Part 1 of the story is here:
To Be Like Him (1/2) Thanks to everyone for their comments and their help, I appreciate it more than you could possibly imagine.
Edit: Adding a WHAM warning. Apologies for not thinking about that before. :-( Note that I'm currently entertaining the idea of ditching this particular ending (ie: the WHAM part) - please let me know whether you think that's a good idea or not, I'm definitely listening.
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From Part 1:
They made me explain in great detail why I'd gotten myself into thinking I was a mutant. Let me tell you, this is right up there on the "talks you never want to have with your folks" list! Just a couple notches under the lecture on the necessity for one to use protection before.. um... well, you know... intercourse... We had that chat around my birthday this year; I thought I'd die of embarrassment! Well, anyway, explaining to mom and dad why I thought I was a mutant and that I had this weird special vision gizmo that I could do isn't a piece of cake. Especially with mom and dad *smiling* back at me through the whole thing and, oh my good do I ever hate it when dad asks me "and how does that make you feel?” I don't know how I feel, Dad! I haven't had time to think about that yet, I'm way too freaked out at finding out I'm a mutant!!
Once I'd finished telling them everything, Mom told me she knew for sure that I wasn't a mutant. I guess she'd know if I were, so I tried to believe that what she was saying was true. She proceeded to explain that I shouldn't be afraid of what was going on, that the vision gizmo was normal - Dad says we should call it 'heat vision' and not 'vision gizmo' - and that I ought to expect that over the next few months and years I may develop other "powers". Yeah, that's it: the laser beams are just the beginning. Now, I've never actually seen what a deer looks like when it's got headlights staring right at it, but that "deer in the headlights look" was plastered all over my face at that point. And it was about to get A LOT weirder still._______________________________________________
Part 2:
That's when the first cat came out of the bag: it's normal for me to have powers like this because I am the son of Superman.
See, that's why I told you that you should be sitting down for this!
For what I can only imagine was an eternity, all I did was sit there with my mouth hanging open, looking from Mom to Dad and back again; completely dumbstruck. Mom and Superman? When I asked Dad if he knew about this, he gave me a "yes of course" sort of smile and nodded. And then it struck me... I was born well over a year after my parents were married. Uh oh.
"Mom," I said, outraged, "but that means you and Dad were *married* when... when..."
Mom laughed a little bit and said, "It's not like that, sweetie. Really, it's not what you think. Superman is your father."
"Yeah, I got that part, Mom! You said that before and I got it. But, Mom! How... could you?"
Dad was laughing now, too. He was *laughing*! "No, son," he said, "what your mother means is that *I* am Superman."
I believe my response to that was that they were fit for the loony bin. Hit on the head by one too many bad guys or something! My Dad? No way! My Dad is a reporter, not an alien from the planet Krypton! Did they really expect me to believe that Clark Kent is Superman? Impossible! Absolutely no way I was going to swallow that! . . .and then he stood up, did this really strange spin thing and emerged a mere three seconds later clad in neon blue spandex.
My jaw dropped to the floor.
Every kid dreams of having a superhero for a father, but none of them actually believes there's any possibility of it being the case. The probabilities against it are astronomical. And yet, it's true, the head of our household actually *is* a superhero!
In about two days' time I had gone from being a regular kid to being the son of Superman and finding out that Metropolis' favorite super-powered hero just *happens* to hide out in the guise of a mild-mannered reporter most of the time. Can you say "blown away"? My mind was reeling! If Dad had x-rayed my skull, he would have seen the wheels turning in my head, for sure.
How could I not have seen it? I'm certain Mom and Dad did everything they could so that we would have no reason to believe that our father was Superman, but there must have been clues! I still kick myself for not figuring it out.
I don't blame my parents for not telling me before, though. My track record isn't spotless in the "secret keeping" area: I've managed to spill the beans on the Tooth Fairy *and* Santa Claus to the twins - they were crushed! - and Mom wasn't pleased with me at all. I wasn't trying to shatter their illusions on purpose; it just slipped out! Imagine if I'd let it slip out that I know where Superman lives... even I can see how that could put our family in danger.
I swore I wouldn't tell my sisters. Not a word of any of this to them. They're only seven, they wouldn't understand. Anyway, Dad says he's not too worried about me accidentally telling them or anyone else. Since I have my own secret to keep now, my own little piece of the puzzle, I'm more likely to hold on to the other ones as well. Something to do with responsibility and coming of age. Pretty wise, my old man.
I've also promised to shut up about the Easter Bunny. I can't believe the twins still believe *that*, but I think I've trampled on enough of their childhood dreams; I'll leave that one alone. They'll have a hard enough time adjusting to the strangeness of our family in a few years' time!
My tendency to let things slip isn't the only reason why my parents hadn't told me all of this, however. The fact of the matter is they were putting it off. This was at the very top of their own "chats we're not looking forward to having with our son" list. I don't really blame them; stuff like that can really mess with a kid's head!
And suddenly, just when I thought things couldn't possibly get more complicated than this, they did.
Ok... This is where you're going to think that there's a cell at the insane asylum with my name on it. But there's really no need to panic and call 911. I swear to you, I am not delusional. And yes, I do realize that's exactly what I'd be telling you if I *was* delusional.... Just trust me for now.
I was adopted. My parents found me on their doorstep one morning. I was utterly confused when they told me, as you can probably imagine. If they're not my biological parents, how can I possibly be the son of Superman?
Ah. Well, as it turns out, Lois Lane and Clark Kent *are* my biological parents. Except, not these two whose home I live in. A Lois Lane and a Clark Kent from an alternate reality.
Bet you didn't know that there are alternate universes, huh? In each of them we have a "copy" of ourselves, except not exactly the same. Small differences. I'm not sure just how many alternates there are.... There's at least two that we're sure of.
Mom told me about HG Wells and Tempus and how they had technology that enabled them to cross over from one reality to another. She's been to one before. She says when she got there she found a world without a Superman. Apparently she helped that universe's Clark Kent become Superman. Dad kept smiling while she was telling me this. He says she just couldn't imagine a world without a guy flying around in blue tights, constantly saving her from certain death. Mom blushed and asked him a few times to stop teasing. Adults, I swear!
From what I understand, in the alternate universe where I was born, Lex Luthor killed Superman. I'm not really sure who this guy is, but he must have been one really bad dude! My parents knew him, I guess? Mom seemed embarrassed to be talking about him and Dad looked angry for some reason. I didn't ask. In this reality, he's been dead for years anyway. I suppose that's a good thing. In that that other universe, however, Lex Luthor managed to kill my biological father. Apparently he had a sword made of Kryptonite.... As for my biological mother, I'm told she died of a broken heart.
I was only a few months old at the time and with no other family to speak of. So Mr. Wells did the only logical thing he could have: he brought me here to be raised by the closest possible thing to my real parents. I suppose I should be grateful, but right now all I really feel is confusion and sadness and a great deal of anger, too.
I've managed to accept the fact that I'm half-Kryptonian, but it's been over a week since I was told the "rest" of the story and I still wonder every morning if perhaps it wasn't just a really odd dream that I had. Life doesn't seem to make a whole lot of sense right now. My parents keep telling me that it will, it's just a matter of time.
Well there you have it. This is who I am. It's a pity I can't really tell anyone. I guess if people ask me who I am, I'm just going to have to go with the hundred words or less and hope they believe me.
~The End~
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Hope you enjoyed!
