This new story of mine is a Next Generation fic, but I won't say too much for fear of spoiling it. The title is tentative, so if anyone comes up with a good idea, please let me know!
Thanks to Nancy for BRing this for me, your feedback was great as always.
FYI: The sections outlined in (***) are flashbacks.
PART ONE
***Lois buckled her seatbelt and turned around to face Jon and Ellie who were sitting politely in the back of the Jeep. Clark had gone to ‘pick up the wedding gift’ so she was on her own.
“Are you guys buckled up?” she asked
“Yes Mom,” came the chorus from the backseat. Lois started the car and made her way out of the church parking lot. The traffic was terrible, as usual, but they had more than enough time to wade through the busy streets before they needed to be at the hall for the reception. Although the ceremony had been simple, (Lucy was never one for showiness) it had been difficult for Jon and Ellie to stay quiet for the whole thing. Lois was glad that she had arranged for a babysitter to come and take care of her kids during the reception.
“Mom?” her son asked, breaking the silence in the Jeep.
“Yeah, Jon?”
“How come Uncle Brad is our uncle now?”
“Well he married your Aunt Lucy today so that means that he’s your uncle.”
“But what about Uncle Tim?” Lois sighed. She knew this difficult topic might come up. Ellie was still too young to understand divorce, but Jon was six years old, and very curious. She wished Clark was here. He was so much better at this kind of thing, especially when her own childhood had suffered so much because of the divorce of her parents. Still, it was important for Jon to understand this.
“Sometimes,” she began, “people who get married realize that they shouldn’t be married after a while. They realize that the love they’ve shared between the two of them isn’t the life-long kind of love you need for marriage. That’s why Aunt Lucy isn’t married to Uncle Tim anymore. But she was very lucky and found Uncle Brad to marry. They love each other very much.” Jon was silent for a bit.
“Do you think that will ever happen to you and Dad?” The worry was evident in his voice.
“Oh, no Jon! Your dad and I love each other very much, and that’s not going to happen.”
“But it might,” Jon was apprehensive. “I bet Aunt Lucy and Uncle Tim didn’t know they didn’t love each other that much when they got married. I bet they thought they were going to be married for the rest of their lives. What if you and Dad are like that? You might think you love each other, but maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll start fighting like Aunt Lucy and Uncle Tim did.” At this statement, Lois pulled over and parked the car. She turned back to face Jon. Ellie was obliviously sleeping in her booster seat, but Jon’s eyes were full of worried tears. Lois reached back and squeezed his hand.
“Jon that’s not going to happen. Your dad and I don’t *think* we love each other that much, we *know* we love each other that much. We’re going to be together for the rest of our lives, I promise.” Jon sniffled.
“How do you know?”
“I can’t really explain it Jon. It’s a feeling deep inside me, and I know that we’re meant to stay together, okay?”
“Okay.” Lois smiled at her son, and then turned the Jeep back onto the road.
“Once you get older, you might meet someone who will give you that exact same feeling.” There was a silence from the back seat.
“I don’t think so, Mom.”
“Why not?”
A pause.
“Girls are gross.”***
* * *
I walked down the grimy downtown Metropolis street cursing my vanity. What had possessed me to buy these shoes? Yeah, they were nice and everything, but the pointed toes pinched and the spike heels caused me to wobble on the uneven sidewalk. Idiot! I called myself. Self-absorbed twit! Are these really worth all the blisters you’re going to endure on the way home? I glanced down at my tightly shod foot as it glided smoothly over the sidewalk and landed with a sharp *clack*. The other followed. *Clack-clack*. What was it about a gorgeous pair of shoes that inspires a woman? That makes her feel confident in herself and in the world? I lifted my head high and strode forward. These shoes were worth every last chafed skin cell. Really.
I inhaled the crisp night air as I continued my walk. I could’ve called a cab to take me back to my apartment and save my tortured feet, but there was something about Metropolis at night that invigorated me, and so I had chosen to walk. The streetlights flickered as I passed empty shops and a couple cafes. I was just passing a dark alleyway when a man walking in the opposite direction roughly bumped me in the shoulder.
“Sorry,” I murmured, and stumbled slightly trying to regain my balance. Stupid shoes. Before I could regain my stance, the man took the opportunity I had presented him and shoved me into the alley. He was immediately joined by another man who I could only assume was his accomplice. The men clamped down on my arms and jointly shoved me up against the wall.
“Give us your purse and any jewelry you got and we won’t lay another finger on you, lady.” They leered in hungrily, expectantly, their breath coming out in harsh pants.
I was disappointed. Was this the first time they had tried something like this? They had no weaponry on them, at least none they had produced, and the hold they had me in would be child’s play to break. Honestly, if they were going to try and mug me, they should’ve at least *attempted* to do a proper job. Looking at the two men on either side of me, I decided to just deal with the problem myself rather than involve the authorities and play the helpless female role. In retrospect, I should’ve just screamed for help or something. It certainly made more sense than risking the possibility of someone seeing me pound the crap out of these two guys. But the combination of night air, an awesome pair of shoes, and the long period of undercover induced inactivity had me on a natural high, and I was anxious to prove myself to someone, even if it was just a couple of petty offenders.
I had never been very good at coming up with pithy catch-phrases, so I dived right into the action. I reached up and elbowed the guy on my right in the nose, then pivoted out of their grip, winding up to kick the other guy. I aimed for the solar plexus. Don’t let anyone ever tell you I don’t fight like a lady.
Unfortunately, my well placed kick didn’t meet its target. Instead of hearing the satisfying thump, and following groan of pain, I ended up sprawled on the pavement with a wicked pain shooting through my right ankle. I looked up… and saw Him.
He was hovering at least a foot in the air, his cape flapping in the breeze. My two would-be muggers were hanging by their collars which he held tightly in his grasp. His immaculate red and black uniform proclaimed his identity: Supernova, the only son of Superman: defender of Truth, Justice and the American Way. And then there was me, sitting in a puddle with a twisted ankle.
“Are you all right?” he glanced over his shoulder down at me. His oh-so-kind-and-caring look, combined with his condescending questioning was enough to push me over the edge.
“I was until you got here,” I snapped. Slowly, I untangled my limbs and got to my knees. My ankle was still throbbing. Supernova blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m perfectly capable of defending myself, Spaceboy. You had no reason to just barge in and push me out of the way.” I picked up my purse, and shoved the scattered contents back inside. I briefly wondered if I was being a little ungrateful, but my wounded pride and matching ankle strengthened my irritation. Supernova bristled.
“I saw a woman being mugged. Excuse me for wanting to help.” I climbed shakily to my feet, putting as little pressure on my ankle as possible. I looked down at my once glorious new shoes. Dammit! The right heel had snapped off!
“Well I didn’t ask for your help now did I?” A pregnant pause. I glanced at the two docile criminals in Supernova’s grasp. They had mellowed considerably since his arrival. “Aren’t you going to do something with those two?” I asked him. Supernova gave me an indecipherable look before shooting off into the distance. I gave a long sigh to collect myself, and then continued along the main street. It was difficult walking with only one good ankle and a broken shoe. I took a couple of painful, shuffling steps at a time.
Had I maybe been too harsh on him? If it wasn’t for him, I would probably be on my way home without a sprained ankle and with my shoes will intact. But still, he was just doing his job. I really shouldn’t have snapped at him like that; it was really rude and ungrateful. There could be a time when I actually need him and then…
Oh no. What happens when I DO actually need him? Given my… extracurricular activities, that is likely to happen. What if he doesn’t come because I was so rude to him? That’s ridiculous, I told myself. He wouldn’t be so shallow as to not come. Also, I still have his father and his sister to look out for me.
Unless he tells them. Maybe they have weekly meetings where they discuss people they’ve saved. And they have a list of some sort. A ‘No Save’ list of people who were rude to them, or who committed crimes or something. Crap! I’ve just condemned myself to death through sheer rudeness.
I stumbled on the cracked walkway. But just when I though I was about to hit pavement for the second time that night, I found myself in the muscled arms of a spandex clad male. He led me to a bench and sat me down.
“Please just let me take a look at your ankle.” His eyes pleaded with me. He came back! My heart danced. I no longer had to die! He gently slid off my ruined shoe. Deft fingers ran their way along my sore ankle, and my breath unexpectedly caught. They felt so light and gentle… Focus! I commanded myself. You have to apologize to him.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” I began awkwardly.
“It’s no problem,” he murmured, not looking up from his task.
“No really, it was rude and inappropriate. You were helping me and I yelled in your face. I should’ve been more appreciative,” I said. “Even if I could’ve handled it myself,” I couldn’t resist adding. Why did I have to do that? What was it about him that made me want to be so indiscreet? He looked at me and his eyebrow quirked up. “You don’t believe me?” I asked.
“Oh I believe you. You don’t strike me as the type of person who makes false claims.” He grinned at me. “I should apologize too. I should’ve been more careful when I rushed in there, but things tend to happened fast in those situations, and I don’t always have time to adapt. Sometimes people get hurt even if I don’t intend to.” He looked so guilty, sitting there with my ankle in hand.
“My ankle can’t be that bad,” I told him. “At worst it’s a little sprained.” I flexed it tentatively.
“No it’s not bad,” he agreed. “I x-rayed it and there’s no fracture, and even the muscle strain isn’t bad at all. With a little ice, you should be fine.”
“See?” I told him. “No harm done.” He came and sat beside me on the bench, holding my broken shoe in his hand.
“It shouldn’t have happened at all.” He shook his head. “Did you know that my dad was sued once by a person who sustained a minor injury when he saved the guy’s life?”
“What! That’s terrible!”
“Luckily, it didn’t hold up very well in court, but it still means I should be careful.”
“Well you can relax because I’m not going to sue you for this.” I gestured to my ankle.
“I’m really sorry,” he said again.
“Don’t even say it,” I commanded. He still looked gloomy, so I decided to try to cheer him up. “But while we’re in the mood for apologizing, I should probably say one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Sorry I called you Spaceboy. It was a bit presumptuous of me.” His face split into a grin.
“I kinda liked it.”
“Really?”
“No one’s ever given Supernova a nickname before. Most of the damsels in distress are too much in awe of me to have that kind of creativity.”
“Okay, let’s get one thing straight between the two of us, buddy. I am NOT a damsel in distress.”
“That’s for sure,” he agreed. “You’re more the distressing damsel type.”
“Hey!” I cried in mock indignation. He smiled back at me. Then a stab of pain reminded me of my sore ankle. I winced.
“You should get some ice on that and keep it elevated,” Supernova told me. He looked at me a moment as if thinking through something. “I could fly you home,” he finally offered hesitantly. “Not as a damsel in distress or anything. Just for convenience. You’ll be able to ice it and put it up on your sofa right away.”
“Um, no that’s okay,” I told him, trying not to let the sudden butterflies in my stomach show too much in my voice. “I can just get a cab.” Supernova shook his head.
“The street is deserted. You’ll never find a cab here at this hour. It’s not any trouble to take you home, honest.” I looked at his earnest face. There was no way I was going to fly anywhere with him, but at the same time it would be nice to have some company…
“You can walk me home,” I announced. His face became blank.
“Walk?”
“Yeah, Spaceboy, walk. It’s what people who can’t defy gravity on a regular basis do.”
“Well I don’t know…” He trailed off. “It’s kinda below my dignity, if you know what I mean.” For a second, I thought he was serious. Then, I caught the glint in his eye.
“You can consider it your punishment for spraining my ankle,” I shot back.
“My punishment?”
“Well I already promised not to sue you, so this is the next best option.” I stood up, grabbed my purse, and balanced wobbly on one foot. Supernova placed his arm around me as support, and we hobbled down the street together.
We made slow progress.
Finally, he let out an exasperated sigh.
“That’s it,” he declared, and scooped me up into his arms. At first I panicked as I thought he would take off into the air regardless of me not wanting to, but I could still detect the rhythm of his gait as his strode down the street so I relaxed. “Does this count as cheating?” he asked me.
“As long as you keep one foot on the ground at all times,” I tell him.
“I won’t attempt a run,” he teased me. So that was the way it was. Supernova carried me down the all but empty streets as I gave him directions to my apartment. It was strange, really. Whenever I had seen Supernova on TV he had always been so distant and formal. I had expected he would be the same way in person, but ever since he had sat me down on that bench, he been so open and friendly. He hadn’t gotten mad at me for yelling at him, he was so gentle and concerned about my ankle, and he had told me that story about his father being sued. Not everyone heard about that, I was sure. And he had even gone so far as to tease me! It was a side of him that never really showed in press conferences and during charity appearances. Was this something that he did with people he had just rescued, or was it different entirely? Or was it wishful thinking, I chastised myself. But whatever it was, there was an easy camaraderie between the two of us that completely surprised me.
We reached my apartment all too soon. Luckily, the tenants at my place were the early to bed, early to rise type so we didn’t make too much of a scene as Supernova carried me up the stairs, through the door, and finally let me down on my sofa.
“I’ve got an icepack in my freezer,” I said. I watched as his cape billowed out behind him as he made his way into the kitchen. How did it billow so well? Was it some kind of Kryptonian fabric that was designed to billow beautifully no matter the circumstances? I had thought I read somewhere that Krypton was an advanced society. Surely they had billowy fabric technology? Wouldn’t they be able to make whatever fabric they wanted? I wondered if it was some kind of special Kryptonian spandex that he used to make the rest of the suit. Blushing, I pulled myself back to reality. Why was I thinking about this? What was with my odd fascination with his clothes? Supernova reentered the room with the icepack in hand. He firmly wrapped it around my ankle, and plumped a pillow to go under it.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said. There was a pause. His job was done, having delivered me safely home. And now he would leave. Desperately, I searched my mind for a way to get him to stay. Maybe a discussion on Kryptonian linen? Who knows, it could be his hobby or something. We both spoke at once, breaking the awkward silence.
“I should get go-”
“Why don’t you st-”
We both paused, embarrassed.
“I guess you need to go find some other damsels that don’t need rescuing, huh?”
“Um, yeah. Well I don’t really need— but I should… I should go.”
“Okay.” Why was I feeling so disappointed?
“Is it okay if I use your…?” He gestured to my balcony window questioningly.
“Oh! Sure, go right ahead.” I was tempted to stand up and walk over to him to say goodbye, but what would I do? A handshake seemed way too impersonal. A hug? A kiss? Quickly, I scrubbed that thought from my mind. I’m sure that’s exactly what he doesn’t want. I bet every female between the ages of 12 and 72 has tried that game. I remained seated. My ankle was killing me anyway.
“Well, goodbye.”
“See you around. And thanks for the lift home.” He threw me a smile, and was gone out the window.
