[Chapter 7: Humanize]Clark landed on the front porch in the white t-shirt and gray pants Jakub and his team had given him after decontamination, and for the first time in days, he landed just as hard as he had intended.
“Clark!” his mom cried as Lois pounced on him.
They had been watching the news channel televising the live feed and had known he was on his way even before he had sent Lois his quick thought.
“You can see?!” Lois asked, pulling back and placing her hands on either side of his face.
Two brown eyes looked back at her.
“Yes. I can see just like before,” he breathed as his parents came closer, just as much in awe.
He quickly hugged them all after drinking in the sight of them for a long moment.
O o O o O
The next day, the world watched as Superman followed Mav out of the Foundation and stopped behind the podium – sans eyepatch. The crowd thundered, clapping and cheering ecstatically in celebration over, they assumed, the return of Superman’s fully healed eye. His eyes scanned the crowd before him, joy clear on his face.
The press and crowd fell silent when Kal lifted his hand and adjusted the microphone, all of them eager to hear the official update.
“Thank you,” he said, smiling. “Well, as you have no doubt noticed–” he said, motioning to his left eye, “–I have recovered my sight.”
The crowd cheered once more, but quickly quieted.
“The Foundation has submitted an updated medical report to the UN, but I’ll summarize here. Normal vision has returned to my left eye, along with my microscopic and telescopic vision. X-ray and heat vision, however, has not – at least not completely. Considering I was legally blind in this eye, I will gladly accept that. I’ll take a few questions now,” he said, before pointing to a reporter near the middle of the press corp.
“LNN, Yukon. Do you believe the rest of your visual abilities will return in time, even though the solar storm has passed?" he asked.
"My doctors are not sure, though considering how it feels and what my optometrist found in the last check, I honestly think my X-ray vision from this eye is gone for good. Heat vision is a bit different, though, so I might just need more practice there, but for now I just won’t use heat vision from this eye,” Superman answered before pointing to another.
“CPC, Williams. Could you explain what exactly happened in Poland? We understand it involved your aura and a solar flare, but beyond that. . . .”
“Of course. As everyone knows, at the time of the solar flare, I had my aura extended to ensure everyone contaminated with the chemicals got the help they needed without suffering any ill effects from the toxins. As I was being informed by the HAZMAT team that everyone had been taken care of, the sun released a huge flare. The flare – while not the largest recorded during the storm – hit while I was extending my aura, which then acted as a net and funneled all the energy in the immediate area from the flare directly into me. Admittedly, I didn't know my aura could do that, but I certainly know now. The result was what I'm sure you all saw on the video. I couldn’t contain all that power so was forced to let it out the way I did,” Superman explained.
“KNC, Cooper. After what has happened, has anything been put in place to help prevent this sort of thing from happening again? While in this case it was beneficial overall, can anything be done to . . . protect you?” the man asked, growing uncertain in the end.
Superman nodded his understanding. “The Foundation and UN have recently organized a direct line of communication with the Solar and Heliospheric Observatory or SOHO. This line of communication was already set up with a few other organizations, but until yesterday it hadn’t been in place with SOHO. Now, if they observe any heightened or unique solar activity, they are aware of the potential effects on me and will be able to easily contact the Foundation and thus myself.”
“Follow up question, are there any precautions you will be able to take now other than staying indoors if another solar storm occurs?” the same reporter quickly asked.
“My doctor is looking into certain materials I could wear with my suit, as well as special sunblock to place on my skin. Unfortunately, we don’t know how well those actions would work yet, but we’re being proactive and considering our options. Thankfully, solar storms of this level are extremely rare and this one was the longest recorded in history,” Superman said. “One more question.” He pointed to a woman near the back.
“CBN, Jones. What are you going to do to celebrate?” she asked.
Superman stopped and was quiet for a long moment before he slowly smiled, looking very content. “I think . . . I'm going to take my wife out on a date. After the week we've had, a special meal is in order."
The stunned silence lasted for less than a second before the crowd went wild.
Questions and comments, layered with astonishment, disbelief and excitement, were thrown left and right, and not just from the press.
"No way!"
"Did he just say 'wife'?!"
"Congratulations!"
"When did you get married?"
"I can't believe it!"
"Is this with the same woman you mentioned before?"
"Where did you meet?"
"There's a Mrs. Superman!?"
"Mrs. El!" someone corrected just as loudly.
"How long have you been together?"
"Will we meet her?"
Superman chuckled and gently motioned for the crowd to quiet. "I, uh, suppose I should have expected that response," he said with an apologetic glance at Mav. He turned back to the excitedly murmuring crowd. "Yes, I'm married to the same woman I mentioned in the last in-depth interview I gave."
The people in the crowd seemed to collectively shift forward, eager to hear more.
"For privacy and safety reasons, I won't give specifics on how or when we met and such, but we've been together for a while now," he said, to most everyone's disappointment about not receiving juicy details. "Well, as much as I'm sure you all want to hear more, I do need to get home," he said with a smile. "Thank you."
He then promptly disappeared with a sonic boom.
O o O o O
Clark looked up from his coffee as Lois entered their kitchen.
"Jimmy asked me if I think Superman has a wedding ring," she said with a smirk.
"I suppose Superman could start wearing it now. It's a traditional gold band, so it's not like people would link it to Clark," Clark said, holding up his hand and fiddling with the simple ring. He looked at her with a thoughtful smile. "When you thought back to me during the press conference, I hadn't expected you to answer the way you did."
"What? 'Be honest. Tell them you're taking your wife out on a date' was a surprise? Too honest?" Lois asked, amused.
"I think 'too honest' would have been to include what I had planned for you after dinner," he said with a grin, before growing serious. "So no. Not too honest."
Lois frowned, sensing his growing nervousness. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm . . . sometimes uncertain when I should divulge certain aspects of myself to the world. I do like being honest, but it's always a fine balance, you know? I'm glad the world knows I grew up here, have a human family, and am now married. It . . . humanizes me. And I know that's important, especially with what I can do, but . . . there are consequences for every choice, and I suppose we should talk."
"Do you think we should have hidden it longer? It was spur of the moment. . . . I didn't really think it through when I answered you," she said, now worried.
"No, I think revealing it, then, was the right choice. I mean, at least this way no one can say our goal is to deceive, and it's not like the world didn't already know I was seeing someone."
"You heard that talk show, didn't you?" Lois asked pointedly.
Talking heads had discussed alternative ways of learning about Superman’s family, and fortunately they had concluded he was being as open as he safely could. After all, it wasn't like he was finally admitting to having a wife and kids after years of expressing no interest in having a family. He was being as upfront as possible with his desires and situation and had been since he stepped out into the world – when he had been reassured that the world would not immediately fear him. Astonishingly, they really seemed to appreciate the situation he was in and considered how he might view things.
"I heard about it," Clark admitted. "But that's not really what I'm thinking about. Mav told me the UN contacted the Foundation, no doubt because of people's . . . questions. They're going to review the Treaty and I might need to go meet with the UN next week."
Lois' eyes widened, concerned. "What does that mean? Are you in trouble because you hid our marriage or something?"
"No, marriage falls under the clause nicknamed the 'Loved Ones Clause'. Essentially, because I'm a citizen of every nation and have legal personhood, I have the same rights as everyone else, so I can marry. I also don't need to reveal secrets that protect the safety and privacy of my family and friends. However, what hasn't been fully addressed is . . . children."
Lois stilled. "Oh."
"Yeah. The Treaty requires me to notify the world when I suspect or learn about the existence of Kryptonians or other alien life on Earth. It's why I immediately notified the UN after I encountered Ching. Anyway, it could be said that–"
"Your offspring would be Kryptonian," Lois stated, realizing the issue.
"Right. But it's complicated. If we did . . . have kids, they would be half-Kryptonian, half-human. And they would be born here, so they also wouldn't technically be 'aliens'. However, the primary reason I am required to report to the UN about the existence of Kryptonians, or the like, is because of public safety. It's part of the reason why I share my medical reports and capabilities as well, although the primary reason is obviously to establish and maintain trust and be able to work with first responders."
"So what are we going to do? What can we do? What are the options?" Lois asked.
Clark rubbed the back of his neck. "I
was thinking we agree to inform the world if we have any children who develop powers, but then I started thinking about . . . what if we have more than one kid and only one of them develops powers? One would be talked about by the world, it's unavoidable, and then the other might think something is wrong with them because they didn't develop powers and are not included in being 'counted' so to speak. And telling the world we have a non-powered kid sounds just as bad. Am I making sense?" Clark asked nervously.
Lois frowned. "You are. I can only imagine the strife that would have caused between me and my sister. The rivalry. That's a lot to put on anyone, let alone a kid."
Clark nodded, troubled and uncertain. "So maybe we agree to inform the world of their existence only? Nothing else? Set a time frame we inform them by, like within three years after they're born or something? That way it'll be harder for anyone to develop a timeline that can connect anything to us and we’ll be appeasing at least some concerns."
Lois bit her lip before shaking her head. "Do we really
need to tell them anything, though?"
"I . . . don't know. Keeping it all private would help a bit on the possible strife element, if one child doesn't develop powers, but that issue will still be there whether or not the world knows they exist – assuming I can actually convince the UN that it should all remain a family matter."
Clark paused, and she felt his aura thicken as he processed their options. Slowly, she felt tentative hope.
"Maybe we're looking at this the wrong way. Maybe I should continue what I've been doing. Being open and honest. I'll tell them about my childhood and how it'll be important for my kids to grow up the same way. Outside of the world's spotlight."
Lois slowly nodded. "That . . . could work."
"I can reveal that I went to school like any other kid, had babysitters, et cetera, so any naysayers won't be able to say it's too dangerous because I, a full Kryptonian raised by human parents, did just fine," he said.
"I think that might work. It'll mean revealing more about how you grew up and stuff, maybe more about when your powers surfaced, but it's better than agreeing to reveal future things we have no idea on yet," Lois agreed.
Clark nodded as the telephone rang. He got up and answered it.
"Hello?"
'Hey, Clark. Glad I caught you,' Bill said.
"Oh?"
'We just got a call from a family you helped earlier this year. The family of Jasmine Carte, who you rescued from her kidnapper outside that restaurant. Her family would like to talk to you, probably to personally thank you, if you'd be agreeable,' Bill said.
"Oh, sure. When and where?" Clark asked.
It wasn't an uncommon request. Through the years, many families had asked to personally thank him.
'They're in Colorado so they'd either need to head down here or you to them. They said they could do either and whenever you prefer. Though the sooner the better,' Bill said.
Clark hummed. "Well, I could head down later this week, say Thursday. I need to meet someone in Colorado Springs anyway."
'Alright, I'll let them know,' Bill said. 'Oh, while I have you, do you and Lois have any free weekends next month? I'm getting hints from Donna that she'd like to double date at some point.'
Clark smiled. "I think we could do something next month. I’ll get back with you and let you know.”
‘Sounds good. Later, Clark.’
“Later.” Clark hung up and smiled at Lois. “That was Bill,” he said, before going into what was discussed.
O o O o O
Clark landed in Colorado and was soon knocking on the door of General Burton Newcomb’s home.
“Hey, Clark!” Burton greeted, opening the door and beckoning him in.
“Burton,” Clark said with a smile, sharing a hearty handshake.
“Thanks for coming down. I know things have been particularly hectic, so I wasn’t sure when you’d find the time,” Burton said as they sat down. “And don’t worry. The wife is having a girls’ day out.”
“It was actually good timing. Later today, I’ll be meeting with a family down in Pueblo I helped a few months ago. Because I’m meeting with you, I was able to honestly say I would be nearby this week so I got to avoid travel ballet,” Clark said.
“Oh good. Well,” Burton said, shifting in his chair to get a little more comfortable as he got straight to business. He sighed apologetically. “Well, I wanted you to hear it from me first, even though . . . you might already be able to guess. I’m retiring.”
Clark stilled but didn’t look surprised.
“I had planned on retiring after bringing down Trask ten or so years ago, but I wasn’t about to pass up the experience I knew you would provide me,” Burton said with a chuckle.
“Well, I’m glad you stuck around. You helped me more than I can say,” Clark said.
“Considering everything you’ve done for the world, we’re more than even,” Burton said before clearing his throat. “Anyway, I’m in the process of potentially selecting my replacement. I was asked by my superiors to try, at any rate.”
Clark blinked, not sure what to say. Or how to feel.
“I think it goes without saying, the higher ups saw how well we worked together over the years. From the crystal development, defense preparations, and the fallout from Ta’peel, they want to maintain that direct connection to Superman outside other channels. It's why I was allowed to continue working despite passing the age of 'mandatory' retirement five years ago,” Burton said. “So it’s a wise course for a number of reasons, but I recognize the danger it holds. This is what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Clark frowned, processing the implications, the risks, the benefits.
“Someone would learn . . . everything?” Clark asked.
“That’s up to you. However, if the person I’m wanting to fill my shoes accepts – assuming you’re alright with my post remaining when I’m out – I think letting them in on the secret would be beneficial,” Burton stated.
“Who do you have in mind?” Clark asked.
“David Glasgow Farragut. He’s set to be promoted to Brigadier General in a few months, and he’s served under me off and on through the years. He’s made a number of tough calls, but has always made the right decision, despite orders or politics. He can be trusted and is a good man. I think he would be a big help to you, especially behind the scenes,” Burton said. "And I'm sure he would see the value of maintaining the arrangement we've set."
He didn't need to spell out how certain things would remain outside government knowledge.
Clark slowly nodded. “I’d like to meet him before any decisions are made.”
Burton smiled. “I figured you’d say that. I’ll lock in a few dates and let you know so you can choose which is best for you.”
“Alright. Thanks, Burton.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Burton said, raising his glass.
O o O o O
Jasmine couldn’t keep still.
The man who had saved her was coming. He would be there soon and she would be able to see him. To thank him. And tell him.
Her mom sat beside her, waiting just as anxiously as the clock ticked on the wall. Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door, and she heard her father open it.
She didn’t hear the words spoken. Her mind was racing as footsteps approached.
And there he was. Standing beside her father.
He was just like she remembered. Big and daunting, but something about him . . . something about him made her feel safe. And it wasn't just because of how he had slammed down her abuser.
She immediately got to her feet as her mother stood as well.
“Hello, Jasmine, Mrs. Carte,” Mr. Kent said.
“Hi,” she said shyly.
Her mom hurried forward, hugging Mr. Kent and thanking him profusely as her father gripped his shoulder in gratitude.
It took a moment for her parents to collect themselves, but they stepped back as Mr. Kent refocused on her and knelt down to her level. She swallowed before promptly hugging him.
“Thank you, Mr. Kent. And thanks for coming,” she said before pulling back.
“It was no trouble,” he assured.
She sniffled, trying to keep control of herself. With a shaky breath, she reined the tears back.
“I have something I need to tell you,” she said, before glancing at her parents.
She hadn’t told them this. Hadn’t told them why she had really wanted to see Mr. Kent.
Even though she had told other investigators about what she was about to tell him, she had a feeling only he would succeed.
Mr. Kent tilted his head. “What is it?” he asked gently as he motioned her to sit on the couch beside them. He remained kneeling before her.
“I know someone else . . . I know someone else who needs your help,” she said, taking a shaky breath and forcing herself not to look at her parents who were standing off to the side.
She kept her gaze on Mr. Kent, reassured as his eyes sharpened and a certainty brushed against and through her.
He would find her friend.
“When I was . . . when I was away, I met someone else like me.” She looked down and swallowed thickly, praying her friend was okay enough to still be found.
Mr. Kent’s hand squeezed hers reassuringly. “Tell me, Jasmine, tell me everything you remember, and I will do everything I can to find your friend. I promise.”
And so, she did.
She told him about her friend, Poloma, who told her she had been taken from an Indian Reservation in Oklahoma months before. Jasmine told him what Poloma looked like and what the man with her had looked like. And Mr. Kent had sketched them both for her, patiently making adjustments as she described their features as best she could.
She told him everything she could remember about them and that week that had occurred sometime last winter, even what the awful man with Poloma had smelled like. When she was finished, she could hear her mother crying in the other room, but she felt lighter than she had ever felt, and her father looked at her in tearful pride.
Mr. Kent stood up.
“I’ll let you know when I find her,” he promised.
And she knew he would.
O o O o O
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