Description: The first in a collection of vignettes based on the same theme—a theme the author has never seen in any of the Lois & Clark fic she has read.
This first vignette is set in late first season, after “The Foundling,” but before “Fly Hard,” and begins with a revelation.-----
UNEXPECTED VISITOR
by DSDragon (DASWillow783@gmail.com)
Rated G
Submitted: May 2006
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the settings in this fanfic. I only own the idea. I couldn't begin to tell you who actually DOES own them—although I suppose I COULD look it up, but I'm not that industrious.
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It was time, Clark Kent had decided, to tell Lois Lane the truth.
Of course, he had wanted to tell her all along, but with the way she had been seeing Luthor lately, he felt it best that she know just who he was. Whether he meant himself or the multi-billionaire, Clark wasn’t certain, just so that she made a better-informed decision.
So, one Saturday, during one of their movie and pizza sessions at his apartment, Clark began, “Lois, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Lois, curious, looked at her friend intently while he squirmed and tried to figure out just how to go about his explanation.
I probably should have practiced first, he thought to himself, forgetting that he had only just made the decision to tell her right then a few seconds before.
So, he stalled. “Well, two somethings, actually. And you have to promise to hear me out for both of them.”
Lois rolled her eyes, “Fine, Clark, I promise. Now will you just tell me already?”
Clark nodded, then opened his mouth to speak, only to have the words stop before they reached his tongue. He closed his mouth and tried again with the same result. After a few more attempts, Clark gave up with a sigh.
“Maybe I should just show you the first one.”
His partner gave an exasperated nod and gave him a “get on with it” gesture with her hand.
Clark stood, removed his glasses, and began to spin. Faster and faster he spun, the black and grey of his comfortable muscle tee and shorts becoming vibrant red and electric blue before he stopped, arms folded and hair slicked back, glasses tucked away.
Lois stared.
And stared.
Then finally spoke.
“Well, that explains a few things,” she said. “I assume,” she continued, crossing her own arms, “that you are going to explain the rest?”
Clark nodded. “But do you mind if I change back? This suit” he gestured to the spandex he wore, “is kind of embarrassing.”
Lois blinked. “Why?”
“The first thing Mom said when I tried this one on was, ‘No one’s going to be looking at your face,’” Clark answered, blushing. “And, well, that was the point, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it, does it?”
Lois giggled—giggled!—while Clark, disbelieving, spun back into his muscle tee and shorts. He left the glasses on the coffee table.
“Who’d’ve thunk,” she said when he sat back down on the couch, “that Superman’s sternest pose was actually an attempt to cover up?”
At that statement, Clark had to do a double-take. He chuckled. “You know, I’ve never thought about it that way.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Lois pointed out. “You were the one doing it.”
Clark didn’t follow, but he had a better thing to do than follow up on Lois’s weird logic. “You’re not mad?”
Surprised, Lois shrugged. “I might be later. But right now, you’re going to tell me everything from Krypton to Kent.”
Clark smiled. “Well, you’re in luck,” he said. “I just found out all that stuff a few weeks ago.”
Lois’s eyes widened at that, but she didn’t say a word while Clark began his story.
“I was born on Krypton, just as the planet was dying . . .”
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“. . . and then the Kents found me in Schuster’s field, raising me as their own. They were a bit surprised when they found out I could lift the tractor all by myself, but they’ve been the best parents I could’ve hoped for,” Clark finished his tale.
“So, why Superman?” Lois asked.
“What do you mean?”
“What made you become Superman?” she clarified.
“You did,” Clark’s answer surprised her.
“Me?”
He nodded, but before he could answer there was a knock at the door. “I wonder who that could be,” he said, puzzled. “Usually, the only one who knocks on my door this late is you.”
“Well, don’t just sit there,” Lois urged. “Answer it!”
“Oh! Right.” He stood, put on his glasses again, and made his way up the stairs to his front door. Forgetting about his x-ray vision, he opened the door.
On the other side of the threshold stood a man who looked about as old as, if not older than Jonathan Kent. But that coincidence was not what stopped Clark in his tracks. The man looked *familiar* to Clark, although he was certain he had never met the man in his life.
“Can I help you?” he inquired, unconsciously staring at the man and forgetting he still had to tell Lois about Luthor while he tried to figure out who the man was.
“I am looking for my son,” the man answered. “I was hoping you might know of him.”
“What makes you think I know him? Who is your son?”
“Clark?” Lois asked from the sofa. “Who is it?”
Just as Clark turned his head to answer Lois’s question, the man said, “My son is Kal-El, of the planet Krypton.”
Clark’s head whipped back to the old man, this time studying his face even more intently than before. Unconsciously, he backed away from the door, letting go of the knob so that the door swung farther open.
When he didn’t say a word, Lois walked to his side from the couch. She put her hand on his arm, and asked, “Clark, what’s wrong?”
At her touch, Clark was shaken out of his surprise. Slowly, he looked into Lois’s eyes, his own filling with the joy of the smile he felt coming to his face.
“It looks like,” he answered Lois, “I may have been a bit mistaken in the story I just told you.”
Lois, confused, said, “What do you mean?”
Indicating the old man, Clark said, awe and wonderment tingeing his tone, “Lois Lane, I’d like you to meet my father, Jor-El of Krypton.”
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Author’s Notes: In case you haven’t figured it out yet, this collection of vignettes is based on the theme, “What if Jor-El (or even Jor-El and Lara) HAD survived the explosion of Krypton, but had to use a slower ship than Clark’s?
In this particular story (as, I think will be the case for the other stories), I have left room for continuation, or a sequel. I may or may not do this myself, although I do have a few different branch-off ideas with which I can continue—I just have trouble deciding which ones I want to go with.
Anyone who wishes is welcome to write their own stories based on any of the beginnings I have or will have written for this vignette collection.
Feedback is greatly appreciated. Please e-mail me at DASWillow783@gmail.com, or go to the
feedback thread on the message board for this story.
