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Requiem For A Superhero: Clark Kent
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“You don’t want to be partnered with a hypocritical reporter who talks a good game but backs off the minute things hit too close to home,” she says, all scowls and narrowed eyes and self-reproach.

And I have to smile.

In Smallville, there were countless times I wondered what would happen if anyone found out about the freak kid who could run faster than tornados, could lift tractors over his head, could see through barns, could set haystacks on fire. Dad always told me to be careful, that the world was full of people who’d exploit me and use me and study me. Mom was never quite as adamant about it, but I could tell she was afraid for me, afraid someone would take me away from them.

In college, I had to work extra jobs just to be able to afford a single dorm room because I couldn’t take the chance of anyone seeing me float in my sleep. I would sometimes look at my classmates, my professors, my friends, and imagine the looks on their faces if they found out I wasn’t just the mild-mannered farmboy they thought I was.

In every country I visited, every small town I passed through, every person I met in my journey searching for a place to belong, I was terrified that I’d be exposed as a freak. An alien. An outcast.

Mom and Dad taught me to always believe the best in everyone. To look at the world and see the good things. I’ve tried my best to do that, even when it’s hardest, but for all that, I’ve never been able to convince myself that someone finding out about my secret would turn out well. I’ve never been able to think past the imagined looks of shock and horror and fear and revulsion on their faces. I’ve never really thought that if a reporter found out about me, it wouldn’t be splashed across every newspage in the world.

But Lois looks at me, and she thinks she did the wrong thing--and I know firsthand how hard it was for her to kill the story--but she still did it. She’s still covering for her father. Still lying for him. Still sitting on a story sure to cement her reputation as the best investigative reporter in the world.

Do I want a partner who would protect someone she cares about if she found out about their secret?

“Yes, I do,” I say. And for once, that’s not a lie, not an omission, not even an evasion.

It’s the complete and absolute truth.

In fact, the *whole* truth is--that’s the only kind of partner I’d ever want. And maybe…well, maybe one day I’ll get the chance to see if she’ll do the same thing for me.

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