chapter 2

Chapter 2: Brothers in All But BloodThe Kent farmhouse had never been so quiet. The two infants lay in separate cribs, one wrapped in the red cloth he had arrived in, the other kicking his legs freely, a look of curiosity on his young face.

Jonathan sat at the kitchen table, hands clasped together, his gaze fixed on the wooden surface as if it held the answers to all his questions. Across from him, Martha rocked the unnamed baby gently, her expression a mixture of awe and determination.

"We can't just pretend this didn't happen, Martha," Jonathan said, his voice low. "Two ships. Two kids. This ain't normal."

Martha looked up, her expression soft but unwavering. "No, it's not. But that doesn't change the fact that they're just babies, Jonathan. They need a home."

Jonathan sighed, rubbing his temples. He glanced toward the crib where the dark-haired infant lay. Unlike the other child, this one barely cried. He simply observed everything with a keen awareness that was almost unsettling for a baby.

"What if someone comes looking for them?" Jonathan asked.

Martha gave him a knowing look. "And what if they don't?"

Jonathan had no answer for that.

A soft cooing sound caught their attention. The dark-haired baby had pulled himself up using the edge of the crib, standing far earlier than any infant should have been able to. He looked straight at them and grinned.

Jonathan blinked. "Well… that ain't normal."

Martha laughed, walking over and gently stroking the baby's head. "He's strong, that's for sure."

Jonathan sighed. "We can't just call him 'the kid.'"

Martha smiled, glancing at the child's pod, where strange markings lined the shattered metal. She traced the symbols with her fingers, murmuring them aloud. "…Lazarus."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "Lazarus?"

Martha nodded. "It was etched into the metal. Maybe it's his name."

Jonathan considered it, then looked at the other crib, where the other child lay peacefully. "Clark and Lazarus Kent," he mused.

Martha's eyes softened. "Brothers."

Jonathan exhaled, a smile creeping onto his face despite his worries. "Yeah. Brothers."

The two children would grow up side by side, bound by fate, though they would walk different paths.

And though neither Kent could have known it, the world had just gained two of its most powerful protectors.

Twelve Years Later

Smallville had always been a quiet town, but that peace was often disturbed by the antics of two boys who stood out from the rest.

Clark Kent and Lazarus Kent were inseparable.

Clark was kind, thoughtful, and always willing to help others. He was the one who stopped to carry groceries for Mrs. Jenkins, who saved kittens from trees, and who never let anyone feel alone.

Lazarus, on the other hand, was different. He wasn't cruel or unkind—far from it—but he saw the world differently. Where Clark sought to help everyone, Lazarus believed people should help themselves. He believed in ambition, in pushing forward, in being strong.

That wasn't to say he never helped. If someone truly needed it, he would step in—but only if he believed they were willing to stand back up on their own afterward.

"I don't get you sometimes," Clark admitted one afternoon as they sat in the barn, looking out over the fields.

Lazarus smirked, tossing an apple in his hand. "That's because you think everyone deserves saving. I think people should save themselves first."

Clark frowned. "That's… kind of harsh."

Lazarus shrugged. "It's just reality."

Clark sighed but said nothing. This was a conversation they'd had many times before, and neither of them ever won.

What Clark did know, though, was that no matter how much they argued, Lazarus was always there. Whether it was fending off bullies, helping on the farm, or just standing by his side, Lazarus never wavered in his loyalty.

They were brothers in all but blood.

And that would never change.