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The Dad Who Came In From The Cold: Clark Kent
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“Our child won’t be able to pick me out of a police lineup,” he said, and okay, he was using hyperbole, but the emotion wasn’t exaggerated at all. Seeing Jack Olsen with Jimmy, sitting through that painful dinner the night before, had forced Clark to come to some pretty unwelcome conclusions.

Like the fact that he was going to be an awful father.

Jack Olsen was serving his country, but even when he had a couple hours for his son, he kept hurting Jimmy over and over again with his casual disinterest. For all that Clark admired Perry, the Chief hardly saw his sons at all, and he talked about them even less, the Planet swallowing up all his time and attention. Sam Lane had wanted to make a mark on the world and had sacrificed his family in the attempt.

The world was full of terrible fathers, including the ones with good intentions but terrible follow-through. But Clark had Jonathan. Jonathan who was there for him no matter what, so full of gentle wisdom and kind humor and soft hugs. Jonathan as an example and a guide and an ideal that filled Clark with hope for himself.

And for some reason--maybe because it had always seemed so unlikely that he’d ever find a woman he could completely be himself with--Clark had never stopped to think about what kind of dad he’d be.

But he was about to get married, and Lois was so fierce and passionate and brilliant that she’d of course make the best mother. But he?

No, it wasn’t much of an exaggeration at all to say that their kids wouldn’t know him. All the good intentions in the world wouldn’t erase the nights he was gone, the games he missed, the birthdays he had to duck out of early. Even now, with Lois’s secretive smile every time he met her eyes and made their little signal for flying off as Superman, even with his ring on her finger and the date of their wedding circled and starred in every calendar he owned…even now he could still see the disappointment that had grown in her eyes when he used to abandon her with some lame excuse. The sadness and confusion and anger poisoning everything between them until the only option he’d seen was to leave town completely.

Would he have to watch that same slow, torturous transition happen in his own children? A son who’d think Clark would never be proud of him? A daughter who’d give up on the idea that her father would ever love her?

They’d hate him. And it’d be even worse because Clark would watch it happen knowing he had no excuse, no bad example to blame, not with Jonathan as his blueprint to being a great father. It’d be worse because Lois chose to love him, to let him into her life even when he hurt her with the quick exits and the abrupt costume changes—but any children they had wouldn’t have a choice. They’d be stuck in the middle of it all without any way out.

Suddenly, for the first time, Clark began to doubt whether he should have kids at all.

No. He knew he was probably jumping the gun a bit, maybe even obsessing a little, but he also knew he’d have to give this a lot of thought. No rushing into this with Superman’s speed or Clark’s rashness.

Because if he couldn’t give a child everything they deserved…then he didn’t deserve to be a dad at all.

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