AN: So I know this was a very long time coming, it seems like I wanted to hurry and wrap this up but just keep reading til the end. As I've told several who have messaged me, my life has taken a completely different turn since entering grad school. There wasn't one minute where I could focus my attention on this but hopefully I can continue and finally finish. Enjoy!

Bruce walked into the large living room slowly, so as not to alert Sarah to his presence. He found her standing on the balcony and staring out at the dizzying skyline. But Sarah had noticed his entrance and turned sharply, regarding him for a moment.

He was dressed in black sweats and a dark shirt, freshly showered, but bruised and still red from exhaustion. Handsome, yet merciless; with those sad, pitying eyes. The last thing she wanted now was his pity.

She turned back and crossed her arms over her chest. Gotham City remained dark, though it was late morning, the lights still barely lit, still holding on to the last vestiges of night. The sun was just barely escaping through the blue-gray clouds and the tops of the skyscrapers.

Her eyes blinked against the dim light as the silence between them passed slowly, until Sarah finally spoke first. "A wise king once wrote, 'watch over your heart with all diligence, for from it flow the springs of life.'" She looked back over her shoulder at Bruce, her eyes locking with his. "How am I supposed to go on without my heart?"

"Endure," was all he said, and he said it quickly.

Sarah understood. She understood more than she could have bargained for, more than she could have months, even days ago. She never understood loss as terrible and as ruthless as this. She sympathized and pitied Bruce once because of the loss he endured. Yet now, she knew it. Perhaps not the same, no, never the same; but to lose something of your heart and soul was to have a mirror broken and to have the shards fall through the cracks, never to reach them again.

Sarah and Jareth chose what to let in and what not to. He trusted her and allowed her to cross that boundary into his inner world because he loved her. There was a risk, however, in letting her into his lair. They were not safe from each other. They damaged what lay beyond the boundaries - their hearts and souls. They were both cruel. Love was supposed to be gentle and kind. Supposed to be. Theirs was a deep and multi-layered emotion of an all-encompassing love they both felt deeply. Yet they so often played with this tender and rare object that it was in danger of unraveling into something dangerous and broken…

For the last hour her memories had already begun to drift away from her, it was like falling asleep while still struggling to remember the last thoughts that ran through one's mind.

The Labyrinth was obviously the first. Though she remembered her time there and her friends, Jareth seemed to disappear from each scene that played in her head. She knew it wasn't how it was played, but she could only see herself facing the maze from her bedroom, the Cleaners sprang to life on their own, and it was only her and Toby in the Escher room. It wasn't Jareth who had stolen her brother; it was the goblins, though the memory of the ballroom and the final encounter were still intact. They were still clear and she was fighting to hold on to them. She tried to write everything she could down. But when she did the memory simply faded faster. The action had triggered a blankness that swept through her brain and then it was gone for good.

She looked down at the crumpled pieces of paper, some with half-sensible wording and some pieces ripped to shreds.

"What was that down there?" she heard him ask. "What happened?"

"I wished you away," she said distantly. "I owed you a debt."

"You didn't owe me anything." His voice sounded like a warning. She should have known that he would not be satisfied with an evasive answer. She felt his breath on the back of her neck and braced herself. But as he pulled her around to face him, his hands were as gentle as his voice. "Sarah… you didn't owe me anything."

She had changed so much in such a short time that he was worried that her being, her soul, would become damaged, just like his. If only he could protect her from such things, shield her from the harsh realities of the world. Maybe the process of losing her memories of him would help, maybe.

Sarah closed her eyes and turned back away from Bruce, breathing much too deeply. Her first memory of Jareth in Metropolis, their hurried reunion in her first apartment, was now gone. She shook her head, feeling as if she had not done enough, said enough. The beef stew incident, their first fight – gone. She was simply alone in her memories, but she knew it wasn't right, she knew something was wrong.

The afternoon Superman turned the world back – she was alone.

"No…" she whispered.

Every glance caught in a reflection, every encounter, every touch, every kiss was swept away like dust in the wind.

Bruce stared down as she struggled to retain her memories. How awful it would be to have something as precious and personal as that stolen from you. What would he do without the memory of his parents? Would he have become what he was? No. The crushing emptiness would still be there.

"Sarah…" Bruce broke off, shaking his head. He didn't know how to help her, how to help soothe this inner pain that struck her then faded, leaving a confused and empty expression on her face.

Sarah turned to Bruce, her eyes blazing. "How can I hate him?" She suddenly blurted out. "Think of him, Underground, Bruce. He blames himself, he curses himself, he wants my forgiveness. He loves me! He would have taken me… for love. He would imprison me with him, Underground, for love. But he respects me. He cried…"

She hid her face away in her hands. Even with all the darkness he embodied as the Goblin King, she forgave his indiscretions, because she understood what motivated the beast within him that drove him to do the unthinkable. She also, like him, and others before them, yearned for beauty and to be loved and known for who she truly was. Like him, she had the dark capacity within her to resort to the unthinkable in her search for love. And like most people, she was well skilled in hardening her exteriors to mask the pain within. She was simply one of many longing for redemption. But what could she seek now? Without their past and their shared memories?

A flash of pain suddenly went through Sarah, like a small knife slashed across the inside of her chest. She gasped in shock as an image of a demon pulsed briefly in her mind, and before it disappeared, Sarah heard a name in her mind clear and succinct.

"Jareth…"

"Jareth," she repeated softly, holding her chest that was still numb. "Jareth, I love you… please don't leave, my heart…" She closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted. "My light… and my dark..." She inhaled deeply through her teeth, tensed, and when she released her breath again, her body softened and relaxed, the last of her memories of Jareth were gone.

Bruce had turned away and stared out the glass doors, unable to look at her anymore, but digesting what she said nonetheless.

"I'm sorry," he heard her say softly after a moment. "What was I saying?"

Bruce took a deep breath, and prepared for the endless stream of lies and deception that lay ahead. "You were saying," he turned back, her face was as clear and innocent as the morning. His heart dropped. "That you're tired. You need to rest."

"Oh." She sighed and tucked a strand of long, dark hair behind her ear. A brilliant sky of blue met her gaze. "I guess I do. It was a long night."

Bruce only nodded as Sarah turned and prepared to sleep for the rest of the day. He tucked his hands into his pockets, but his fingers brushed something smooth. He pulled his hand away and stuck between his middle and forefinger was a perfect, white feather. He had never seen something so brilliant, so pure; it belonged to its owner.

"Sarah," he called softly.

She turned, and he handed her the feather, without watching her for a reaction.

"Oh…" she breathed. She reached out and took the feather, holding it out in front of her, dazzled by its white perfection. She ran her fingers over it, almost lovingly. "I've never seen anything like it." She turned it over and studied it intently, brushing the tips of her fingers over its soft edges.

"It's for luck," Bruce said.

Sarah smiled, sadness tinged at the corner of her lips, though she didn't know why. Perhaps this simple feather's beauty and perfection made her so. Perhaps not. She simply didn't know.

"Thank you," was all she said.

Alfred moved through the silent space, stepping past the cowl and gauntlets lying on the cold marble. He approached Bruce, slumped in a chair watching Gotham.

"I suppose she'll be staying with us for a time," Alfred said, rather dryly. After all that had happened, all the quarrels and tension surrounding Sarah's stay, she would have to remain in the penthouse after all. It was something that no one would question, at least for a while.

Bruce nodded, and then looked up as Alfred bent to pick up the cowl. "Alfred, after my parents died, I've been struggling to find what secrets this world holds, what I'm capable of to utilize those secrets to fight my own pain and to bring justice to those who can't do it themselves. Everything I thought I knew, everything I've seen or done, was cast aside. My whole world has been turned upside down and I don't know what to make of it." He nodded, seeming to convince himself of something, but it was elusive to him. "Superman was one thing. It means aliens exist and the world still copes with that knowledge the best way it knows how. But this, this is something only a handful of people can be aware of; otherwise, the whole world will go mad. And I will go with them." Alfred straightened and gave him a stern look. Bruce inhaled sharply and watched him. "What can I do?"

Alfred handed him the cowl. He knew his employer, his friend, the only son he would ever know needed a simple, clear answer. "Endure, Master Wayne. With pure, raw, fragile hope. Sarah has had to do the same thing over and over again for years, and now you must do the same."

Bruce looked down at the cowl in his hands. His mind running over the irony. Endure.

"I don't know what's right or wrong for her now. There are too many shades of grey."

Alfred's eyes had then turned sad and compassionate, but when he spoke, his voice was calm and soothing. "Why not let her decide that for herself. You have a good heart, Master Wayne. But your soul has become dark," Alfred stepped forward, his lips beginning to tremble with emotion, "and the darkest souls are not those who choose to exist within hell, but those who choose to break free from it and move silently among us. They are destined to watch humanity writhe in the circles of deceit." Alfred took the cowl from Bruce's hands and inspected it before looking at Bruce again. "But," he said, "a bat is able to soar above society, towards the heavens, towards an aspirational purpose. This symbol doesn't have limits and can't show weakness. This is where the fight between what is good for Bruce Wayne and the right thing to do for Batman plays out. The two are not always compatible. Find solid ground for yourself first, Master Wayne, and then we can worry about the shadows that burden Sarah."

Bruce nodded; a faint, hopeful smile on his lips.

Alfred handed the cowl back to Bruce and smiled from the corners of his mouth. "I'll prepare a bit of food."

"I'm not hungry, Alfred."

Alfred turned and walked toward the kitchen. "You'll eat it."

As soon as Alfred rounded the corner, his smile faded and his face turned somber. "He is all of us who have ever walked alone," he thought, "and hated themselves, and longed for redemption."

A sharp rustling of curtains startled Sarah from sleep, and she squinted in pain against the harsh sunlight that exploded against her eyeballs. She hastily covered her eyes with her hands and without looking, grumbled a 'good morning' to Alfred.

"Good morning, miss," Alfred said routinely.

Sarah groaned in exhaustion and rubbed her eyes fiercely.

"Will you have breakfast in the kitchen, miss?"

Sarah pressed her fist to her forehead and nodded.

"Wonderful," he exclaimed cheerfully and hastily exited the room.

Sarah's lower lip formed an involuntary pout as her eyes fought against the sunlight. "Mph," she grumbled, plopping herself down on the pillows again. Breakfast? Had she slept so little? No, that wasn't right. She vaguely remembered sunlight trying in vain to pierce through the curtains for hours, it had been dark again when she opened her eyes once or twice. Her long sleep had been dreamless. She had slept as deeply and peacefully as a child, for an entire day and night.

Throwing the sheets from her, she rose out of bed and staggered to the mirror. Her eyes were still rimmed in red, her skin slightly damp and small bruises on her neck and chest, but she was otherwise intact.

"How strange," she thought, "I know I had cuts from the glass..."

That horrific scene in the room of mirrors where she fought off Scarecrow, Dr. Crane, as well as she could. Considering all she had endured she should look like complete hell. But at the very least, she looked tired and unkempt.

She smiled as she examined her hands. She was still as strong as ever, she could feel it. It would take time to get used to and of course she must learn to control herself when her hands would burn anything it came into contact with. She hoped they wouldn't be spontaneous accidents, but she somehow knew it had something to do with her most severe emotional reactions.

Her smile actually managed to reach her eyes. She looked up into her reflection and whispered, "thank you, my friends."

She was thinking of Hoggle, Ludo, Sir Didymus, and all who had come to her aid.

She sighed then and dropped her hands. She would be hard pressed to ever leave these walls. But she knew it wouldn't last for long, it wasn't in her nature to stay indoors for very long. The whole horrible situation was sure to blow over. Yuri was dead and much of his men had dispersed. The Russians would think twice before attempting to find her again, now that she was sure Crane was finally gone. He never understood why his poisons didn't kill her, and to top it off he had a hoard of nasty, biting goblins to keep him at bay.

Her friends must have persuaded them to protect her. Perhaps she had gained some form of respect from them for beating them at their own game years ago when she was just a fifteen year old girl...

She found strength in that, in knowing that she was protected, and to even out the threat of dangerous madmen possibly lurking in the shadows waiting to lunge, she had the innate strength of a hulk on her side.

"Thank you, my friends," she said aloud before she stepped into the bathroom for a long awaited shower.

The halls of the penthouse sparkled from the daylight that came in through the large tall windows that aligned the walls. Sarah stood, hands clasped in front of her, as she admired the beautiful skyline before her. It was a sublimely beautiful morning, clear and radiant. She would wait a little while before venturing out again. She didn't want to become a recluse like she had before. Bruce had seen how well she fought to survive not just two nights ago but all this time she had been struggling to live and keep her sanity intact. She believed that Bruce must give her some credit, and that within the time they shared together, through all the blood, sweat, and trauma; they had earned some trust with each other. Respect would need to go both ways.

Sarah shook herself from her reverie and looked across the room to see Bruce gazing at her with an expression of quizzical bemusement on his handsome face, his grey eyes glowing in the light.

"Good morning," she said, a smile on her lips.

Bruce felt a sharp twinge of guilt run through him. "Good morning," he responded in his smoothest voice. "How do you feel?"

"As well as I can. A bit surprised that I've recovered so quickly, considering the circumstances."

He began to walk towards her, slowly, and for a moment, he was the blithe and beguiling man she had first met long ago. "I would like you to stay," he said, "for as long as you like or need."

"I don't think there was a need for formalities," she said, meeting him halfway, "of course I will stay."

He shrugged and nodded. There would be no fights, no pouts, no hardheaded defiance from her, at least not about this.

"There is one thing I ask from you," he said.

She shook her head. "I don't think I can afford rent."

It was a bad joke but he exhaled sharply and attempted to smile, but still couldn't. "You have to learn to protect yourself," he said with formality. "Your fighting spirit is there but your technique needs perfecting. I will teach you everything you need to know about self-defense. If this experience has taught you anything it's that defending yourself properly is key to coming out unscathed. You can't depend on someone else to save you all the time. Be ready to train with me whenever I see fit and that will be your rent."

Sarah took a deep breath and considered for a minute. It was a fair compromise. If she wanted to learn anything about controlling her strength and defending herself physically then he was the perfect one to do it. And he was right - she desperately needed to start relying on herself for self-protection.

She smiled as she came closer to him and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. He smiled back and reached up a hand to stroke her hair. But there was a dark and disheartened look in his eyes.

Sarah caught it and her smiled faded. "What is it?"

But his face had changed swiftly, before she even spoke. An instant glimmer was there again, but she knew him better by now, he was an actor too and he was covering something very well.

Bruce smiled slightly as he raised her hand and kissed it with soft, almost trembling lips. His actions spoke differently than his words of protection and reform. He was tired, drained, and in physical pain; but Sarah knew that this pain went deeper than his skin.

She was yet again at a loss as to why.

She pulled her hood closer down over her face to keep the small droplets of water from falling into her eyes. Yet this was also how she kept a low profile if she wanted to venture outside of the penthouse. Days slowly turned into weeks. She no longer stayed in touch with her friends from the company, Krista and Randy suddenly became engaged and were too involved in starting a life together now. It didn't bother Sarah at all. She was more focused on staying alive and safe. But the Russians, Maroni, and Crane weren't the least bit interested in her anymore. Bruce absolutely assured her that they were finished and moved their concentration toward circulating illegal drugs that Crane supplied (though he was rarely seen) and the Russians distributed. Maroni was close to being indicted by Gotham's new District Attorney, Harvey Dent, who with his good looks and hearty promises was able to win over much of Gotham's weary citizens.

Despite Dent's cry for justice in the public sector there remained a city still heavy with crime and corruption, and more common citizens turned into vigilantes, taking the law into their own hands. It was always the right side of the law, but it was becoming out of hand, and these so-called vigilantes were embarrassingly less qualified than Bruce to fight crime, and this aggravated him to no end. More often than not Bruce was cleaning up the mess brought on by both criminals and vigilantes alike. What infuriated more than anything was they were starting to dress like the Batman - black hockey pads and all.

"At least people are finally coming out of their apathy and taking a stand with you," she would reassure him.

"They wear low-grade bullet proof vests, Sarah, against thugs with armed weapons. They buy any gun they can get their hands on and think they can take back power with just a pull of the trigger."

"So the only difference between you and them besides choice of uniform is a gun."

He then stared down at her, un-amused. "You know I don't use guns. Ever." The last word was laced with venom, not at her, but at those who mocked him as Batman, and also feared him. "Besides," he added before turning away, "I can afford more reliable toys than a gun."

Sarah blinked her lashes against the rain and took in the sorrowful sight of the last of the rubble being taken away in a less than glamorous dump track. The remaining workers kicked aside broken stained-glass and picked their way through scraps of burnt wood. The ruins of Gotham City's magnificent theater were not even here anymore as a reminder of its supreme elegance and splendor. A once shining light of the city's bright, new future was forever gone, hardly anything was left. The wealth of the bourgeoisie was now just a decrepit piece of land.

"Ashes to ashes," she supposed.

Though inwardly, and secretly, she mourned its loss. The theater was where she allowed herself to pursue her dreams and was the center of her creative abandonment. Her gift of transcendence would have to be found elsewhere. But oh, what better place to bestow her gift? She could not have asked for a more magical place...

"Hmph, not much left now is there?" Hoggle's rough and gruff voice broke her thoughts.

She sighed and shrugged, resigned. "Nothing," she said.

Sir Didymus swept his staff in the air. "Twas a magnificent palace, my lady, fit for a princess. Tis a shame."

"It is a shame," she readily agreed.

"Sure came down fast though."

Silence. Sarah, Ambrosius, and Sir Didymus turned to stare at Hoggle.

"Sorry," Hoggle grumbled.

Sir Didymus cleared his throat and Sarah shifted her feet. "Well," she sighed. "That's that. I only wanted to see what was left one last time. No point in mourning the past."

No one said anything to that. It was in fact a rather awkward silence as Sir Didymus stiffened his jaw and Hoggle looked down at his feet. Nothing was said as Ludo took large, heavy steps toward Sarah and offered her something in his large and leathery hand.

She took a charred and broken piece of blue tile from him and examined it, probably a missing piece of a wall or floor from who knows where.

"Thanks, Ludo," she handed it back to him. "But I think it belongs here."

That was the polite way of saying that she didn't want anything from this place. She didn't want any more reminders of what happened here, good and bad. It was best left behind.

Ludo didn't seem to take any offense and dropped it back on the ground. The tile made a faint clink sound but it echoed with a soft finality. Sarah shivered from the cold and looked up at the sky, it would be night soon, she needed to go back to the penthouse before it became too dark.

She looked around at her friends and they all silently understood that it was time to leave.

"I'll see you all over there?" she asked them.

"Verily, my lady," Didymus crossed his staff over his chest and bowed to her before scampering off with Ambrosius into the rubble.

"Hoggle, there wasn't anything you wanted?" Sarah's gaze towards the direction Didymus had run off to indicating that there might be something of interest for the dwarf to hang onto.

"Nah," he grunted. "Most of its dust anyways. Besides, couldn't find nothin' to hang from my belt like bottles or nice bits o' plastic."

A fog was beginning to roll in from the lakeside, threatening to cover the remains of the theater.

"You don't have to worry about causing a fuss," Sarah said, staring at the white fog. "You can visit me whenever you want. Just make sure no one else sees you. You're all quite good at it."

"Aw," Hoggle brushed her remark with a wave of his hand, but avoided eye contact with her, "we don't wanna bother ya seein' as you have a boyfriend and all."

"He's not my boyfriend." Sarah replied too quickly with a sharp tone, but she still couldn't hide the blush or the smile just whispering on her mouth. "And besides I always have time for my friends, whether I have a boyfriend or not." She cocked her head at Hoggle and turned to Ludo. "You won't stay away will you, Ludo?"

Ludo smiled and brushed her hair gently with his giant hand. "Sawah fwend. Sawah always fwend. What is boyfwend?"

Sarah's eyes grew wide and her brows arched high. "Uh..." Sarah was stumped. She didn't know how to answer. Explaining a boyfriend to Ludo was complicated enough, but explaining Bruce...

"Uh, we'll see ya later tonight, Sarah." Hoggle gestured to Ludo. "C'mon ya big lug, let's get outta this dump."

Hoggle walked away taking rather large steps toward a small clearing. Ludo began to follow but turned again to Sarah.

"Sawah..." he smiled warmly, that smile always tugged at her heartstrings. "Sawah safe now."

Sarah reached for his hands and squeezed as many of his fingers as she could fit into hers. "I'm safe with you now, Ludo."

"Yeah," Ludo agreed. He grunted happily and turned to follow Hoggle.

Sarah watched him pad away until they both disappeared from her sight, and she was finally alone. There was nothing left to see of the theater. The dusk and the strange fog that didn't seem to dissipate with the rain covered the ruins completely now.

She drew her coat closer to her body and looked to the sky. She closed her eyes and let the raindrops drop on her face lightly. Her senses were alive as they had always been, keen but still sensitive. The rain slowly began to feel like soft kisses on her eyelids, then her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her chin, her temples, and finally her lips. It was so soft, like velvet, warm, almost the feel of real lips... She stuck out her tongue and licked the remaining droplets from her bottom lip. At this she felt a warm, beautiful sensation crawling down her body. Like she had taken a sip of strong whiskey and it burned down into her veins. Her skin tingled slightly and then she felt something touch her hair. It was a light touch, gentle. Sarah shivered, and shot her eyes open.

Soft material, like leather brushed her cheek lightly before whatever had touched her withdrew with the wind into the growing fog.

Sarah stared ahead of her. Nothing like that had ever happened to her before. She was frozen, but not with fear. It felt familiar to her, like a beautiful dream you have once or twice in your life and it never leaves your psyche. She was not afraid. Not now in this moment. She felt for her diamond and clutched it to her chest. It was warm, but not the same thrilling sensation she had had moments before.

She smiled slightly. Strange things always happened to her. She was learning, if not already subconsciously, to accept it for what it was. She supposed it was like being psychic or a medium and knowing or seeing things other people couldn't.

Sarah took one last look and finally turned to come down the small landing and what remained of the front steps to find Alfred waiting with the Rolls, holding the rear door open.

She smiled at him and he smiled back at her. "Ready to go home, miss?"

"Can we get some tacos before going back?"

"Miss, if you'll be staying with us for an extended period of time you must learn to eat more refined foods."

She shrugged before settling into the car. "I'll get shrimp tacos."

"Baby steps."

Alfred closed the door and proceeded to drive the Rolls back into the city streets. Sarah kept her hood on but craned her neck up to look out the window over the passing rooftops. She noticed a light in the night sky. Her eyes turned further skyward to the searing white spotlight sweeping and shimmering against the clouds. In its center was the vast black silhouette of a bat, wings extended, dominating the night sky.

It had become a dark, moonless night but the lights of the city still sparkled around them as they drove by. Her eyes drifted across the rooftops, searching and scanning like a falcon until her gaze finally settled on the broad back of a black-caped figure poised at the edge of the roof, gazing down on the streets below. She was sure she was the only one who could see him, her eyesight always sharp and in focus ever since Kansas...

She sighed and leaned back into her seat, turning her gaze back almost meditatively over Gotham.

Batman stood on the edge of the gargoyled building, a lone silhouette keeping vigil over the city. He turned his head and briefly caught a glimpse of his Rolls Royce. His cape billowed in the city wind as he stared after it until it became lost within the cityscape and out of his line of sight.

The crystals in his ship began to stretch and grow, illuminating a pure white light from within. Kal-El raised his head, his own power and strength growing in sync with the crystals that formed his ship. He stepped out from the pod that kept him in suspended animation while traveling through space. By Earth's standards, had been drifting through infinite emptiness and following the specified coordinates for nearly two and a half years.

Kal-El had finally arrived at the designated coordinates. He was finally home.

Krypton.

A column of white crystals rose upward to meet his outstretched hands and with a slight turn of his wrist the glass slate in front of him cleared to reveal a desolate landscape. Was this what was left? No. He couldn't have come all this way to find this...

His ship floated over the remains of the dead planet like a pointed star. It dove deeper and deeper into the black chasms where nothing but charred ruins stood as silent sentinels. Another turn of his hand and a bright light suddenly emanated from the center of his ship. It scanned what remained of an advanced society that far exceeded Earth. Technology, culture, peace - everything that a perfect society needed to flourish - and was finally crushed by its own arrogance.

His face was bathed in the reflected glow of the light of this otherwordly realm. But sweat began to form on his brow as his hands trembled over the crystals. A deep and frightening silence filled his ears. It was the silence of death. He felt his body growing weaker, his muscles and sense of equilibrium felt like they were slowly melting away from him. He was shaking as the light probed every crack and curve. He stopped the ship in front of an enormous wall against the canyon. Something about this wall didn't seem natural - something was carved into it. He turned his wrist slightly to illuminate the wall further and as the light grew, he could finally see what was in front of him. It stunned him, made him lose his balance further. In front of him was the 'S' he wore as Superman carved deeply and grandly into the canyon wall. It was his family's insignia, the Kryptonian symbol for 'hope'.

This was where he was born. This was where Jor-El and his mother, Lara, called home.

He stared at it, disbelieving for a moment until he couldn't hold himself up anymore and finally collapsed to his knees. He looked up and finally saw the culprit - green kryptonite grew like parasites over the walls, deep into the cracks, threatening to completely cover the 'S'.

Kryptonite would surely kill him if he stayed for too long. He moved his wrist again and sent the ship sweeping fast into the canyon. But this turned out to be huge mistake. His ship unknowingly flew into a deep crevasse of green and black, and before he could turn, the outward shards of the ship that guided his flight like an oar, collided with a floating chunk of rock that had broken off from the walls.

A deafening crash saturated the air; crystal masonry exploded all around him as the pieces of his ship burst and spread over the canyon walls. Shards of crystal flew outwards; shattering and falling far below into the abyss as the ship cracked and flared.

Kal-El blinked, his muscles twitching, his whole body humming with pain. His vision returned slowly, and was not prepared for the oncoming collision. Trying to get to his feet he was knocked back down as pain shot through his whole being.

All around him, the scene spun out of control, torrents of stone falling, and white lights in the sky as the sounds of crystal and stone crashing together vibrated through the dead space. A high-pitched whine buzzed in the taut air inside of his ship. Kal-El could see now what the ship had collided with - pieces of his home world that no longer existed. Fragments of the explosive aftermath that destroyed his home and killed his parents. Chunks of Krypton were aimlessly floating in space and if he was not quick, he would become another remnant of a lost civilization.

No. He was the last, but he would not die out here alone like this. He was a fool to make the journey here. He should have known there was nothing here but ruin and death.

He reached upward and twisted his hand. Immediately the empty space above the crystals that controlled the ship sprang to life and produced a starry map of the galaxies. He turned his hand until the map spun like a sphere to reveal a solar system with a yellow sun. He kept his hand up and poised until the coordinates were finally set.

The crystal ship banked down sharply, narrowly avoiding another collision, and shot forward into the infinite darkness of space.

Kal-El - Superman - would return to Earth.

Shalom y Amor