The golden light of dusk cast warm reflections across the inner walls of the Talon. Lana locked the café's doors with a practiced motion, her shoulders slightly tense from the weight of her routine. She was about to head upstairs for a quick shower before starting another shift when something made her pause at the foot of the stairs.
A soft, almost hesitant knock echoed from the front door. Two deliberate taps, as if the visitor wasn't quite sure.
Lana frowned. The "Closed" sign was up, and the main lights were already off.
She approached cautiously, peering through the narrow gap in the curtains. When she opened the door, a vibrant bouquet filled her view—freshly cut flowers, their scent carrying a hint of spring.
Confused, Lana leaned to the side and met the eyes of the person behind the gift.
Jason.
His eyes were weary, but his smile was genuine.
"Hey… I hope you still like lilies."
Lana took a moment to process. Time seemed to crumble between blinks. Then, without thinking, she returned a smile—purer than any she'd managed in months.
"Jason…? My God, you…"
She trailed off, shaking her head in disbelief as she opened the door fully. Jason took a tentative step forward, still clutching the flowers like an unintentional shield.
"I know. It's kind of sudden. But… I needed to see you."
Lana gently took the bouquet, her fingers brushing lightly against his, and inhaled the scent as if it revived a forgotten part of herself.
"You came all the way to Smallville… why?"
Jason offered a faint smile, glancing away for a moment.
"Because I needed to know if there's still a place for me here."
Lana didn't answer right away. Her eyes searched his face for answers, but all she found was raw sincerity.
She stepped aside.
"Come in. It's cold out there."
Jason complied in silence. Even closed, the Talon seemed to hum with life with both of them inside. Lana placed the bouquet on the counter, arranging the stems in a makeshift glass of water.
"You didn't call, didn't warn me, didn't send anything…"
Jason leaned against the wall near the stairs, his body still on edge.
"I didn't know if I should. I didn't know if I was still welcome."
Lana crossed her arms, but her gaze held no anger.
"You always were. I was the one who left you in Paris, remember? Coming to Smallville was something… I needed to do."
Jason raised his eyebrows, his smile softening.
"I guess it was the same for me. I needed to talk to you. See you with my own eyes."
For a fleeting moment, Lana's mind stilled—a rare occurrence lately. Usually torn between studying Isobel's grimoire and work, this moment with Jason felt like a brief pause—quiet and direct.
She held his gaze for a second longer, no pretense.
"I'm going upstairs to shower before my shift. Wanna come up? The room's up there."
Jason nodded immediately.
"The flight was long… and the bus seat felt like it was made of stone. Sitting somewhere decent sounds like paradise right now."
She grabbed a towel from a chair and climbed the stairs without waiting for a reply, certain he'd follow.
Jason trailed behind quietly. His steps were light, but his eyes were curious. When they reached the top, a sudden heat flared across the tattoo on Lana's back—a sharp, burning sting, like a hidden iron pressed against her skin. She froze for less than a second… and ignored it.
She kept walking as if nothing had happened.
Jason didn't notice anything unusual, only the faint scent of lavender in the air and the almost carefree way Lana tossed the towel onto the bed.
She turned to him, resting a hand on the bathroom doorframe. Her gaze was calm, but her stance was direct. No games. No barriers.
"Make yourself at home. I'm glad you came."
Jason smiled—not just any smile, but one that lingered in memory. He pulled up a chair and sat, taking in every detail of the room as if he wanted to memorize it.
"It's not the Paris apartment… but there's more life here."
Lana blinked slowly.
"Maybe because now I'm actually living."
She closed the bathroom door with a soft click.
Jason leaned back in the chair. His body was still tired. His mind, still tangled with questions he didn't dare voice.
But for now, none of that mattered.
He was here. And so was Lana.
---
Clark's House
The room was still half-shrouded in shadow when Clark looked up at Diana, sitting on the edge of the bed. Their conversation carried a weight that hung in the air like sunlit dust—not urgent, but persistent.
"I know I can't force things. But every decision I make seems to push the world closer to collapse."
Diana remained composed, seated across from him with her arms resting on her crossed legs. Her posture was steady, but her gaze was gentle.
"You're not alone in this. But you need to stop thinking like you are."
Clark opened his mouth to respond, but no words came.
'Damn it… even with a Kryptonian brain, I can't figure a way out. Jor-El said it wasn't technology… so it has to be magic. But who would I call to handle something like that?'
His eyes drifted to the carpet for a moment.
'Wait… Zatanna. She gave me her number… I wrote it down somewhere. I hope it still works. It's been so long…'
His train of thought snapped.
Something downstairs caught his attention. Not a scream. Not a sound of danger. Just… noise.
The television was on. The volume was low, but his super-hearing caught every word with crystal clarity.
"…bodies found with no immediate identification, but police sources confirm one of the victims was Alfred Pennyworth, butler to the Wayne family, and the other, Arthur Fleck, known for prior involvement in public disturbances…"
Clark's brow furrowed as he rose slowly. Diana noticed the shift in his posture.
"What is it?"
He raised a hand, asking for silence, and moved toward the door.
"You'd better come with me."
They descended together. Downstairs, Kyla sat on the couch, remote in hand, while Tina stood with her arms crossed, her expression serious.
The news report continued.
"…Gotham authorities have also confirmed the disappearance of businessman Bruce Wayne, whose residence was found in concerning condition. The leading theory is kidnapping, though no demands or messages have surfaced yet."
Clark stared at the screen for a few seconds. The reporter showed footage of the Wayne Manor gate, yellow police tape, and shadowy figures of officers moving in and out.
Diana stood beside him, her eyes tracking every detail.
"This is the man you mentioned before. Your… enemy?"
Clark took a deep breath. The name felt heavy on his tongue, as if speaking it would lend more power to the truth.
"Yes. Bruce Wayne. Or what's left of him."
The silence that followed was thick—not from shock, but from understanding. Diana asked no further questions. Tina and Kyla stayed quiet.
Clark turned back to the stairs.
"I'll be right back."
Diana followed without hesitation. They climbed the steps in silence, the sound of the TV still echoing through the house.
In the bedroom, Clark ran a hand over his face. The news could spin a more palatable story for the world, but he knew. There was no kidnapping. No innocence.
Bruce had chosen to vanish. He had chosen to embrace the darkness.
And now, the world believed he was a victim.
"Does this change anything?" Diana asked, closing the door.
Clark stared at the floor for a moment, then out the window at the horizon.
"It changes what others think of him. But it doesn't change what he's become."
📢 Bonus Chapter Available!
Are you following my stories DXD: The Awakening of Phenex, Reincarnation in Smallville, or DXD: Gasper's Awakening?
Then I have a surprise for you!
Support my work on Patreon and gain access to exclusive bonus chapters, behind-the-scenes content, and much more.
Your support means the world to me and helps me keep writing the stories you love.
💖 Support here: patreon.com/22Mirko22
Thank you so much for reading — see you in the next chapter!