Squatter's Rights 5 (Patreon)

Jimmy Olsen lowered his camera. The Titans had taken Superman away and there was no way he’d be able to keep up with them, but he’d managed to get plenty. Shots of nearly the entire team, of Captain Marvel showing up… and of course, what had happened to Starfire.

There was definitely enough for a front page, maybe even a week’s worth of them, and he was sure the Justice League or someone would come forward to explain all that had happened. It couldn’t be that Supes had simply gone nuts—there had to be more to it than that!

But Jimmy’s heart wasn’t in his defensiveness. He fully believed that Superman was innocent, so he should’ve been elated that he had some proof of what had happened. Pics the Chief would love. And if it were only the business stuff… the fighting, the destruction, the superheroes in their colorful costumes and glorious physiques, male and female… yeah, then he’d be fully absorbed in the mystery of Superman’s strange rampage.

But having seen what’d happened to Starfire and having those pictures on his film roll… what was he supposed to do with them?

Were they news? He doubted Mr. White would print them, even with censor bars. But… but what if Superman was gone off the deep end? Maybe seeing a thing like this would drive it home for people. It hadn’t for Jimmy (had it?) but he was so close to it. Superman’s pal, Jimmy Olsen, that was him. Hadn’t he been so proud of that nickname?

He needed to talk to someone. Someone older. Wiser. Not Lois Lane—oh, he couldn’t face her, not with a thing like this to talk about. Maybe Clark. Yeah. Clark would know what to do.

***

In Titan Tower, Kory told Donna she should attend to her own wounds. Donna understood this to be a dismissal; Kory asking for some time alone. And it was good advice. Even with her gods-given healing, Donna had a ringing headache from ‘Superman’ knocking her out and assorted scrapes, bruises.

She went to the medical bay and took some painkillers, then cleaned and bandaged her wounds. After that, picking up a medical kit, she went to Kory’s room—the home away from home where Kory stayed during a crisis.

The door was open. Donna’s knowledge of Kory’s personality faltered: was this thoughtlessness or Kory’s way of inviting her in? Maybe the latter was just wishful thinking. Either way, Donna’s need to check up on Kory trumped her respect for the redhead’s privacy. She went inside.

The air was cloyingly warm, dense with a steamy mist that told her Kory had drawn a hot bath. Donna closed the door behind her and went to the bathroom, where she stopped to knock on the cracked door—wincing when her tattoo furthered its opening.

“Kory? It’s me. Uh… would you mind some company? I have medicine if you have any injuries to be treated.”

“Yes, come in, Donna. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Donna went inside, the fully opened door letting in/out a draft that swirled the muggy fog, but didn’t dispel the wet, tropical warmth that Kory favored. Even after a lifetime on sunny Themyscira, the bathtub full of boiling hot water and all the condensation that came with it drew a layer of sweat up from Donna’s skin.

Kory laid in the froth-hot tub of water, her excessive height carrying her ample chest well above the surface of the water. One long, tapered leg hung over the side. The water was mostly clear—only a little milky with some oil Kory had put in—but ironically, Kory’s long hair hung in the water like the tentacles of a jellyfish or a cloud of auburn red, obscuring her body.

And yet somehow the carelessness of it, the unthinking juxtaposition of Kory’s callously exposed chest and artlessly hidden midsection… it struck Donna as intensely erotic. Rather than either tantalizing or revealing, it simply presented Kory’s beauty with the forthrightness that so fit her personality, was so attuned to her character that the bare presentation could’ve been a part of her. And all the more attractive for it.

Donna chided herself then, wondering how she could find Kory attractive at a time like this—then considered that, knowing Kory, she wouldn’t want what had happened to make her a pariah. She was gorgeous, still, always, not just because of what that man had lusted after, but for the strength of will she had shown. Donna didn’t know if she herself had the strength to do what Kory had done and now hold herself together so… beautifully.

“I think that I am unhurt, Donna—at least, nothing requiring medical attention. I may have neglected to notice an injury in the heat of battle, but I see no blood in the water. How bad, then, can my wounds be?”

“I don’t think that’s what people are concerned with,” Donna said gently, setting the unneeded med-kit down out of the way.

“Nor am I,” Kory answered her. “I feel very alone, Donna Troy…”

Donna knelt beside the bathtub, not knowing what else to do. “You’re not alone.” Soon, she slumped against its contours—on the other side of the porcelain Kory was leaning against.

Kory’s head gave a twitching nod that sent a whipcrack through her wet hair. “I will try to explain… I know there is the difference between the way I perceive the world and how you of Earth do. You’re not of the dominant culture on this planet, but that’s a subtle difference between you and the other Titans, compared to the gulf between myself and a culture that has never touched mine, not even heard of it until my arrival.”

“You were a stranger once, but you’re not anymore. We’ve been to Tamaran. We’ve learned about your people. Maybe we can’t ever know quite what it’s like to be you, but…” Donna was unsure what she was protesting. What had happened to Kory made her feel neurotic, on edge. She wanted to argue something—as if that could make things better. “We all know you’ve suffered in a way we really can’t understand. But we all want to help.”

Kory didn’t shake her head, but in a way, Donna resented the absence of that or any other gesture. Kory’s all-green eyes were a flat light, like some dumb LED shining through glass. Donna was more used to illumination like a candle inside a lantern: flickers of intelligence and sensitivity permeating every little glance Kory made.

“But you can’t help,” Kory said evenly. “It frustrates you. You resent me for putting you in a position where you want to comfort me but don’t know how. You think that if only I had done things another way…”

“No one’s thinking that,” Donna assured her. “You didn’t have a choice, Kory.”

“I did!” Kory insisted with sudden vehemence, her eyes on Donna now and lit up like a struck match. “I chose to give myself to him bodily because it was the best way of stopping him, because I don’t put a premium on how few lovers I’ve had as people of Earth do! I’m not proud of what I did, but it is part of me—having the strength to see the necessity of my action and then follow through with what I believe to be right. You should be happy for me! Elated that I was up to the challenge I faced!”

“Kory,” Donna gasped, sure she should wipe the horror from her face… but then, that wasn’t the reaction Kory wanted. She must’ve wanted a reaction from Donna; something other than the sympathetic poker face Donna had worked so hard to maintain. “You don’t really believe that.”

Kory looked away again. Donna didn’t know if she was hiding her burning eyes or not letting Donna see that they’d gone flat and dead again. “It’s so different from home here… so strange to me… I never questioned the ways of Okaara before I came to Earth. My people, we can be very loving. But we celebrate battle and victory. Violence. Tell me, Donna—if I had beaten that man within an inch of his life… defeated him through strength of arms… would you now be so concerned with me?”

“No,” Donna admitted. “But from what I know of your world, you value emotion and intimacy. And you must see something wrong with an expression of intimacy being used as a tool of war.”

Kory nodded slowly. “I dislike that such an unworthy person was allowed such carnal pleasure of me… I dislike that my skill and prowess were not enough to conquer this Gundersen without trickery… I dislike that I have worried and saddened my friends with unnecessary grief… But what I worry about the most is the gulf I feel between myself and my new family. Donna, what if Dick doesn’t want me anymore?”

“Kory…” Donna felt like scoffing, but the concern was written so large on her friend’s face that she had to take it seriously. A seriousness such a thought didn’t deserve. “Dick isn’t like that. You know him. All he feels for you, I’m sure, is concern and love.”

“I know he wouldn’t think less of me for what I’ve been through; even that I welcomed what happened I feel he could understand. But there is just such a gap between how he sees sex and how I do. I don’t see how we can ever bridge this divide.”

“He’s been trying for a long time now,” Donna assured her. “He’s even come to me… wanting any insight I might have into you that he lacks. He’s worked hard on seeing things from your perspective and trying to accept your culture. Don’t give up on him just because his acceptance is going to be tested.”

“And the others?” Kory sniffed. “I liked being something of a… what are the words… a ‘sex symbol’? Knowing that there was an attraction between me and the men of this team, even if it was never to be acted on. Now… I don’t think Gar will joke with me anymore. They won’t see me as the beauty they once did.”

“No, but… relationships change,” Donna reasoned. “Wally’s practically engaged now, Vic’s dating Sarah… we were never all going to stay in a holding pattern.”

“I know my mood speaks for me, but these relations seem to change for the worse. Losing innocence. Gaining only—familiarity.” Kory looked at Donna, her eyes large as new moons. “We never truly grew as comfortable with each other as I wished we would be.”