Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Stardust (6/?)

Lois Lane...Lois Lane...Lois Lane...

Her name had seemed to throb in his temples all day long, never giving him a moment’s peace. It continued to play in an endless loop as he let himself into his depressing room at the Hotel Apollo. The room was still filled with memories of Wanda Detroit, a woman he now knew had never really existed. How could he have fallen in love with someone who didn’t exist?

The answer, of course, was that he hadn’t fallen in ‘love’ at all, and he’d reached that conclusion on his own even before he’d met Lois Lane. Now, though, he realized that even his attraction, his infatuation, had been misplaced. Wanda Detroit had been soft curves and sweet laughter, gentle caresses and hope for the future. Lois Lane was sharp corners and cutting insults, flashing eyes and petty revenge. She was not someone he could like, let alone love.

And he didn’t like her – not one little bit – but that didn’t keep her from holding a terrible fascination for him. He hadn’t seen her much after their conversation in the conference room, but the few times they’d both been in the newsroom, he’d felt a powerful awareness of her, as if the whole room became charged with electricity the minute she entered it. It was not a comfortable feeling; it kept him on edge, and he’d been glad when she left with Jimmy, glad that she’d stayed gone most of the day. Once she was gone, he’d at least been able to think straight, but even that wasn’t much of a reprieve, since his thoughts continued to return to her, again and again, even after the dreadful explosion they’d witnessed that morning.

How selfish did it make him that even after watching a man die in a fiery explosion, he had continued to think about his own hurt? His problems were clearly nothing compared to what Commander Laderman’s family must be feeling that day, but no amount of telling himself that managed to drive Lois Lane completely from his thoughts. Not that he didn’t think about the Messenger explosion as well; it was all anyone could talk about in the newsroom, and it was never far from his mind, even if it was sharing space with Lois.

As he’d stood and watched the explosion and its aftermath, he had the same thought he always had when he witnessed or heard about a disaster: Was there something he could have done to help? Was it wrong for him to stand on the sidelines, to passively report the news, when his unique abilities made it possible for him to do so much more? Maybe he couldn’t have predicted the explosion. Maybe he couldn’t have gotten there in time to prevent it. But he could have put the fire out quickly, preserving more of the fuselage for investigation. He could have kept firefighters from risking their lives battling the flames. He could have done something. He had helped in small ways for years – surreptitious acts that he thought were unlikely to be noticed, and whenever they were noticed, he had quickly moved on.

But he couldn’t help with something like the Messenger explosion surreptitiously. To help with major disasters would mean exposing himself as an alien, and his parents had counseled against that for as long as he could remember. He knew that their fear was for him, for what it might do to his life if he were exposed, but he also knew that his frustration was mounting. It went against every inclination to stand by and do nothing when it was possible for him to help, and he felt as though he’d been locked for years in a battle with his own nature. Every time he did nothing when he could have been making a difference, he was a little closer to losing that battle, a little closer to a step that seemed as inevitable as it was terrifying.

And now he had little hope for the job at the Planet working out. Maybe the whole fiasco with Lois Lane was a sign that he’d been pursuing the wrong kind of life all along. Maybe it was exactly what he needed to convince himself that ‘normal’ would never be an option for him anyway, so why keep fighting so ridiculously hard for it? He loved being a journalist, and he thought he was pretty good at it, but he had a whole set of unique abilities that weren’t being used at all. As he’d watched the emergency crews desperately trying to extinguish the Messenger fire, he’d known deep down that his place was with them, and that it was only his own cowardice that kept him from doing what he knew he should be doing.

Of course, only two days before, he’d been convinced that his place was at the Daily Planet. And then hours later, he’d been convinced that his place was with Wanda Detroit. Now he was sure that his place was helping at disasters. Obviously, he couldn’t be right on all counts. He’d have to be three people – or at the very least two – and that was impossible, even for him.

As he stripped off his tie and tossed it to the floor by his suitcase, he allowed himself a snort of self-derision. Why not just admit that he didn’t have a clue where he belonged? And that maybe he never would? Why this need to find a ‘perfect’ place anyway? Was that something most people looked for, or was it some side effect of knowing he was so different? He’d probably never know. It wasn’t the sort of thing one asked casual acquaintances, and except for his parents, casual acquaintances were practically all he had allowed himself in years.

Clark was invulnerable, so one set of clothes was no more or less comfortable for him than another, but it still felt good to peel off his dress shirt and tie at the end of the day and climb into his blue jeans and a t-shirt instead. He had been out of college for years, but he still felt like a kid playing dress-up every time he put on a coat and tie. He hadn’t had to wear a tie to the Smallville Press office, but working at the Daily Planet called for a more polished look. If by some miracle the job worked out, he’d have to expand his professional wardrobe.

Lois had looked every inch the polished professional that day, sleek and stylish and utterly different from Wanda Detroit. Wanda’s clothes had been loud and just a little too obvious for his usual tastes, but Lois had been dressed conservatively, in a suit that flattered her figure without flaunting it. It would not be true to say that Lois faded into the background when she wasn’t dressed as Wanda Detroit – he had a feeling that she’d have caught his eye in any case – but she certainly looked different. So different, in fact, that if he hadn’t confronted her practically nose-to-nose, he might well have missed the fact that she was Wanda. Apparently he’d walked right by her the day before without even realizing it.

Astonishing.

He’d told her that she couldn’t change her whole identity by changing her hair and clothes, but he was beginning to think that maybe she had. If he understood the situation rightly, she had put together a whole other person out of bits and pieces she found in her closet and then had given that person license to behave in a way she wouldn’t normally behave. It had worked because she had believed it herself; for those few hours, she had let herself be Wanda Detroit.

He stared down at the pile of work clothes he’d just tossed to the floor. Was he a different person in his blue jeans and t-shirt than he was when he wore a coat and tie? Not exactly, but he felt more comfortable in the jeans...more himself. Could he do what Lois had done? If, for instance, he dressed as a street tough and wore a temporary version of one of those tattoos he’d seen in the window that night, would he be able to play the part convincingly? Would he be able to rob someone or hurt someone – to do something completely contrary to his values? He didn’t think so. No matter what he wore, he would still be Clark Kent where it counted.

But what if the thing he was doing wasn’t contrary to his values? What if it was something good...but something he would never have the nerve to do as Clark Kent?

An idea that seemed to have been swirling formlessly in his mind for a long time finally began to take shape. It was crazy. Completely insane. He felt his heart started to pound with the sheer reckless daring it would take to pull it off, but at the same time, he felt as though a missing puzzle piece had finally been slipped into place.

He’d have to be two people...

He’d thought it was impossible, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he’d always been two people – Clark Kent of Kansas and a visitor from Krypton – and it was finally time for the Kryptonian to get dressed up and come out of hiding. If Lois Lane could be Lois by day and Wanda Detroit by night, why couldn’t he be both Clark Kent and...well, whatever he decided to call that part of himself that could fly across the country in minutes and lift his father’s truck with one hand? If he could find something distracting enough to wear – Wanda’s tight pink sweater flashed through his mind – and change his body language, he was sure that no one would think to associate him with a bespectacled reporter covering minor stories for the Daily Planet.

He whipped around and tidied his room at super-speed, suddenly anxious to get to the farm for dinner. He’d been almost dreading it before, there being so many things he preferred not to share with his parents just then, but now he knew that they were the only two people in the world who could help him with his plan. They would think he was crazy, of course, and they would worry, but they would help him. He knew they would.

_____________________________

The rich aroma of his mother’s home cooking greeted him before he’d even landed in the yard of his parents’ small farmhouse. When he drifted to earth, he stood silently in the glow of a lighted window for a moment, listening to chirping of the crickets and the rustle of the wind in the trees. Inside the house, he could hear the gentle clanking sounds of his mother getting dinner. After the day he’d had – after the week he’d had – he was moved by the sheer normalcy of a quiet night in Kansas and the knowledge that the two people inside the house loved and welcomed him. He didn’t try to deny the instant affinity he’d felt for Metropolis or for the busy newsroom at the Daily Planet, but he realized in that moment how lucky he was that wherever his wandering had taken him, he’d always had this one precious place in the world to come home to.

“Clark?” His father stuck his head out the screen door and peered into the darkened farmyard. “You out there, son?”

“Yeah, Dad.” Clark came into view and greeted his father with a smile.

“Thought so.” Jonathan Kent stepped out onto the porch and welcomed his son with a smile and a brief hug. “Heard you land a couple of minutes ago. What’re you doing standing out here?”

“Just appreciating the quiet, I guess.” It wasn’t quite true, but it was as close as he was willing to come. He actually liked the bustle of the city – the energy of it – but his battered heart needed the uncomplicated peace of home just then.

“Not like this in the city, is it?”

Clark laughed. “Everything about Metropolis is different, Dad. But...I think I could like it there.”

“I couldn’t live there for a minute.”

“No,” Clark agreed. The city would never suit his father. “But there’s something about the city...the pace...everyone going somewhere.”

“Impatient – like you.” His father gave him an understanding smile. “So have you finally found your niche? Ready to stop living out of that old suitcase?”

“I...it’s kind of complicated. But I do have a job. I went back to the Daily Planet with a new story, and Mr. White agreed to give me a try.” Even now, in spite of everything, Clark couldn’t suppress the surge of pride he felt in telling his father that.

“Clark, that’s wonderful!” Jonathan exclaimed, clapping his son on the back.

“What’s wonderful?” Martha Kent stood at the screen door, her hands on her hips. “And why are you two telling secrets out here on the porch?”

Clark grinned. “No secrets, Mom. I was just telling Dad that I got a job at the Daily Planet.”

His mother let out a shriek of delight and stepped outside to pull her much-larger son into an exuberant hug. “Oh, honey, I’m so proud of you! Why didn’t you call and tell us sooner? Have you started yet?”

Clark laughed, feeling almost good for the first time that day. “I wanted to surprise you, and yes, I started today. Let’s go inside and I’ll tell you all about it. I’m starved.”

“You are not,” his mother countered.

“OK, I’m not. But I can’t wait to eat anyway.” He sniffed the air. “Is that meatloaf?”

“And mashed potatoes and green beans from Mrs. Sanders’ garden.”

“Mmmm.” He cast an appreciative look in the direction of the kitchen and then paused in front of an elaborate metal sculpture – obviously his mother’s latest art project. He cocked his head at it, frantically searching for something to say about it that would please her.

“Do you like it?” she asked eagerly. “I call it Too Much, Too Soon, Tortured Heart, Waning Moon.”

Too much, too soon...

Well, that sounded about right. His reunion with his parents had temporarily pushed Lois Lane to the back of his mind, but his mother’s art project brought her back again with a vengeance. Or, not the art project, exactly, since to his untrained eye it wasn’t much more than a twisted heap of scrap metal, but the name of it sounded like it had been plucked straight from his own folly.

“What do you think?” his mother prodded. “Too cerebral?”

“No,” Clark said, in a voice he hoped was enthusiastic rather than tortured. “It’s very...inspired.”

“Uh huh.” Jonathan said skeptically.

“Oh you,” Martha said. “You just have no appreciation for art.”

“Not true.” Jonathan pointed to the meatloaf resting beside the stove. “That right there is a work of art, and I’m all set to appreciate it.”

Martha laughed and took the hint, and soon the little family was seated around the cozy kitchen table. Clark spent most of the meal telling them about his first day at the Daily Planet, though since he hadn’t done much more than fill out forms and tour the place, he didn’t have anything very exciting to tell. Still, his parents were an appreciative audience, and he allowed himself the luxury of basking a little in their pride and happiness for him. He wasn’t being totally honest with them, and he knew that wasn’t right or fair, but he needed a few minutes of unconditional approval before he broached the more difficult subjects.

So he waited until they were eating his mom’s cherry pie to mention the idea he’d had back in his hotel room, opening the new subject without any attempt at a segue.

“Mom, how’s your sewing machine?”

Martha blinked at him from behind her round glasses, obviously surprised to hear him inquiring after household appliances out of the blue. “I guess it’s fine, honey. I haven’t used it in a while.”

“Do you think you could use it to make me some sort of a costume?”

“I suppose I could. Are you going to a party?”

“Uh, no. Maybe costume was the wrong word.”

“So what’s the right word?” Martha stared at her son, her fork poised half-way to her mouth.

“Uh, disguise, maybe. Something...flashy, you know? Something that will distract people from the fact that it’s me.”

“Distract people from the fact that it’s you,” Jonathan repeated. “What exactly are you going to be doing that you need to distract people?”

“Well...helping, I guess.”

“Helping.” Martha put down her fork. “Honey, we’re trying to follow this – really we are.”

“Listen, I know it sounds crazy. But I really think it could work. I have all these abilities...ways that I could really be helping people. Did you see the shuttle explosion on the news today? That happened right there in Metropolis. And instead of doing anything to help, I was just standing around watching. Don’t you think that’s wrong?”

“Son, even you couldn’t have prevented what happened today,” his father said gently.

“I know.” Clark ran his hand through his hair, frustrated by his inability to explain. It was so clear in his head now – so obvious what he needed to do – but his parents, much as they loved and supported him, couldn’t know what it was like to live with his kind of differences day in and day out. “I know I couldn’t have prevented it, Dad. But I could have helped afterward, maybe. And what about other disasters – hurricanes, earthquakes, fires? You can’t tell me I couldn’t do some good there.”

“No. I can’t tell you that,” his Dad agreed, but he looked troubled. “So you’re thinking of becoming some sort of...hero? Just showing up to help and then disappearing again?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” But Clark was uncomfortable. The title of ‘hero’ wasn’t one he’d ever imagined applying to himself. He certainly hadn’t done anything to deserve it yet. “I just think there has to be a way I can be Clark Kent and still use what I’ve been given to do some good.”

“Honey, aren’t you worried that people will recognize you?”

“Well, a little, maybe,” Clark admitted. “But don’t you see – when I’m dressed as...whatever we decide to call this guy, I won’t actually be me.”

“But you’ll still be wearing your face,” his mother pointed out. “Or will you wear a mask?”

“No,” Clark said slowly. “I don’t want to wear a mask, and I don’t think I’ll need to. Trust me, Mom – this’ll work. No one will ever look at a guy who can fly and think of Clark Kent.”

“But what about your new job?” There was a slightly pleading tone in his Dad’s voice, and Clark recognized it for what it was. Why risk everything now? his father was asking. “You’ve just started there, son. How can you do this...thing...and still do your job?”

Clark looked down at his plate, gathering his nerve. He didn’t want to tell his parents the whole truth about his job, but at the same time, he needed to talk about it, and maybe if they understood just how unlikely it was that he’d remain at the Planet, they’d understand why the timing finally seemed right to him for this unveiling of his abilities.

“I doubt the job at the Planet is going to work out,” he said slowly. “I kind of blew it before I even started. Mr. White is letting me try the job provisionally, for two weeks, but....”

He looked up and saw his parents staring at him, both of their brows knitted tight with concern.

“You...blew it?” his mother repeated. “How did you do that?”

His mother was on full-alert now, and he realized he hadn’t thought this conversation through well enough. He wished he could take it all back, but he knew he couldn’t, and he also knew that his mother wasn’t going to be satisfied with half-truths and evasions.

“Clark?” she prompted, her voice just a little sharper than it had been before.

He resisted the urge to squirm and wondered if she’d ever lose the power to make him feel like he was five years old. He couldn’t meet her eyes as he said, “I, uh, did something I shouldn’t have. Something you’re probably not going to approve of.”

“Did you help someone?” his father asked. It was always the first thing his dad thought of – that out of his natural desire to help, he had risked exposure.

“Oh, of course not, Jonathan.” Martha waved the suggestion away with a flip of her hand. “Why would he feel guilty about that?”

“I didn’t say I felt guilty,” Clark countered. “Just that you wouldn’t approve.”

“You didn’t have to say it. It’s written all over your face. Now what is this about, Clark?”

“I’m trying to tell you, Mom. But this isn’t exactly the kind of thing...it’s not easy to tell you about this.”

Martha raised her eyebrows at that, and he realized that he might as well have waved a red flag in front of a bull. Oh, why had he started this conversation?

“Well, we don’t want to pry, honey, and if it’s none of our business you can tell us so,” Martha said, surprising him.

“Okay,” he said quickly, grasping at the miraculous chance for escape. “It’s none of your business.”

“But you might feel better if you got this off your chest,” she went on, as if he hadn’t spoken. “And of course, now that we know you’ve done something we wouldn’t approve of, we’ll be wondering what it is and probably imagining something much worse than whatever actually happened...right Jonathan?”

“Leave me out of this.” Jonathan reached for a second helping of pie. “If the boy wants to tell us, he’ll tell us.”

Martha shot him a glare, though whether it was because of his defection or because of the pie, Clark wasn’t entirely sure. His father didn’t seem to notice it at all.

“It’s not that important,” Clark said.

“You know we’ll love you no matter what,” his mother said. “Even if you...lied on your resume...”

“I didn’t...”

“Or broke the law...”

“I would never...”

“Or accidentally started a fire...”

“Mom, I haven’t done that since I was...”

“Maybe you eloped!” She sounded hopeful this time, and Clark nearly choked.

“Mom!”

“Well, if you won’t tell us, what are we supposed to think?” His mother folded her arms and gave him an expectant look.

Clark heaved a sigh and let his head drop into his hands. How could he have been stupid enough to fall for the ‘none of our business’ line? Talk about a rookie mistake! He could feel his father’s sympathetic gaze, but it was clear that Jonathan wasn’t going to interfere. Clark could hardly blame him; he had to live with the woman, after all, while Clark could eventually escape back to Metropolis.

“IsleptwithawomanImetinabar.” He said it as quickly as possible and addressed it to his half-eaten piece of pie. He felt his parents go absolutely still and he took another deep breath. “She didn’t give me her real name or tell me anything about herself. It turns out...she works for the Daily Planet. Things are, uh, awkward now.”

That was such an understatement that it bordered on being an outright lie, but it was just too humiliating to tell his parents the lengths to which Lois Lane had gone to try to ensure that they never saw one another again.

He peeked at his mother and saw that she actually looked...excited? pleased? He wasn’t exactly sure; he only knew that whatever look she had on her face was a far cry from the disapproval he’d anticipated. A glance at his father revealed something closer to what he’d thought he’d see. Jonathan looked shocked, and yes, disapproving. Somehow, it was almost comforting. In a day that had been full of unexpected reactions, it was reassuring to know that there was one person in the world whose responses he could predict. He didn’t even want to think about the smile playing around his mother’s lips. Whatever she was thinking had to be completely off-base, and explaining it was likely to be a hideous experience.

Sure enough...

“You met someone?” Martha asked, leaning forward. “Tell us about her.”

Clark groaned. “I didn’t meet someone, Mom. It was a one-night-stand. That’s not the same thing.”

“It certainly isn’t,” Jonathan said sternly.

“But you liked her,” Martha argued. “You must have. And now you’re working together....”

“I told you, she didn’t give me her real name – or her real personality, as it turns out. I liked her that night, but now...she’s not exactly likeable. Kind of the opposite, in fact.” He pushed away from the table and stood up, beginning to pace. The kitchen suddenly seemed confining, claustrophobic. “It was a mistake. I admit that, OK? It was stupid and I shouldn’t have done it, and now it’s probably going to cost me my job. But don’t go turning this into some big romance, Mom, because it’s not like that at all.”

“All right, honey,” his mother said mildly. “But if you ask me, it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

“Oh, trust me, Mom – I’m convinced. She didn’t leave a lot of room for doubt. She doesn’t want anything to do with me now.”

“Well, she must not have very good taste.” His mom sounded far more offended by Lois’s rejection of him than she had been by his sleeping with Lois in the first place, and Clark couldn’t help loving her for it.

“It doesn’t matter, Mom. It really doesn’t. But I’ve got to figure out where to go from here. And maybe I should thank her: I’ve been wondering for so long how I could help people while still having a normal life, and Lois is actually the one who gave me the idea of wearing some sort of costume. When I first saw her at the Planet, I didn’t even recognize her, she looked so different from the woman I’d met. If she can do it, surely someone with my abilities can.”

“I don’t know, son,” Jonathan said doubtfully. “It doesn’t sound like her ‘disguise’ was a good thing for either one of you.”

“Well, no,” Clark agreed. “It wasn’t. But I’m going to be using my disguise to help people, not because I want to deceive them.”

“Was that what she was doing?” Martha asked. “Trying to deceive you?”

“No.” Clark dragged the word out thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. I’m not sure why she did it, but I don’t think she meant for her deception to hurt me. If I hadn’t gotten the job at the Planet, I’d have never even known about it.”

“Well, I don’t like this,” Jonathan said. He looked at his son over his glasses. “Any of it.”

Clark nodded. “I didn’t expect you to, Dad. But I was hoping I could count on your support.”

“Of course you can.” His father’s face softened a little. “You’re a grown man now, Clark. You’re old enough to make your own decisions...and your own mistakes.”

“And you think this is a mistake?”

“I think sleeping with someone you barely know is always a mistake, but you seem to have found that out for yourself, so there’s no point in me beating you up about it.” Jonathan gave his son a sympathetic look. “As for the other, I’m just not sure. I worry about folks finding out about you...probably always will. At the same time, I don’t want you to be less than the man you are. I would never want that.”

Clark felt his throat tighten. There was so much he wanted to say just then, but all he could manage was a soft word of thanks. His father seemed to understand, and his mother, too.

“So what is this costume of yours going to look like?” she asked, with the brisk air of one who was anxious to get down to business.

Clark cleared his throat. “I don’t know. I was hoping you’d have some ideas.”

“Well, you did say flashy,” his mother said, giving him a teasing look. “I can do flashy.”

“Uh...”

“And we’ll want it to be tight – to cut down on wind resistance, you know.”

“Mom...”

“You just leave it to me,” she said. “I’m the artist around here, you know.”

Clark’s eyes slid to the tangle of metal in the next room and his father laughed. “You got yourself into this one, Clark.”

“I know,” he conceded. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something great, Mom.”

“Come back tomorrow night, and I’ll have some ideas for you.” She rose from the table and started transferring dishes to the sink.

“I will.” He bent down and kissed her cheek. “I should probably be going now, though. You want me to clean up the kitchen first?”

“No thanks, honey. I can do it.” She reached up and cupped his chin in her hand, forced him to look her in the eye. “We love you. You know that, right?”

He felt the shame burn through him. He didn’t deserve this kind of support, but oh, he was so glad he had it. “I really messed up, Mom.”

“Yep.” She released his chin and patted his cheek. “You did. And I know it probably seems like the end of the world right now.”

He nodded. Yes, it felt a lot like that.

“It’s not though, honey. You’re still young. This is just a bump in the road.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Mom, I think you and Mr. White would really get along.”

She looked a little confused at the apparent non-sequitur. “Huh?”

Clark shook his head. “Never mind. It’s a long story.” He gave her quick hug.

“I’ll walk out with you, son,” Jonathan said.

“Thanks, Dad.”

The two walked out of the farmhouse and stood quietly for a moment in the darkened farmyard.

“So.” Jonathan cast a sideways look at his son.

“So.” Clark repeated.

“Back to Metropolis.”

Clark nodded. “For a while at least. There’s a part of me that really wants to find a way to make this job at the Planet work, and then there’s another part that thinks it would just be so much easier to leave. Things with Lois aren’t good. It’s worse than I let on in there.”

“What’s she like, this Lois?”

Clark sighed. “I don’t even know, Dad. That’s the thing. She’s beautiful...I do know that.”

“Blonde?”

Clark smiled. “Brunette.”

“I prefer blondes,” Jonathan said, his eyes twinkling.

“I always have, too.” Clark admitted. “But there was just something about this woman, Dad. From the moment I set eyes on her, it was like I’d been struck by lightning. And the worst of it is I still kind of feel that way, even though most of me can’t stand her. It doesn’t make sense, does it?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Jonathan sounded sympathetic. “I reckon you’re not the first man to feel that way.”

“Maybe not.” Clark looked up at the stars, wondering for the millionth time which was his. “The night I met her she was funny...and easy to talk to, like we’d known each other forever. I know I shouldn’t have...rushed things, but I just....” He stopped himself before he said something truly embarrassing and melodramatic about how he’d thought he’d found the woman of his dreams. “Anyway, now she says that it wasn’t real. That she was just playing a part and that she never promised me more than one night. That she doesn’t want to work with me because I won’t be able to respect her.”

“Is that true?”

“Of course not! She’s the best investigative reporter in Metropolis. I’ve read her work – it’s amazing. Why wouldn’t I respect her?”

“Do you respect yourself right now?”

The question was asked gently, but it hit Clark like a blow to the gut. “No,” he admitted. “I guess I don’t.”

“Well, maybe she feels the same way. I’m not defending her, mind you. Any woman who lies about who she is sounds like trouble to me, and I think you’re probably better off without her. But maybe her problem has more to do with how she feels about herself than how she feels about you.”

“Maybe. She sure seems to be blaming me, though.”

“Well, I wish I had some advice for you, son, but I guess I don’t this time. You’re going to have to figure this one out on your own.”

“You’ve helped, Dad. Just knowing I can tell you and Mom about stuff like this helps, even if it isn’t easy.”

“We’ve never known much about the women you’ve dated. Not since you broke up with Lana in high school.”

Clark shrugged. “There haven’t been many, and even those weren’t all that serious. There hasn’t been much to tell.”

“I admit we’ve wondered....” His father broke off, and Clark looked at him curiously.

“Wondered what?”

Jonathan cleared his throat and looked off into the distance. “It wasn’t any of our business, of course, but we wondered...with your strength...if it was even possible for you to....”

“Oh.” Clark felt his face flame with embarrassment, and then, just as quickly, his entire body seemed to go cold with horror as the implications of what his father had just said really sank in.

How was it that his strength had never once crossed his mind while he was making love to Wanda Detroit? It hadn’t been a problem, thank God, but what if it had been? What if he had hurt her...or killed her? He was used to controlling his strength while doing everyday tasks, but that had been the first time he’d ever had sex. And he’d been so addled by lust that it hadn’t even occurred to him to worry about how his differences might manifest themselves while he was being intimate with a woman. At the time, the fact that he’d remembered condoms had been a small miracle.

And did he even know for sure that condoms worked on him? Was it possible that they hadn't and he just hadn't noticed? His mind scrambled backwards, tried to remember the pertinent details, but they'd been lost to the darkness of the room and his preoccupation with his lover. He couldn't have given her any diseases, but could he get a woman pregnant? If that were even a possibility, he would have to discuss it with Lois - as if she needed more incentive to hate him.

You know how you didn’t tell me your real name? Well, I might have forgotten to mention that I’m really an alien from outer space with superpowered sperm...

He made a small choked sound. Yes, that was sure to go over well.

“Clark?”

His father was giving him a concerned look, and with effort, Clark dragged his mind back to their conversation. “Uh, it’s fine, Dad. I mean...I don’t have any problems with...what you and Mom were worried about.”

Probably.

“Ah, good,” his father said, still sounding awkward. “We know marriage and family is something you want eventually.”

Clark was too preoccupied with his own reckless irresponsibility to even think about marriage and family just then. Every good feeling he’d had since arriving at the farm seemed to have fled and been replaced by raw nerves. Suddenly all he wanted was to get away, to be alone with his thoughts and self-recriminations. He’d spent most of the day casting Lois Lane as the villain in this piece, but hadn’t he been just as dishonest? Hadn’t his been the more dangerous lie?

“Uh, I should probably go, Dad. I’ll see you guys tomorrow about the costume thing.”

His father nodded and pulled Clark into a quick hug, but Clark was so numb that he couldn’t find any comfort in the affectionate gesture.

“Take care, son.”

“I will.” It sounded like his voice was coming from far away, as if the words were being spoken by someone else.

Without a backward glance at his father, he shot up into the heavens.

___________________________________

A/N: You’ve heard that expression: when life gives you lemons, make lemonade? Well, life gave me lemons today in the form of car trouble, and I was prevented from doing the many errands I needed to do before we leave town tomorrow. I was prevented from doing anything, in fact, that involved leaving home. But one thing I could do, while I wasn’t doing all those other things, was to work on this part, which I’d thought wouldn’t be posted for another week.

So I offer up the lemonade I made today and hope it satisfies. My car is now repaired and I'll be leaving tomorrow as scheduled (albeit a little less organized than I'd hoped). I hope you all have a great week, and I'll check in when I'm back in the world of the internet connection