The man caught her eye around the middle of her presentation. There was something about the keen, sharp attention that was almost unnerving. It was deeper than the polite attention bordering on abject boredom she could see on the faces of the rest of the crowd. Mikayla took in the sharp, dark eyes, the downward curve of the thin lips, and the set of the strong jaw. She couldn’t tell whether he was displeased with her treatise, or merely concentrating, but the gaze was unnerving. She had the distinct feeling she was being measured and judged.

Mikayla stumbled on her words and snapped her attention back to the thesis after a sip of water. She went back to her argument for why Lex Luthor qualified as a heroic icon. She’d already completed her discussion of the arguments against – his cruelty, his disregard for most human life, his apparent desire to destroy the planet. It was now time to embark on the comparatively “good” qualities – qualities that would be seen as positive in almost every other person in modern culture.

She started with perseverance and determination, then went on to ingenuity. There was a slight motion from the direction of The Judge (as she had come to think of the keenly attentive man), when she began her favorite topic – genius. She dared to look in his direction, and was irrationally pleased to see a slight upward quirk to the corners of his mouth. The Judge approves, she thought. She moved through the extensive explanation of the ideas of his genius – both measured intelligence and creative abilities.

When Mikayla finally completed the presentation of her Masters Thesis, The Judge was the first to applaud. The audience followed suit, more from respect for the intelligence of the argument, rather than agreement with the ideas themselves. She stepped away from the podium, shook hands with her professors and left the stage. She wasn’t expecting a large crowd in the reception area, and she was surprised by how many people were waiting to speak to her. She was familiar with many of the faces from her classes. There were several polite congratulations and other murmurings, but a few people seemed dissatisfied at her “positive” portrayal of Lex Luthor. She responded to the grumbles with her rehearsed answers – along the lines of, it’s a paper, not public policy – and glided through the reception with a fair amount of grace and only a few irrevocably ruffled feathers.

Mikayla made it outside at last, surprised that The Judge hadn’t stayed behind for the reception. She wanted to hear his opinions on the thesis very much. She looked back through the room, just to be sure she hadn’t missed him, though she was fairly certain she would have recognized him right away. She shrugged, mildly disappointed, and turned back toward the street. She took two steps toward the parking lot when a tall figure loomed suddenly out of the shadows beside the reception hall.

Mikayla jumped slightly, relaxing only fractionally when she recognized the facial features of her most attentive listener. “Sorry to startle you,” he said, stepping out fully into the light of a street lamp. He had soft looking brown hair, cut just below the ear, and (surprisingly) side burns of a length that were just on the safe side of tasteful vs. early 70’s flower child. He wore a navy blue pin-striped suit, double breasted, with a black, knee-length coat and a navy scarf. The suit was well-made, expensive without being gaudy. But it wasn’t the suit that struck Mikayla the most. Except for the sideburns, the man looked extraordinarily like Lex Luthor. The features seemed to match the many newspaper clippings she had seen, and he even looked to be about the same age. She glanced sideways, not wanting to seem silly, but noticing with alarm that there was no one else on the street.

“I apologize, Miss Stephens,” he said smoothly. Was there a hint of familiarity to the voice, too? “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Not at all,” she said with a smile, hoping her voice didn’t sound nervous.

“I would have spoken to you earlier, but,” he looked toward the hall with distaste, “I dislike crowds.”

“I know how you feel,” Mikayla said, relaxing slightly. It was a reasonable explanation.

“Come. I’ll walk you to your car,” the man said.

“Um…” she glanced toward the door again. “Sure, Mr…?” She lifted her eyebrows inquisitively.

“Alexander. Adam Alexander.” He extended a gloved hand.

Mikayla shook hands, noting the firm, businesslike grip. “You know…” She let out a nervous chuckle. “Maybe you hear this all the time, but, do people tell you you look like-”

“Lex Luthor?” The smile was friendly. “I get it all the time.” The smile quirked even more. “I’ve been told I should go into the impersonating business.”

Mikayla chuckled gleefully at the small joke. Adam offered her his arm, like an old-style gentleman. She took it, smiling brightly, and let him escort her to her car. She was set at ease by his friendly demeanor, and by the time they reached her car, her head was full of his lucid, intelligent, complimentary discussion of her thesis. When he asked for her phone number after helping her into her car, she was only too happy to oblige.

Adam called her the very next day, and three days later, they had their first date. Mikayla was treated to the finest dining, and the most gentlemanly behavior. They were subject to a few odd glances. Mikayla was never sure whether it was because of their obvious age difference (she could certainly have been mistaken for Adam’s daughter), or because of Adam’s resemblance to the modern terror of the world.

There was no question of sex. Adam was far too genteel to suggest intimacy so early in the relationship. Their first kiss came after four weeks (on the third date). And what a kiss it was! He had begun gently, touching her face and drawing her slowly to him. Once he started, though, Mikayla had felt his hands grip her tighter, and the kiss became more urgent. It had almost turned into more, but Adam forced himself to stop. They had both stood, breathing hard, with passion in their eyes. If he had made a move to take them farther, Mikayla would have followed willingly – eagerly. He only kissed her again, made a date for next time, and saw her in.

Despite her mild frustration, Mikaya appreciated his resolve not to move too fast. He explained to her (at their next date) that he wanted to be sure that she knew he was not interested only in carnal pleasures, but in her. Mikayla assured him that she felt the same, and he need not worry about her getting too impatient. When the right time came, they would both know.

Four months after meeting Adam, their relationship was still going strong. They spent time together almost every day, and Mikayla felt that soon, if Adam didn’t suggest moving to the next level, she would ask him. It was on one of their many evening walks together that the attack occurred.

Two men, masked and armed, appeared on the relatively deserted street and shouted for them to stand still. Adam clutched Mikayla’s trembling arm and drew her behind him. “All right, gentlemen,” Adam said bravely. His voice only quavered a little bit. “I have plenty of cash. It’s in the left coat pocket. Just… take it and don’t hurt us, all right?”

There was a snort from the man in front of them. “Now,” he said. Mikayla’s arms were roughly forced behind her by the second man, and she was shoved toward the alley.

“No!” Adam cried.

“Don’t be a hero,” the first man snapped, shoving Adam into the alley behind Mikayla. They were forced to their knees, and the first man pressed his gun against Adam’s head.

Adam gritted his teeth, and Mikayla started to whimper. “What do you want?” she said in a frightened whisper.

“I’m just making sure you cooperate, girl,” the man said. “Get to work, Doc.”

The second man shoved Mikayla to a sitting position. “Don’t worry,” he leered. “This won’t take long.”

“Dammit, what are you-”

“Shut it!” the man snapped, jerking Adam’s head sideways with the gun. “I fucking dare you to to open your mouth again.”

Adam looked at Mikayla almost apologetically. The “doc” holstered his weapon and pulled out a white plastic bag from his coat pocket. He ripped open the package and pulled out a syringe and four glass vials. Mikayla stared at him in disbelief. She drew back, but the man quickly grabbed her wrist and forced her forward. Quickly, professionally, the leader drew four vials of Mikayla’s blood. He carefully wrapped the vials in tissue and put them back into his pocket. The first man snatched Adam’s wallet out of his pocket, pulled out the cash and tossed the wallet to the ground in front of them. Then, without further words, they turned and ran off.

Mikayla swayed, and Adam grabbed her and held her tightly in his arms. “Are you okay?” She nodded, but when she tried to say yes, she burst into tears. Adam held her tighter. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. It’s all over now, okay?”

She nodded again, and after a few minutes of comfort, Adam helped her up, grabbed his wallet and took her back to the main street. They took a cab to the police department and filed a report. The police were surprised by what was stolen from Mikayla, and they were puzzled by the fact that the robbers didn’t steal Adam’s entire wallet. Adam explained that he had already told the men he had cash, and they probably knew he would have all the credit cards canceled right away.

When the report had been filed, they made their way back to Mikayla’s house. Adam came inside with her, wanting to see that she was settled. He waited while she showered and put on night clothes. He made her a pot of hot chocolate, and added a large amount of spiced rum to the mix to help calm her nerves. He stayed with her for a few hours, while she tried to puzzle out what they could possibly have wanted with her blood. She couldn’t come up with any decent explanation for such a bizarre crime, but the idea that someone was out there doing who knew what with her blood was incredibly disturbing. Adam tried to help her relax, telling her that it was probably just some weird vampire cult, or some guys trying to make a name for themselves by stealing something “unique”.

Mikayla thought it sounded reasonable enough, and she let the matter rest. The alcohol was beginning to make her drowsy, and it was difficult to find fault with his explanation. Adam asked if she thought she needed anything else before he left, and Mikayla told him she would be fine. Still, she grew agitated when he reached the door and kissed her goodbye. She let him get a few feet away before her nerve failed her. “Adam?” He turned immediately. “Can you… would you mind staying with me tonight? I feel so silly, but… I just…”

He was already back at the door, folding her into his arms. “Of course I will.”

Two weeks after the attack, Adam asked Mikayla to dinner. He took her out to a movie, and after, to an elegant restaurant. They were pampered to the point of excess. Mikayla allowed herself to get just a little tipsy (Adam drove), and she indulged in whatever she wanted on the menu.

After dinner, he took her for a drive to a place she had never been. “I want to show you my home,” Adam said. Mikayla was surprised. They usually spent their time in her neighborhood, or in neutral places. She knew Adam was a private person, and she’d never asked him about his own home. In fact, she’d often worried that perhaps Adam had a wife at home, or some other secret that she just didn’t want to know about. She was pleased and just a little nervous about what she would find. Perhaps this new sign of trust from the extremely private Adam meant that he wanted to take them to that “next level” she had been waiting for.

Adam’s home was on a huge plot of wooded land (”Four and a half acres”, Adam said) far from the city. The land was surrounded by a quaint looking gate with a wooden sign that read: Genesis Ranch. About half a mile up the wide, paved road, they came to another, more fortified gate of wrought iron. Adam pressed a code into a number pad at the gate, and continued to the house.

The main house was large – not mansion sized, but Mikayla assumed there was probably room for about six bedrooms. There were various out buildings within sight of the house, and Mikayla caught a glimpse of a few more when they pulled up into the drive.

There was a tasteful, beautiful stone walkway leading up to the porch, edged in white stone and colorful flowerbeds. Adam led her to the front door and they stepped inside. A clean-cut man of about Adam’s age came swiftly to the door and took their coats. “Is everything ready, Jacob?” Adam asked.

“Yes, sir,” Jacob said. “I checked again just before you arrived.”

“Good,” Adam said with a smile. “Take the rest of the night off, okay?”

“Thank you, sir. Have a pleasant evening.” He looked at Mikayla with a slight smile. “Good evening, miss.”

He left them alone, and Adam took Mikayla to a pleasant sitting room. There was a wood fire already lit in a beautiful stone fireplace. Adam poured drinks, and they talked for a while. After a few more minutes, conversation was abandoned, and they were giving each other passionate kisses. Adam stopped and pulled her away from him after a few minutes. He took her hand and led her to a large bedroom. The king sized bed was made up with cream colored blankets, with one corner turned down. There two robes lying on a cream colored plush chair. Mikayla could feel her excitement growing. It looked like she had been right.

Adam was already coming out of his jacket and shirt. Mikayla undressed slowly, and stood near the bed feeling self conscious. She’d grown to adore Adam, and she was afraid that her figure might not live up to his expectations. The look in his eyes when she finally looked up proved that she had nothing to worry about. He paused in his task of removing his clothes to gaze at her, staring hungrily at the full breasts and wide hips, down to her large but toned legs.

Mikayla blushed and took a moment to run her eyes down Adam’s frame. The sight was breath-taking, she had to admit. He was 46, but he obviously took good care of his body. His arms were well defined and although he had no six pack or bulging biceps, there was power in the thick torso. His legs looked strong and well-shaped. She could feel the heat rising to her face as they drank each other in. After a few seconds, Adam came toward her and pushed her slowly down into the bed.

He stopped suddenly, before removing his boxers. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice slightly husky with passion. “I… I need to show you something before we…” Mikayla suppressed a frustrated sigh and nodded. He pulled a few papers out of a drawer in his night stand and handed them to her with a slightly embarrassed expression. “I don’t really like condoms,” he said. “So… I wanted to give you that so you could be sure.”

Mikayla read the STD test results, dated only two days before. She hurriedly scanned all the negatives and handed the papers back to him with a smile. “I appreciate you doing that,” she said. “But… I don’t have anything to show you. Are you sure you-”

“Oh, I already-” he paused, ever so slightly, and smiled at her. “I already know that I can trust you,” he said. Mikayla might have thought more of the odd pause, but at the moment all she could think of was how sweet it was that she trusted her, and of how much she wanted to shove the papers aside and yank Adam into the bed with her. The interruption didn’t seem to have affected Adam’s passion, either. He took the test results and slipped them back into the night stand. He hastily removed the last of his clothing and followed her into the bed.

He began slowly and gently, but a strong, fiery passion vibrated below and Mikayla could tell he was holding himself in check. As she got used to him, and began to feel her nervousness melting away, she encouraged him to let go and do what he wanted. He did just that, still taking gradual steps, but eventually rising to a speed and force that was both exhilarating and just a little frightening. He was attentive of her and responded to the desires she made known, but he maintained total control the entire time. In fact, Mikayla spent much of the time with her arms pinned forcefully to the bed. She was glad that they had waited until she knew him well, and trusted him completely.

They came to a shuddering and fairly vocal climax, and lay panting beside one another. Adam confirmed that Mikayla was indeed satisfied. The consideration pleased her immensely, and she assured him she was more than satisfied with him in every way. He laughed and pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her. Mikayla rested her head against his chest, and was soon fast asleep.

Over the next six months, Mikayla came to know Adam’s private life very well. After their first night together, whatever mysterious boundaries Adam had put up that made him spend most of his time with her in her neighborhood disappeared, and he invited her to spend every weekend, and most week nights at the ranch with him. Just as he maintained complete control in the bedroom, so he maintained complete control in his home life. His five-person staff operated with precision and deference, attending to all of his requests without giving the impression that Adam was some kind of evil overseer. This was quite a feat, considering the fact that those requests tended to be extremely detailed, and his cleanliness standards were stringent. He was fairly fastidious in public, but that aspect of his character was magnified to a nearly obsessive degree at home.

Adam’s morning routine was carried out with a precision that bordered on religious ritual. She could set her watch by his system. At 7:00 AM sharp, alarm or no alarm, Adam got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. By 7:15, teeth were brushed and flossed, and the shower water was hot and ready for him. At 7:45. the shower water stopped, and there were sounds of electric razors, and body lotion being applied. By 8:10, Adam was in a clean dressing gown with a folded silk scarf tucked into the neck, and a pair of soft slippers. Breakfast was set before him at 8:15 AM on the dot. He was presented with a copy of the Daily Planet and The Wall Street Journal, both already opened to the business section.

Mikayla didn’t mind stringent routines – in fact, they made her feel secure and comfortable – and she was easily able to slip into a pattern that did not interfere with Adam’s rituals. He gave her her own bathroom (he was not comfortable letting anyone in the room while he performed his morning rituals), and she avoided letting her shower coincide with his. She made certain to be at breakfast five minutes early, especially after witnessing the icy glare his housekeeper had received one day when breakfast was a record six minutes late. Mikayla would have withered under such a look, and indeed, Ellen (the housekeeper/cook) was nearly in tears when she brought the food and made her abject apologies. The head of staff, Jacob, who had greeted them at her first night at the ranch, came and apologized a few minutes later, and assured Mr. Alexander that he would take steps to see that it never happened again. Adam had been gracious and forgiving with Jacob, and even told him to let Ellen know that all was well. Still, Mikayla had not forgotten that first glare, and she had made a point NEVER to be late to a meal with Adam.

Adam worked independently as a stock consultant and real estate agent combined. He spent a few hours each day on the phone with various contacts and high powered clients. He gave her free reign of the house while he worked, and Mikayla treated herself to his heated pool and spa some days, and other days she made use of his wide screen television and DVD collection. Still other days she made use of his unbelievably massive library.

When he wasn’t working, Adam focussed entirely on pampering Mikayla. He took her out when she felt like going out, and entertained her at home when she didn’t. He bought her gifts, often surprising her with deliveries to her home and (once in a while) to her classroom (causing murmurs and whistles amongst the students). Mikayla had far less money than Adam, but she still saved and bought him gifts when she could. He made it clear that he disliked anyone knowing his address, so she didn’t send him gifts by messengers. she often showed up at his door with flowers, clothes and bookmarks (he seemed to already own every book in existence). By the time their first anniversary drew near, they had settled down into a very comfortable routine together, and Mikayla hardly ever spent time at her own house.

On the one year anniversary of their first meeting, Adam took Mikayla on a South American cruise. They had one of the premium two-room suites, with an in-room bar and every imaginable amenity. Adam seemed happy at the beginning of the trip, but as the days passed, he seemed to grow more agitated. He snapped at the cruise staff more than once, he seemed to have developed a nervous habit of tapping his fingers into the table during meals, and one morning she actually caught him biting his nails.

Despite his nervousness, Adam was very attentive to her, and seemed even more concerned than usual for her comfort and happiness. His solicitous behavior, combined with his nervousness led Mikayla to entertain the hope that he might propose to her on the cruise. She tried hard not to get her hopes up, but the idea made her heart pound each time she thought about it.

On the fourth evening of their trip, Adam’s edginess seemed to increase. It was the actual date of their anniversary – a year from the day when she’d given her master’s thesis. Adam didn’t arrange for anyone to sing at their table – he was far too private for that. They did receive a bottle of champagne, and a huge bouquet of stargazer lilies awaited her in their suite.

Mikalya clapped at the sight of the flowers and squeezed Adam into a tight hug. “Thank you,” she cried. “Have I told you lately that you are the best man on Earth?”

“If, by lately, you mean within the last twenty minutes, then no,” Adam said with a grin.

Mikayla kissed him then headed toward the bedroom. “I’m going to change into some more comfortable shoes. Can you look in the bathroom and see if I left my watch in there? I couldn’t find it earlier.”

“All right,” he said. Mikayla changed shoes and quickly went back to peek at Adam. She wanted to see his face when he found her gift. She’d slipped the case into the medicine cabinet just before they left the room, and she thought that now was as good a time as any to help him find it.

Adam looked diligently for the watch, checking counters, drawers, and finally, the medicine cabinet. His eyes widened at the sight of the long black box. He picked it up and shook his head, a smile on his face. “What a devious little girl you are,” he said. He opened the box and his eyes grew even wider. He pulled out the Omega steel blue Seamaster watch with the white-gold chain and simply admired it for a few seconds. Then he put it on, replacing his old watch, and pulled Mikayla into a hug. “It’s beautiful,” he said. “But how on earth did you save enough to afford this?”

“Oh, I just cut back a little here and there,” she said vaguely. She had no intention of telling him that she’d also dipped heavily into her nest egg to help pay for the watch. From the look on his face, she thought that he had probably guessed as much anyway.

“Well, I adore it,” he said. “I adore you.” Suddenly, Adam’s face grew very serious, and he took her face in both his hands. “I adore you, Mikayla. I want you to know that. More than any other person on this planet.”

Mikayla smiled at him, but she could feel the heat rising to her face, and she was almost embarrassed under his intense gaze. “I know, Adam,” she said.

“I… I want…” Adam shut his eyes and sighed. Mikayla’s heart pounded, and she struggled to squelch her rising hopes. Adam took a few seconds to collect himself, then opened his eyes and looked down at her. “I want to ask you something. But I… want to tell you something first.”

“Okay,” she said hesitantly. He looked more uncomfortable and uncertain than Mikayla had ever seen him look; almost as if he were about to confess to murder. Mikayla tried to steel herself for something big, but she couldn’t imagine him telling her anything that she could not forgive.

“All right.” He took a breath. “I’m… my name… is…” Mikayla gave him an encouraging smile, sympathizing with his nervousness. She could understand why he would think she might be upset about him lying about his name, but if it was as simple as that, she would let him get it out on his own, then brush his worries aside. What’s in a name, anyway?

Adam cast about for a few seconds, apparently unable to find the words for his confession. Finally, he took a few steps back from her and straightened, seeming to gather his resolve. He reached up and slowly tugged at the sideburns on his cheek. He pulled them off one at a time and set them on the nearby table. He then reached up and slowly pulled off the sandy brown hair, revealing a completely bald head. Mikayla’s eyes widened and she took a step back herself. Without the wig and facial hair, the resemblance she’d noticed when they first met was absolutely unmistakable. He must have known she didn’t need a confession now, but he said it anyway. “My name is Lex Luthor.”

Mikayla wasn’t sure how long she stared at him before she remembered to take a breath. It was incomprehensible, but at the same time it seemed painfully obvious. His appearance, his behavior at the lecture, his controlling tendencies, his meticulousness about timetables and cleanliness. Hadn’t all this been part of her research? Hadn’t all this been part of the Lex Luthor Myth that seemed to be common knowledge throughout most circles? But was it idiotic to have believed he spoke the truth when he told her who he was? Was it foolish to think that more than one person could be a neat freak?

Mikayla could feel her legs growing weak, and she steadied herself on the table. She caught sight of the hair pieces, and swiftly drew her hand away. Adam – Lex Luthor – stepped toward her, hand outstretched. Mikayla raised her hand and shook her head slightly. “Please,” she said, her voice sounding weak and distant to her ears. “Please don’t.” He stopped and let her stumble to a chair on her own.

“I’m sorry, Mikayla,” he said. “Please believe that.”

Mikayla looked sharply at him when he said the word “believe”. A sarcastic comment was on the verge of coming out when she remembered that she would be saying it to Lex Luthor. Ruthless, sadistic, egomaniacal, heartless… She stopped herself. Was he really heartless? In the twelve months that she’d known him, he had never so much as said a sharp word to her. He certainly seemed sincere now, looking down at her with worry and sadness in his eyes. But was he just acting? Could he have been pretending with her for an entire year? She shuddered when she thought about the many happy days and passionate nights she’d spent with him, and faced the prospect that they were all just part of some kind of dark-minded plot. “Oh God,” she whispered, lowering her face into her shaking hands.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “But I… Mikayla, I love you. I lied to you about my name, but I haven’t lied to you about anything else. I do love you.”

He certainly sounded sincere – there was even a crack in his voice at that last passionate statement. Mikayla brushed tears from her eyes and forced herself to look up into his face. “Ada-… L-lex…” She sighed, and a few tears replaced the ones she’d brushed away. “I don’t-” A thought suddenly occurred to her, and her eyes narrowed. “Were you- When we first… had sex, you said you didn’t need me to show you any test results to trust me. Did you arrange for those people to attack us and take blood from me?” Lex was speechless, gaping at her with guilt written on his face. She sprang to her feet, not sure whether to attack him or run away. “How… how could you?!”

“I’m sorry,” he said, finding his voice at last. “God, I’m sorry, Mikayla. You just… I couldn’t-”

“Couldn’t what?” she asked loudly. “You couldn’t just ASK me to take a test for you like a normal person? I would have done it, you know. Gladly! I… I trusted you! I could have been killed!”

“No,” Lex said. “No, the guns weren’t loaded. I made sure of that.”

“They could have disobeyed you! They could have killed us both! But that’s not even the point! You… you violated me, do you understand that? You c-could have just asked!” Mikayla sat heavily in the chair again, sobbing, fists clenched in frustration.

She could hear footsteps, and soon, a linen handkerchief was handed to her. She took it reluctantly, and opened her eyes to see Lex kneeling in front of her. “I’m very sorry,” he said softly. Were those actual tears shining in his eyes? “I just… I wasn’t thinking. I… when you’re so used to just taking what you want, it’s not easy to kick the habit. It’s no excuse, for what I did, but… it’s the only way I know how to explain it. Please, Mikayla. Please forgive me.”

Mikayla managed to look steadily at him, perhaps aided by the fact that he was actually on bended knees begging for forgiveness. She didn’t address the plea – couldn’t address it yet. “What do you want with me?” she asked. “And please tell me the whole truth.”

Lex lowered his head for a second, then looked up at her, his eyes still glistening. “At first, I wanted nothing more than for you to have my child.” Mikayla gasped, and he sighed. “I know. It sounds callous, and at first, it was. I’m… I’m not immortal, and I wanted… I needed a… an heir, if you will. A legacy beyond a history of failed plans and colossal defeats.” His tone grew bitter for a moment, and the scowl on his face was chilling. He focused on her again, and the concern and sadness were back. “You were an excellent candidate. You’re young, your features would work well with mine, and you were intelligent. Over those first months, I came to find that I enjoyed your company very much as well. There only remained being certain that you were free of disease.” Mikayla frowned at the phrase, feeling nauseous as she thought about him sizing her up like so much chattel.

“I’m sorry,” he said, no doubt guessing her thoughts. “God, it makes me sick to think about it now. But as I got to know you, it became less about making a baby, and more about making you happy. You were there, so I won’t bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that I fell in love with you, Mikayla. I’m in love with you. I mean it, and I hope with all my soul that you’ll forgive me for what I did to you, and for my intentions at the beginning.”

There didn’t seem to be anything more that could be said, and Lex looked up at her, a couple of wayward tears trailing down his cheeks, waiting for her to speak. Mikayla looked away, staring down at her hands, thinking about everything she had heard. It was certainly awful to have been deceived, and to have been selected as some kind of vessel for the Lex Luthor legacy. But at the same time, it was almost bizarrely flattering to have been chosen as the perfect candidate by a man of such a precise and demanding nature. Besides his physical specifications, to be called “intelligent” by a genius was no small compliment.

Mikayla pushed those thoughts aside, not quite comfortable with them, and looked back into his face. Could she forgive him? Should she? Surely, those tears couldn’t be fake. Did it matter that he had a criminal past – a most notorious one – and apparently still involved himself in conspiring to attack women and steal their bodily fluids? She’d been prepared to forgive him for murder a moment ago. Wasn’t it still true, now that he’d basically confessed to just that? Mikayla shut her eyes, blocking out the supplicant face, and searched her feelings. No. The last year couldn’t have been a year of make believe and lies. Yes, he’d lied about his identity, but could he have done otherwise? Could he have walked up to her and said, “Hi, I’m Lex Luthor, criminal mastermind and most widely feared individual on earth, would you like to go out for coffee and bear my child?”

To be realistic, he could easily have taken a totally different approach. He could have kidnapped her, forced himself on her until she got pregnant, and held her captive until the baby was born. Then he could have killed her and let Ellen or Anna (his head gardener) raise the baby. On the whole, Mikayla had come out on the brighter side of what could have been a very frightening experience. He’d welcomed her into his home – past the imposing exterior gates, into his private life, and, Mikayla firmly believed, into his heart as well. Despite the lies, and his initial intentions, Mikayla couldn’t honestly say that she wasn’t deeply in love herself. If he really was lying to her, she would just have to risk it and hope that he kept up that charade forever.

Finally, she opened her eyes and looked down at Lex. His face was morose, and Mikayla wondered how long she had sat immobile, with her eyes closed. Mikayla wiped the tears from her face with the handkerchief, then gently dabbed away Lex’s tears. “Okay Lex. I forgive you,” she said.

Lex was physically moved by her statement. He gave a violent shudder, and relief seemed to wash over him like a flood. His eyes were already wet with tears again, and he raised himself slightly and yanked her into a passionate kiss. Mikayla fought the urge to panic, reminding herself that it was just Adam without hair in the end, and let herself enjoy the kiss. When he finally let her go, they were both out of breath, and quivering with the brief release of emotion. Back on his knees, his hands shaking, Lex reached into his pocket. “Now that I’ve told you the truth, I can ask you my question.” He pulled out a black ring box and held it before her. “Will you marry me?”

He opened the box, and Mikayla gasped at its contents – a white-gold ring, studded with diamonds, and centered by the a single, huge round-cut diamond surrounded by a ring of smaller diamonds. There were more diamonds on the ring than she had ever seen in one place before, and she was almost afraid to touch it. She gazed at it in wonder for several seconds, before remembering that she should probably answer him. “Yes,” she said, her voice now weak for a different reason now. “Yes, yes!” She squeezed him into a bone crushing hug for a moment. She let him go, and reached out for the ring, but she was still too nervous to touch it.

Lex slid the ring gently onto her finger. Mikayla didn’t bother to think about how he’d found out her exact ring size. She gazed at her newly adorned hand, and let out a giddy chuckle. Lex laughed too, and pulled her close to him. He smiled down at her, and she found her hurt and anger fully melting away. “Now,” he said. “Now you really belong to me.”

Fin

Exposé by Clark Kent

Lois stood up to the sound of applause. She stepped toward the stage, clutching the note cards like a lifeline. She smiled graciously, hugged the presenters and took the award in one shaking hand. She stood at the podium, gazing out at the lights that obscured most of the audience. The few people she could see were still applauding and smiling at her.

“Thank you,” she said. The crowd hushed, waiting for her acceptance speech. “Thank you very much.” Lois set the award on the podium and stacked her notecards in front of her. “I’d like to thank several people. Without their support, this award wouldn’t have been possible. Richard, my fiance, and my son Jason.” She looked toward were she knew they were sitting. “I love you both, and I thank you for putting up with all the overtime this job comes with. I know you must be sick to death of take-out.” The audienced laughed as they were supposed to.

“I’d also like to thank Perry White, editor in chief of the ‘Daily Planet’. Your support means the world to me, Perry. Sometimes we butt heads, but you always stand by me when it counts. And of course, to all our readers, thank you. Without you, I wouldn’t be standing here today. But…” Lois cleared her throat and rubbed her sweaty hands on the podium. “But I can’t accept this award.” There were murmurs from the audience, and Lois wondered if she could go through with it. She straightened, determined, and looked out at the waiting crowd.

“I can’t accept an award for an article that I no longer believe in. A year ago, I wrote an article called ‘Why the World Doesn’t Need Superman’. During the years without Superman, I felt abandoned. Hurt. Betrayed. To a certain extent, I think we all did. I wrote an article describing a world where the presence of a super-human savior brought more harm to us than good. I described a world where Superman taught us dependence, fear and to place our trust in beings that didn’t deserve it. I described a world that would have been better off if Superman had never shown his face.

“Now…” Lois’ voice cracked, and she swallowed. “Now, I know the truth. Superman didn’t take away our independence. Superman didn’t take away our ability to help ourselves. Superman did just the opposite. He taught us how to care, how to help each other. He taught us what it means to be good people.

“Superman is an alien. He looks a lot like us, but he is an immigrant from a planet galaxies away. Even though he has no real reason to care what happens to us, he goes out of his way to save lives every day. Superman could have used his amazing powers to ravage our cities, terrorize our people, and take over our most powerful governments. Instead, he pushes back floods, puts out fires, and stops airplanes from crashing in a blaze of searing death.

“Like the greatest philanthropic leaders of our past – Martin Luther King Jr., Mahatma Ghandi, Cesar Chavez – Superman teaches us how to be better human beings by example. Superman doesn’t ask to be paid after pulling you from a burning building. He doesn’t blast you with his eyes if you’re so stunned that you forget to thank him when he plucks your child from a raging river. He just smiles and goes to help the next struggling member of a foreign species in a foreign world. Superman has made Earth his home, and he does everything he can to help every one of us, regardless of race, creed, gender, politics or class.

“More than a man of steel, Superman is a bastion of honesty, honor and courage. He is always willing to sacrifice himself for our good. He may not be with us forever, but we… we shouldn’t expect him to. His legacy of bravery, honor and benevolence, can be carried by all of us even if he has to leave us again one day. We may not have super strength. We may not be able fly without the aid of machines, see things hundreds of miles away, or hear what’s going on in Egypt, America and Brazil at the same time. But there are things each of us can do to make this world – our home – a better place to live. Superman has taught us that.

“That’s why I can’t accept this award tonight. The world does need a savior. The world does need Superman. Without noble, honest, caring people like him, willing to help without thanks or reward, our world would be a sad and sorry place to live.” Lois gathered her cards and glanced around the room. “Thank you,” she said, stepping away from the podium.

Lois took two steps away before the audience reacted. Suddenly, there was a thunder of applause, peppered with whistles and cries of “bravo”. She looked out at the audience again. Every seat was empty – every person on their feet smiling and clapping as hard as they could. The presenters shook her hand heartily before letting her go down the steps toward her seat.

Lois smiled and shook the hands of several people before she made it to Richard and Jason. They were both grinning at her, and she received hugs from each. The presentation was wrapped up, and Lois made her way toward the exit with her family. She was stopped by several people who wanted to congratulate her on her decision, and praise her speech. She was graceful, thanking each person in turn. She was surprised when she was approached by Clark. She hadn’t known Perry had assigned him to cover the event, but he had his notebook and his press pass was clipped to his jacket. He smiled at her and shook her hand for several moments.

“I loved what you did up there, Lois,” he said with that goofy smile. “It took a lot of courage to go against what you wrote before.”

“Thanks, Clark,” she said. “I guess I just thought it was the right thing to do.”

“I’ll bet Superman would think so, too.”

Lois smiled. “Thanks,” she said again. He smiled at her and Lois walked out of the building, hoping that somewhere, Superman had heard what she’d said, and that it had brought a smile to his face.

Fin

Kal-El blinked, nonplussed.  He pushed his increasingly annoying glasses up his nose and fumbled for a suitable response.  “Um, who are we talking about again?”
Lois waved her hand dismissively, mumbling that it wasn’t important.  She tried for the third time to hail a cab, and stomped her foot impatiently when it sailed past.  Kal-El took pity on her and whistled for a ride.

A yellow taxi screeched to a halt in front of them, and Lois turned back to him, slack jawed.  “Wow, thanks…”  She climbed in the cab, rattling off her address to the driver before looking up at her savior with a smile.  “Goodnight, Clark.”
Kal-El watched the  cab pull off into traffic before walking off in the opposite direction, turning off into a back alley.
Moments later, Kal-El was in the sky, gaining altitude slowly.  There was no reason to hurry, no catastrophe to avert.  Besides, he didn’t want to beat Lois to her home, near the river.  He chuckled at the unimaginative street name.  Riverside Drive indeed.  I should call the glacier Solitude Place.
Thoughts of the Fortress flooded his mind.  He wished he’d gone there directly from Smallville, rather than trying to return to his life in Metropolis.  His bittersweet memories of loving Lois might have remained just that, bittersweet, rather than souring just so after discovering her award winning… what.  Roast?  Debunking?  Exorcism?
He cast his eyes down, hearing the murmered sighs of wonder from the city below.  “Superman…”
For people who didn’t need him, they certainly did seem to be entranced by him.  He shook off bitter thoughts – they didn’t write the article, nor did they bestow a Pulizer upon the person who did.  It wasn’t fair to dismiss their wonder.  After all, he did leave them, without saying goodbye.
What’s so hard about saying goodbye, Lois?  Knowing that the one you love the most doesn’t hear when you say it.
Kal-El swallowed back the pain as the memories unfolded in his mind’s eye.  Revealing himself to Lois, taking her to the fortress, consulting the crystals in confusion over his… feelings, giving up his power.  Watching the people he cared for from afar suffer.  Cursing his terrible timing, blaming himself for their plight.   Realizing all was not lost, returning to his responsibilities.  Seeing Lois fall apart under the strain. 
Taking her memory of the night he loved Lois Lane.
He hated it, hated giving her what she asked for, what she thought was impossible to have – returning her innocence.  Because Lois was never really innocent in the situation, just ignorant.  And he’d put her back where she said she wanted to be, back in the dark.  It was he who’d lost his innocence that night.  He who’d never get it back.
It hurt him to know that he couldn’t have her the way he wanted her – completely, open and vunerable.  And not because she couldn’t be trusted, but because she couldn’t stand the burden.  He’d made a promise that sad morning, when he brought her the fresh orange juice, that he’d never let her touch him that way again, never let his selfish desires break her spirit again.
Good job on that one.
His mind wandered to another night, the memory of her scent heavy in the air.  He tried to push the thought out of his head, but played on, a whole night relived in the blink of an eye…
She’d been staring at the sky that night, as if she knew he was coming to her.  She was glowing, happy as always, pretending to know more than she did whenever she talked to him that way. 
Whenever she saw her Superman.
And she reached for him, the way she always had before, eyes bright with joy and wonder, turned towards the sky.  That night, however, he changed their scattered routine, if you could call it such.  He shook his head and kissed her lips.  He didn’t want to take her up there – he knew he’d keep going, on to the Fortress, into the ship, on towards… hope.  He couldn’t make that decision for her, but he couldn’t take the risk of telling her.  He didn’t want to be talked out of it.
I should have let you talk me out of it.
She misunderstood him that night.  Why else would he come to her, and then deny her the thrill of flight?  She’d coaxed him inside the apartment, to her room, the darkness of her bed.   He thought about his promise, as she slipped her delicate fingers under his cape, searching for the release.
And when she found it, he came undone, giving into her seduction, allowing himself to be selfish just one more time.  To be close to Lois, just… one… more… time…
He caught sight of the river’s edge and counted the houses, estimating the address from above.  When he found the right one, he pulled back, decending slowly, to hover in a tree. 
He didn’t know what it was about Lois that made him do these things.  He scanned the interior of the house, a smile playing on his lips.
It didn’t take long to find the family.  The boy was in the livingroom, playing a keyboard, making his demands for dinner.  And his parents were in the kitchen… discussing Kal-El.  He tuned in, suddenly interested in the turn the conversation had taken.
“He was Superman, the whole world was in love with him!”
Kal-El snorted silently.  There’s a kid on 5th street who still is…  He smiled, recalling the pledges of undying loyalty from a faint voice in one of the cars he’d passed on his way, vaguely listening to Richard press Lois for an answer.
All traces of amusement quickly vanished with her settled response.  “No.”
Kal-El recoiled, completely stunned.  And his damned mind went back to that night, when he’d buried his face in her neck, when he found her soft, floral scented hair, and allowed himself to cry, where his tears would be hidden in her hair, where the shaking of his shoulders would be mistaken for passion.
He cast his eyes down, as if he could fling the memory to the cold water that flowed out to the Atlantic Ocean, to be washed away with his last shred of hope.
This time, there was no flowery hair to dry his tears, only the blast of night air as he fled from 312 Riverside Drive, trying to outrun her words, his memories, the heartache. 
There was nothing left for him.  No reason to keep trying.
His father’s words came to him then, as if Jor-El could feel his son’s pain. “I have sent them you, my only son.”
Kal-El stopped his ascent far above the Earth, where even the weather satellites couldn’t detect him, and listened to the world, a world she said didn’t need him.
So much pain and confusion, just like him.  So much hurt.  Rejection.
The sound of a bank alarm shrilled in his ears as he came to a painful but liberating conclusion.
She might not have loved him those nights when he took her flying, when he showed her his greatest secrets, when he made love to her when he wasn’t sure he’d ever see her again, but he loved her.  He needed her.
He still needed her.
Them.
He needed them.
The other sounds fell away as the alarm screamed an ephiphany.
The whole world was in love with me. 
Fuck Lois Lane.
His eyes snapped open.  There was something happening down there, a bank robbery in progress.  He could do something about that, something concrete.  Something that wouldn’t be misconstrued or misunderstood.
Superman sped down to the surface, ready to say hello.

END

Jason stirred. When he opened his eyes, the speaker was already gone. He hurried to the window and smiled at Superman’s retreating form. “Good night!” he called. Superman turned back, smiling at him. He exchanged words with Jason’s mother, smiled again at Jason and flew away.

Jason smiled. That will be me one day.

—

Jason couldn’t help the feelings of confusion and guilt when he sat down to breakfast with his father the next morning. He loved his father. This was the man who tucked him in at night, read stories with him, helped him work puzzles, took him to the park. But…

“What’s the matter, kiddo?”

Jason looked up. “Huh?”

“What’s wrong?” Richard asked, scruffing his hair. “Why all the long looks?”

Jason tried to smile. “Nothing,” he said.

“Something, I think. Rather not talk about it?” Jason shook his head. “Okay. But when you’re ready, you can talk to me. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Jason nodded. “Where’s Mommy?” he asked.

“She’s working today,” Richard said. Jason thought he was trying not to sound sad. “But that’s okay, right? It’s you and me. Wanna go to the park today?”

“No. Can we go to the library instead?”

“Sure, we can go wherever you want.”

Jason didn’t have much trouble getting away from his father in the library. Richard always liked to look at the latest pilot and home improvement magazines, and he usually let Jason hang out in the kid’s section on his own. Jason spent the next couple of hours reading as many short books as he could find on step-parents, blended families and adoption. None of them described his exact situation, but he found enough similarities in the various stories to make himself feel a little better about loving two dads.

Jason heard his father’s footsteps long before he saw him. He shoved the books into a corner and browsed for a safer subject. The books certainly hadn’t talked about any families where one daddy didn’t know the child in question was not his own. Jason knew that Richard would be upset if he learned that Superman was his “real” father.

In a few minutes, Richard came into the children’s section, holding a few magazines and a woodworking book. “Haven’t picked anything?” he asked, surprised.

“I read what I wanted,” Jason said.

“Well, I found something I think you’re going to like,” he said with a sly smile. He flipped to a page in the woodworking book and showed it to Jason.

Jason’s eyes widened, and he smiled broadly. “Are you really going to make that?”

“Nope. We’re going to make it. Come on, we’ve got some planning to do.”

- – -

Lois laughed uproariously. She held her hand to her side and giggled until she could barely catch her breath. Richard drummed his fingers on the table and tried to maintain his glare. Her laughter was always infectious, even when it was directed at him. He took advantage of a pause in her merriment to clear his throat. “Are you quite through?”

“I’m sorry,” she said with a chuckle. “But you can’t be serious!”

“Of course I am! And what’s so funny about it?”

Lois snickered. “Richard. Come on.” She pointed at the glossy photograph of the elaborate, four-room tree house. “Just look at it! You’ve never built anything like this!”

“There’s a first time for everything. Besides, I’m not going to make it that spectacular. We’ll just make a few modifications to the design and-”

“Oh, Richard you couldn’t modify a Powerpoint presentation without help,” Lois snapped. “You need to be sensible about this.”

Richard straightened, stung by the comment. He didn’t have to work to mantain his angry expression now. “Well, Lois, I’m no Superman, but I never knew just how incompetent you really thought I was,” he said.

“Dammit, Richard, don’t make this about Superman! I told you, I’m over-”

“I’m not making this about Superman! I’m making it about what it is. You obviously think I couldn’t tie my own damn shoelaces without a manual! I try to do something nice for our son, and all you can do is laugh at me and shoot the whole thing down before it even gets started!”

Lois’ face was red, but Richard couldn’t tell whether it was from embarrassment or anger. “I’m sorry,” she said at last. “I shouldn’t have… look if you want to build a tree house, I’m all for it. I’m sure it’ll be perfect.”

Richard sighed, thoroughly dissatisfied, but tried to be graceful. At least she’d apologized. She kissed him on the cheek and went back to clearing away dishes. Richard closed the book and left the kitchen. He was so disgusted he was ready to abandon the whole project. He stalked upstairs, but decided to check on Jason before heading to the bedroom to stew.

Richard tapped on the door of Jason’s room, then poked his head in. Jason was sitting at his desk, putting the finishing touches on another of his drawings. “Can I come in?”

Jason nodded. “This is for you,” he said, handing the drawing to Richard. Richard smiled warmly. Jason had drawn a large tree with a veritable mansion in its branches. Two faces peered out of the windows, labeled “Daddy” and “Me”.

“It’s perfect,” Richard said.

Jason smiled. “I can’t wait ’til we make the real one. Can we start tomorrow?”

“Absolutely,” Richard said. “Come on, hop in,” he said, patting Jason’s bed. “We’re going to start bright and early, right?”

“Right!” Richard tucked his son into bed, turned out the lights and softly left the room. He stayed up considerably longer than Jason, or even Lois. He was still upset enough with Lois not to want to join her in bed just yet, and he wanted to do more research on tree-house architecture. Jason’s eagerness had brought back all of Richard’s former enthusiasm, and he spent several hours figuring out how to turn the elaborate dream house into a reality.

- – -

Jason was already awake when Richard came to collect him. They discussed blueprints over breakfast and were on their way outside to look for the perfect tree by the time Lois came down. “What’s with the luggage?” she asked, pointing at the large bag slung over Richard’s shoulder.

“It’s tools, Mommy,” Jason informed her.

Lois grinned. “Ahh. Off to survey the land?”

Jason nodded, and Richard smiled. “Yup,” he said. “See you in a little while.”

Lois shook her head and headed toward the kitchen. Jason tugged lightly on Richard’s sleeve. “C’mon, Daddy.”

“Okay, let’s see what we can see.”

Jason followed Richard out to the yard, listening to him talk about structural concerns with tree-houses. Jason learned about necessary tree-width, wind resistance and post requirements. Richard handed Jason a tape measure from their kit, took one himself and instructed Jason to look for likely tree that was at least twelve inches thick. Jason surveyed the nearby trees, checking each one carefully with his tape measure. “What about this one, Daddy?” he called after measuring the third one.

Richard trotted over and inspected the tree. “How many inches is this?”

“Sixteen,” Jason reported.

Richard “hmmmed”, and Jason was pleased to see that his father trusted him enough not to double-check the width. Richard looked toward the house, and mumlbed soemthing about the tree being fairly close. He patted Jason on the shoulder. “Well, son, I think you’ve made the right choice. Lets take a look at the plans again.”

Jason mulled over the blueprints with his father, nodding knowingly while Richard muttered about supports and positioning. He eyed the tree, and held the tape measure to it several different ways before giving Jason another smile. “What did I tell you? Perfect. You have a good eye, Jason.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Next was a trip to the hardware store for wood, bolts, paint and other supplies. Jason made the decision on the color of the tree house, while Richard handled just about everything else, explaining his reasoning to Jason as he went along. Once they got home, Richard put Jason in charge of organizing all the bolts and smaller tools while he and a helper from the store unloaded all the wood. Lois looked on for a few minutes with a half-smile on her face, then went back into the house, probably to work on another story.

The day went by more quickly than Jason expected. They had just enough time to set up the first set of supports before it was time to go in for the evening. Lois asked them how the architecture went during dinner, and Jason was glad to see that they weren’t fighting about it anymore. He went to bed with a happy heart, and visions of tape measures, wooden planks and branches buzzing through his head.

—

Jason and Richard had built the floor of their tree house by the time Jason saw Superman again. Richard was out at a special dinner with Uncle Perry, and Lois had stayed behind to watch Jason and finish up the article she was working on. She finished a short bedtime story for Jason, then left the room. Just as he was about to fall asleep, Jason felt a breeze from his window. He opened his eyes when he heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching his bed.

Superman was standing near his bed, his bright blue eyes wide with shock. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Did I wake you?” Jason shook his head and sat up. Superman looked hesitant, glancing back toward the window.

“Are you going away?” Jason asked, almost surprised by how much the thought upset him.

Superman looked a little guilty, then smiled down at him. “I was afraid I’d startled you,” he said softly.

Jason shook his head. “I’m glad you came,” he said, scooting over a little and patting his bed the way Richard did when he wanted Jason to sit down. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Superman looked surprised, but sat on the bed beside Jason. “Okay,” he said. “What would you like to talk about?”

“Is it hard for you having two fathers?” he asked.

Superman’s jaw dropped. He stared at Jason for a few moments, before finally managing to speak.

“Wha… bu… do…” Superman cleared his throat. “How do you know I have two fathers?” he asked at last.

“Jimmy said your mommy and daddy lived in Kansas,” Jason explained. “But you said you were born on Krypton, so you must have two daddies and two mommies.”

Superman’s jaw dropped a second time. “You… you know about Clark??” Jason nodded. “But… how did you…”

“I saw you on the news when you were talking to Mommy and Daddy and I could tell.” Superman was silent for several moments, and he looked worried. “Don’t worry,” Jason said, guessing at why he looked upset. “I know it’s a secret.”

Superman smiled. “You’re so smart, Jason,” he said, and his voice swelled with pride. “I think I can guess, but do you mind if I ask why you want to know about having two fathers?”

“Because Daddy and you are both mine,” he said. “I got confused because I love Daddy, but… you’re my-” Jason stopped himself before he said the words “real father”. It didn’t seem right.

Superman nodded. “I understand, Jason. It was a little difficult for me at first, when I found out that the father I’d known all my life wasn’t my biological father. I was confused. I felt guilty for wanting to know more about my Kryptonian father. For wanting to love him.” He reached out and lightly brushed Jason’s bangs away from his face. Jason saw a glimmer in Superman’s eyes, almost as if he were about to cry. “But I got used to it,” he said. “I learned to love my Kryptonian father very much, and I loved my Earth father as deeply as always.”

Jason smiled and gave Superman a hug. He could feel Superman’s sharp intake of breath, and a moment later, strong arms returned the embrace. He smiled up into his Kryptonian father’s face. “Do you think you have time to tell me a story?”

“I always have time for you, Jason,” he said. “What kind of story do you want?”

“Something about Krypton.” Superman tucked Jason into bed, looked slowly around the room as if he was trying to see through the walls. When he finished, he looked down at Jason and started the story of the very first member of the House of El. Jason tried to stay awake through the whole story, but somewhere between the assasination attempt against Kor-El and his marriage to Rena from the House of Ilo, Superman’s soothing baritone had lulled him to sleep.

- – -

Richard spent as much time as he could building the tree house with Jason. He delegated many of his more mundane tasks just so he could leave work early to make a little more progress with the project. Lois never made another skeptical statement about the tree house. She seemed to be making a special effort not to mention it negatively. She remarked more than once how nice it was to see Jason spending so much quality time with his father.

Three weeks after they’d chosen their tree, Richard and Jason were already half way through with the production. The first three walls had been built on the ground, then Richard rented a simple pulley device to heft the jointed walls into the tree.

Richard stood back to admire the rear and side walls. “Not bad, huh?” he said, looking down at Jason. His son smiled and shook his head. “Okay, kiddo. Time to get it into the tree now. Stand back over there, okay?” Jason stood a safe distance away while Richard fastened the ropes of the pulley onto the walls. He tugged on the rope to make sure it was secure, then turned on the machine. Gears cranked, and slowly, the walls began their progress up into the tree’s branches. Richard watched it rise slowly, keeping his eye on the controls and adjusting them slightly when it seemed that the walls might hit a branch.

Richard stopped the machine when the wall sections had reached the proper height. “Okay, Jason. You ready to head up there and start bolting?”

“Yes,” Jason said. Richard smiled, but Jason’s eyes narrowed suddenly and he frowned.

“What’s wrong, Jason?” A moment after he spoke, Richard heard a snap. He looked up, and his eyes widened. One of the clasps attaching the ropes to the woodwork had broken and the walls swung dangerously by one rope. Richard stepped back, but before he could get out of the way, the second clasp snapped, and the walls dropped down toward him.

“Daddy!”

A second after Richard heard his son’s panicked cry, he was bowled over by an unknown force and propelled about six feet away from the tree. He tumbled to a halt, and looked up in time to see the house swiftly falling toward his son. “JASON!!” Richard’s gut wrenched inside him and he stared, powerless to stop what was happening.

A moment later, however, he was stunned out of all sense of fear. The house stopped about three and a half feet from the ground. Richard stared. Jason had caught the back wall just before it hit his head, and slowly pushed it up. He held it there for a second, then carefully repositioned it so that he could safely set it down.

“Oh my God,” Richard said in a breathless whisper. The implications of what had just happened hit him suddenly, and he stared at Jason with mingled wonder and sadness. He willed it not to come, but despite himself, the thought articulated itself in his mind. Jason is not my son.

Jason turned and stared at Richard, his lip trembling, and his large blue eyes filling with tears. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Richard was on his feet in an instant. He reached Jason in two strides and scooped him up into his arms. “You don’t have to apologize to me,” he said, hugging Jason tightly. “You never have to apologize for who you are.”

Jason’s body trembled slightly, and Richard held him until he felt Jason grow still. He kissed Jason on the forehead and managed a smile. “Thanks for saving me,” he said. Jason managed a small smile, too, but Richard could tell he was still upset. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

Jason shook his head. “Are you mad at me? Because I didn’t tell you?”

“No, Jason, no! It wasn’t up to you to tell me that.” He embraced Jason again. “Don’t worry, Jason. I don’t want you to worry about anything.” He felt Jason nod. They stood there for a few more seconds, then Richard carried Jason into the house and up to his room. He needed a little time to himself, to figure out how to handle the person who was responsible for telling him Jason’s true parentage.

“Can you hang out in your room for a while?” he asked. Jason nodded. “Call me if you need anything.”

Richard left the room and immediately called Lois. He asked her to come home, telling her that he needed to talk to her right away. Something in his voice must have told her that this wasn’t the best time to cry work. She told him she would come right away, and Richard paced back and forth across the living room floor waiting for her.

Every doubt he had ever had rushed back to him while he paced. His feelings of insecurity toward Superman increased tenfold. He loved Jason more than anything, and it was like having part of him forcibly ripped away to know that he belonged to Superman. It was much worse, though, to know that Lois hadn’t told him the truth.

Richard stopped pacing when he heard Lois’ car drive up. He tried to force the scowl off his face, but he had a hard time doing it. He was still glaring when Lois entered the room.

“Richard, what’s wrong?” she asked, looking at him with mingled nervousness and confusion.

“When were you going to tell me about Jason?”

Lois looked completely confused, then her face flushed a deep red. “How… how did you-”

“Does that really matter?” he asked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Richard, I- I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Didn’t want to hurt me? Lois, how long did you think you could hide it from me? The longer you waited the worse- how could it not hurt me to know you’ve been lying to me all these years??”

“Years? Richard, I had no idea until we got stuck on Luthor’s yacht! I never thought he belonged to Superman until then!”

“But you had to have suspected, Lois! He couldn’t have been with you less than a month before you got together with me!” The thought angered him so much that Richard wasn’t able to speak for a moment. Another thought occured to him. “When I asked you if you loved him you told me you didn’t!”

Lois gaped. “You- you never asked me if I had sex with him, Richard, you asked if-”

“So you’re telling me you screwed him, but you weren’t in love with him?!”

Lois’ anger flared. “Dammit, Richard, don’t make this harder than it is! What do you want me to do? Huh? You want an apology? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you something that was none of your business!”

“None of my business?? Lois how can it not be my-”

“I hadn’t even met you, Richard! Am I supposed to tell you EVERYTHING that I ever did from the day I was born?? Why would I tell you I slept with Superman when just the fact that I knew him makes you insecure? Can you tell me that?”

“Because I’m raising his son? Is that enough of a reason for it to be my business?”

“You act like you regret raising him! Is that what you’re saying, Richard? You wish you’d never raised Jason? Because if it is, that’s really-”

“That’s NOT what I’m saying! I love Jason, you know that! I’m just… it… it was recent enough that you could honestly think Jason was ours! That’s not minor, Lois! How am I supposed to feel?”

“Richard-”

“He couldn’t have been gone for more than a couple of weeks before you and I-”

“Richard!” Richard let her speak. “Look. I was a lot younger, then, okay? I guess I was in love with him in a way, but not… it was more like infatuation than love and, I just happened to be lucky enough to…” Richard bristled, and Lois stopped, her face flushing a deeper red than before. “Richard. I love you, not Superman. And if over five years of living with you hasn’t convinced you of that, I don’t know what else you want me to do!”

“Why won’t you marry me?” he asked.

She looked startled. “What?”

“Why won’t you marry me?” asked again. “If you love me so much, why won’t you marry me?”

“Richard, marriage has nothing to do with whether people love each other! How many times do we have to-”

“But why, Lois? WHY can’t you do it? If you’re over Superman – really over him – why won’t you marry me? You can’t even talk about it without getting upset!”

“Richard, you know how much I hate being pressured about this!”

“That’s my point! Why is it pressuring you? You should want to-”

“Now you’re telling me how I should feel?”

“Dammit, Lois-”

“No! No, Richard, that’s it. I’m sick of this! You wanted the truth about Jason but you can’t handle that! You can’t handle the fact that I had a previous relationship with someone even though God knows how many women you were with before me, and you don’t see me harping on you about them-”

“But I never lied to you about my relationships, either, Lois! And I didn’t have a relationship THREE DAYS before I got together with you! You can’t compare that to-”

“NO!” she shouted. “STOP IT. I won’t talk about this with you anymore! I’m sick of your insecurities and your Superman issues, and-”

“This isn’t a Superman issue, it’s a trust issue! I feel like I can’t trust you, Lois!”

Lois glared at him, her face growing practically pure white in her fury. “I’m ending this conversation,” she said through gritted teeth.

Lois turned her back on him, and he took a step back as if she had slammed a door in his face. He glared at her. “You might be ending more than that,” he snapped. He turned on his heel and stormed toward the door.

“Wait, what is that supposed to mean?” Richard was too furious to stop. “Richard! Richard!”

Richard slammed the door as hard a he could and headed for the car. He stopped short and looked back toward Jason’s window. He was relieved to see that the curtain was drawn. He figured that Jason had been listening to his headphones during the louder parts of the argument. Thank God for that. He got into the car and drove off, no destination in mind except away.

- – -

“You might be ending more than that!”Jason gasped. He heard his father’s footsteps, followed by his mother calling his name. The door slammed, and Jason’s heart raced. It was hard to breathe again for the first time since the Boat Incident. He gasped for air, knowing he shouldn’t panic, but unable to do anthing else. He heard another door slam and raced to the window in time to see his father’s car peel away from the house.

Jason’s eyes filled with tears and he stared after the car until it turned a corner and he could see it no more. There was a frustrated scream from downstairs, and Jason heard a few things slam around before it was quiet again. A few moments later, he could hear his mother crying. The sound frightened him more than anything else. He had never heard it before.

Jason turned away from the window and walked slowly down the stairs. He followed the foreign sound until he found his mother, curled up on the couch gripping one of the cushions. Jason stood a few feet away until she noticed him. She sat up quickly and tried to dry her eyes, but the tears she wiped away were immediately replaced with new ones. She gave up trying to stop them and reached out for him. Jason ran to her and she gripped him tightly and cried into his hair.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she said after a few minutes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She kept apologizing again and again. Jason didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. He just held her tighter until she calmed down.

After a while, Jason looked up at her. “Mommy?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Is Daddy coming back?”

Lois looked like she was going to start crying all over again. “I… I hope so, Jason. But everything-” Her voice cracked a little. “Everything’s going to be okay.” Jason wanted to believe her, but the tears welling in her eyes again made the words seem less than convincing.

After a little while, Lois seemed to have truly calmed down. She put together a sandwich, juice, crackers, fruit and cookies for Jason, as if the huge spread would make up for the missing person. She called work and said she was staying home for the rest of the day. She stayed with Jason all day. She talked to him about school, about his favorite books, what he wanted for dinner. Everything except Richard. Jason stayed with his mother until a few hours after dinner. He started to feel sleepy, and Lois asked if he was ready for bed. Jason nodded.

Lois looked a little nervous. “Do… do you think you want to sleep in mommy’s room tonight?”

Jason shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said.

“Okay, baby.” She walked him to his room and stayed for a while, trying to make sure he had everything he needed. She checked the night light, the covers, the window, even offered his old teddy bear. When he guessed she couldn’t check anything else, she kissed him goodnight. He thought he could see her eyes start to shine again when she took a last look him before shutting the door.

Jason lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling. He had been sleepy while he was downstairs, but now that he was in bed, he couldn’t sleep at all. All he could think about was his father. Where was he? Was he coming back? His mother hadn’t said yes when he asked her that question. What if he never came back? What if something bad happened to him? Richard wasn’t home all the time, of course, but Jason always knew where he was. He never left Jason behind without telling him where he would be. What if he got mugged? What if he got stabbed? What if he got shot? What if Lex Luthor kidnapped him and tried to drown him?

Jason had worked himself into quite a state before long. He was crying again, but trying to keep quiet so that Lois wouldn’t worry. He was on the verge of going into her room and sleeping with her after all, when there was a tap on his window. Jason sat up. Superman! He rubbed the tears out of his eyes and opened the window. Superman glided in, but his usual friendly smile vanished when he saw Jason’s face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, kneeling in front of Jason and touching his face gently. “What’s happened, Jason?”

Jason’s lip quivered, and he found it hard to say the words. “Daddy…” He looked down. “Daddy left us.”

“What?”

“H-he left,” Jason said again. “The wall fell, and I caught it, and then he said it was okay and don’t apologize for who you are, but then he had a fight with Mommy, and he-” The long stream of words stopped. Jason couldn’t keep from crying anymore. He looked down, and his Kryptonian father pulled him close and held him while he cried. In a few minutes, Jason was lifted up, and Superman sat on his bed, settling Jason on his lap.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Superman asked.

Jason hadn’t thought he wanted to talk, but this was the first time he’d been asked. “It’s my fault,” he said, blinking through the haze of tears. Jason felt Superman tense, but he didn’t interrupt. Jason tried to be calm, but it wasn’t working. He had kept himself from crying all day after Lois had stopped, and this was the first time he’d been able to talk about his feelings since Richard left. He described the event with the tree house and the guilt he felt for not telling his father the truth. He relayed the argument in great detail. Almost every word was burned into his memory. Superman seemed to tense again during his story, but Jason thought it must be because of the things his parents had said to each other.

“And then he drove away and Mommy was crying, and… if… if it wasn’t for me…”

“If it wasn’t for you, Jason,” Superman said, “your father would have been very badly hurt. Maybe worse.” Jason shuddered at the thought. “Sometimes having super powers can make life easier, Jason, but it can also be very hard. Revealing yourself when you might not be ready, or when the people around you aren’t ready isn’t very easy. But you did what was right. What happened after is not your fault.”

Jason pressed himself harder against Superman, and got a squeeze in return. He was grateful to be told that he did the right thing, even though he knew there wasn’t anything else he could have done. It was good to hear it from someone else – someone who also had to deal with the good and bad of special powers. Jason sighed, and he could feel his eyes watering again. “But… what if Daddy doesn’t come back? What if he doesn’t forgive Mommy?” He started breathing fast again. “What am I going to do, Clark?” Superman gasped and looked up sharply. Jason reddened. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have-”

“No, no, Jason,” he said. “Don’t worry. I don’t want you to worry about anything.” Jason allowed himself to calm down just a little. Superman glanced up at the door, then looked at Jason. “Listen to me,” he said. “No matter what happens between your parents, your dad will never leave you. He loves you too much to do that to you.”

“But…”

“Trust me, Jason,” he said gently. “Sometimes, when people get upset, they need to go away for a little while so they can calm down and think by themselves. Then, when they feel better, they come back home to the people who care about them and they do the best they can to make everything right.”

“Really?”

“I’m positive, Jason. I’m sure it won’t be long before you see your daddy again.”

Superman seemed so sure of what he said that Jason had a hard time doubting him. He smiled, actually feeling better for the first time all evening. His second (or first) father wiped his tears away and settled him into the bed. “Are you leaving?”

“Yes, Jason. But you know I’m never far away.”

Jason smiled again and watched Superman fly off. A second later, his door opened, and he turned sharply. He gasped and hopped out of bed. Superman was right! “Daddy!!!” Jason ran to his father and hopped into his open arms.

Richard squeezed him tight and kissed him. “I’m sorry, Jason,” he said, his voice sounding a little strange. “I’m sorry I left you.”

“It’s okay, Daddy,” he said. “You just needed to think.”

Richard chuckled and gave Jason another kiss. Jason felt wetness on his face, and it wasn’t from his own tears. His father brushed tears off his face and carried Jason back to bed. “Come on, son. It’s way past bedtime.”

Jason smiled when Richard called him “son”. He snuggled down under the covers, and when his father tucked him in and kissed his forehead, he felt that nothing could ever be wrong in the world again.
- – -
Two hours earlier…

Richard stopped the car at a relatively deserted parking lot. He’d been driving aimlessly for the last several hours, barely able to form a coherent thought. Finally, the anger abated enough for him to think things over. The argument played over and over in his mind. Maybe he’d been unreasonable. Maybe it wasn’t fair to keep throwing her relationship with Superman at her. But… it was kind of hard not to, when it kept coming out of the woodworks to turn Richard’s world upside down. And surely Lois had been just as bad. She should have told him about Jason when she found out. She should have trusted him enough to know that he wouldn’t resent Jason. He loved Jason.

There was a pang when he thought again about the realization that Jason wasn’t his. He couldn’t say “my son” anymore. Richard shook his head. That was just stupid. He’d raised Jason from birth, and he was as much Richard’s son as he was Superman’s. More, in fact, since Superman hadn’t even seen Jason until a few months ago, much less had a hand in rearing him.

The more Richard thought about Jason, the worse he felt about walking out. Jason was probably worried. He would know by now that something was wrong. Lois would be worried, too, assuming she wasn’t too angry at him to think about it. Richard sighed and started the car again. He couldn’t stay out here all night, and it wouldn’t be right to just go to a hotel. Angry as he was at Lois, he loved her too much to just walk after one argument (painful as that argument had been), without even trying to work things out.

As he approached the house, Richard began to feel nervous. What if she’d left and taken Jason with her? What if she didn’t want to work things out, and handed him his ring back? Richard parked, and left the car as quietly as he could. He entered the house and looked around. No one downstairs. He went upstairs and peered into his bedroom. Lois was asleep on top of the covers, still dressed in her work clothes. The trashcan was full of crumpled tissues, and the floor was littered with them as well. He frowned. She’d been crying for a long time.

Richard considered tucking her in, but a slight sound caught his attention, and he headed for Jason’s room. As he approached the door, he thought he could hear Jason crying. His hand was on the doorknob when he heard a deep voice ask, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Richard’s face fell, and he couldn’t decide whether to be angry that Superman had invaded his house, jealous that Superman was comforting Jason, or guilty knowing that he was the reason Jason needed comfort to begin with. Guilt and shame won out when he heard his son say, “It’s my fault”. He stood silent, listening to his son tell Superman all about the tree house. He was shocked when he heard Jason describe details of his bitter argument with Lois that he definitely shouldn’t have been able to hear, and he was all the more disgusted with himself for leaving without checking on Jason first.

Richard thought he would like to be sucked down into the floor when he heard Jason begin to blame himself for showing his powers in the first place. He was more pleased than he thought he would be when Superman’s voice was heard at last, giving Jason some fatherly (he had to think the word) advice on the difficulties of having special powers.

There was silence for a while, then Jason expressed more of his fears. “But… what if Daddy doesn’t come back? What if he doesn’t forgive Mommy?” Richard’s hand was on the door again, but again he was brought up short, this time by Jason instead of Superman. “What am I going to do, Clark?”

Richard gasped. There were apologies from Jason, and reassurances from Super… Clark? Richard struggled to comprehend it. Superman was Clark? Clark was Superman?? He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t just heard Jason say it to Superman and receive no rebuttal or surprise in return. Did Lois know about this? No. She couldn’t. Richard took more notice of Clark than Lois did, and admittedly, Clark wasn’t foremost on his mind at any particular time. Maybe that was part of the disguise.

Richard focused on the conversation again. “… people get upset, they need to go away for a little while so they can calm down and think by themselves. Then, when they feel better, they come back home to the people who care about them and they do the best they can to make everything right.”

“Really?” Jason asked.

“I’m positive, Jason. I’m sure it won’t be long before you see your daddy again.” There was something in the way Superman said those words that almost made Richard think he knew more than he was telling Jason. Richard waited, now unwilling to interrupt the two. He heard Superman assure Jason that he would always be close by, then there was a little rustling, and the sound of a window closing.

Richard opened the door immediately, and was rewarded with the brightest smile he’d ever seen on his son’s face. “Daddy!!!” Richard embraced his son, and there was a tearful reunion, though the tears were mostly on Richard’s part. He was gratified to know that he had been instantly forgiven by Jason, and he could only hope that Lois would be as happy when he spoke to her. He tucked Jason into bed and left, closing the door gently behind him.

—

Richard jumped when he turned away from Jason’s bedroom door. Lois was standing at the end of the hall, watching him with tears glistening in her eyes. “Lois! I thought you were asleep.”

“I heard Jason,” she said.

Richard walked toward her, uncertain whether he should try to hold her, or let her make the first move. “I-” they spoke at the same time. “You first,” Richard said.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You were right, I should have told you about Jason. But I really didn’t know how. I just… thought I’d figure something out when the time was right. Guess that didn’t work out too well.”

“You were right, too Lois. I didn’t make it easy for you by being so paranoid about you and Superman.”

Lois shook her head. “That’s my fault, too. If I wasn’t always so-”

“Shhh.” Richard held a finger lightly to her lips. “It’s not important anymore.”

Lois brushed the last of the tears from her face. “Still. I’ll work on it. And I’ll be counting on you to make sure Perry doesn’t force him on me anymore,” she said with a playful smile.

“It’s a done deal. I promise to try to work out my um… insecurity issues, too.” She squeezed him into a tight embrace, then kissed him hard.

When they pulled away, Lois left her hand on his chest, and she stared at it for a few moments. “I could probably help with that,” she whispered. “Richard?”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s set a date.”

“A date?” he asked.

“A wedding date.”

A broad smile spread across Richard’s face. At a loss for words, he just pulled her into his arms again and kissed her repeatedly. After a few seconds, the kisses grew more urgent, and they began making their way toward the bedroom. Before long, clothes were abandoned, lights were dimmed, and the two were deeply involved in a physical expression of their reconciliation.

—

Richard stood at the threshold of his office, staring at the back of Clark Kent’s head. He was in deep discussion with one of the floating photographers (Jimmy had been assigned to help Lois for the week), and Richard found himself wondering how he’d ever been deceived. Maybe it was because he was working on a project, or because he wasn’t aware of being scrutinized, but Clark seemed a lot less dorky than Richard remembered. Still. Even with the bumbling around, the poindexter glasses and the stammering indecisiveness, why hadn’t he figured it out before? Clark looked a hell of a lot like Superman, and the paper printed huge photos of him every other day.

Richard shook his head. At least I’m not the only one who got duped, he thought. Clark did have a way of making himself seem invisible. Most people hardly knew he was there unless he was falling over something. Overall, he guessed it was a pretty damn good disguise.

Richard studied him for a few more seconds, before making his way over. They would have to interact some time, and he wanted to get all the… weirdness out of the way as soon as possible. He cleared his throat when he got within earshot, and they looked up suddenly. Clark looked slightly worried, but the photographer just smiled.

“Hi, Mr. White,” she said brightly.

“Hi, Clara. I hope you don’t mind, but I need to steal Clark away for a while.” He looked at Clark. “Got time to talk?”

Clark glanced nervously at his partner, and shoved his glasses up from the middle like a total and complete dork. “Um… sure, Richard. We can finish this a little later, right Clara?”

“Of course.”

Richard started walking toward the door, followed closely by Clark. “Can I buy you lunch, Clark?” he asked. “That bar down the block has pretty good food, I’m told.”

“S-sure, that’d be swell.”

Richard looked back at him with an amused smile, but Clark didn’t seem to notice. Richard shook his head and led the way into the elevator. They were silent on the ride down. Richard exited the doors, but had to wait a little for Clark to catch up. He seemed to be having some trouble comprehending the revolving door. He stumbled out at last, gave Richard an apologetic smile, and started walking. Richard stared, wondering exactly how much of Clark Kent’s goofiness was really an act.

The pub was only a block and a half away, and Richard chose the most secluded table he could find. He ordered something simple, not really caring what he ate at the moment, then looked seriously at Clark. “I, um.” Richard cleared his throat, finding it difficult to bring up the subject now that he had Clark alone. “I know who you are.”

Clark had become equally serious. “I know,” he said.

Richard was surprised, but only for a moment. “You must have heard me outside the room.”

“I saw you,” Clark said. Richard remembered the x-ray vision and nodded. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t-”

“I won’t,” Richard said.

Clark let out a sigh of relief, and he seemed to relax considerably. “I’d rather she didn’t know, either,” he said. “It would be too complicated.”

“I understand,” Richard said. He chuckled. “Besides, I don’t need any more competition than I already have.”

“Richard, I-”

“I know. She told me, it’s over between you.”

“But I think you should hear it from me,” Clark said seriously. “Lois and I are over. It’s part of the past, and it can’t be revived. At this point, I don’t think either of us wants it to be.”

Richard nodded. He’d been fairly certain he was okay, but it was good to hear the words out of Superman’s mouth. “About Jason,” he said after a moment. Clark tensed slightly, but waited to hear what Richard had to say. “I just wanted you to know you, um… you’re welcome to see him any time you want. I mean, it’s not like I could stop you if I tried, but… I guess I wanted to tell you that I won’t try. You’ve got every right to be a part of his life, and I’m not going to stand in your way.”

Clark was staring at Richard with a huge smile across his face. “Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate this, Richard. More than you can know.” Richard was doubtful, but Clark shook his head. “Trust me.” He lowered his voice considerably. “When you’re the last of your race… of your species…” Clark was interrupted by the arrival of their food, but Richard thought he had a better idea of what he meant. No. He couldn’t know what that was like. He could only imagine, and he didn’t even want to try too hard to do that much. The very idea of being so utterly… alone was enough to make him shudder. Finding out he had a son must have meant the world to Clark, just as it had meant the world to Richard when he’d first held Jason in his arms.

When the wait staff left, Clark continued. “It means a lot to me that you’re all right with me seeing Jason,” he said. “You’re… I’m…” Clark cleared his throat self consciously. “I’m glad he has you for a father.”

Richard was extremely embarrassed by the statement, especially when it came from Jason’s biological father. He thought he might actually be blushing. “Likewise,” he whispered, knowing Clark would hear him all the same. Richard couldn’t see Clark’s reaction. He was too busy staring at his plate, concentrating on the serious business of sandwich eating. When he did finally glance up, he found that Clark seemed equally engrossed with his lunch. They ate in silence for the next few minutes, each leaving the other to his own thoughts.

Clark eventually broke the silence. “So how are things with Lois? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Good. Great, actually. We worked some things out.” He considered it for a moment, then decided to tell Clark the news. “We’re getting married.”

“Well, you are engaged,” Clark said with a slightly confused frown.

“I mean we’ve set a date. The first of June. You’re the first to know.” Richard watched Clark’s face carefully for any sign of resentment or disappointment, but he saw only a genuine smile.

“Congratulations, Richard,” he said warmly. “I’m happy for you.”

Richard smiled back. “Thanks, Clark,” he said. “It’s good to hear you say that.” They spoke a little more about the wedding, and Richard asked Clark not to tell anyone just yet. “We haven’t told our parents yet, and I know my mother would never forgive me if she knew I hadn’t told her first.”

Clark laughed. “Your secret’s safe with me,” he said.

They chatted pleasantly for a while longer. Richard was relieved that the two subjects that must have been weighing on Clark’s mind as much as they had on his had been dispatched with good feelings on both sides. Clark’s relaxed attitude showed that he must be relieved as well.

After the check had been taken care of, they walked back to the office. Richard noticed that the closer they got to the office, the more Clark’s attitude changed. He slouched just a touch, played with his glasses more often, and his expression became one of mild bewilderment. Richard smiled at him, but said nothing. Once they got in the building, he pretended to take no notice at all, but he was more than amused. Definitely a good disguise.

- – -

Jason stepped back and admired the tree house. It was wonderful. There were two rooms instead of four, but it was more than enough to make Jason happy. It had windows with shutters, a porch, and a real staircase leading around the tree and down to the ground. There was even a tiny window box with plants that his mother had said were easy to take care of. “Wow,” he said. “We did it.”

“Yup,” Richard said, gazing just as proudly.

Jason heard a click, and turned to see Lois smiling, with a camera in her hand. “I couldn’t resist,” she said. She looked at the finished product with admiration. “I can’t believe you guys actually pulled it off! It’s beautiful!”

Jason smiled. “Thanks, Mommy.”

“We are pretty amazing, aren’t we?” Richard said with a smile. “Come on, Jason, let’s go inside.” Jason led the way up the stairs, and into the tree house. His father had to duck just a little bit to get through the doorway, but there was room for him to stand once he got inside. Jason looked with pleasure at the inside of the house. There “living room” had a plushie arm chair that was just the right size for Jason, a flash light, a tiny book case that Richard had made from leftover wood, and a box for any toys he might want to keep out here. The second room was just big enough for a small mattress, blankets and a battery operated radio. “Great, isn’t it?” Richard asked.

Jason nodded vigorously. “Can we have dinner up here?” he asked.

“Well… there’s not much room for Mommy, but tell you what. We’ll eat dinner first, and we’ll come out here with dessert. We can bring a game up, or we can read some comics together. How does that sound?”

Jason nodded again. He was still reluctant to leave, but he let his father lead him back down and into the house.

—

Jason was pleased to see that his parents seemed to have made up completely. They smiled and kissed each other a lot more than usual, and his mother didn’t seem to work as much at night or on weekends. Before long, there were visits from both sets of his grandparents, and there were talks about wedding locations, decorations and money matters.

Jason spent as much time as he could in his tree house, sometimes with his father, sometimes alone. He brought some of his favorite books and a few toys to remain there permanently, and soon it became just like his second home. The first time Superman came after the tree house was built, he glided to the small window and knocked hesitantly. Jason invited him inside, but Superman shook his head. He said it was a special place for him and Richard, and he didn’t want to change that.

Jason understood, and he was glad that he didn’t have to feel guilty about not sharing his tree house with his other father. “Will we ever have a special place?” Jason asked.

Superman looked up for a few moments, and his face looked sad. “We will,” he said. “It’s not ready right now, but we will. I’ll take you there one day.”

Jason smiled. He brought a blanket out to the porch and settled down snugly against the wall. “Do you have time to tell me a story?”

Superman sat down on a nearby branch and smiled. “I always have time for you, Jason,” he said. “Always.”

Fin

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!” they said in unison. Clara looked up and smiled. “Oh, hi, Mr. Kent,” she said.

“Hi, Miss King,” he said, his cheeks turning bright red as he spoke.

“You know, we really have to stop meeting this way,” she said, sitting up and checking her camera. When she was satisfied that it was undamaged, she started to pull the papers back into order. Clark knelt down and began to help. They bumped heads a couple of times, and they reached for the same piece of paper more than once. Passers-by shook their heads, and a few of the people who worked on their floor muttered, “C.K. squared are at it again.”

As soon as they entered the bustling, humming office floor, they waved and parted ways. Clara looked back and watched Clark stumble to his desk before heading to her own area. “Hey Clara!”

“Hey, Jimmy,” Clara said, dropping her papers onto the desk. “How’s it going?”

“Great!” Jimmy said. “I’m on assignment with Lois again. This time we’re headed down to-”

“You ready, Jimmy? Oh, hi Clara.”

“Hi, Miss Lane.”

“Jimmy, come on, we gotta get going if we’re going to beat traffic.”

“I’m right behind you Lois. See you, Clara, I’ll tell you all about it!”

“Bye,” Clara said. She sighed wistfully, wishing that she could go on a field assignment with a reporter, instead of just shooting pictures and hoping someone would want them, or taking random requests. She sat down and got ready to load her latest pictures onto her computer.

“KENT!!!” came the familiar, bellowing voice of the Editor in Chief. “In my office!”

“Yes, Mr. White.” Clara peered above the stacks of files and papers to see Clark heading for the Chief’s office. He closed the door behind him and Clara looked back down at her computer. She had just managed to get the sim card out of her camera when the chief’s door opened again. “KING!!!”

Clara hopped out of her seat. “Be right there, Chief!” She stuck the memory card back into the camera and rushed into the Chief’s office, narrowly escaping falling flat on her face a couple of times when some coworker or other’s chair moved into her way at just the wrong moment.

Clara entered the Chief’s office and glanced at Clark before looking up at her boss. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes! I want you with Clark today.”

“Really??”

“Well that’s what I said, isn’t it?!”

“Well, ye-”

“It’s time for you to get out there and make a mark! Bring back something award-winning, King! Understand?”

“Ye-”

“Clark will guide you. He’ll tell you everything you need to know, right Kent?”

“Yes, Chi-”

“He’s almost as shy as you are, so you guys should get along great together. Now get out there, you two, and bring me back some fire!” He paused, and Clara and Clark both waited, wanting to be sure the Chief was really finished. “Well, what are you still doing here! Go! Good luck on your first field assignment, King.”

“Thank you, Chief,” Clara said. Clark held the door open for her and she stepped outside, trying to calm the breathless, hyper feeling she always had after leaving the Chief’s office. It was particularly difficult to quell this time, because she had suddenly been thrust into a dream. Not only was she going to work her first field assignment with a reporter, but the reporter was Clark Kent! She couldn’t stop smiling.

“Well, Miss King, it looks like we’ll be working together for the first time,” Clark said.

Clara nodded. “Looks that way. You can call me Clara,” she said. “Since we are going to be bringing back fire together.” Clark chuckled. “So, where are we headed?”

“Mr. White wants me to cover a story on the slums downtown. Well, one in particular. It’s a terrible situation. Leaky pipes, bad railings, faulty locks. None of the tenants feel safe.”

“Wow,” Clara said. “Heavy piece. I’m sure that crazy earthquake Lex Luthor caused didn’t help anything.”

“Exactly! And the landlord hasn’t even bothered to put plastic in the broken windows.”

Clara shook her head. “Say, speaking of apartments, have you found a place to stay yet? I heard you were having some trouble.”

“Yeah, I still haven’t found anything. You know, all the bustle after Luthor’s last attack…”

Clara nodded. “Well… if…” She blushed and studied her camera.

“Clara?”

“Nothing,” she said hastily. “Shall we get a cab?”

Clark frowned slightly, loooking confused, but let it drop. “Sure.” By this time, they were downstairs in the lobby again. Clara approached the revolving doors with the great respect due to such a complex piece of technology. She got inside, glancing back at Clark, who entered the door at the same time she did. There was a semi-frantic shuffle and after a few hectic seconds, they burst out of the door and both looked back at it, much as if they had escaped a dragon’s cavern.

Clara tried a few times to hail a cab, but without success. Clark stepped forward after the fourth cab passed and let out a loud whistle. Three cabs stopped in their tracks. Clara smiled, impressed. “Wow,” she said. “I think I need to keep you around all the time.” Clark only chuckled slightly and held the door open for her.

Clark gave the cabby the address, and they headed to the grungy part of town. When they drew nearer their destination, Clara took a couple of pictures from the backseat of the cab. When they reached the apartment they were to focus on, Clara stepped out of the car and took some shots of the building. She was shocked by how ill-kept it was, even though she knew she was coming to a slum. Most buildings around Metropolis had been restored to normal by now, but this one still had broken windows (some were just gaping holes where the glass should have been), the walls were cracked in places, and even the front door barely seemed to stay on its hinges.

The inside was worse. Clara snapped photo after photo of the dilapidated stairs, water-stained walls and cracked, creaking floors. Meanwhile, Clark began knocking on doors, looking for an interview. Before their visit was done, Clara had over 80 pictures of the apartment, bad plumbing, refuse issues and some of the tennants, and Clark had interviewed several of the residents and heard their many complaints.

“Sometimes I wish Superman cared enough about the little people around here to do something about this dump,” one tennant said near the end of a long rant.

Clark looked stunned and seemed to be at a loss for words. Clara frowned. “With all due respect, sir,” she said, trying not to sound too angry, “I’m sure Superman cares a great deal about everyone. But he can’t be everywhere at one time. This is something that the housing authority, or maybe even the police, should be called on to help with, not Superman. It’s something we can do on our own, and it wouldn’t be fair to expect him to…” Clara stopped, thinking she might be getting a little too preachy. She was representing the Daily Planet, after all. “I’m sure that with the help of the article Mr. Kent is going to write, it will be brought to their attention, and something will be done about this place.”

“Well, I sure hope so,” the man said, apparently not offended in the least by being told off by the photographer. Clark wrapped up the interview and asked if Clara thought she needed any more pictures. She said that eighty-three photos was probably enough to choose from, and they hailed a cab back to the office.

When they were settled into the cab, Clara started to review her pictures, trying to decide how she could narrow down the selection so that Clark wouldn’t have to ponder all night to choose something. Clark cleared his throat. “That was pretty generous of you,” he said.

“Hm? Oh, I think I might have been too generous. You’ve got almost a hundred to choose from.”

“Huh? Oh, no! I meant about Superman. The way you defended him.”

“Ohhhh,” Clara said with a laugh. “Well, it just doesn’t make sense to me to expect Superman to repair broken-down apartment buildings. Next people will expect him to repair cars and pay our taxes or something.” Clark laughed at that. Clara smiled, but then took on a thoughtful tone. “I hope we never get so accustomed to him saving the day that we start to resent it when he’s not there to pull kittens out of trees or shovel snow out of our driveways.”

Clark nodded seriously. “I’ll bet being resented by the people he cares so much about would hurt him quite a bit,” he said.

“Mmm.” They were silent for a few moments, then the conversation turned to other things, like the horrible state of the apartments, the absentee managers, and on to the latest gossip at the office. Back inside, Clara loaded her pictures and began trimming down the selections to make it easier for Clark. She took them back to Clark as soon as she could, and he set aside his notes to look them over with her. They were deep in concentration for quite some time, and before long, the others began trickling out of the office.

“Burning the midnight oil, eh, Clark?” Clara looked up at the sound of Richard White’s voice. He peered over Clark’s shoulder. “Whoa. You guys actually went in there?”

“A lot of people actually live there,” Clark said.

Richard shook his head. “Shame.” His smile returned. “Can I get you guys something before I head home? There’s always Jason’s favorite, burritos.”

Clark looked at Clara. “You…?”

“I… um… if you…?”

“Well… I…”

Richard sighed. “I asked the wrong two people to make a decision,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m going home. You two are on your own.” He walked to the door, calling over his shoulder, “Nice work on those photos, Clara.”

“Thanks, Mr. White,” Clara said, pleased. When he was gone, they turned their attention back to the pictures. They finally managed to narrow it down to three good candidates, and the editor would have to make the final cut. By the time that was done, it was very late, and Clark still hadn’t started writing yet. “Can I get you some coffee?” Clara asked. “You must be hungry now, too. I can run out and get something.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t inconvenience you like that. You should head home now.”

“And miss the actual writing of the article? No way. Besides, it’s no trouble. Come on, what do you take? You like cream and sugar?”

Clark looked like he wanted to protest, but he merely smiled and nodded. “Both. Thanks a lot, Clara.”

“You’re welcome.” Clara trotted to the breakroom and made coffee, thinking back on the day’s events. She hadn’t had a chance to spend this much uninterrupted time with Clark before now, and she was enjoying herself quite a bit. When the coffee was done, she returned to Clark’s desk and watched him work. He was fairly silent while he typed, but once in a while, he would ask her if she remembered a certain quote from one of the interviewees, or if she could think of another word for “disgusting” and “filth”.

After another hour or so, Clark seemed to be satisfied with what he had. He let Clara read it, and she approved wholeheartedly. “It’s great, Clark! He’s going to love this,” she said.

“Thank you! Well.” He stacked up his papers and filed them away for the next day. “Can I see you home? It’s awfully late.”

Clara blushed just a little. “That would be really sweet of you,” she said.

“We still haven’t eaten dinner,” he said. He looked at his watch, and his eyes widened. He pushed his glasses up, as if their being a little low on his nose had caused his watch to be wrong. “My goodness,” he said. “It’s later than I thought.”

“The diners will still be open,” she said.

“Would you like to grab a bite?”

“I’d love to.”

Clark treated Clara to dinner at a 24-hour diner, then accompanied her home in a cab. She was struck again by the same idea she had in the elevator earlier that day. After spending the day with him, however, she was a little less shy about making the offer. “Clark?”

“Yes?”

“Would you…” She cleared her throat, still a little too embarassed to speak without blushing. “If… if you ever get tired of living in a hotel, I have a pretty comfortable sofa bed you can use.”

“You really mean that, Clara?”

“Absolutely,” she said, his grateful tone encouraging her to look up into his face.

“I… I would really hate to impose-”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be imposing at all,” she said. “There’s plenty of room, and I would love to have you over.”

Clark smiled warmly. “Well, thank you so much, Clara. My mother does hate the fact that I’m staying in what she calls, a ‘cold, heartless room’. And I could help you with the rent and utilities.”

“Sure,” Clara said, having no intention of accepting Clark’s money. “You can move in this weekend. If that’s alright with you.”

“It’s perfect. Have a good night, Clara.”

“See you tomorrow, Clark.”

She walked into the building and rode up to her apartment, barely able to catch her breath. She spent what remained of the night laying in bed pretending to sleep – far too excited to get any actual rest.

“I have just about everything packed,” he said when they neared her apartment. “You’re at 8C, right?”

“That’s right,” Clara said. “If you need help bringing things over, I can-”

“Oh no, thank you, I’m sure I can handle it. I’m a light packer.”

“Okay,” Clara said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” Clark nodded, and Clara left him.

Clark arrived earlier than Clara had expected. He was at her door before 9:00. Clara was grateful that she had been too nervous to sleep much the night before, and had spent half the night re-cleaning the apartment and making sure everything was ready for Clark’s arrival. He stood at her doorstep with two suitcases, a briefcase and a single garment bag. “Good morning, Clara.”

“Good morning,” she said brightly. “Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you packed light. This is all you brought from home?”

“That’s everything,” he said.

Clara took the garment bag and the briefcase, and beckoned Clark to enter. “Come on in,” she said. “I’ll show you to your room.”

“Room!” Clark exclaimed, stepping inside and shutting the door. “I thought you said-”

“I know,” Clara said. “But I couldn’t stand the thought of you sleeping in the living room without any privacy, you know? I have this little room that I was using for an office, but I figured it would be big enough to turn into a bedroom.” Clara led him to the small room. She had put her nervous energy to work during the week by moving her tiny computer desk and files into her bedroom, putting the bookcase in the living room and squirreling everything else in her “office” into whatever spaces she could find. She had found a fairly decent twin-sized bed on sale and hired help to bring it up to her apartment just that past Thursday. “I’m afraid there isn’t much closet space,” she said, opening the tiny closet door and hanging up his garment bag. “And you might be too tall for the bed, but I’m sure we can adjust somehow. I hope the room isn’t too small.”

“It’s great, Clara,” said Clark. “You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble!”

“It was no trouble,” Clara said, happy that he appreciated all her hard work all the same. “I just want you to be comfortable. I’m sure you had more room at the hotel.”

“I know I’ll be comfortable,” he said, looking around the room with a smile. “This is perfect.”

Clara positively glowed. “Well, I’ll let you settle in, and then I’ll show you the rest of the apartment. Make yourself at home, Clark.”

Clara left Clark to himself so that he could get situated. She bustled around in the kitchen and did what she could to straighten up, even though she had straightened about as much as humanly possible already. It wasn’t long before Clark came out of his room in search of her. “Okay,” she said. “Let me show you around.”

Clara showed him her tiny kitchen, opening the refrigerator and telling him to help himself to everything inside. She showed him the living room, pointed out the TV (“I haven’t seen the remote for the last three weeks”), showed him the bathroom, the extra towels, and her bedroom, which really wasn’t too much larger than Clark’s room. “Help yourself to everything, and make yourself at home,” she said when the little tour was done.

“Thank you. I just have to say again, I really appreciate you doing this for me, Clara.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

“Um… I guess I should let you know that sometimes I can keep pretty peculiar hours. I promise I’ll do my best not to disturb you coming and going, but I do a lot of it.”

“That’s no problem, Clark. Besides, I tend to sleep like a log anyway. Can I… no. That’s being too nosy. Let me give you the phone number here, so you can give it to your mom.”

Clark looked surprised, and he smiled brightly. “That would be swell! Wow,” he said, sounding amazed. “You remembered my mother.” Clara just smiled and wrote her phone number on a slip of paper and handed it to him.

Clara found that she had been very fortunate in her roommate choice. Clark insisted on paying for half of everything: rent, groceries and utilities, no matter how much Clara urged him not to. He was inordinately neat, despite his habitual clumsiness, and there was never so much as a shoe out of place or a dish left unwashed for more than an hour. They cab-pooled to work every day, (Clark split the cost of that with her, too), and started hanging out much more during off-times.

Clark did indeed keep peculiar hours. Sometimes, if she woke up in the night for any reason, she would see him coming in, or going out. He would often give her an embarrassed grin if he saw her, then wave goodbye and head out the door. His bedroom door always remained closed when he was home. Clara respected his privacy far too much to wander into his room when he was gone, and she usually kept her door closed as well, so she couldn’t logically find anything unusual about it. But there was still an air of mystery about Clark that piqued her curiosity.

It wasn’t for another two months or so that her curiosity rose to a whole new level. It was two months and three days after Clark moved into her home that Clara first met Superman.

“Oh no,” Clara said. “I said that wrong. I’m sure they do want to meet him, but unless you get lucky and happen to see him walking down the street, which probably never happens, you don’t usually get to meet Superman unless your life is in danger. I don’t think people really want to be in situations where their lives are at risk.”

“Ah. I see your point.”

“I mean, I’m sure it would be the best thing in the world if your life was in danger, and Superman happened to be nearby, but… I’d much rather bump into him strolling at the park than to actually need his help.”

Clark laughed. “I agree. Say, how’s this?” Clark pointed to an unoccupied park bench shaded by a tree.

“Perfect,” Clara said. Clark gestured for her to sit down first, then sat down beside her. They unpacked their lunches, and started to eat.

They were about half way finished when Clark looked up sharply. He noticed Clara watching him and grinned. “Sorry, Clara,” he said. “I, um… thought I heard something.”

“Ah,” she said.

“Hey, um… I’m going to look for a restroom, okay?”

“Sure,” Clara said. “I’ll keep your food safe.”

“Thanks.” Clark got up and walked off in the direction of a few buildings. Clara turned back to brush away a fly, and when she turned back to watch Clark walk away, she was surprised to see that he was already out of sight. Clara figured that he must have turned off behind a tree or something, and went back to her lunch.

A couple of minutes later, she heard footsteps again. “Back alrea-” Clara gasped. The footsteps had not belonged to Clark, as she had assumed. Instead, a gruff-looking man stood before her, holding a gun.

“Get up, girl.” Clara stood up slowly, staring at the barrel of the gun. He grabbed her arm and shoved her in the direction of several thick, tall shrubs. He pushed her toward them when they got closer and she turned swiftly, not liking having her back to him. “Gimme your money,” he said.

Clara put her hand to her side, but her purse was not there. “Shoot,” she whispered. In her fear, she had forgotten that she’d left her purse at the apartment. She hadn’t remembered until they were half way to the park, and Clark had assured her that she wouldn’t need her purse at a picnic. She dug into her pockets, but there was nothing in either one. She sighed shakily and looked up. “I don’t have any.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he shouted, straightening his arm and brandishing the weapon.

Clara backed up as far as she could, but was stopped by the bushes. “It’s true,” she cried. “I don’t have any money! I… I left my…”

The man growled, and she could tell he had lost whatever patience he had. He cocked the gun, and Clara squeezed her eyes shut. She heard a loud bang, and her whole body shuddered. There was utter silence, then… a voice. A deep, curiously familiar voice said, “That wasn’t very nice of you.”

Clara opened her eyes and the first thing she was was a fist. She gasped when the hand opened and a warped piece of metal fell to the ground. “Superman,” she whispered, looking up at the shimmering red cape, chiseled features and shiny black hair of her savior.

“That’s right, miss,” he said, lifting the shocked mugger up by the collar. He rose into the air and set the robber on top of the roof of a nearby building, then returned to stand in front of Clara. She smiled, although she could barely find the breath to speak. “Are you all right, miss?” he asked.

She found she still couldn’t speak, but she nodded and continued to smile. He held his hand to his forehead, tippping his imaginary hat to her and smiled. “Good day, miss.” She nodded again, and he gave a slight chuckle and rose into the air again.

He had picked up the robber from the roof and was on his way, probably to the nearest police station, before Clara found her voice. She trotted forward, and called out, “Thank you, Superman! Thank you!”

He turned in the air, smiled and saluted her again before flying off at a speed that must certainly have made the gunman very uncomfortable. Clara stared after him until she couldn’t even see a little blue and red speck, then walked back to the bench in a relative daze. “Just wait until I tell… where’s Clark??”

Clara was alone for about five minutes or so before she saw Clark trotting up from across the park. She stood up and started to walk toward him. “Sorry Clara,” he said as he approached. “I had the dickens of a time finding the… hey are you all right?”

Clara wasn’t sure what to say. She’d had a few moments to realize how close she’d come to being killed, and the shock was starting to set in. “I… I guess I’m fine,” she said.

“You’re shaking. Are you sure?” Clara shook her head and let Clark help her back to the bench. “What happened?” he asked worriedly.

“There was… um… I…” She struggled to pull herself together. “I met Superman,” she said, trying to sound cheerful.

Clark wasn’t fooled, and his face looked grave. “I’m guessing you didn’t meet him strolling through the park,” he said.

Clara shook her head. “There was a robber with um… he had a gun, and…” Clara stopped, finding that she couldn’t speak and fight tears at the same time. She brushed at her eyes, and Clark put his arm around her shoulder. She buried her face in his chest and let herself cry for a few moments. Clark patted her back and cleared his throat nervously.

“It’s over now,” he said. “And thank goodness you’re all right. I don’t know what I would have done if you got hurt.”

“You’re sweet, Clark.” It wasn’t long before Clara was able to calm down. Clark offered her his handkerchief to dry her eyes. Once the shock was over, Clara was able to talk about Superman. “He stopped a bullet with his bare hands!” she exclaimed. “ONE hand!”

“Wow. That’s pretty impressive.”

“And it didn’t just stop, Clark. It was all… squished.”

“Well, they do call him the man of steel,” Clark said.

“That’s true. He was super polite, too! I mean, he stopped to make sure I was okay and everything.”

“That was very nice of him.” Clara looked sharply at Clark. That phrase – that tone sounded eerily familiar. That wasn’t very nice of you. Clara recalled the phrase Superman had used just after catching the robber’s bullet. She frowned, tilting her head slightly, and Clark started to look a little uncomfortable. “What is it?” he asked. “Is there something on my…”

Clara shook herself. “No, no. It’s nothing,” she said distractedly. “Let’s go home, huh? I think I’ve had enough of the wild outdoors for one afternoon.”

“Me, too,” Clark said. They caught a taxi back to the apartment and Clark offered to take care of cleaning everything up while Clara rested. Grateful, Clara went to her room and settled down in front of her computer. She did a few searches and re-read every article “The Daily Planet” had put out about Superman. There were small pictures of him accompanying each one, but they were too small for her purposes. She searched for a decent, high-resolution photo of Superman and printed it out.

Clara stared at his face for several minutes. The resemblance she’d thought she could see at the park was unmistakeable now. “They could be twins,” she said to herself.

There was a sharp tap on the door and Clark poked his head in. His hair was slightly tousled and speckled with soap suds, his glasses just a little lopsided, and he had a soapy dish in one hand. “It’s only five minutes to your Saturday show,” he said.

“Oh! Thanks, Clark. How could I forget that?”

“Well, you did have kind of a rough day,” Clark said. “I could tape it for you, if you’d rather rest some more.”

Clara shook her head. “No way. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

Clark smiled and went back toward the kitchen. Clara studied the picture again before turning it over on the desk and joining him in the living room. “Thanks for doing the dishes,” Clara said.

“No problem,” said Clark. He pulled off his glasses long enough to wipe the suds off, and brushed the soap out of his bangs. Clara noticed that he kept his head down, but she could see the same chiseled jawline that she had seen on Superman’s face. Even with the glasses on, she could see the similarities between the two of them. Could it really be just a coincidence?

Clara’s favorite crime drama was on, and Clark sat on the edge of the couch to watch it with her. He seemed intent on the television, but Clara was more interested in watching Clark today, than watching her show. His hands. Clara had seen Superman’s fist up close, and Clark’s hands reminded her strongly of his. The article had said Superman was 6’4″. Clark was the same height. She knew because she had asked him to tell her so that she could look for a more suitable bed to put in his bedroom. Superman had black hair and blue eyes. Clark did, too.

Clara shook her head. Surely, two tall people with black hair and blue eyes were allowed to exist at the same time? But, still. The strong jawline, the cleft chin? The nose? All so strikingly similar? Taken together with Clark leaving the house at odd hours, and conveniently being gone when Superman had arrived… it was pretty hard to think of it as a fluke.

Clara cleared her throat. “Clark, do you have any brothers?”

“Nope. Why?”

“Just curious,” she said. “You don’t often talk about your family.”

Clark shrugged and looked down. “Well, Clara, you’re about the only person who seems to care enough about me to ask.”

Clara smiled slightly, but she could hear the somber tone in his voice. “Jimmy cares about you, Clark,” she said softly. “And Mr. White cares. And Lois, of course.”

Clark gave her a sardonic smile. “I’m sure she does, as much as she can care about a pesky coworker,” he said.

“Oh, Clark! She doesn’t think you’re pesky.” Clark laughed, and Clara shook her head. “So,” she said. “Do you still have a crush on her?”

Clark blushed. “You, um… you noticed that, huh?”

“I did,” she said gently, sorry that she had embarrassed him. “We don’t have to talk about it, though.”

“I think you must have been the only one who noticed.” He was silent for a moment. Then finally, he answered her question. “Not anymore,” he said. “Richard’s a good man, and… and I was gone a long time. You can’t expect people to wait for you forever. Especially when they…” he paused. “Especially when they weren’t really interested in you to begin with.” They were quiet for a few moments, then Clark smiled, and the slightly somber mood was lifted. “But that’s old news anyway,” he said. “Lois and Richard are getting married in a couple of months, and I’m sure they will be very happy.”

“I’m sure they will,” Clara said. They watched the rest of the show in their usual manner, guessing about the outcomes of the crimes, praising the heroes and condemning the stupidity/cruelty of the criminals.

For the next several days, Clara paid careful attention to the times Clark left the house or the office. She noticed that when he left late at night, there was usually a story in someone’s newsreel the next day about how Superman had saved the day, sometimes nearby, sometimes on the other side of the country, and sometimes on a country half way across the globe. Whenever he left her while they were out together and he “had to go”, she usually discovered that a Superman sighting had occurred fairly close by.

The more time she spent with Clark, the more sure she was that he had to be Superman. Clara started to keep a journal of her observations. She put her picture of Superman in the front, and noted all the similarities to Clark’s build. She had a list of “coincidences” that she’d noticed over the past few days, linking Clark’s absences with Superman’s appearances, and the similarity she had noticed in their voices.

Clara never mentioned any of the things she’d noticed to anyone else. If Clark really was Superman, there must be some reason he didn’t want people to know it. Whenever people pondered about Superman’s “secret identity”, she usually tried to either turn the conversation to something else, or mentioned that Superman had a right to his privacy just like anyone else.

Even though Clara was careful to protect Superman’s privacy around everyone else, she was still itching to know the truth about Clark herself. She had almost worked up the courage to ask him several times, but she could never go through with it. It wasn’t long, however, before asking became a moot point. One evening, while Clara was trying her hand at making corn chips at home, Clark asked if he had an extra ink cartrage.

“Sure, in my desk drawer,” she said, pulling out a too-dark batch of chips. Clara had time to put another batch of tortilla chips into the pot of oil and watch it bubble for a moment before she realized what had just happened. She gasped and rushed to her bedroom. One look inside told her that she was too late. Clark had her journal in his hand, and was reading with a dark expression, growing ever darker by the moment.

He looked up when she stepped into the room, and his reproachful gaze made her want to run away. “What is this, Clara?”

“It’s… it’s nothing, Clark. Just… it’s…”

“It’s not nothing,” he snapped. Clara jumped slightly. It was the first time she had ever heard Clark raise his voice. “It’s… is this why you were so happy to let me stay here? So you could study me and compare me to Superman? Is this why you’ve been acting so nice? Taking such an interest in me?”

“Clark, no!” Clara was deeply hurt, and she could feel a lump developing in her throat. “I would never manipulate you like that, Clark. I’ve lo-” Clara stopped short. “I’ve c-cared about you since before I knew Superman existed! It hurts me that you could even think I would use you like that. I…” Clara brushed tears out from her eyes and started towards him, too ashamed to look at his face. “I’m so sorry, Clark. I’m sorry. It was stupid and wrong, and – ” She took the journal from his hand and started to rip the pages out. “I’m sorry I ever made this stupid thing!” Clara could hardly see what she was doing through the blur of tears, and her hands shook so much that she found it hard to do more than bend the book’s pages.

Clark took the book from her and set it on the bed. He held her hands in his and sighed. “I’m terribly sorry, Clara,” he said. “I shouldn’t have looked in the first place. I violated your privacy.”

“But I was the one who-”

Clark put a finger on her lips. “Maybe we were both wrong. But it was mean of me to suggest that you didn’t care about me, when you’re one of the only people I know who really cares at all. It was wrong of me to make you cry. Can you forgive me?”

Clara was overcome. She threw her arms around Clark’s waist and cried into his chest. Clark held her for a few moments, but before she’d had a chance to pull herself together, Clark tensed. “Oil!”

Clara gasped and raced toward the kitchen. The pot of oil had bubbled over, and Clara felt sure that a fire was bound to start any second. She stared at the stove in a panic. “What do we do?”

“Stay back!” Clark went into the kitchen and tried to turn off the stove. Just as he turned the knob, the fire flared, and caught Clark’s hand and arm in a yellow blaze. Clara screamed and rushed into the kitchen. Clark looked pained, but he managed to cover the pot, still trying to smother the blaze on his arm. Clara found some kitchen towels and helped him put out the fire.

“Are you okay?” she asked frantically. “We have to get you to a hospital.”

Clark shook his head. “It looked worse than it really is.”

“Clark, your arm went up in FLAMES! Let me see it!” Before he could pull back, Clara had tossed the towels away and pulled the charred remains of his sleeve away with them. Clara’s eyes widened, and she took a step back. Clark’s hand and arm were completely unscathed. His skin wasn’t even red. She looked into Clark’s eyes and saw his worried, almost embarrassed expression.

Clara turned away and walked purposefully toward her bedroom. She picked up her “Clark Kent is Superman” journal and ripped out every page that had writing on it. She could see Clark watching her from the threshold of her room, but she didn’t stop until she had put every page into her electric shredder. She looked at the remains of her journal with a satisfied nod and turned back to Clark. She brushed her hand along his astoundingly uninjured arm, and looked up into his piercing blue eyes. “I’ll never tell a soul.”

Clark smiled. “I believe you, Clara.”

Clark looked up from the classified section of the newspaper. “Moving. It’s so difficult. You have to apply, you have to compete with 800 other people, and then if you don’t get it, you have to start all over again. It’s a very inconvenient process.”

“I agree,” Clara said, calming down a little.

Clark looked at her thoughtfully. “I um.. I haven’t found a place to stay yet.”

“I know.”

“It’s been almost six months.”

“Very true,” Clara said. There was a long pause. “Cla-” Clara stopped. Clark had begun to say her name at the same moment.

“You first,” they said in unison. Clara smiled and gestured to Clark.

“I was going to ask you if you would mind… if it wouldn’t be too much trouble for you if I could just stay here. I don’t need more room than what I have, and I could give you a little extra money toward the bills.”

“No, Clark, no, I won’t hear of it,” Clara said. He looked shocked. “Wait. That came out wrong. I meant no I don’t need anymore money from you! Of course you can live with me! I would love it if you stayed here.”

Clark smiled, and let out a sigh of relief. “That’s a big weight off my shoulders, Clara,” he said. “I really appreciate this.”

“Well, to be honest, I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask you to stay for a month now.” Clark looked about as pleased as a person can be.

From that day on, Clara and Clark were practically inseperable. They did everything they could to assure the Chief that keeping them together as a reporter/phographer team was the most desirable arrangement possible. They ate every meal together, spent free-time together, and the people who paid attention to them at work seemed to grin a little more warmly when the two of them collided in a shower of documents and apologies.

About eight months after the return of Superman, the long-awaited wedding between Richard White and Lois Lane took place. Clara and Clark received invitations, along with about everyone on the newsroom floor. The wedding took place at Richard’s beautiful waterfront home. Family and friends attended, but the couple had insisted that there be no official “press” present. They wanted a quiet wedding at home – as quiet as they could have with nearly a hundred people in attendance.

The wedding party got a special treat at the reception. Superman showed up to congratulate the happy couple. Clara was very pleased to see that Lois greeted him without expressing any regret. She knew, just like everyone else, how close Lois and Superman were, and Clark had told her himself that he’d had a difficult time at first with the idea of having lost her. But both seemed happy today, and Clara felt a sense of relief that surprised her. She hadn’t known she’d been feeling insecure.

A couple of days after the wedding, Richard approached Clara and Clark while they were scrolling through photographs. “Hey guys!”

“Hi, Richard,” they said.

He pulled a chair near them and sat down. “Listen,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper. “I have a favor to ask you. You know how we said we were just going to stay quiet at home instead of having a honeymoon?”

“Yes,” Clark said.

“Well, we’ve decided we would to go out of town, just for a couple of days. But we haven’t been able to find anyone to take care of Jason while we’re away.” He cleared his throat. “And, since you two have been so good with him when he’s around he office, we thought maybe you could watch him for a while. He’s no trouble at all, you know,” he said. “And we’d let you have the house while we’re gone, too. I mean, we noticed you two have been getting along really well lately,” he said with a wink. “How’d you like to get away from the city and live on the water for a while? Take a little mini-vacation?”

Clara looked at Clark questioningly. “I wouldn’t mind,” she said. “What do you think, Clark?”

“Sure thing,” he said, pushing his glasses up. “Jason’s a great kid.”

Richard smiled. “Thanks! Man, you guys are life savers. We were thinking of leaving Thursday night and spending about four days. And of course, you can bring Jason to work during the weekdays. Would that be good for you?”

“Sure, it’s perfect,” Clark said.

“Great, I’ll tell Lois and Jason.”

It turned out Jason was far from disappointed that his parents were leaving him. Clara and Clark were his favorite people to hang out with when he got tired of his father’s office. He seemed genuinely pleased with the prospect of having them over his house for four days.

Thursday evening, Clark and Clara brought their bags over, and Lois handed them the house keys. While Richard explained the security system to Clark, Lois gave Clara a brief lesson in pharmaceuticals, explaining all of Jason’s medications, the doses and the schedule. “He’s pretty good about doing this himself, but it’s good to check all the same.” Clara received a detailed list of everything Jason was allergic to, as well as a list of his favorite pastimes and a list of emergency phone numbers. After a lengthy goodbye to Jason, during which he was counselled to be good, and call if he needed anything, and have a good time, Lois and Richard finally headed off to enjoy their honeymoon.

Clara and Clark enjoyed taking care of Jason, and relaxing after work in the White’s home, instead of their small apartment. They talked and played with Jason, and he spent a good amount of time playing by himself as well. However, he was rarely far from Clark’s side if he could help it.

Seeing them together so often, without Lois to compare him to, Clara began to notice a strong resemblance between Clark and Jason. Even their mannerisms sometimes seemed to match. One morning, while Clara and Clark were cleaning up the kitchen, and Jason was in the next room practicing his piano, Clara mentioned the resemblance to Clark. “He looks so much like you, he could almost be yours,” she said in a barely audible whisper. Clark looked sharply at her, and the music from the other room stopped suddenly. When she looked toward the living room, Jason was staring at her, even though he shouldn’t have been able to hear a word she said. Clara put two and two together pretty quickly, and her eyes widened.

“I’ll explain later,” Clark said.

“No need,” she replied, giving him a reassuring smile. He seemed relieved, and nothing more was said on the subject.

Their “mini-vacation” progressed peacefully until the last night of their stay. Around 11:00 PM, the house was rocked by a sudden earthquake. The house shook for a couple of seconds, then stopped as suddenly as it had started. Clara glanced at Clark, who was frowning toward the window. She looked out and saw a blaze and a cloud of smoke billoughing up from somewhere inside the city. She felt a hand on her arm. She turned, but Clark was already gone.

Clara headed upstairs to check on Jason. He met her half way, a worried look on his face. “It’s okay, honey,” she said, taking his hand.

“Where’s Clark?”

“He went to check out what happened, but I’m sure he’ll be right back,” she said, hoping it would be enough. “Not sleepy anymore, are you?”

“No.”

“You want to work your puzzle?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, come on.” They went downstairs and Jason sat in front of the coffee table and started to work on his puzzle. About ten minutes later, the lights went out.

Clara gasped and hopped to her feet. “Jason?”

“I’m here,” he said, slipping his hand into hers.

She squeezed his hand. “Okay. Now we just have to find a flashlight.”

“I know where to find one.” He tugged her hand, and she followed him, marvelling at how well he was able to navigate in total darkness. They hadn’t been moving for long when Jason stopped short and backed into her. “We should go a different way,” he whispered.

He pulled her in the opposite direction and started moving much faster, pulling her along with a strength that might have made her nervous if she hadn’t already had a strong suspicion who his father was. They had made it to the other end of the room when Clara heard the footsteps.

Jason started to run, and Clara followed his example. She ran as fast as she could, but she could hear the footsteps getting nearer. A few seconds later, Clara felt a hand grab her hair. She was jerked back, and she lost hold of Jason’s hand. “Run, Jason!” she cried, struggling against her attacker. “Run, fast as you can!” She kicked and scratched and screamed, hoping to keep both men busy so that they wouldn’t go after Jason.

Almost before she knew it, her hands were tied behind her, and a cloth bag was pulled over her head, straight down to her ankles. They tied the opening shut around her ankles and she was hefted off the floor. She felt as if she had been slung over someone’s shoulder.

“No,” one man said. “The boss said to stay away from the kid!”

Clara was bounced and jostled as they trotted down the stairs, and after a few minutes, she was dropped with a thud onto a hard surface. She heard a slam, and assumed she had been tossed into a trunk. Clara tried not to panic. Jason was safe, and she wasn’t dead. Yet.

Clara tried to focus on something besides the idea of death. The bag she was in smelled strongly of cigarettes and sweat, which was far from pleasant. She tried to quell the beginnings of claustrophobia by convincing herself that the trunk was probably quite large and roomy.

Clara wasn’t sure how long they drove, but it seemed an eternity before she was pulled out. She was slung on someone’s shoulder again, and rushed to some unknown place. The weather changed, and there was no wind, which led Clara to believe they had gone inside a building. There seemed to be a lot of winding and moving up and down stairs, and before long, she was thoroughly disoriented.

After about five minutes or so of being bounced around, Clara thought she could hear music. The sound grew gradually louder, and she could distinguish the sound of violins and piano. A few moments later, Clara was again unceremoniously dumped onto a hard surface – most likely the floor.

“We got her, Boss,” a gruff voice said. One of them grabbed her feet and untied her legs. The bag was pulled off of her, and she heard the tap of dress shoes advancing toward her. By the time her eyes adjusted to the light, the footsteps had stopped, and the person they belonged to was standing before her.

Clara’s eyes travelled up from the shiny black shoes on the waxed marble floor, past the black pin-striped suit, and up to the puzzled frown of “The Boss”. Clara’s eyes grew wide, and she edged backward. “Lex Luthor,” she said in a breathless whisper.

“Well, I’m pleased to see that my reputation has preceeded me,” he said. “Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for yours.” He turned to the two men who had brought her. “Who is this?” he asked.

“It’s Lois Lane, Boss.”

Clara snapped her head in the kidnappers’ direction, and spoke in unison with Luthor. “Lois Lane??”

Clara’s nervousness increased tenfold. Terrifying as it was to have been kidnapped by Lex Luthor, it was even worse to know she wasn’t the intended target. She had seen enough crime dramas, and helped report on enough real crimes to know what happened to hostages that weren’t useful.

Luthor frowned. “Let me be sure I have this right. You think this is Lois Lane?”

The men started to look nervous, too. “Uh… yes?”

“NO!” Luthor shouted. He pressed a hand to his temple. “Gentlemen. I know how amazing Miss Lois Lane can be. But when did she lead you to believe that she could change her height, hair color and ethnic background??”

The men looked at her as if they had just noticed Clara was only half White. “W-well… it… it was dark, Boss, and-”

“S-she could be tanned,” the other one said hesitantly.

Luthor looked disgusted. He picked up a two-way radio from a nearby table. “Gentlemen, I need you in here. Quickly, please.”

“But… but she was in the house, and the kid was with her!” one of the kidnappers said.

He looked down at Clara inquisitively. “Is that so?” He moved closer to Clara and pointed at one of the men. “Get these ropes off,” he said.

“Sure, Boss.”

The man untied her hands, and Clara flexed her fingers. Lex held out his hand to her, and Clara reached out, mildly embarrassed that she couldn’t stop her hand from shaking. He took her hand and helped her to her feet. “House sitting isn’t as safe as it used to be, is it?” Clara let out a nervous laugh.

“You wanted to see us, Mr. Luthor?”

Lex looked up, without letting go of Clara’s hand. “Take these two imbeciles away, and make sure I never have to see them again,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

Clara watched as two of the three men who’d entered dragged away the “imbeciles”. The frightened men shouted excuses as they were dragged away, and Clara had little doubt about what Luthor had meant by not having to see them again. She started to tremble just a little bit harder. “Now,” Luthor said, calling her attention back to him. “You have me at a disadvantage. Who are you?”

Clara gave him a nervous smile. “Oh, you don’t want to bother yourself with unimportant trivia like that, Mr. Luthor! What’s impotant is who I’m not. Like how I’m not Lois Lane, or how I’m not a person who has any clue what’s going on or where she is. So why don’t we just blindfold me, turn me around a few times, drop me off on the street somewhere, and we can pretend this didn’t happen?”

Luthor chuckled slightly. He shook his head and tightened his grip on her hand – not enough to hurt, but enough to get his point across. “Cute idea, but no. You’re not going anywhere. I’d hate for such a wonderful distraction to go to waste.”

“You caused the-”

“I did. Now, please,” he said, squeezing her hand again, making her wince this time. “Don’t make me ask you again. Who are you?”

“Clara,” she said shakily. “Clara King.”

“Thank you,” he said, letting her go. “Look her up,” he said to the remaining henchman. The man nodded and went off, presumably to find a computer. Lex led Clara to a chair and gestured for her to sit. She sat down, nervously gripping the arms of the chair. “So, you were babysitting Lois’ son, were you?” Clara nodded. “Did you know you were watching over an alien freak?” Clara looked up sharply, less from surprise at the revelation, than that Lex should know about it. “Oh yes. Superman’s been sowing his seeds,” he said. “And hasn’t paid a dollar in child support, I’m sure.”

“S-superman doesn’t have a salary,” Clara said.

Lex laughed. “Good point, Miss King, good point.” There was a knock on the door, and the third henchman entered the room. “Ah. What did you find out about our guest?”

“She’s a photographer for The Daily Planet,” he said. “Lives off Main Street a few miles from the paper, no family in the state, recently filed a police report about an attempted robbery in Central Park. Report says she was saved by Superman.”

“Well, well,” Luthor said, grinning at her. “You’ve met the man himself, have you? Even better.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“Simple, my dear. I’m going to kill Superman.” Clara’s stomach churned. “Oh, don’t look so upset, Miss King. I’m sure a do-gooder like him will be in a better place when it’s all over.”

“Why?” Clara managed to say.

“Why? Well, aren’t good people supposed to go to heaven when they die?”

“Why k-kill him?” she asked.

“Oh, that. Because he’s always in the way, of course. You work for ‘The Daily Planet’. I’m sure you’ve been made aware of my lingering obsession with land.” Clara nodded. “And I’m sure you’re also aware that Superman never fails to interfere with my plans to acquire valuable property. I’ve had a little… shall we say quiet time? to think about things since my last masterpiece was destroyed. That’s where it came to me. I’ve been going about this the wrong way all along. I keep making plans, then trying to figure out how to keep Superman from spoiling them. Hours upon hours of planning, thousands of dollars, years of preparation – wasted! And why? Because of Superman! So, what’s the logical solution?”

He looked at her as if he expected an answer. Clara swallowed, and answered softly. “Get him out of the way first?”

“Get Superman out of the way FIRST! And that’s where you come in. Just think, Clara! You are going to be the catalyst in what may come to be called the most monumental event in human history! The death of Superman, and the rise of Lex Luthor!” Clara could only shake her head. “Oh come now, don’t be shy. Many great figures in the history of man have become so against their will. You think Joan of Arc wanted to be martyred?” Clara felt sick. “Hm. Maybe that was a bad example.” He shook his head and waved his hand dissmissively. “No matter! Enough chit-chat. It’s time to begin.”

Lex looked toward his employee and pointed at Clara. “Can you make sure she can’t get out of that chair?”

The man nodded, and in a couple of minutes, Clara was tied securely to the chair, barely able to move. Lex reached into a large chest and pulled out a heavy-looking black box with a black strap attached to it. He handled it carefully, and walked slowly toward her. He strapped the box to her waist, and started pressing the buttons on the top. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but she could hear several beeps which were not reassuring in the least. “Now, Miss King,” he said, still concentrating hard. “This box is highly volatile. So I wouldn’t go shuffling around or squirming too much, understand?”

Clara swallowed, trying to fight tears. “What… what is it?” she asked, knowing full well that it must be a bomb.

“Nitroglycerine,” he answered simply. “Along with a few special additions of my own.” He stood up, apparently finished, and looked back at the other man in the room. “Is the microphone ready?”

“Just about.” Clara hadn’t noticed until now that the henchman was fiddling with a second black box on top of a large desk. He turned a few dials on the box, attached a regular stage microphone to it and held it out to Luthor. “All right, Boss.”

Luthor took the microphone and began to speak. Clara was surprised that the sound didn’t seem to be amplified at all, but she was soon more concerned with the message. “Hello, Superman. I’m sure you recognize my voice by now. You have exactly five minutes to get to the subway station under 10th Street, or a very nice young lady is going to encounter a very ugly end.” He switched off the mic and moved back to stand in front of Clara. He checked his watch, pressed a few more buttons on the box and nodded, satisfied. “And now, adieu, Miss King. It’s been a pleasure.”

“Wait,” she pleaded as he turned away. He turned back, a curious look on his face. “Please. Please don’t do this.”

“Not to worry, Miss King,” he said. “Superman will save you.” He smiled, but there was a cold gleam in his eyes. “I’m counting on it.”

Luthor left the room, and Clara heard the sound of the door being bolted shut. There was no sound to be heard except for the beeping of the box on her lap counting down the seconds until detonation. Five minutes. Five minutes to live. Unless Superman made it in time, and then it would be five minutes for him to fall into some kind of trap she didn’t have the power to stop. Tears welled in Clara’s eyes, but she was too afraid to cry openly lest her movements cause the box to explode prematurely.

The next four minutes were the longest minutes in her life, spent vascilating between hope and despair. Then, with less than forty seconds left on the clock, the door was pulled off its hinges, and Superman stepped across the threshold. Their eyes met, and he gasped. In the time it took Clara to blink, he was standing in front of her. He reached for the bomb, and she shook her head slightly. “It’s a trap, Superman,” she said.

“I won’t let you die,” he said. He studied the bomb for a few seconds, but there didn’t seem to be a way to disarm it. Superman found the strap that held the bomb to Clara’s waist, pulled it carefully away from her, then sped across the room. The beeping ended before he could get outside, and he quickly crouched down, curling himself over the bomb. There was a muffled explosion, and a cloud of green smoke billoughed up around him.

Superman cried out in shock. He reeled back and staggered away from the remains of the bomb. He turned, and Clara gaped in horror. His face and hands were blistery red, and steam rose from his skin. “Kryptonite,” she cried. Superman took a few steps toward her, but had only made it half way before he fell to his knees. “Oh no, no!” Superman clutched at his throat, gasping for air. Clara struggled to get out of the chair and help him, but she was bound too tightly. In a few moments, Superman collapsed, and his limbs grew still.

Clara stared at him, unable to move, breathe, or even think. A moment later, Superman moved again. He coughed. He coughed again and again, as if he were trying to get something out of his throat. He managed to push himself up on his hands, and Clara thought he was going to get up. He gasped twice, then let out an earth-shattering sneeze. The ground literally shook, and Superman was propelled up toward the ceiling.

He fell back down, hitting the floor with a resounding thud. He managed to sit up, but before he could do anything more, he sneezed again. The resulting gust of wind knocked Clara’s chair over, and she heard another boom, probably of Superman hitting the far wall. Clara struggled to scoot the chair somewhere that her head would be protected from the items falling off of the rocking shelves. There was another sneeze and another crash. Clara managed to get underneath the desk, and waited. Every few seconds, there was the thunderous sound of one of Superman’s sneezes, followed by gusty winds and crashing sounds. Clara began to fear that the entire room would collapse before he stopped.

Eventually, the sounds and the small earthquakes died down. Clara could hear a few more things falling down, but no more sneezing. After a few minutes, she could hear objects being moved, and footsteps coming toward her. Soon, a familiar pair of red boots appeared before her. Superman knelt down, and Clara could see that his face was already starting to clear up. His nose was a little red, though, and his eyes watered.

Clara cleared her throat. “Um… bless you?”

Superman laughed. “Thank you,” he said, sounding a little congested. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.” He helped her get out of the chair, and she looked around the decimated room. “Wow.”

“Let’s get you out of here,” he said. “Hold on.”

Clara wrapped her arms around his waist, and he lifted a few feet off the ground to avoid the fallen debris. He took her out of the subway and back to the White’s home. “Thank you so much,” she said when they touched the ground.

“You’re welcome.” Superman looked past her, and Clara turned to see Jason running down the stairs. He grabbed Clara’s hand, and looked up at Superman with a small smile. “Hey, sweetie,” Clara said to Jason. “Are you all right?”

He nodded. “Are you?”

“Yes, Jason. Everything is okay now.” Superman took a step back and Clara frowned. “You’re leaving?”

“I have to find Luthor,” he said. “You should be safe now.” He rose further into the air, then flew off at an incredible speed. Clara took Jason back into the house and sat with him until he was able to fall asleep. She was still pretty high-strung herself after all the excitement, and she couldn’t get back to sleep right away. She wanted to wait up for Clark anyway, so she sat downstairs and tried not to worry.

Clara was awakened by a warm hand touching hers. She opened her eyes to see Clark smiling at her. She sat up suddenly and looked around. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.

“It’s okay. I wasn’t supposed to be sleeping. Is everything all right?”

“Everything is fine,” he said. “Richard and Lois are back, and I figured we should head home.”

“Oh! Yes, I guess you’re right.” Clara was dying to ask Clark what had happened, but Richard and Lois were roaming around the house putting things away and chatting about their vacation. She couldn’t risk it. When they had gathered their own things together, Clara and Clark said goodbye. Jason looked somber as they left, but Clark assured him that they would see him at the paper, and he could spend the night at their house some time if it was okay with his parents.

At least another thirty minutes passed before they reached the apartment, and Clara was finally alone with Clark. “So. Did you find him?”

“No,” he answered. “But I think he must know by now that his plan didn’t work. He’s hiding somewhere, waiting for his chance to strike at me again.”

Clara frowned. “What are you going to do?” she asked.

“I’m going to make sure that the people I care about are as safe as they can possibly be. And when he tries again, I’m going to be ready for him.” He looked very grim for a moment, then looked down at Clara and smiled. “But in the meantime, I’m going to live my life, and be happy.” He pulled her close to him, leaned down and kissed her warmly. Clara closed her eyes and kissed him back, feeling like she had never really been kissed before this moment.

He let go, and she smiled up at him. “That sounds like a good plan.”

Fin.

For now.