze flickered. A familiar guilt gnawed at him—the instinct to protect the secret, to lie for the family brand. But then he thought about his brother’s recklessness and how many times he had already been sacrificed on the altar of Jordan’s "destiny." He was done being the collateral damage for a brother who refused to learn.
“No, sir. It wasn't him.”
“Do you know who it was?”
Jon took a breath, choosing his words with surgical precision. “I’m not comfortable saying anything about who it could have been. But I can tell you for certain, sir... it wasn't me.”
There was something in the way the teen said it—the absolute, weary finality of a boy who knew his place in a world of gods—that made Mr. Cushing pause.
“Okay. Okay, then.” Kyle sighed, the tension leaving his shoulders. “Look, since I was wrong about the XK—and I do apologize—you still have a job here, Jonathan. If you want it.”
Relief swept across Jon’s face, shattering the mask. “I do. I understand why you thought what you did. Thank you, sir. Next time... I’ll do a better job of speaking up for myself.”
“It’s hard to do that when you’re being called out. I am sorry about that.” Kyle looked toward the window. “Guess I’ll have to do some digging to figure out who actually did the rescue.”
Jon paled, but Mr. Cushing continued, his voice softer. “No worries—even if you know, I don’t have the right to ask you to tell me something you don’t want to divulge. I know you don't want anyone to get hurt. I don't either. But I have to know what's happening in my town.”
Jon nodded. “I understand, sir.”
---
“Do you still have your job?” Sarah asked him later, her voice tight with worry.
“Yes! Yes, thank God.” Jon leaned back against the brick wall, the adrenaline finally fading. “I’m so relieved. It means everything to me. I guess the affairs of ‘mere mortals’ like us might seem trivial to those with power, but this job... it’s the first time in a long time I’ve felt like I belonged.”
“I can see that,” she said pensively. “I was really worried for you, Jon.”
“Your dad knows it was someone with powers, though. Because of all the ice left behind. He might ask you and your mom about what you know.”
“I should talk to her,” Sarah said. “Get our stories straight.”
“I’m done lying to protect others,” Jon said, his voice hardening with a new kind of resolve. “Whether it’s Candice or my own family. I told Mr. Cushing I wouldn’t talk about it. If you want to talk to my dad and brother, that’s up to you—but from where I’m standing, I don't have any expectations about what you tell your father.”
Sarah nodded, processing the change in him.
“Jordan sure didn't make it easy to keep a secret, leaving an ice trail behind,” she noted. “Is that even normal after a fire?”
“I have no idea,” Jon laughed, a short, dry sound. “I don't exactly have briefings on post-rescue cleanup. Seeing as how it has nothing to do with me.”
“Well—I mean—doesn't it, though? It’s your family. Doesn't your mom know about those details?”
“Sure. But she’s a reporter. To her, it’s news. To them, it’s the family business.” Jon looked away. “I don’t belong to that part of the family.”
“Do you really feel like that?”
“Sometimes,” Jon admitted. “But maybe that’s just life.”
Sarah stepped over and pulled him into a hug. “Look... I’m glad you’re part of your family, and I’m glad you’re part of my life. So talk to me if you feel disconnected. Okay? You’re one of the people I trust most in this town.”
Jon grinned at her, the weight on his chest finally feeling manageable. For the first time in a long time, he felt like Jonathan Kent was enough.