Two things keep me going with this...and no, masochism/sadism is not one of them. *g*
First of all, there are some longer stories I want to write, and I don't want to get the habit--or reputation--for not finishing things I post. I've been an impulsive poster in the past, and while that may be fine for 1/1 vignettes, it's kinda unhealthy for the beginnings of unfinished epics.
The second thing that brings this post to you is feedback. Although I want to finish my projects, I don't want to do so at the expense of inflicting needless pain on you FoLCs. The fact that some of you guys are actually following this, and asking for more, really touches me.
I'll try really hard to wrap this up quickly and neatly, and hopefully not-sucky. This has been, I think, another learning experience for me. Thank you to all of you who've read, and to Pam, Framework, and Elisabeth for their comments on the last post. Thanks, guys.
PART #3:
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He took a deep breath and looked his father squarely in the eye. "Dad, I don't want to be a superhero."
Clark stared at his son in surprise. "You----don't?"
John shook his head.
His parents exchanged glances.
"Why not?" Clark finally asked.
John took a deep breath. "It's just---it's too much, Dad. Everybody expects Superman to be perfect; they're going to expect the same from his kid..."
Clark started to shake his head. "John---"
"That's not all," he continued, cutting him off. "There's that whole crazy fanbase to deal with! I don't like the idea of being mobbed, collected, sent panites *and* briefs in the mail..."
Lois turned sharply to stare at Clark, her eyes wide. Clark shrugged, his cheeks turning a little pink. "That last one doesn't happen as much, anymore," he tried to explain. "But John," he said in a stronger voice, "those things are inconvenient, yes. But that's not what you consider. You consider the thousands--*millions* of people in the world who need your help. You consider the difference you can make, John, in individual lives and whole societies..."
"I don't want that kind of pressure!" John snapped.
Clark and Lois stared at him mutely.
John looked away. His hand came up to scratch the back of his neck. "I don't...want that kind of pressure. If I...If I screw up, and someone dies---or worse, a *lot* of people..." He swallowed. "I don't want that kind of responsibility."
"John," his mother began, her tone firm, "you can't just run from responsibility." Lois' voice softened. "You might make mistakes, true. That's something even your father has to face at times. There will always be things you 'could have done better'. If you want or don't want to be something, no matter what it is, that's okay. Just don't let fear make the decision for you." She fixed a steady gaze on him. "That is not the son I raised."
John nodded, mutely.
"If you don't want to be a superhero, or even a reporter, you don't have to," Lois continued.
"Well..." John froze, falling into silence as he met his mother's pointed stare. "How---how did you....? ....What?"
His father stepped forward, clasping a hand on his shoulder. "We got an anonymous tip about the mural, Johnny. It's beautiful." He quirked a smile. "I noticed you painted me 'reaching for my tie'. Nice touch."
Johnny blushed a little. "Um, thanks."
"There were some other little clues," Lois added. "Mostly, though, we just noticed you didn't seem very happy in school. It took us a while to figure out, and then once we saw the painting, everything clicked." She sighed. "I wish you'd told us, John."
"You're right," John relented. "I...probably should have spoken up sooner."
Lois snorted. "Darn right, you should've. Do you have an idea how much tuition costs?"
Clark chuckled as his son's face suddenly turned pale.
"Right." John coughed. "Sorry..."
Lois wrapped her son in a hug, to show that there weren't really any hard feelings. "From now on, you tell us everything. Okay?"
John nodded. "Okay. I guess now's a good time to mention that scholarship..."
**********
He felt good. As he bid his parents good night and let them out of his apartment, he'd felt very good. Life was finally going smoothly for him!
As John turned out the lights, a brief vision of freedom danced in the growing darkness. Now that he had his parents' understanding and approval, nothing else in the world mattered. Nothing could keep him apart from his muse.
He'd just stepped into the shower when a dreadful, blood-curtling scream sliced through his head.
"JOHNNY!!!"
