Chapter 29: The Weight of Family

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Kara Zor-El stood with her arms crossed, her youthful defiance unmistakable as she stared up at Alexander. The remnants of tears had long dried on her cheeks, replaced by a quiet determination. She had made up her mind—she was staying here, with him. Alexander could see it in her eyes, the same look of stubborn resolve he had seen in warriors on the battlefield, and in the faces of those who had no other choice but to fight for their survival.

Superman stood nearby, arms folded across his chest, glancing between them. His normally unflappable demeanour was tinged with visible unease. He had tried—tried to convince Kara to come with him, to live at his place where he could watch over her, teach her, protect her. But Kara had refused.

"I don't want to be a burden," she had said in Kryptonian, her voice wavering with emotion. And then, after a beat, "He understands."

It was that last part that sealed the decision. She didn't need to explain who "he" was. Alexander. Something about him, about the strength he carried with quiet certainty, had resonated with Kara. Superman had known then that his cousin's mind was made up if he were to go by what he had learned from his krypton A.I. Father about the women within the house of El.

Now, standing on the cold floor of the dreadnaught's expansive interior, Superman let out a long sigh, his hand running through his dark hair as he glanced at Kara. Her adamant stance was clear, and though he felt uneasy leaving her here, he understood. She had survived the journey from the farthest reaches of space. She had endured whatever horrors awaited her along the way. She needed space—space to adjust to her new reality, and maybe, just maybe, Alexander was the right person to give her that.

With a reluctant nod, Superman turned to Alexander. "You're sure you can handle this?" His voice held the weight of responsibility, layered with concern.

Alexander met his gaze evenly, his stoic expression unchanged. "She'll be safe here. I'll make sure of it."

Superman exhaled, his shoulders sagging slightly in resignation. "Alright," he said softly, though there was still a twinge of doubt in his voice. He turned to Kara, offering her a warm, almost paternal smile. "I'll be back to check on you. You're not alone here, Kara."

Kara managed a small, grateful nod, though her gaze remained on Alexander, as if silently telling him that she was placing her trust in him. Superman lingered for a moment longer, his eyes flicking to the towering walls of the dreadnaught, and then he took off. In an instant, he was gone, leaving only a faint gust of wind in his wake.

All the while Alexander was looking through the holo screens Kara was staring at him with a light blush on her face a little longer than what he was used to

---

Elsewhere, across the world in the Watchtower, the members of the Justice League gathered in the vast, holographic meeting room. Superman stood before them, recounting the events of the past few hours. His words were met with mixed reactions.

Wonder Woman smiled gently, her arms crossed, a look of quiet approval on her face. "It's good to know you're not the last of your kind," she said, her tone warm. "Family is important."

Green Lantern gave a low whistle. "A cousin, huh? Guess we're gonna have to throw her a welcoming party or something."

Even Aquaman smirked, his deep voice rumbling. "You've got a real Kryptonian dynasty going now."

But Batman—always the skeptic—scowled, his sharp gaze narrowing on Superman. "Are we sure this is safe?" he asked, his voice dark and brooding as ever. "She's just arrived, no records, no background. We don't know what kind of exposure she's had or if she poses any kind of threat—"

Superman's expression hardened slightly. "She's my cousin, Bruce. She's not a threat."

"She could be." Batman's voice was flat, his paranoia as sharp as ever. "I want a full diagnostic. Blood samples. Genetic testing. We need to know if there's anything we're missing. She might be compromised. We can't afford to take any chances."

Superman groaned inwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He had anticipated Batman's reaction, but it still grated on him. Bruce was always this way, always suspicious, always seeing danger where others saw hope. 

In a flash of inspiration, Superman straightened, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You want to do all that? Sure. Go ahead. But you'll have to ask Kai for permission."

Batman's sharp, calculating gaze flicked up, his scowl deepening. "Kai you mean Alexander?" he repeated, the name sounding like a challenge on his lips.

Superman shrugged, trying to keep his expression neutral. "Yeah. Kara's staying with him. His ship has all the tech you'll need if you want to run your tests. Just... be ready to explain why you're invading her privacy."

The tension in the room shifted, and there was a beat of silence. Batman's scowl deepened further, the gears in his mind turning, calculating the variables of this new situation. But he said nothing more, only a curt nod that promised future confrontation.

---

Back on the dreadnaught, the ship was quiet, the soft hum of its internal systems the only sound that filled the vast halls. Kara sat at one of the sleek metal tables, her arms resting on its smooth surface as she stared at the array of Earthling foods in front of her. Alexander, ever observant, sat across from her, watching her reactions with his quiet intensity.

The food—simple things like bread, fruits, and a small bowl of soup—looked foreign to her, but she picked at it curiously, sampling bits here and there. Alexander, in his usual silent way, made no move to rush her. He was more interested in observing—watching how her body responded to Earth's food, to the atmosphere, and to the gravity of the planet.

Beside him, a status slate hovered, flickering with soft blue light. The data on the screen showed a series of measurements, subtle shifts in Kara's biology as her body adapted to Earth's environment. Her metabolism was adjusting, her cells absorbing the radiation from the yellow sun at a remarkable rate. In many ways, her physiology was similar to Superman's, but there were distinct differences—things that spoke to her age, her recent exposure to cosmic radiation, and the trauma of her journey to Earth.

As Alexander examined the data, Kara glanced up at him, her blue eyes searching his face. She said something in Kryptonian, her voice soft and hesitant. Alexander couldn't understand the words, but the intent was clear. She was asking him... about herself, about what was happening to her.

Alexander glanced at the status slate, then back at her. He tapped a few commands into the slate, bringing up a more simplified explanation of her condition. Then, with a quiet gesture, he slid the slate towards her, letting her read the data herself.

Kara's brow furrowed as she studied the slate. Her fingers traced the lines of text, her lips moving silently as she tried to make sense of the unfamiliar words. After a moment, she looked up again, her expression more determined this time. She wanted to understand. She wanted to learn.

Alexander gave her a small nod, acknowledging her resolve. Without words, he knew they had begun something—an exchange of knowledge, of understanding. And perhaps, through this, they would both learn something not only about each other but about their places in this world.

The quiet hum of the ship continued around them, and in that silence, they worked side by side—the Valorian warrior and the last daughter of Krypton—building the foundation for a bond that would shape the coming days.