This is Why Secrets are Secret

Summary: What a man does in his spare time should be his own business. What would they say if they caught the Man of Steel building boats by hand in a basement?

Disclaimer: None of the topics mentioned belong to me. DC probably owns Superman and Batman respectively, and NCIS is licensed by someone who's got a lot more money than I do.

May also contain random Out of Character moments.

One- Retired

Gibbs sat back at his desk watching Kate and DiNozzo play around in front of him with their reports. He wondered how long it would take one of them to discover his real secret, his real identity. It wasn't his three ex-wives, nor was it a story that Ducky would have ever guessed. Bruce would have been proud, he certainly wasn't a boy scout anymore. He smiled watching his rookies run around like chickens with their heads cut off. The small town he had picked, the man who appreciated his attention back home, it was all a play at being normal. Something he had always been anything but.

When Ari showed up he almost wished he hadn't had his powers zapped almost into oblivion to remain on earth. Bruce had insisted upon it, that and his morning coffee contained a constant replenishment of the chemical responsible for it. DiNozzo, the brat he was ending up getting the brunt of his attitude from the evil chemical. Bruce was getting old, but his paranoia remained. Gibbs was tested every other month three ways to check he was still taking it.

Not that he regretted it, giving up being Superman had been one of the hardest things he had ever done. His body hated him so badly, he often spent days alone in his basement with the pain and dizziness from the chemicals. He had met Tony DiNozzo on an interesting case in Baltimore, when Tony chased him down he decided to recruit him for NCIS. He still missed being able to fly, especially when that bastard showed his ugly mug.

It had been tough on him when he decided to join the marines without his powers. He still had decent vision, but was now limited to being farsighted. Actually needing the glasses he used to wear so long ago was troubling. Although it was nothing new, he didn't have to worry about technologies back then. Bruce always walking him through them and he could actually read the screens then.

"DiNozzo, stop pussyfooting around and get me those statements. Kate, I need those personal files profiled and sorted. McGee is working with Abby on getting the cyber info and the forensics. I want my evidence now!" he walked past the Director with a scowl, his coffee had been spectacularly horrible this morning. He hoped that Bruce was happy, that shit tasted terrible, and it gave him horrible heartburn to boot.

"Jethro, you don't have to be so cranky," Ducky almost spooked him, but Gibbs had developed a sixth sense for the good doctor. It had served him well in the past, as had his other gut senses. He tried to swallow down the irritation that came with his chemicals, Ducky didn't deserve his temper, nor did he deserve the hostility.

"Duck, I don't know what to think," Gibbs walked towards the elevator, Ducky on his tail, "what do you have for me then?" The ME frowned, leading the way down to autopsy, via the stairs this time. How odd…

"I want to know why you are avoiding your physical," Ducky almost growled at him, "Jethro!" He refused to answer, he'd never had a physical done after Bruce had one done for the marines test for him. Semi annually he had one sent in for Gibbs, but Bruce had stopped sending them in. Perhaps it was a sign? The stairs echoed frightfully loud in his ears.

"I can't have a physical Duck," Gibbs answered swallowing another round of the bitter substance, "ask the director. I'm tested off site and the results are sent in." Gibbs watched the face of ME twist in irritation, he could see the tension gathering in his friend. He didn't want to piss the man off, but he certainly couldn't let that secret out into the light now.

"Don't do this with me. Leroy Jethro Gibbs, you will sit down here and have your physical, even if I have to do it myself!" Ducky pointed a finger at him, and Gibbs frowned. He couldn't believe this was happening now, not when he was dealing with Ari. Not when he was dealing with another madman who was shooting up the homeland, not when he was dealing with so many criminals. He couldn't let Superman's past catch up to Gibbs now.

"Duck, if I let you do it I will have to leave NCIS," Gibbs warned, "I can't allow it. The director doesn't even have enough clearance to force me to take one. If they did I could simply retire at this point." The ME frowned looking him over seriously, with what one might call a little more than concern. He didn't like making the kind doctor worry over him, not when he was perfectly fine.

"Jethro, what are you hiding?" the ME questioned opening the door for them. Gibbs stepped in with a heavy sigh, he looked to the other man then walked over to an unoccupied autopsy table. He pulled off his Jacket first, then the polo beneath it.

"You will burn the results, do not consult with anyone on it. Those are my terms, that the results of this test do not leave the room," Gibbs warned, "if you cannot abide by those terms tell me now." Ducky nodded heading for his medical bag.

"If that is what it will require of me, then so it shall be. Off with that last shirt," the ME instructed. Gibbs tensed as the final shirt was folded and set with the others, he hadn't been looked over personally since his last wife fiasco. Not that he hadn't enjoyed it, but perhaps he shouldn't have tried again after the second one. He doubted Ducky knew about Shannon. "My, my Jethro, how do you manage to hide that?"

One look at his person and Gibbs was mortified to see the scar smearing his chest where he had been blasted with kryptonite years ago. Underneath it was his perfect chest, every muscle as strong as could be given the circumstances his body was given. Everything about his upper torso had remained the way it was, only that it was less bullet proof when one drank, what he was assuming to be anyways, kryptonite laced coffee. Of course that had been by choice as Bruce would have mentioned.

"Hide what Duck?" he tried to feign annoyance, but it felt good to know some saw through his icy shell. "It's just a torso with some scars…" Ducky remained silent as Gibbs went through the motions of a physical examination. The results horrified one and baffled the other, the ME's reaction being the latter. He had tried to stick a needle in Gibb's arm only to have it bunch up on contact with skin. Gibbs heaved a sigh and ME looked at him with alarm.

"You can't be… this is impossible. Jethro tell me there's another reason," Ducky pleaded trying to understand, "tell me you aren't who I think you are…" Gibbs placed the coffee in front of him defiantly.

"A week without my coffee would confirm or deny any theory you have Duck, just keep the results to yourself. I retired from that and the Marines a long time ago," Gibbs answered pulling on his shirts again, "don't even think about mentioning it to anyone. Do you even need the blood test?" The ME just shook his head leaning against another table in utter disbelief. "Can I go then?" Ducky nodded and Gibbs barely caught his words as he was leaving the lab…

"How could I have been so foolish," Ducky muttered, and just as the Autopsy doors slid shut he was able to hear his old friend's deduction, "My god, Jethro can't be Superman." Gibbs shook his head, he wasn't sure if it was a good idea or not, but for Ducky's sake he was going to show him a little taste of the Man of Steel.

Crimson Choucho- Don't ask what came over me, because quite honestly I am not sure. I spent most of the last few days working on Lord of the Tattoo's, then had an NCIS marathon and watched some Justice League, Batman the animated series (from 1992) and Superman the Animated series. Not to mention some transformers. I apologize for how short and spacey this sounds. I'd place the plot currently after the end of the first season, and about mid second season.