Title: Rainbow’s Freedom (Rainbow Prisms Arc) (13/42)
Pairings/Characters: (this chapter): Clark/Bruce, Dick, Alfred, Jonathan/Martha
Series Notes: In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices the ancient institution of slavery. Clark finally learns about his identity and heritage. Will that knowledge tear him and Bruce apart? Meanwhile, Rebellion and Abolition twist and turn in the pageantry of events.
The entire series can be found here.
Genres: AU, Drama, Slavefic
Rating: (this chapter): PG-13
Summary: Bruce gets an invitation from Martha and Jonathan Kent to visit Smallville.
Date Of Completion (First Draft): November 4, 2010
Date Of Posting: October 12, 2011
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1526
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Note: The magnificent story cover is by the wonderfully-talented ctbn60. Thanks so much, luv! :)
But I’m going home.
“Thank you for the invitation, Martha. My Household and I appreciate it. See you tomorrow.”
Bruce flipped his cellphone shut and met an eager Clark’s eyes.
“We’re going home tomorrow?”
Bruce ignored the sting of that question. Of course Clark was excited. He finally was getting his memory back, and his parents were first in that rush of remembrance.
“Yes. We’re taking the train. Better get packed right away.”
Clark hugged him and hurried off to fulfill Bruce’s suggestion.
Bruce rubbed his face. He still could not quite believe that Martha and Jonathan Kent were Clark’s parents. There were so many questions to answer: why did a Kryptonian have Human parents? What had happened to Clark when he had left Earth after graduating college? Clark did not remember why had had left. Bruce had discovered the news articles on Clark Kent missing in space.
I can’t believe I gave Clark the name he’d already had after seeing an article about Martha Kent and her Abolition work. That’s a pretty spooky coincidence.
Bruce was amazed at how everything had come together. Unless the Kents were hiding some deep, dark secret they must have been wonderful parents to Clark, because his lover held good feelings for them, even if his memories were fragmentary right now. Abusive parents would not have evoked such positive feelings in Clark, of that Bruce was sure.
Dick dashed into the library. “Bruce, Clark told me you’re going to Smallville to tell the Kents about him. Am I coming, too?”
Bruce ruffled Dick’s hair with a grin. “Of course.”
“Great! I’ll go pack!”
Like a whirlwind, Dick was out of the room. Bruce could not help chuckling as Alfred entered the library.
“Always a mad dash, sir.”
Bruce’s eyes sparkled. “Yes. Never a snail’s pace for our boy.”
Alfred nodded serenely. “Shall I pack as well, sir?”
“Yes. I asked Martha how she and Jonathan would feel about housing three slaves, considering their work, but she said that was precisely why she wanted you all to stay.”
“Very good, sir.”
Alfred went to pack, Bruce gazing at his parents’ portrait. “It won’t be easy, you know.” He crossed his arms. “They’re going to be shocked, and rightly so. I don’t know how they’re going to react.” He sighed. “Clark’s going home.”
Bruce tamped down on his apprehension as Alfred drove their rented car up the driveway of the Kent Farm. The yellow clapboard farmhouse was like something out of a Currier-and-Ives print, surrounded by yellow and dark-red chrysanthemums. A set of silver windchimes tinkled sweetly in the slight breeze.
A barn was several yards away from the house, red paint fading into a weatherbeaten façade, and a gray truck was parked by the house.
Bruce could tell that Clark was excited and nervous. He had remembered more of his childhood: holidays and picnics and freshly-baked pie in the kitchen, and just general warmth and love.
I hope it all works out for you, Clark.
A tiny part of his mind felt as if Clark would stay with his newly-found family, but the rational part asserted that he would come back with him, Dick and Alfred.
This is your childhood home, so I know you’ll always have a special feeling for this place. And of course your parents are foremost in your heart.
He of all people understood about the importance of parents.
Bruce got out of the car, Alfred going to the trunk to retrieve the luggage, Dick helping him. Clark was going to help, but Bruce laid a hand on his arm. “Come with me.”
Clark nodded and followed Bruce to the porch, his hands clutching and unclutching his slave bracelet. He was wearing his dark glasses, staying in the shadow of the porch.
“On second thought, help Alfred and Dick with the luggage.”
Bruce squeezed his hand. “Please.”
Clark reluctantly nodded and headed for the car.
Bruce turned to see Martha at the screen door. She opened it and ushered him inside, seeing his slaves busy at the car.
“I wish you’d have let Jonathan or I pick you up.”
“Oh, you’re busy people. Besides, now you won’t have to chauffeur us around.”
And, I didn’t want this scene to take place at the Smallville airport. We all might be driven off the farm, except for Clark.
The living room was filled with comfortable furniture, well-worn but still in good condition: a couch, two overstuffed chairs, a straight-backed chair, and two ottomans. All were in restful greens and blues, and a coffee table held a book about Metropolis.
A shelf was filled with little curios: a miniature 1939 World’s Fair sphere and pylon, a gold-painted paperweight of The Daily Planet, one of Metropolis’ most famous landmarks, a souvenir seashell from Atlantic City, and a fire gem from Rigel VII.
Photographs were hanging on the wall: a wedding photo of the Kents, pictures of who Bruce guessed to be their parents, and a photograph of a younger Jonathan and Martha with a little boy of about three, with blue-black hair and incredible blue eyes.
Bruce did not go over for a closer look. Jonathan was coming in from the kitchen to greet him. “Hello, Bruce.” They shook hands and Bruce said, “Thank you for having me and my family.”
A flicker of respect went through Jonathan’s eyes at the use of the world ‘family’. Bruce knew that the man was not thrilled with having slaves on the property, especially a pleasure slave. He was principled but would be a good host despite his feelings.
At least for the next few minutes.
Alfred and Dick came in with the luggage, Clark trailing behind them with two suitcases.
“Martha, Jonathan, we have a surprise for you,” Bruce said.
Everyone set down the luggage and Clark came forward, stopping at Bruce’s side, their shoulders brushing. He took off his dark glasses.
Both Kents’ eyes widened, Martha gasping as she put a hand to her chest. “Cl…Clark?”
“Yes, Mom.” Clark’s smile rivaled the sun.
Sobbing, Martha ran forward into Clark’s outstretched arms. “My baby! My boy!”
“Oh, Mom.” Clark hugged her tightly.
Jonathan moved forward. “Son,” he whispered.
Clark drew him into the hug, too, with “Dad” on his lips.
Bruce, Dick, and Alfred stood back, Alfred’s hand on Dick’s shoulder as they all smiled, enjoying the pure moment before the inevitable questions.
Finally, the Kents pulled apart, Martha dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
Clark smiled gently, taking her hand. “I don’t remember it all myself yet.”
“Don’t remember? You mean you’ve had amnesia?”
Clark nodded. “Because of a drug I was given…”
“Wait a minute!” Jonathan exclaimed. “You’re a slave!”
“Yes, Dad, Bruce…”
Jonathan turned on Bruce with fury. “You gave him a drug that suppressed his memory and made him a pleasure slave? Why, you…!”
Jonathan lunged for Bruce while Clark yelled, “Dad!” and grabbed for his father. Dick dashed to stand defiantly in front of Bruce while Martha and Alfred quickly tried to act as conciliatory facilitators.
Clark managed to fend his father off. “Dad, it’s not like it looks.”
“Really, Clark?” Jonathan fumed “Because what it looks like to me was that the so-called Prince of Gotham drugged you and put you in that collar and manacles to be your whore!”
“Jonathan!” Martha cried, firmly gripping her husband’s arm.
“Well, what does it look like to you? We were there at Wayne Manor while our boy was upstairs in this man’s bed!” Jonathan pointed a finger at Bruce. “How long have you kept him from us?”
“Jonathan, please, let them talk,” Martha pleaded, though her eyes were wary as she looked at Bruce.
“Clark was without his memory when he came to me.”
“When you bought him, you mean,” Jonathan growled.
“I did,” Bruce said.
Clark put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “He had no idea that I was Kryptonian. My powers were suppressed along with my memory.”
“He still used you, Clark,” said Martha softly.
“It’s not that way, Mom.” Clark took a deep breath. “I love him.”
Shock crossed the Kents’ faces, then Jonathan growled. “He’s brainwashed you, son.”
Clark shook his head. “No, Dad.” He squeezed Bruce’s arm. “I know my heart.”
For a moment there was silence, then Jonathan said, “Just like your mother says: he used you, Clark.”
Clark shook his head. “No, Dad. He saved me.”
Silence again, punctuated by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the small dining room. Alfred stepped forward.
“May I suggest we all sit down? I would be most happy to make tea, m’lady.”
Martha’s eyes had never left her son’s face, but now she stirred. “Yes, I’ll show you where everything is.”
“Very good, m’lady.”
Alfred followed Martha into the kitchen, and the tableau in the living remained frozen until Jonathan sat in his favorite chair, tightly waving for the others to sit.
Good ol’ Alfred, Bruce thought, gratefully as he sat on the couch, Clark on one side, Dick on the other. Time to face the music.