Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Savior (9-10/15)

Broken. Again. The third time this week, in fact. Lois frowned as she stared at the razor blade, which had literally snapped in two. Was Gillette having a manufacturing issue? Maybe they needed a different brand. She tossed the razor into the trash can and looked up at Clark, who grimaced as he rubbed his chin, now covered in a thin layer of bristly stubble. While she kind of liked the rugged look, he seemed completely uncomfortable with it. She sighed.

“I guess you should try a different brand, maybe? I’m not sure. I’ve never had anything like this happen before,” she conceded.

Clark eyed the clock on the wall anxiously. “I’ll make us late if I run to the store, won’t I?”

“Maybe, but that’s okay,” she said. She quickly poured herself a cup of coffee and moved to the table to sit. Her fingers tapped on the newspaper in front of her as a smile grew on her face. “I think we earned it. To be a few minutes late, that is.”

The morning’s edition of the Daily Planet boasted their first shared front-page byline, “Metropolis Mayor Resigns Following Campaign Scandal,” by Lois Lane and Clark Kent. And he’d done a lot of the legwork for this story, including his first solo interviews. She shook her head as she stared at the headline again. How had he managed to come so far in only a month? Talent and hard work, for sure, but to go from no experience and no schooling past part of fourth grade to having a byline on the front page of the best newspaper in the country… It seemed unreal. Perry had admitted to her yesterday that he was ready to offer Clark a permanent position, and Lois agreed with him. She picked at her breakfast—toast with strawberry jam—and began browsing the other stories on the front page.

“If you’re sure?” Clark asked tentatively. He inched toward the front door, keeping an eye on her. “I’ll only be a few minutes; they should have razors at the convenience store down the street, right?”

“Yeah, they should.”

“Great, okay, I’ll be back as quickly as I can,” he said, and he then hurried out the door, leaving Lois by herself.

She took another small bite of her toast and flipped through the rest of the morning paper. Not much caught her attention, however. Not that it had been a slow news day; no, yesterday had been quite eventful. But Lois was much more interested in planning out their follow-up story on the Mayor’s illegal activities and on who would be stepping in as acting Mayor until elections later in the year. Nothing else quite seemed as important.

She shoved the final piece of her toast into her mouth, stood, and moved to the sink. Her gaze landed on the broken razor in the trash can, and she grimaced again as she bent over and picked up the broken blade. Turning it over several times, she shook her head. How was it possible? It’s like he tried to cut steel with the blade, and it just snapped right in half. Weird. She tossed it back into the trash and turned on the water to wash her hands.

Outside, sirens wailed in the distance, and a distinct boom suddenly echoed nearby, rattling the windows. Lois jumped back, shut off the water, and hurried over to the window overlooking the street. Her eyes widened at the sight. Flames engulfed much of the apartment building across the street, thick black smoke billowing up into the sky.

“Oh God—”

Another explosion rocked the building, fire blasting out of a fifth-story window. A small crowd had gathered on the street, and residents flocked out of the building’s entrance as the first fire truck drove up to the scene.

Lois grabbed her phone, notepad, and pen and hurried outside. The heat from the fire bombarded her as soon as she stepped out of her building, and she immediately scanned the area to assess the situation. Across the street, two men held the doors open to the apartment building as the final residents exited. They congregated in a large group on the sidewalk on her side of the street, directed by several firefighters. Many residents were still wearing pajamas, and parents carried crying children, attempting to soothe them as the fire grew. A young blonde woman wearing pink pajamas and fuzzy green slippers weaved through the crowd, mumbling something as tears streamed from her eyes. At the same time, a barricade was being erected by a police officer who’d just arrived at the scene. She waved as she recognized a familiar figure running down the sidewalk toward her, a small white plastic bag in his hand.

“Clark!”

She jogged down the steps in front of her building just as he halted next to her, his eyes trained on the burning building. He squinted and blinked several times, then looked at her frantically, his dark eyes wide with fear. His body shifted towards the apartment, and Lois grabbed his arm. Tension rippled through him, and she almost recoiled as he took another step forward.

“Clark, what is it? Are you okay?” she blurted out, tightening her hand on his arm.

“Can’t you hear him, Lois? Why is no one helping?” His eyes darted wildly to her and then back to the building. “He needs help. Why aren’t the firefighters going in? The floor is going to—”

“Clark, who? What are you talking about?”

“The boy, Lois. He—he’s g-going to die if—”

A huge puff of smoke rose out of another fifth-floor window, and Clark dropped the bag in his hand and dashed forward as though he could no longer wait for the firefighters to do their job. Lois’s stomach lurched. What was he doing?

“Clark, no, don’t!” She tried to yell, but her vocal cords seemed to be paralyzed with fear, and her voice came out as more of a weak squeak than a shout. Her breathing quickened as she watched him sprint across the street, effortlessly hopping over debris and dodging emergency personnel. His skillful and agile maneuvering would probably have been impressive if she wasn’t so completely terrified for his safety. “No, no, no, Clark!”

She tried to follow him, but a police officer moved in front of her, blocking her way. Panicked, she motioned toward the building, mumbling, “He’s going in. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Stop him, please!” But the officer didn’t seem to hear her, and she stood stunned as Clark took the steps in front of the apartment complex two at a time and disappeared into the burning building.

A tear ran down her cheek, and she hastily reached up to wipe it away. Stupid, Clark, that was stupid. Please be okay. Please be okay. She stared at the building’s entrance, her hands clasped together in front of her in an attempt to get them to stop shaking. Please be okay. Please be okay.

The woman in the pink pajamas suddenly screamed and tried to rush toward the building, but two large men stopped her, holding her arms as she cried out, “Luka! My baby! He’s still in there. Please, someone, help him! Please!”

The building again shook, fire and more black smoke bursting through windows on the fourth floor now. Glass flew as far as Lois’s feet, and she jumped back involuntarily. The firefighters and policemen on the scene began pushing the crowd back more as they brought out their fire hoses. Lois’s view of the front entrance was suddenly blocked as two police officers stepped up to her and forced her and the others around her back several steps, and Lois heard a collective gasp from the rest of the crowd.

“Luka!”

The woman in the pink pajamas shouted and rushed forward toward the building, and Lois reached up on her tiptoes to get a better view. She choked back a sob as her eyes fell on Clark, his once-white dress shirt now blackened with soot, torn, and even burned away in places. His hair was tousled and full of dull, dusty debris, and his glasses, now sporting a broken left lens, sat crookedly on his nose. Soot covered his face and arms.

And he cradled a small child wrapped in a blue striped quilt.

The young boy, who couldn’t have been more than five years old, clung tightly to Clark, tears streaming down his face. He turned his head as he heard his mother’s voice, and his deep blue eyes widened as his mother approached.

“Luka. Oh my God, thank you, thank you, thank you,” the woman wept. Clark smiled tightly and said something too quietly for Lois to hear, and the woman nodded, wiped the tears from her face, and reached out to take her son. “Thank you so much. Thank you.”

With a quick nod, Clark turned back to the burning building for a second, his head cocked slightly to the right. A moment later, he seemed to sigh and spun back around, hastily scanning the crowd for Lois. He found her fairly easily and then hurried over toward her. She held up the yellow police tape for him as he stepped up onto the sidewalk.

“God, Clark, I’m so glad you’re okay,” she breathed, and she released the police tape and looped both arms up around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. He didn’t reciprocate the hug, but she didn’t really care. He was alive. “What were you thinking?”

With a start, she realized that she was actually shaking; her fingers tingled, and her knees wobbled with fear. She closed her eyes and held him tighter for another moment, only vaguely aware of the lingering crowd and chaos around them. When she relaxed her grip on him, he cleared his throat and backed away a step, an uncomfortable frown on his lips. He raised his eyes to look past her, back toward the burning building for another moment, and then he took a deep breath.

“C-can we, uh—I n-need to get—to get—to get cleaned up, and I—I—where’s my—my bag? I must’ve dropped it here s-somewhere,” he stammered. His eyes shifted uneasily from Lois to the sidewalk around them, and she followed his gaze until she saw the small white bag he’d been carrying with him when he returned from the convenience store. She gently took his hand and guided him with her over toward the steps to her building, and she stooped and grabbed the bag on their way.

“Come on, let’s get you inside.”

She didn’t want to let his hand go. Ever. And so she held him firmly as they walked up the stairs, down the hallway, and onto the elevator. Rank smells of chemicals, fire, and burnt rubber wafted off him, and she found herself studying him as the elevator lurched into motion. His hands and face and the parts of his back and chest that were visible underneath his partially burned shirt showed no evidence of redness or blistering, which might be expected after exposure to intense heat. How? How is this possible, Clark?

She led him into the apartment and closed the door behind them. In a daze, Clark took a few more steps and then stopped, his eyes staring at the floor. Lois moved back to his side and gently touched his shoulder; he flinched and turned his head to look at her. The cracked lens of his glasses obscured her view, but he didn’t seem to notice it.

“The—the ceiling—the ceiling, it fell on me, Lois.”

His words made no sense to her, and he looked as shaken as she felt. She stepped closer to him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“What do you mean, Clark?” she asked softly. To her relief, he leaned into her and hugged her back, lowering his head to her shoulder. His glasses slid off his nose and clattered to the floor, but he didn’t react. Instead, he sighed shakily and cleared his throat.

“On the fourth floor,” he began, his voice wavering. “The boy was stuck in his bedroom. Apartment 405. I picked him up and—and I st-started b-back out—back out to the hallway. But there was another explosion, and the ceiling, it fell on top of me. I-I protected the boy. I shielded him from the fire and the debris and—but—but it fell on me. I—How am I alive, Lois? How am I fine? What is going on?” He became progressively more agitated as he spoke, and Lois rubbed his back lightly as he continued. “And how did I hear him in the first place? I can hear the people talking outside right now if I…I c-can hear—I can hear things I shouldn’t be able to. And I can—I can see—I don’t need the glasses anymore. I can see—” He paused, pushing himself away from Lois and shaking his head. Trembling, he closed his eyes and reached up to rub the bridge of his nose. “I can’t even explain it. Lois, something is happening to me.”

She closed the distance between them again and took his hand in hers.

“Clark, I’m not really sure, um… How about you take a quick shower and get cleaned up and changed, and then we’ll sit down and talk and see if we can figure out what is going on? How does that sound?”

He just nodded feebly in response and started to turn away. But she stopped him, squeezing his hand in hers.

“Hold on a sec, wait.” She stepped in front of him again, and her hands carefully reached out to his chest. Shaking, she allowed her fingers to trace along a large hole in the shirt. The edges were blackened and jagged, as though the shirt had been burned away, but underneath, his skin was smooth and undamaged. “You’re not hurting anywhere? You’re not injured at all?”

“No, not at all,” he confirmed, his voice low. “I…I didn’t feel a thing. The heat of the fire didn’t feel hot. The support beam that landed on me split in two. The fire, it—it didn’t hurt. I didn’t feel anything.”

“I see.”

Lois slowly lowered her hands, and Clark seemed to nod as his shoulders hunched even more. He stepped around her and toward the hallway, but paused after only a couple feet. Quietly, he asked, “What am I, Lois?” And then he spun back around toward her, his eyes filled with fear. “Wh-what if they were right? What if—what if I’m an alien?”





Orange. Orange was fire. Orange and yellow and even some blue, flickering menacingly, angrily, destructively.

He closed his eyes as he shut off the water and grabbed a towel. Images from only a few minutes ago continued to bombard him—the young boy’s panic-stricken face, clutching his blanket to his chest; the fire licking at the doorway that he knew he had to exit back through; the floor boards about to give way beneath his feet; and the mishmash of colors collapsing on top of him as the ceiling fell in, covering him in fire, wood, and burning debris.

God, what was he?

He stepped out of the shower and dried himself off quickly. He then paused in front of the mirror and studied…himself. Based on everything he knew about anatomy, which he admitted wasn’t much, he sure looked human. He was tall, but not too tall; muscular, but not body-builder huge. He seemed to have all the…parts of a human male. At least, he thought so.

A frown edged its way across his face as he eyed the short dark hairs growing on his chin, and a horrifying idea popped into his head. What if there was no problem with the razors? What if his hair just couldn’t be cut? Like how his skin hadn’t burned in the fire. No, he couldn’t believe that. Nervously, he ran a hand through his damp hair.

None of this made sense.

Unless Trask was right.

The thought made him physically ill, and he shuddered and turned away from the mirror, closing his eyes. Freak. Alien. Abomination. The words echoed in his head, and he slumped against the bathroom wall, sinking down to the floor. Shaking hands covered his face, and images of the fire again assaulted his brain. The orange wall of flames had blocked the only way out, and he’d covered up the boy, ducked his head, and leapt through the doorway, prepared for the intense and overwhelming pain that should have come; but nothing had happened. He’d glanced behind him, pausing only briefly to stare at the fire again. Why had there been no pain?

He knew pain. He’d endured it every day for fifteen years. And he knew fire caused pain. He’d burned himself not more than two months ago when he’d been helping his dad grill some chicken for dinner one evening. Fat from the chicken skin had dripped down into the flames just as he’d reached out to flip the meat over, and the fire had flared up. Almost immediately, his skin had turned red and blistered; the pain had been intense and lingering. He still had the scar…

Eyes wide, he jumped back to his feet and stared at himself in the mirror again. Curious hands grazed over the skin on his abdomen and chest. The flawless, smooth skin, devoid of any scarring. Scarring that had been there only yesterday. He held his right hand up in front of his face; it too was without blemish.

His scars were gone. Overnight. Disappeared as though they had never existed. That didn’t just happen, did it?

Without looking at himself again, he tugged on a set of clean clothes. Whatever was happening to him, it certainly was not normal.

He certainly was not normal. And the realization terrified him. He grabbed the doorframe and inhaled sharply. Not normal.

“No, Perry, I got it. I just need a little bit of time…” Lois’s voice, low to the point of almost being a whisper, filtered into his ears loudly, as though she stood next to him and shouted.

“Sure, uh, okay, Lois. But I want the story on my desk in time for the afternoon edition. Capiche?” And now through the phone speaker, Perry White’s voice, which should have been inaudible to anyone except Lois, rattled his eardrums.

He clapped his hands over his ears, but the action did nothing to stop the barrage that hit him. A million sounds suddenly bombarded him. Talking of the crowds of people still gathered outside. Someone tying their shoelace blocks away. A dog snoring three floors down. Tires screeching somewhere, the driver singing to a loud rap song while munching on chips. A siren. A bird call. A dog’s bark. A squirrel chewing. Lois’s footsteps. Lois’s heartbeat.

Too many sounds overwhelmed him, and he groaned and fell to the ground again, this time to his knees. His hands stayed glued to his ears, the only defense he felt he had. Now he heard things even farther away. A pilot speaking to his copilot on an airplane thousands of feet up in the air; a fisherman muttering curses at a seagull miles out to sea; a city bus careening out of control, passengers screaming; a bank alarm.

“Please stop.”

His own voice disappeared into the cacophony of all the other sounds attacking him. Then, over it all, one sound emerged stronger and louder than all the rest—Lois’s heartbeat. The steady, rhythmic da-dum. How he knew it was hers, he wasn’t sure. But he latched onto the sound and focused on it, and gradually, all the other noises dulled to a low humming. Da-dum. Da-dum.

Carefully, he opened his eyes and inched his hands away from his ears.

Da-dum. Da-dum.

“Clark? Are you okay in there?”

Everything faded back to normal. Normal. Right. The humming disappeared, and silence met him. Crisp, clear silence.

He clumsily pushed himself to his feet and opened the door.

“Um, yeah—I-I think so. I’m—”

“Good, then come on out here,” she interjected as he began shuffling toward her down the hallway. “We have the story on the fire to write up for Perry, but first I think we need to figure this out, with you and the fire and stuff. So, um, I think we should run a few tests, you know, to see what’s going on. What do you think?”

All the air left his lungs.

Run a few tests.

Just like Trask had done.

“T-t-tests?” The terror in his voice must have been evident because Lois immediately backtracked.

“Oh, Clark, not like that. No, not tests. Just—oh, God, I’m sorry, Clark. I didn’t think before I spoke. I do that sometimes. I—Clark?”

He’d stopped moving and stood, shaking, one hand on the wall to support himself. His eyes shut tightly, and he felt her hands grip his shoulders. He shook his head as though to rid himself of the fear, but it stubbornly clung to him.

“Clark, look at me, please,” Lois begged. Her hands squeezed his shoulders gently, but he shook his head again as a chill settled in his bones.

“What the hell do you think you’re looking at? Freak alien. Close your damn eyes. Don’t look at me.” Pain as a fist slammed into his jaw. Shaking in fear. He wouldn’t look. No.

He stepped backward and then froze. Don’t move. Don’t move. No crying, or else. He held himself as still as possible, but he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking and his knees from trembling.

“Clark, you’re home. You’re safe here, Clark,” a kind voice murmured. Warmth enveloped him.

A hug. Gentle hands rubbing his back.

Da-dum. Da-dum. Her. It was her.

“Lois?” His own voice croaked with emotion, and again he heard the rhythmic da-dum of her heartbeat, so close to him.

“Yes, Clark. You’re home. You’re safe here, Clark,” she repeated softly.

His arms moved, seemingly of their own volition, to return her embrace, and he sighed into her as he buried his head in her hair. She smelled sweet—like strawberries, he decided.

“I’m sorry, Lois,” he breathed into her, holding her tighter to his chest. “I-I lost myself for a m-minute.”

“Shhh. You’re okay.” She didn’t say anything more, but her embrace continued to comfort him, anchoring him to the present.

The present. When he’d now discovered he could hear things miles away with great clarity and walk straight through fire without getting burned, and when his scars mysteriously disappeared overnight. There was more, too. He’d been fast, strong, unbreakable. He’d leapt up five or six steps at a time in the stairwell of the apartment building on his way to the fourth floor. And his eyesight had improved substantially.

He was scared. He had to tell her all of this. She had to know. If anyone could figure him out, it was Lois Lane. She was the most brilliant person he knew. But he hesitated as his earlier words and thoughts echoed in his mind.

What if I’m an alien?

“Lois, you have to help me.” His request, delivered in the most pathetic voice he’d ever heard, dripped with fear. “I’m scared.”

“Shhh. You’re okay, Clark,” she repeated calmly. “You’re okay.”

“No. No, I’m not. I’m—something is wrong with me,” he argued. But he didn’t let her go, not yet. He couldn’t. Just like that first day, during that terrifying ride in the ambulance, she was his lifeline. He clung to her as words eluded him, yet again. “Something is—I can’t—I just…”

“We’ll figure it out, Clark. Everything will be okay. Trust me,” Lois promised. And again, he felt her hands gently soothing him, circling slowly.

He did trust her. He did. And that’s why he had to continue to be honest.

“They—Trask—he did things to me. T-t-tests. Experiments. S-s-surgeries. It—it always was…it always hurt. Everything they did, it always hurt. I-I know you didn’t mean…I know you didn’t…but—”

“No, of course not, Clark. I’m so sorry,” she interjected, her voice trembling slightly. “I didn’t mean those kind of tests. Of course not.”

He nodded into her and continued to hold her.

She would help him. Maybe it was all just a fluke. Just something weird that would never happen again. Just stupid, dumb luck and a little bit of his own craziness. He had to be crazy, after all; there was no other explanation. Right?

Unless he really was an alien.

And then what?

“Come on, Kent. Let’s figure this thing out.”

With an attempt at a smile, Lois pulled away from the embrace, took his hand in hers, and led him the rest of the way into the kitchen.

Yes, he trusted her. She would help him. And they would figure it out. All just a fluke. It had to be a fluke.

Yet as they stood there, Lois starting to talk through what had happened, he heard it again. Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum. Clear as a bell. And he saw the orange, yellow, and blue flames around him, licking harmlessly at his apparently impervious skin. And he felt the slight clunk of the rafters and debris falling on top of him, eliciting absolutely no pain. And he pictured himself in the mirror again, lacking the multiple unsightly scars on his chest, abdomen, and hands that he’d had only the day before.

Not a fluke. He shuddered and returned his attention to the woman standing in front of him, talking animatedly, a gleam in her eye.

“Okay. So, where should we start?”





“What if I’m an alien?”

“Clark, that’s ridiculous. There has to be a reasonable explanation. Go shower and get changed, and we’ll talk about it when we’re both cleaned up.”

That had been two hours ago.

Before they’d tested his fire-proof skin.

Before they’d seen just how good his hearing was.

Before they’d discovered that he could actually see right through objects.

And before he’d broken a fourth razor trying to shave the stubble off his chin.

Now, she sat across from him at the table as she closed her laptop. His chin rested on his hands, and he stared off somewhere at the far wall, or maybe beyond it, she supposed, looking utterly lost. He hadn’t moved in nearly thirty minutes—the time that it had taken her to write up a quick story about the apartment fire, email it to Perry, and call the office to explain that they both needed a personal day. She frowned and pushed her laptop aside as she scooted her chair closer to his.

“So, um, maybe we should call your parents?” she suggested quietly, reaching her hand out to touch his arm. His eyes shifted first to the table and then to her, and he shook his head slightly.

“No, I, uh—” He coughed and cleared his throat. “Um, not yet, I think. I-I’d like to get—to figure out what—to figure out what—to—”

Apparently frustrated with his stammering, he growled and pounded his fist down on the table. The simple gesture shouldn’t have done any damage. Lois herself had done it hundreds of times. However, apparently these normal rules no longer applied to Clark Kent. The thick hardwood instantly fractured, breaking in half and collapsing in on itself. Lois jumped up and back, almost tripping over her chair, but a pair of strong arms caught her before she could fall.

“I’m so sorry, Lois, I—”

“What was that?!” Her words sounded louder and harsher than she intended, and Clark immediately recoiled, his hands dropping from her arms and disappearing as he shoved them deep in his pockets. He turned away from her, shaking visibly.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean to—to do—to…” He paused and took a deep breath. Then, he forced the words out slowly. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

Lois stared at the remnants of the table as she crossed her arms over her chest. She’d been meaning to replace the table for quite some time, but this was not how she’d pictured getting rid of it. Her eyes drifted from the splintered wood to Clark. He’d moved several more feet away from her, and although his back was still to her, she was familiar enough with his mannerisms by now to recognize the tension in his shoulders. She suppressed a sigh.

“I know, Clark, I know. I, uh, it just startled me,” she admitted, trying to sound calm. But she was not feeling calm. Not at all. This man standing just a few feet from her, he had become her best friend in the last month. And now, almost overnight, he’d seemed to have changed—to have developed abilities unknown to the human race. Her thoughts echoed his earlier words. What if he wasn’t human?

“Maybe I should call my parents,” he mumbled. Keeping his hands in his pockets, he turned around to face her, and as their eyes met, Lois had to blink back tears. The guarded expression he’d had when she’d seen him in Smallville, one month after he’d been rescued from that warehouse, had returned, erected like an emotional barricade; he looked aloof, indifferent, distant. His lips tightened into a frown, and he lowered his gaze to the table. He spoke slowly and deliberately, carefully controlling each word. “Maybe I’m not safe to be around. Maybe I should go back to Smallville. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to hurt you, Lois.”

“No, Clark.” The words came out of her mouth before she could think, but she stood by them. “No, you wouldn’t hurt me.”

He may not be human, neither of them really knew, but she did know who he was. He was a kind, gentle, caring man with the biggest heart of anyone she’d ever met. He loved good food and silly movies and taking late night walks to the park, especially when the sky was clear and the Moon was full and bright. He loved settling down with a good book and reading until the early hours of the morning. He loved sports and math and poetry, and he was annoyingly good at Scrabble. He wanted to travel the world someday, if he could get over his fear of flying. And, most importantly, she knew—somehow, she knew deep down—that he would never hurt her. No matter what sort of weird abilities manifested next, he would never hurt her.

She closed the distance between them and immediately wrapped her arms around his waist in a now familiar gesture of the friendship they’d built in the last month. As she expected, his body tensed, and he tried, albeit feebly, to move away, but she held him tightly.

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me,” Lois repeated.

“I would never intentionally hurt you,” he corrected quietly, his body still stiff and his hands still shoved in his pockets. “But maybe Trask was right to keep me locked up. Maybe that drug they gave me…” His voice trailed off, and Lois felt him start shaking again.

“No, Clark. Don’t ever believe that. Please,” she begged.

Still holding him, she lifted her head until their eyes met. He didn’t look away this time. However, she sensed that he wanted to run, far away from her and anyone he cared about. He was absolutely terrified.

She reached up with one hand and touched his cheek, and then, carefully and slowly, she stretched up toward him and did something she’d wanted to do for months now. She kissed his lips softly. Maybe she shouldn’t have. Maybe he still wasn’t ready. But she wanted—no, she needed him to understand. She trusted him completely.

It was a brief kiss, barely more than a whisper of a caress. The surge of heat that spread all the way down to her toes, however, was much more than just a whisper. Her lips twisted into a weak smile as she pulled away, struggling to keep herself from deepening the kiss into something she knew he wasn’t ready for. He stared at her, his eyes wide, and then he swallowed nervously.

“Lois, I—”

“I have an idea. Just go with it, okay? Put on your shoes. We’re going on a drive.”



Forty-five minutes later, Lois pulled off the road onto a narrow dirt driveway barely wide enough to accommodate her vehicle. Branches from overgrown bushes scraped the mirrors, and the car bumped around as she navigated over and around potholes and sudden dips in the unpaved path.

“My Uncle Joe used to own this land and the cabin up there,” Lois explained, pointing ahead to a small, run-down log cabin at the end of the road. “We’d come up here to go camping when I was a kid. He left the land to me and my sister when he passed away a few years ago. Lucy never comes up here, and she’s in California now anyways. So, we’ve got privacy here.”

Clark twisted his head toward her. He’d been silent for most of the trip, staring off out the window with his hands clasped carefully in his lap, as though he was afraid to touch anything.

“Privacy…for what?”

Lois slowed as she pulled up into the clearing in front of the old cabin. She smiled sideways at him and parked the Jeep.

“For seeing what you’re capable of.”

She didn’t wait for his response. Instead, she unfastened her seatbelt and hopped out of the Jeep. It was comfortably warm out, and she closed her eyes as she inhaled the fresh mountain air, the strong scent of pine filling her nostrils. Her tennis shoes kicked up dust from the dry clearing, a reminder that they hadn’t had rain for nearly a month now. However, despite the lack of life-giving precipitation, the forest was still full. Bird calls echoed from far away, and several curious squirrels peeked out around branches, eyeing the newcomers with interest. Clark shut the door behind him and walked slowly around the front of the vehicle, his eyes scanning their surroundings.

“Lois, I’m not sure this is a good idea,” he mumbled, stubbing his shoe into the parched earth. His hands found their familiar hiding place in his pockets.

“Now, hear me out,” she said, and she stepped over to him and looped her arm through his. Together, they began walking down a narrow trail that led off into the woods. “All of these…abilities of yours are brand new, right?”

He nodded, and she pushed a branch out of the way as they continued down the trail together.

“Okay, so you’re suddenly invulnerable and strong, and your senses are all enhanced. And your biggest concern is that you don’t want to hurt anyone, right?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“So if you don’t want to hurt anyone, the way I see it, you have two options.”

She stopped walking as they reached another small clearing. The clearing had a huge log from a fallen tree along one side and an old fire pit lined with blackened stones at the center. She scanned the small space and nodded in approval. This would do. Then she turned back to Clark.

“One, you could go home to Smallville, maybe build yourself your own little house on your parents’ farm, and live life as a recluse, isolated and alone. That way you’d be sure to never hurt anyone.” He grimaced and rolled his eyes at her, and she grinned in response. “Or, two, you could test—err, I mean evaluate yourself and practice. Right now, you don’t even know your own strength. But if you learn to control your abilities—”

“Then I can be sure that I won’t hurt anyone,” he finished for her.

“Exactly.”

She stooped down and picked up a large gray rock about the size of a cantaloupe. The heavy stone required two hands for her to lift. She offered it to Clark, and with a frown, he accepted the offering, holding it easily in one hand. He turned it around, studying it for a moment.

“Without meaning to, you easily broke my table, which was three-inch-thick maple,” Lois said, her voice low. He clenched his jaw, but continued staring at the rock. “I wonder what you can do when you’re trying to test your strength.”

“Y-You mean you want me to try to crush this rock?” he blurted out, his eyes darting up to meet hers. She simply nodded. “I-I mean, it’s a rock. Not wood. It’s a…” He lowered his eyes back to the rock in his hand, and, still scowling, he shifted a few feet away from her, placed both hands on the rock, and squeezed. Instantly, and seemingly effortlessly, his hands collapsed in on the gray stone, which crumbled into smaller pieces with a loud crunch. His eyes widened as he looked at her. “Oh, God, I-I just did that.”

She shook her head as a smile grew on her lips. Wow. Incredible.

But as she watched the evolution of emotions in his expression, she saw he wasn’t in awe of his apparent strength; he was fearful. He backed away from her another few steps. She glanced around until she found another suitable rock.

“Here, take this one,” she said, and she again lifted the heavy rock, straining a bit, and handed it to him. He took it, but shook his head frantically.

“No, I—”

“Clark. Look.” She placed her hand on top of the rock, and he bit his lip nervously as he lowered his eyes to the stone he held easily in one hand. His fingers wrapped around the bottom of the rock, exerting just enough pressure to hold the rock without dropping it. “You are not out of control. Are you?”

“No, but—”

“You can hold the rock without damaging it. Yes?”

“Yes, but—”

“So, to me, this is proof, Clark. You can control this strength of yours. You may have to concentrate on it at first, but I’m sure it will become easy and natural after a while.”

She stepped back from him again and nodded to the rock.

“Apply pressure again, but this time don’t break it,” she instructed. “I mean, grip it stronger, but not to the point where it breaks.”

The frown on his face tightened again, but he did as she instructed. With one hand, he held the rock a bit tighter. It didn’t crack or break. He exhaled sharply.

“Just because I can do it with a rock doesn’t mean I won’t ever accidently hurt you,” he argued. He turned away from her and raised his arm, then tossed the rock out into the woods. Maybe tossed was not the right word, Lois realized as they both flinched in unison. Hurled. Propelled. Launched. Launched was probably most accurate. The rock disappeared high out above the treetops, and Clark grimaced as he turned to her. “Oops?”

She couldn’t help it. She broke into a fit of laughter, shaking her head as she moved to the fallen tree to sit. She picked up a pinecone off the ground and tossed it to him. He easily caught it and sighed.

“Throw it back,” she said, smiling as she added, “Gently, please.” He rolled his eyes, but then tossed the pinecone to her in a perfect arc. It landed in her lap, and she smiled again. “See? You can control it, if you concentrate.”

They tossed the pinecone again a few times, and then she stood up and motioned for him to follow her as she set off deeper into the woods. About another three or four hundred feet down a trail sat a large boulder approximately twenty feet high. Lois stopped in front of it, staring up at the top.

“We used to climb this as kids. My mom would get so nervous. But my Uncle Joe would bring us out here when she was busy cooking or…drinking, and he’d have us race to the top. Lucy always beat me.”

She turned to Clark, who looked quite serious again. She wondered what he was thinking, but she didn’t have to wait long. He glanced at her, then stepped toward the boulder and squatted down next to it as though preparing for a deadlift. After a second of trying to find appropriate handholds along the bottom edge, he stood again, and Lois gasped as the boulder raised up off the ground several feet.

“It’s not even…” His voice trailed off as he narrowed his eyes for a moment and then shifted his grip to lift the boulder up over his head. “It’s not even heavy,” he confessed. He again shifted his grip to balance the rock on one hand, and then looked at Lois and shrugged. Carefully, he set the boulder down, back in its place, and dusted his hands on his jeans. “I-I just lifted that boulder over my head with one hand. This is crazy, Lois.”

“I was going to ask you to race me to the top,” she said, raising her eyebrows at him. “But that was much more, uh, impressive.”

Finally, a bit of the tension that he’d built up that morning seemed to ease, and he laughed weakly as he rubbed the back of his neck. However, he quickly became serious again, and he turned back to the rock.

“When I was—when I w—” He hesitated and shoved his hands back into his pockets. “When I was trying to hurry up the stairwell to save that boy on the fourth floor, I felt like I was running much faster than I should have been able to… And then I…” He trailed off again, his eyes shifting toward the top of the rock. He glanced back at Lois over his shoulder and opened his mouth as though to say something, but then shook his head, turned back to the boulder, and knelt down, his hands touching the forest floor. A second later, he pushed off the ground and leapt up into the air, easily sailing up to the top of the boulder. He landed almost lightly, as though he was in complete control of his descent, and he spun around toward Lois, a mixture of excitement and trepidation in his eyes.

“Wow.”

“Wow is right,” he agreed, and he jumped back down from the top of the boulder, again landing lightly on the ground next to Lois. “That was…fun, actually.” She smiled at him and watched as he turned back toward the boulder again, an inquisitive glint in his eye. He once again knelt down, readied himself, and leapt up into the sky. This time, however, the ground cracked underneath his feet as he shot up much, much higher. Lois watched as he continued rising until he disappeared from her view. She raised her hand to block the sunlight as she searched the sky for him.

“Clark! Where did you go?” she yelled, spinning around as she continued scanning the sky.

“Right here, Lois.”

She turned toward his voice and looked up. Impossible. It’s not possible. Wow.

“You…you’re…you’re…”

He beamed down at her from about thirty feet in the air, where he hovered stably, his arms crossed lightly over his chest.

“I can fly, Lois! This is so cool!”

She was speechless. Very few times in her life had she ever been speechless. But now, her mouth hung open as she stared at him. He floated slowly down and landed next to her, nearly bouncing off the ground with pure joy.

“Clark, I—wow…”

His eyes, now wide with excitement, met hers, and she smiled reflexively back at him. In the entire month they’d been living and working together, she’d never seen him like this. It was almost as though all of his burden had disappeared as he learned he could defy the laws of physics.

“Lois, this is the most amazing feeling. And the view—you have to see it,” he insisted.

He stepped closer to her and reached out a steady hand. Any shakiness he’d had earlier was gone, and as she took his hand, she felt his strength and a newfound confidence. Her eyes lifted to meet his again, and her breath caught in her throat as she saw his wonder and joy and elation, mixed with an unshakable certainty. This was the real Clark Kent. She was meeting him now, for the first time.

And, God, she was totally in love with him.

The thought startled her, and she almost backed away. But then, he pulled her in close to him and wrapped his arms around her waist, still smiling. After a second, he tore his gaze away and looked up, and she felt the ground drop away from under her feet. Instinct forced her to cling to him, her arms looping up and around his neck, and she screwed her eyes shut and buried her head into his chest, gasping involuntarily.

Clark laughed and tightened his arms around her.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he assured her, his voice strong and confident.

Lois blinked open her eyes but quickly closed them again as she saw only the tops of the huge pine trees from the forest.

“You’ve got me, but who’s got you?” Her voice came out a bit higher and faster than she’d wanted, betraying her unease. Sure, she trusted him, but… She forced her eyes open again and gripped him tighter as she raised her head off his chest. “Oh, wow.”

“Isn’t it incredible?”

The view stretched out in every direction—miles and miles of unperturbed forest, steep mountains, and clear blue skies. An eagle flew just above the treetops to their right, soaring regally as it scanned the forest floor below, and off in the distance, the skyscrapers of Metropolis appeared insignificant and small, though she knew otherwise. Cautiously, she glanced down; from this height—she guessed maybe two hundred feet up—the boulder that Clark had lifted over his head just a few moments prior now appeared unintimidating.

Her eyes shifted to Clark, who gazed off toward the city with the same brilliant smile on his face. Carefree. No, that wasn’t it. Just free. He was free, liberated, no longer bound by the confining white walls of the small cell he grew up in.

Her lips parted, and she breathed his name as her eyes studied him.

“Clark.”

“Hmm?”

He continued staring out over the forest for another moment, until he seemed to realize she hadn’t responded, and she felt his arms pull her closer into his strong chest as he lowered his eyes to hers. His smile faded.

“Is something wrong?”

She quickly shook her head; her expression must have been quite serious, but that was not her intention. Her lips twitched back up into a smile, and her hands slid from around his neck until they cupped his cheeks.

“This is amazing, Clark. You…you are amazing,” she whispered, her voice trembling. Before she could change her mind, she reached up and brushed her lips gently against his. Just like she’d felt when she’d teased him with a brief kiss earlier, her stomach seemed to flutter, and warmth pulsed through her. His lips were soft and pliant, and he—and he was losing altitude rapidly. Her eyes widened in alarm as she pulled away from him slightly, but he quickly leveled them out. His cheeks had turned bright red with embarrassment, and he blinked several times.

“Sorry, I-I, uh…” He frowned and looked down at the ground, and she felt them slowly descending. His arms tightened around her waist as he landed them lightly on the forest floor, but he didn’t let her go. Instead, he moved one hand to touch her cheek and then tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear, a nervous smile flickering on his lips. “Maybe we can try that again, now that we’re safe on the ground…?”

She giggled and nodded. “I’d like that.”

He swallowed anxiously and ducked his head for a moment, and Lois gently touched his cheek again.

“Y-you know that I’ve never…” His voice trailed off as he raised his eyes slightly to meet hers.

“I know, Clark,” she assured him. Then she shook her head and lowered her own eyes for a moment, a feeling of guilt washing over her as she contemplated whether her forwardness now was fair to him. In all the time they’d spent together, he’d shown no indication of being attracted to her, but she’d finally realized how deep her feelings for him were. Did he even have any feelings for her? Was he ready to have a relationship? Did he want a relationship? What exactly was she expecting from this?

“Lois?”

With a weak smile, she looked up at him. He watched her expectantly, hopefully even, his deep brown eyes studying hers. He definitely wanted to kiss her again, she knew that. The way he still held her—one arm tightly around her waist, the other drifting lightly up and down her forearm. God, that felt good. How did he know to do that? She blinked and inhaled sharply; she’d never felt like this before, not in any of her previous relationships. She’d never felt even a hint of this.

“W-we don’t have to—to kiss again if—if you don’t want to,” he stammered, dragging his gaze away from hers and loosening his arm from her waist.

“No, no, no, wait, Clark. I definitely want to,” she blurted out. Her hands moved to rest on his chest, and she felt him tense slightly. He raised his eyes again to hers, and for the first time, she saw desire in them. A sort of knowing smile flickered across his lips, but was then buried again in an expression of confusion and embarrassment. “I just want, um…” She hesitated, unsure of how to phrase her concerns. But he seemed to understand, somehow, and she felt his hand once again begin to stroke her arm gently, eliciting the same sensations as a few minutes ago. She shivered involuntarily.

“You want to know how I feel?” he asked, his voice low. He swallowed again and then added, “And you don’t want to pressure me into something that I’m not ready for.”

She pursed her lips into a frown and nodded in agreement.

“Yes, to both of those.”

He smiled; not the brilliant, joyful smile from his antigravity escapade of a few minutes ago, but rather a soft, comforting smile that warmed her deep in her core. God, what was this? The thought hit her again, and she pressed her fingers into his chest as he pulled her closer to him.

“It’s, uh, hard for me to know what these feelings are,” he told her honestly. His eyes didn’t leave hers, but his hand stilled on her upper arm. “But I’m pretty sure this, whatever it is, is, um, more than just friendship.” His cheeks reddened again, and he finally lowered his eyes. “I’ve felt this way since you came to Smallville, but I didn’t really know what it was until…”

“Until what?”

“Until you kissed me earlier at your apartment.”

“Ah, right, that.” Lois leaned into him, resting her head on his chest. This felt so right. He felt so right. “I, uh, felt it then too. I mean in Smallville, that is. But it wouldn’t have been, um, appropriate then, I think.”

She shifted slightly so she could look up at him. Something glistened in his eyes, and he loosened his embrace just enough for her to bring her arms up around his neck again. Her fingers grazed the skin on the back of his neck, and he inhaled sharply as she smiled and inched closer to him. His lips were so inviting; she stretched up toward him, and her eyes closed as their lips met.

And there it was again. Warmth. Belonging. Love.

His lips caressed hers as he tentatively kissed her back, and she smiled into him, her fingers threading up and into his thick black hair. The kiss ended too soon; he pulled back slightly, his eyelids half closed, and she rested her forehead against his, her breathing shallow and rapid. Her whole body felt warm, and her lips—God, her lips still burned from his touch. A shiver ran up her spine, and she clung to him a bit tighter.

“Wow.”

That was about all she could manage at the moment. Any other conscious thought evaded her. He seemed equally as affected, although he recovered maybe a bit more quickly than her. He lowered his head to her shoulder and breathed into her hair deeply as his arms wrapped around her waist.

“That was incredible,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. “I-I mean, I know I h-have no frame of reference, but…”

She just nodded into him, unable to speak. How could one kiss light such a fire in her? They stood for another couple minutes, just holding each other, until he finally pulled away, swallowing hard as his eyes seemed to study hers. His arms loosened from around her, and his hands then slid from her back to her hips. A small smile grew on her lips as she watched the emotions dance across his face, and she reached up to touch his cheek softly.

“It was incredible by any standard, Clark,” she assured him.

Still, he trembled slightly and dropped his eyes to the ground as he stepped away from her. She allowed him space and simply watched as he turned away and shoved his hands into his pockets—a now all-too-familiar gesture that she knew reflected his anxiety. He moved just a few feet away, his back to her, and then stopped and raised his eyes up to the sky.

“I think I’m…I think I’m not human,” he said quietly, his shoulders tightening. His eyes wandered rapidly from left to right, as though he searched for something far away, and then closed as he absently scuffed the ground with his shoe. “I think Trask was right. I think I’m not from Earth.”

“Clark—”

“Think about it, Lois,” he interrupted, turning back toward her abruptly. No longer hidden behind his thick-framed glasses, his eyes bore into her, and she stepped back involuntarily. “I can fly. And see through things. And…” He shook his head and dropped his gaze to the ground again as his hand ran nervously through his hair. “And I can’t shave because the razor keeps breaking. I’m really not looking forward to growing a beard.”

The weak attempt at humor caused her to smile, and she closed the distance he’d put between them. Her hands reached out to take his, and he allowed it, raising his eyes to meet hers.

“We’ll have to figure that out. Although I kinda think you look good like this,” she admitted with a crooked smile, releasing one of his hands to caress the stubbly skin along his jawline. He chuckled and shook his head.

“No, it’s itchy and—”

She brushed her lips against his again, effectively cutting him off, and she felt him lean into her as the kiss deepened, his hands venturing out of his pockets and to her waist again. Before she could get lost in this wonderful feeling of belonging and warmth, she broke the kiss, and her eyes opened slowly as she caught her breath.

“We’ll figure it all out. I’ll help you, if you let me,” she promised. He inhaled sharply and screwed his eyes shut tighter.

“And if we figure it out and discover that I’m really not human? What then?”

His quiet voice trembled, like his hands, and Lois pursed her lips together as she considered how to respond. At her hesitation, he opened his eyes; the same dark brown irises she’d seen the very first day they’d met outside that huge warehouse stared back at her. And saw his intense and undeniable fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of being different. Fear of himself and his newfound abilities…

And most of all, fear that he might be forced back into captivity.

Into a tiny room with white walls and no windows and no color and no sound.

He hadn’t told her much about the room or about the missing fifteen years of his life and whatever horrors he’d faced and been subjected to. But she’d noticed his reactions to certain things—being enclosed in small spaces, like on an airplane or in an elevator; needing all the lights turned out at night; even something as simple as a door locking behind him in a room—and she knew his fears ran deep. His experiences were not forgotten or hidden or gone. He remembered them. And tried valiantly every day to push them out of his mind so he could function. She’d never pushed him to reveal any specifics to her—after all, it wasn’t really her business, was it? And now, as she watched him and saw the intensity of the fear in his eyes, a surge of protectiveness washed over her.

She shook her head and wrapped her arms back up around his neck, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. He was warm, and his skin was soft. She kissed his cheek, stubble and all.

“Oh, Clark. I promise I won’t ever let them take you back there again. I don’t care if you’re human or Martian or whatever. Do you remember what I told you in the hospital that first day? And what I said earlier today?”

She shifted away from him slightly so she could see his eyes again, but he couldn’t quite look at her. He nodded feebly.

“You told me I was safe,” he said in a low voice.

She enveloped him in another hug, this time opting to move her arms down around his waist, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“You’re safe here, Clark. Always.”

A long shuddering breath escaped him, and he held her tightly, as though his life depended on her.





Beauty surrounded him. The forest, the sky, the mountains—it was all nothing short of incredible.

Then of course there was Lois. She was beautiful inside and out. And she had kissed him! Him—Clark Kent! More than once. It had been the most extraordinary experience of his life—even better than the sensation of flying. Although, he admitted, flying was a very close second.

They walked slowly back toward Lois’s Jeep, her small hand tucked safely away in his larger hand, and his mind raced. They’d spent the better part of the last three hours exploring his capabilities, and they had found no limits. He’d raced on foot to the top of a distant mountain peak and back within a second, and then flown there and back even faster, managing both times to break the sound barrier. From the top of that mountain, he’d quickly learned to focus his hearing, and he managed to listen to a conversation between Jimmy Olsen and Perry White, discussing Jimmy’s most recent front-page photos over coffee at a café just down the block from the Daily Planet. He all but mastered his remarkable telescopic vision as well, using it to watch a young couple stroll arm in arm down a path in Centennial Park from his vantage point nearly twenty-five miles away. And finally, he’d lifted the massive twenty-foot-tall boulder again, flown straight up into the air several miles, dropped it, and raced down beside it as it fell; just before impact, he’d poured on a bit more speed, moved underneath the boulder, and slowed its fall, setting it down back carefully in its resting place on Lois’s property.

Now he was exhausted. No, not physically. Physically, he still felt exhilaration, buoyancy, power, like he’d never imagined. But mentally, he was a wreck. His brain felt foggy, like he was functioning within a haze of various emotions, unable to decide which one to embrace. And a constant hum in the back of his mind reminded him that none of this was normal and that Trask might have been right—he was probably an alien. He’d had to shake his head too many times to rid himself of the three words branded into his brain early on in his captivity. Freak. Alien. Abomination. Until today, he’d assumed Trask was just insane—a raving lunatic who’d become fixated on Clark for whatever reason and who’d kidnapped and tortured him based on a false premise. Now…now he didn’t know what the real truth was.

One thing was certain, however—he was definitely not normal.

In addition to this simple observation, that is, that he could no longer think of himself as just another ordinary man, their extensive exploration of his newfound abilities had brought him to reach two important conclusions.

First and foremost, these new abilities were incredibly dangerous to those around him. His strength couldn’t be matched. With a tiny flick of his finger, a single uncontrolled movement, he was capable of more destruction than he cared to consider. Yes, he could control himself; he’d discovered that quickly enough. However, he knew he had to be extremely careful all the time, always cognizant in any interactions with people or objects…or someone could be seriously injured. Even now, as he walked quietly next to Lois, he was acutely aware of her fragility. One stumble, one error of judgment and… He didn’t even want to think about it.

The second thing he knew with perfect clarity was that Lois was the most incredible woman he’d ever met. And he was pretty sure he was falling in love with her. Scratch that—he was very much already in love with her. He moved slightly closer to her as the trail narrowed, and she let out a contented sigh and leaned into him a bit. His heart leapt in his chest. He didn’t know what he would have done without her today. Every step of the way, she’d directed, encouraged, and reassured him, even when he’d been close to panicking after crushing that first rock at her suggestion. She seemed to have a confidence in him that he didn’t understand—a sort of unshakeable conviction that he could and would handle whatever they discovered. So far, she’d been right; he hadn’t found anything that he couldn’t control, with enough effort. However, he didn’t yet have the belief in himself that she did.

He felt her hand slip from his and then wrap tightly around his waist. And as though it were the most natural thing in the world, he allowed his arm to drape over her shoulders lightly. He’d never touched anyone like this before—or had anyone touch him like this. Yet, holding her this way seemed to come easily, like something he’d done countless times.

God, he loved her. His heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest.

They pushed through some overgrown bushes, and Lois’s silver Jeep came into view. Two squirrels paused near the front driver’s side tire, and the larger of the two rose slowly up onto its haunches, eyeing the newcomers warily. As they neared, the two squirrels scampered off toward the cabin, their cheeks filled with seeds and nuts. Clark smiled as he watched them, using his newly discovered vision abilities to follow their path around the back of the cabin and into a small hole in the roof.

“Those squirrels have taken up residence in the attic of your cabin, Lois,” he said teasingly. He stopped and continued watching the squirrels as Lois leaned into him. He suddenly felt very warm. “They have three little baby squirrels in a little nest, and—”

“Clark, we have to talk to your parents.”

The change in her tone startled him, and he pulled his gaze away from the squirrels inside the attic to look down at her. Her hands rested on his chest now, her open palms pressing against him, and her earnest expression worried him. He dropped his arm from around her and shoved his hands into his pockets as he studied her eyes.

“I-I don’t know, Lois, I—what if they…what if they don’t—”

Again, she cut him off, this time by abruptly turning away from him and taking several steps toward the Jeep. He heard her heart rate increase substantially, its now familiar and comforting ‘da-dum’ becoming less regular.

“I know it might be scary, Clark, but I think they can probably help us figure out…where you came from.”

He could tell she chose her words carefully to avoid upsetting him. He lowered his eyes to the ground and absently scuffed at the dirt. Freak. Alien. Abomination.

“I was adopted, Lois. I think they would have told me if—” His voice caught in his throat as an old memory surfaced. Something he’d definitely buried and planned to never let back out. A mild pulsing headache began to build between his eyes.

“If…?” She’d turned back to face him, and he felt her watching him, studying every move, every expression.

He shook his head and looked away from her. No, it couldn’t be true.

“You said I was adopted, Dad.”

“Well, technically, son, yes. But the truth is, your mother and I, we—”

“Jonathan, please. He’s still too young to understand.”

“Understand what, Mom? Dad? I’m ten years old. I’m practically an adult. You have to tell me now.”

But they hadn’t. That had been as far as the conversation had gone. And he’d been so angry with them that he’d never brought it up again. He’d pushed the memory back into a deep crevasse in his mind, hoping to forget about it forever. He’d been adopted; his birth parents hadn’t wanted him. Wasn’t that bad enough without having some other variable hanging over him as well? Apparently not. Apparently, his parents might have more information that they hadn’t wanted him to know.

“But the truth is, you mother and I, we—”

“I’ll go talk to them,” he asserted, raising his eyes to the sky. Clouds had moved in within the last thirty minutes, blocking out the light from the Sun, and a light rain began to fall. His new senses heightened his perception of everything, he realized, and it took him a moment to orient himself to the rain falling. If he didn’t deliberately concentrate on blocking it, he heard every individual raindrop falling on the trees and on the forest floor; he could perceive every drop with such speed that the raindrops could appear suspended in midair, hanging there, frozen; he could feel the very subtle drop in temperature. It was overwhelming. He shivered, and two small hands came to rest on his chest again.

“We’ll go together.”

“No.”

The word slipped out before he could think, but he knew he needed to talk to them alone. He wasn’t even sure why.

“No? But Clark—”

“Please, Lois. You asked me earlier to trust you, and now I’m asking you to trust me.” He opened his eyes to meet hers and forced a weak smile. God, she was beautiful. He raised his hand to cup her cheek and then brushed a strand of her dark hair back behind her ear. “I-I’ll meet you back at your apartment as soon as I can.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Wait, are you going to…? Are you thinking you can fly there? That’s over a thousand miles, Clark,” she argued.

He allowed a small smile to grow on his lips. He knew how far it was, and somehow, he knew the trip would be no problem for him. The fog that had clouded his brain only minutes before had lifted, and certainty and confidence flooded him. The jaunt would take him a mere minute, maybe two. Actually, the task of confronting his parents seemed much more daunting than the flight itself.

He briefly considered making some joke about how much he’d prefer flying himself rather than flying on an airplane, but seeing the concern on her face, he changed his mind. Instead, he took her in his arms, closed his eyes, and held her to him. Her arms slid around his waist, and he felt her tremble weakly.

“I’ll be careful. I promise,” he told her quietly. He momentarily forgot everything else as her fingers pressed stronger into his back, pulling him even closer to her. Her warmth filled him, and he turned his head ever so slightly and brushed a gentle kiss against her cheek.

She pushed him away and looked up into his eyes. Small beads of water dripped down her forehead and cheeks as the rain started to fall harder. Her deep brown eyes blinked the rain away and shifted uneasily up to the cloud-covered sky.

He inhaled sharply as he watched a drop of rain slide down her throat and disappear under the light blue cotton of her t-shirt. A strong desire to kiss her neck right there—right where the raindrop had disappeared—threw him off guard, and he pursed his lips and looked up, following her gaze.

“You’ll meet me back at home then? And if it’s too far and you get tired, you’ll land somewhere and call me?”

Their eyes met again, and he nodded.

“And you’ll drive carefully down this mountain?” he countered.

She smiled and nodded as well. And then he swallowed nervously and leaned in toward her. Seconds later, their lips met in a gentle, unhurried kiss. He tasted the rain on her lips and the faint hint of coffee from hours before. And contentment, warmth, and love filled him. She kissed him back, softly, almost playfully, and her hands moved back to his waist and then around his back. After a moment, she broke the kiss, her chest rising and falling breathlessly, and he stepped away from her a few feet, grinned, and rose up off the ground.

“I…I’ll see you soon, Lois,” he promised.

She bit her lip nervously and nodded again. Her mouth opened as though she wanted to say something, but then shut just as quickly, and she sighed.

“Be careful.”

He smiled again and took off, disappearing into the thick cloud layer, a sonic boom echoing in his wake.



Bright sunlight filtered through patchy clouds, bathing the ground below him in a mosaic of light and shadow. From his spot, hovering thousands of feet above his parents’ farmhouse, Clark scanned the farm, noting the subtle changes in the fields and barn that had occurred during the last month in his absence. His mom had planted more flowers, which bloomed bright pink and yellow, in her garden next to the house, and his dad had painted the new barn doors red to match the rest of the structure. Everything else looked the same.

And yet, for him, so much had changed.

He narrowed his eyes and focused his vision to look through the walls of the familiar farmhouse. With a crooked smile, he watched and listened as his mom playfully teased his dad about eating an extra brownie while at the same time setting a bowl of vanilla ice cream in front of him. His dad laughed jovially, kissed his mom on the cheek, and picked up the newspaper sitting on the table next to him as he dug his spoon into the cold dessert.

Boy, were they going to be surprised to see him!

Before he could lose his nerve, he dropped down just in front of the barn, landed lightly on the dry ground, and took a deep breath as he jogged up toward the house. He hadn’t really planned his approach, but he figured once he explained his new abilities to them, they would not hold back any information they had about his origins.

At least, that’s what he hoped.

The desire to know where he came from drove him to hurry up the steps, the floorboards creaking loudly underneath his feet. He grasped the handle and opened the door, pasting a smile on his face. A sharp intake of breath from the kitchen was followed closely by hurried footsteps coming his direction as he shut the door and turned back toward his parents.

“Clark! What are you doing here?” his mother exclaimed. He was immediately embraced in a tight hug, her arms wrapping around his waist. His dad stood from his spot at the table and lumbered over, reaching out to hug Clark after Martha released him.

“Mom, Dad, it’s really good to see you both,” he greeted, his smile growing. He hadn’t quite realized how much he’d missed them, and despite the serious reason for his visit, he relaxed almost immediately into his dad’s hug.

“Son, we, uh, weren’t really expecting you back for at least another couple of months.”

“I know, Dad. I—”

His mom moved to embrace him again, and he chuckled to himself as he rested his head on top of hers.

“S-something came up, and I needed to talk to you both…in person,” he admitted in a low voice, pulling away from his mom.

“Well, we’re very glad to see you of course, honey. But you didn’t have to fly all the way out here… Did you?” The puzzlement in her voice and her misunderstanding of his mode of transportation sobered him up, and his smile faltered.

“Speaking of which, son,” his father piped in, glancing out the kitchen window into the driveway. “How did you, well… There’s no rental car. So, how did you…?” The older man’s voice trailed off as he turned back toward Clark.

The moment of truth. A wave of fear washed over him, and he swallowed tightly and glanced quickly from his dad back to his mom.

“Well, I flew,” he said simply, knowing that did not clarify anything for them.

“Yes, of course, honey,” his mom replied, and she began moving back toward the kitchen. “Obviously. What your father meant was how did you get here from the airport?”

He nodded solemnly, looked both of his parents straight in the eye, and said again, “I flew.” And then, because he knew they wouldn’t otherwise understand, he demonstrated the most impressive of his new abilities by floating himself about two feet off the ground and hovering for several seconds.

Neither of his parents moved or reacted right away; in fact, they both appeared almost frozen in place. He lowered himself back to the ground slowly and stood quite still, waiting for any reaction from either of them. His father seemed to break out of his trance first, shaking his head and blinking several times, and then his mother turned away and walked back into the kitchen, mumbling to herself as she did.

Uncertainty hit him, and he ran a nervous hand through his hair as he watched his mother robotically pour herself a cup of coffee. His dad stared at him still, his forehead wrinkled in apprehension.

“That, uh, that’s some neat trick you did there, Clark,” Jonathan started, turning and sitting down heavily in his seat at the kitchen table. Absently, he picked up his spoon, scooped up some ice cream, and then froze again, the spoon lingering a few inches above the bowl. Drops of melted ice cream fell back into the bowl, but Jonathan made no effort to eat the dessert.

“I don’t really know how to tell you both this, so I-I’m sorry to just d-drop in like this, um, I—”

“You flew here, Clark? You flew, of your own power, from Metropolis all the way here?” Martha’s voice trembled as she addressed him, her hands gripping her coffee mug tightly. From behind her glasses, her blue eyes watched him, a serious expression hidden in their depths.

Clark nodded, forcing himself to maintain eye contact.

“Just today, Lois and I, we found out that—we found out that I can do some p-p-pretty incredible things, actually,” he stumbled. His hands found their familiar place in his pockets as he silently berated himself for stuttering. Taking a deep breath to steady his voice, he continued, letting everything out all at once. “I can fly and move really fast and see and hear things from far away. And—and I can s-see through objects and I’m really strong and can walk through fire…”

Seeing his parents’ bewilderment again, he dropped his eyes to the floor, and for the first time, he wondered briefly whether they might not accept him like Lois had. But, no, they had to. They would. They probably just needed a few minutes to process.

Right. Process this crazy shock that he’d just given them.

That he was not normal.

He shook his head. Not normal. Freak. Alien. Abomination.

He turned away from them to hide the strong shame he felt.

Freak. Alien. Abomination.

“I-I’m r-really s-sorry. Both of you. I…I’ll just—you can just forget that I came. Um, I’ll head back t to—I’ll head back—I’ll go now,” he stammered. His hands shoved deeper into his pockets as he angled toward the door.

“Clark, son, now wait just a minute,” Jonathan’s deep voice boomed, and Clark heard the other man stand up and step toward him. A strong hand settled on his shoulder. “You should sit, son. I think we have a lot to talk about.”

“Yes, Clark, honey,” his mom added insistently. “Please, don’t leave.”

His heart pounded in his chest, but he rotated around slowly to face both of them, his hands shaking as he pulled them out of his pockets. His father hadn’t left his side, and the older man patted Clark on the back and motioned to the kitchen table. Martha had also moved to the table, and she blinked several times as she held back tears.

Willing himself to be strong, he took his seat at the table with his parents and listened, numbly, as they told him of the night they’d found him twenty-five years ago.