Chapter Text
Barry stares at the child that's just materialized inside his front door.
It was very literally a materialization—Barry watched him come into existence an atom at a time.
"Hi," he says. "My name is Bart! I'm your grandson from the future, and my mom sent me to live with you."
"Um. Hello. I'm Barry."
"I know! Is Grandma Iris here? Is my dad here? I want to meet my dad."
Barry tries to collect himself quickly enough that this kid—who is definitely a speedster based on how fast he's talking—won't notice how thrown he is.
Is he telling the truth? If he's excited to meet his dad, does that mean Barry's unborn son is dead in the future? Why would the kid's mom send him here? Can he trust an unknown teen speedster enough to introduce him to Iris?
He has Iris' eyes, Barry's nose, Barry's speed. Although—superspeed shouldn't logically be hereditary, should it? Barry doesn't have it because of genetics. He knows Barry's address and Iris' name. He's probably telling the truth. Which means he's now Barry's responsibility for at least the next, what, three to five years? How old is he?
"Grandpa?" the kid asks.
"It's just me and Iris for now. Would you like to meet her?"
He nods hard, great mass of fluffy hair flipping wildly.
"Great. Just—wait here, okay? I'll go find her."
He nods again. Barry races to the next room, where Iris is waiting.
"Did you hear all that?"
"I heard you talking to someone. You were both talking mostly at superspeed, so I have no idea what you said."
He fills her in.
"Hm. Do we believe him?"
"I think so."
Bart isn't in the front hallway when they get back, but he races back in a moment later.
"Hi, Grandma! I'm Bart. What's this?" He holds out a photo that must have been from when Iris was in high school—exactly how much snooping did he do in the two minutes they were talking?
Iris takes the picture. "This is a photo of me when I was younger. A Polaroid."
"Polaroid," he repeats. "But what are the cages on your teeth?"
"Those are my braces."
"Braces. What are they for? Are they jewelry?"
He has an accent—one Barry can't place at all—and his pronunciation of "jewelry" is strange.
"Where are you from, Bart?" Iris asks.
"The future."
"Yes, but where do you live in the future?"
"Oh, you wouldn't recognize it. All the maps and stuff are different."
Barry and Iris exchange glances. Something huge would have to happen for the map to change dramatically in, what, a generation and a half?
"What year are you from?" Iris asks.
“3004. I've been practicing my old English for ages. It's really good, right? I didn't know about Polaroids and braces, though. And other stuff—I found lots of stuff I don't know the words for."
"Bart," Barry says. "How are we related, exactly?"
"Your son is my dad."
"Then how did you come to be nearly a thousand years in the future?"
"I guess you guys move there. I don't know. People don't tell me things."
"All right," Iris says. "We don't need to worry about that right now. How old are you, Bart?"
“I have no idea. What year is it? Wait, no, that won’t help—I haven’t been born yet. I’m at least two.”
“Two?”
“Also twelve. It's complicated."
Another glance at Iris; she looks as confused as he is. Barry would have said he was at least fourteen, but the two is a lot more worrying than the twelve.
"I age fast because I was already a speedster when I was born. You're supposed to fix it; that's why Mom sent me back. Part of why Mom sent me back. So I don’t die of old age before I grow up."
"All right. We'll...look into that. How fast are you aging? You've been alive for two years?"
"Yes. And I had my twelfth birthday party before I left."
So he's aging about six times faster than normal. Maybe a little more, because he really doesn't look twelve. That's alarming, but a few weeks of research shouldn't hurt him. Probably Barry needs to figure out some other things about the care and keeping of teenage boys before he tackles the aging thing. He'll need clothes. ID. Food. A lot of food.
"Okay. Why don't you show your grandma some of those things you don't know the words for, while I make a call?"
-
“Hey, Bruce? It’s Barry. I might need some advice on adopting teenagers from the multiverse.”
Bruce stares down at his phone. “How—"
“Well, not from the multiverse, exactly. From the future. But I figure the same advice might apply? So my grandson is here, and he’s a teenager but he’s also a toddler, and my daughter-in-law sent him to the past so he won’t die of old age before he grows up.”
“That…does not sound like a situation I’m qualified to advise you on.”
“Right, right, that’s speedster stuff. We’ll sort out the aging. The problem is I don’t think I can send him back home after.”
“All right. Tell me what you know.”
Barry tells him. It’s not much.
“You have somewhere for him to sleep? Something he can sleep in? Enough food to get him to tomorrow?”
“I think so.”
“I’ll come by tomorrow with some clothes that might fit, and we’ll figure things out. Just get to know him tonight, all right?”
“Sure. Thanks, Bruce.”
Barry hangs up. Five minutes later, Clark calls him.
“Hey, Bruce? I just picked up a probably-Kryptonian teenager, and I need some advice.”
Bruce frowns at the phone. "Is this some sort of prank?"
"What? Why would it be prank?"
"I just spoke to Barry, and he—"
"I don't know what Barry's up to; I haven't spoken to him since the last meeting. Bruce, what do I do?"
"Tell me what you know, first."
"Right. Right, okay. J'onn is on monitor duty right now. Called me because he saw a single seat spaceship crash, thought the design looked Kryptonian. I got there and pulled off a crushed door to let out a girl, about sixteen, not enough sun exposure yet for powers to kick in. Disoriented from the crash. Called me Uncle Jor-el, in Kryptonian. Passed out. I took her to the Fortress. She seems okay, exhausted, very minor concussion. Hasn't woken up yet."
"Sixteen," Bruce says. "Krypton was destroyed before she was born."
"I know."
"All right. Well, until she wakes up—"
"She won't know anything about American customs or even earth customs, she won't speak any English, she'll have new superpowers she doesn't know how to control—I can't leave her alone at the Fortress, and I can't leave her with my parents, and I can't have her move in with me while Kon is still living with my parents, but I don't have room for both of them and I don't think we can afford an apartment big enough, and if Kon moves in Lex is definitely going to notice."
"Breathe, Clark." He pauses. "You do need to breathe, don't you?"
"Occasionally."
"Then do it now. Wait for her to wake up. Find out who she is, where she's from, how she got here, and we'll go from there."
"All right."
"Call back once you've talked to her."
He hangs up, and starts looking for realty listings in Metropolis. Clark is right that Lex would likely notice Kon moving to Metropolis. Maybe if they installed a zeta tube in the new house? But it’s possible Lex could track that sort of energy. Of course Bruce has no reason to believe Kon even wants to live with Clark in Metropolis. It's mostly about having the option to present to him for the sake of fairness.
Clark's current apartment isn't large enough to comfortably add this new girl, even aside from Kon's involvement.
Is Barry's house large enough to hold an additional teenager? Probably, but he doesn't make enough money to feed two speedsters.
Bruce will need to call the bank, but there are logistics to work out first; you can't simply hand over a large sum of money to people that should be strangers. Tax season will bring questions.
-
Clark leaves the sleeping girl, very briefly, to collect her ship and bring it to the Fortress. She hasn't woken yet, which he reminds himself isn't a concern; all of her vitals are normal. The Fortress identifies the ship as Kryptonian, likely built within the last two years of Krypton's existence, wear and tear consistent with prolonged space travel, approximate engine age three years.
Well, that makes no sense.
He brings Jor-el online. That probably should have been his first step, considering what the girl had called him. But he has the program set up to only activate automatically if Clark enters the fortress alone. The holographic AI of his dead bio dad tends to be a little much for visitors. And Clark's not sure if the program is degrading or getting stronger, but Jor-el keeps trying to show people his Kryptonian baby pictures.
“This is your cousin, Kara Zor-El,” Jor-el tells him. “She appears scarcely older than she was when Krypton fell.”
Clark leaves him to inspect the ship and think on that mystery while he calls Lois to let her know he’ll be home late. And possibly with a guest who doesn’t speak English and has superstrength.
“I believe her ship was stalled out within a temporal anomaly,” Jor-el reports when he hangs up with Lois.
“So, what, time just wasn’t happening where she was?”
“Essentially.”
“So as far as she’s concerned Krypton was just destroyed and I’m a baby.” He studies the holographic face for a moment. “She called me Jor-el. I don’t even look like you.”
“You look more like your mother. Doubtless she was disoriented by the landing.”
“Help me figure out how to explain? My Kryptonian is rusty.”