Note: This is my first L&C fanfic. And I probably will not be able to update regularly, because of the of semester winding down (and therefore upping the work load) but I promise you the story will be finished. Oh, and my title sucks, it might change later, but it is the best I could come up with right now.
Prologue
Washington D.C. 1994
Jack took a deep breath of brisk morning air as he stretched, getting ready for his daily run. He had to report in early this morning so he was only doing five miles, but he wouldn’t even make that much if he didn’t start soon.
This morning run around the park had become, over the years, his thinking time. His mind seemed to work better when he was moving. He’d managed to solve a number of problems lately during his morning exercises, particularly resolving some issues with his son, but there was one persistent problem. His latest assignment was proving extremely difficult.
He was the agent in charge of finding a fugitive who had been running from justice for almost five years. All his leads had dried up, and every time a new lead popped up the trail was cold by the time he got there. It was frustrating; he’d never had a case drag on this long—never had a fugitive so good at hiding.
Of course, he reminded himself, the case had been handed over to him only eight months ago. No one else had had any better luck. Not state police, not the military, not the FBI, not bounty hunters nor private investigators.
Jack sighed and upped his pace, realizing that he had slowed down during his musings. He rounded a corner and glanced at the empty baseball diamond through the fence. It was still winter and nobody had used it for months, but, he expected, pretty soon spring would roll in and the area would be crawling with Little Leaguers.
Footsteps drew his thoughts away, alerting him to the presence of another jogger. He hugged the fence closer to allow whoever it was to pass him on the sidewalk. He didn’t usually see other joggers on this route, but occasionally he would. Though it was surprising to find one at this time of year--there weren't that many joggers willing to take their runs outside in the middle of February.
The other jogger drew even with him and slowed to his pace, “Morning Jack.”
Jack blinked, startled, and glanced at his unexpected companion.
The man quirked a smile and said, “Have a good run.” Then he increased his speed and continued on down the sidewalk.
Jack stared in shock, not even realizing he had come to a complete stop. Then he took off after the man.
It was his fugitive, Clark Kent.
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