The son becomes the father, and the father becomes the son.
Five years had passed. Five years, a wife, a daughter, and his passion for the art of avoiding serious conversations about a certain… hero, had become new experiences in his life.
John had never quite understood why he had to do it. Yes, "he"; the only man he had ever fallen in love with. God knows what he found in him; he was an absolute prick. There were days where John couldn't help but laugh at himself and feel like an idiot. That's what he is, anyway, is he not?
Now, let's talk about his savior, who had the great idea of leaving him in the middle of their project as "something" (John never could quite define what they really had when they were "together"). He is Superman, or Sherlock Holmes (by default), the journalist with nothing but silly unnecessary comments to make when at work. He was a total nerd; John couldn't look at him without laughing. John and Sherlock were really good mates, but Sherlock had never been one of John's closest friends. There were two reasons for this:
1. Sherlock wouldn't let it happen. It wouldn't be great to lose your fake identity in a couple of seconds, after telling your ex-whatever that you've always been there. John would've probably beaten the shit out of him, or something along those lines. He has waited for years for him to come back, and he never did.
2. John just never felt like Sherlock was really his best friend. He's got a best friend, after all. It's pretty sad that he will probably never show up in his life again.
So, now we go back to the present. It's 4:15 PM and John is stuck on a train in destination to Paris; he's got to go to an important meeting at the Pulitzer awards dinner with important people of the journalist world. He's in a hurry, though; he has to get to the hotel, change his clothes and go to the dinner and the after party.
Ah, he hated those events, crowded by idiots, as Sherlock would say. He would rather just go and talk about what he really, really enjoyed: his most popular recent article "Why the World doesn't need Superman", published a year ago in the Times.
It was such a big success in his life, that piece of writing. He showed the world how to be independent, to feel powerful, more so than Superman. "We don't need him!" he had written, "If there's someone we really need help from, it is nobody but our community, ourselves. We are the world, we make the rules, and we live in it. Millions of people beg for help, not knowing what they are able to do to get through their lives, their problems. We don't need a hero; we only need to think harder". John was proud of it; the world had embraced his point of view and started to move on after he wrote that article, after he wrote about what he truly felt. Following someone who came from some other planet wasn't simple; it was surreal, and it didn't make sense.
He looked through the window solemnly. For some reason today it didn't feel like the day he would be given an award for a brilliant article. He felt as useless as anyone that was traveling with him. He hadn't thought like this for years now. For God's sake, he had convinced himself that the humans were in the world to solve their own damn business, but he had to admit that there still was something missing.
And as if he had been heard by the Gods, the train started going faster, almost like the driver had lost control of it.
"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. We're having several problems with the engines at the moment. We kindly recommend you stay calm and protect yourselves with whatever you can find," said the voice through the speakers, "we're working for your safety and comfort."
The next few seconds passed slowly and the peaceful mood of the crowd suddenly turned into pure chaos, people running around him were trying to save themselves. He didn't know what to do, until he saw a little girl fall to the ground. He then glanced through the window, and noticed the girl wasn't the only problem; their train had somehow derailed from the line, parting from the bridge, and quickly making its way down to the lake below. Wow, he hadn't seen such action in several years.
John then stood up from his seat, ran towards the abandoned girl in the crowded hallway, and picked her up into his arms. Pushing people away and telling a young woman to take care of the child he then stared through the window thinking; everything was a mess and everyone was either rolling on the floor or hitting their heads on the ceiling, most of them just falling to the ground, unconscious. They were royally screwed, and they were all going to die.
Please, God, let me live.
If he had been told that he would die on his way to an award event, to receive an important prize that would highlight his career to the rest of the world, he wouldn't have believed it. He would've laughed, probably telling that person to stop being so dramatic about the future, a future that now would probably never even come after this fall.
And then it all stopped, like a miracle. It was one more miracle.
The sound of bent metal, the landscape showing up one more time as their train was practically flying! It was complete madness.
As the train landed safely on the other side of the bridge, everyone opened their eyes, shocked. They were alive, they had survived. Everyone clapped with relief as one of the doors opened, a thin silhouette appearing in front of all the passengers. It couldn't be other than the long lost superhero, who had returned once again to the people's lives.
"Is everyone alright?" three simple words were pronounced, followed by a caring but very strong voice. He looked around, his blue eyes piercing every soul in the room. Everyone took a moment to calm down and believe that the man who was in front of them still existed. Damn, John, they'll take your Pulitzer away from you.
Superman. It was Superman, after all of these years; he had come back, in the most awful way possible.
John took two steps closer while he saw the superhero center his gaze on him, the rest of the people staring at them happily. Everybody knew.
"Are you alright?" Superman asked him. Oh, what even was the answer for that? Of course he wasn't. He felt like his legs were gone, like he couldn't feel anything with his body ever again, while that look of complete concern filled his eyes. John had turned into jelly.
Everyone turned their heads around to see what he had to answer, and he was mentally shouting at himself for writing that article. Nobody would take him seriously now.
John just nodded, slowly and lazily. It wasn't a dream, it was real. Superman had come back, Superman had saved them, had saved him; Superman had proven him wrong.
"Alright then. I recommend you to stop considering trains as a way of reliable transport, since they're not very efficient for safe trips," the superhero commented before getting out of that section of the train and flying away, leaving John completely stunned in front of the main door.
The next thing John saw was the face of the little girl he had protected and then it all turned to black. His day wasn't going to get any better.
"Right, then, guys. You'll have to investigate more about Superman, since it's pretty much the most important event of the week."
John Watson rolled his eyes, raising his eyebrows at the editor-in-chief, his boss. God, this was ridiculous.
"Greg, I seriously suggest the investigation of that company; that train didn't just stop functioning well just because an engine failed," he said, sighing desperately, "we can't go in with Superman being the only news we have."
"Yes, well, it also includes a blackout and a quake, but Holmes will investigate more about it. Mike will take the photographs and you, you'll be in charge of Superman," Greg replied, staring at him with annoyance, "you know Superman pretty well. You can do it."
John let his head fall on both of his hands, then looked at Sherlock, who was silently sitting on his chair next to Mike, their common fellow worker and excellent photographer. Sherlock stared back at him through his glasses, apologizing with a serene look on his eyes.
"I can do that for John, if he doesn't want to," the three men heard a small voice, turning to the fourth man standing in front of them. John smiled at him, shaking his head. He knew he would never get this off of him.
"I have already assigned what you have to do; no one will do the other's work. Business is business, this is how it works. Also, John has got that very interesting article… what is it called again, John?" whispered Greg, a small smile on his face. This bastard knew him really well.
""I spent the night with Superman"", John answered, annoyed at his best. That article wasn't the thing he needed to remember in this very minute.
An awkward silence filled the room; John covered his face again while Greg looked at Mike and Sherlock, who stared back at him. Then Sherlock let an almost inaudible laugh invade him, provoking John to look once again at him, angrily.
No one said a word when they saw John leave the boss' office to his own with hidden rage. Sherlock looked at the ceiling and let the air accumulated on his lungs leave him, turning to see the other two smiling at each other.
He could practically hear their thoughts.
Sherlock was turning off his computer when he got out of his cubicle, carrying his backpack with him and turning off the lights; he was finally going home after a long day at the office. It had been exhausting to meet with Greg and the other two at his office.
He was walking towards the entrance when he ran into John, and then found himself kneeling next to him so he could help him pick up his stuff, the other man babbling and putting all his things into the bag again.
"Here," John said, handing Sherlock his glasses. Holmes opened his eyes and stared at John for seconds, not believing his luck. Then he put his glasses on.
Close enough.
"Thank you, John," he whispered, before he stood up and gave John his wallet. His co-worker gazed at him, confused.
"Hey, is everything okay with you? You look a bit… off."
"Oh, I'm- I'm fine, John," Sherlock stuttered, organizing his stuff to go home, "I'm so sorry you got roped into something you didn't want to investigate," he continued, looking for his friend's eyes to look back at him.
"You weren't so sorry earlier at Greg's office," John bit back a smile, sighing loudly, "anyway, it's something we knew I had to do, and it's not like it was a surprise or anything."
"Yes, sorry about that, I don't want this to ruin our relationship."
"Our…relationship?" John asked, confused, as Sherlock stared back at him, his eyes opening widely.
"Sorry, I mean-"
"Its fine, stop apologizing. Anyway, I would've laughed at me, too. I was a child in there."
They gazed at each other quietly for a moment before Sherlock felt a pair of little hands on his left leg and looked at the child that was standing next to him.
John's family had arrived.
"Hello, daddy," said a little voice below them. John smiled at the little girl and took her in his arms, lifting her up from the floor.
"Hey sweetheart. Is your mom around here?"
"Yes, mum was walking right behind me, I came here running! I won again," she smiled at him and then took Sherlock's hand with hers, "hello, mister…"
"Ah, darling, he's Sherlock Holmes, a colleague of mine," John smiled brightly at him, Sherlock shaking the girl's hands quietly, "Sherlock, she's Juliet."
"Hey there, it's very nice to meet you," he said after letting go of the pair of hands that were holding his, "you can call me Sherlock."
"Hello, mister Sherlock," the child replied, looking back at her father, "mom said we're having sushi night tonight."
"Right, Mary. Wow, there you are," he spoke to a short blonde woman, mid thirties and an open and honest heart, "I was just saying goodbye to Sherlock right here. Can you go home? I'll drive there after I'm done with work, I promise."
"You're such a workaholic," Mary whispered before laughing and taking John's hand.
Sherlock saw John kiss Mary's cheek while he passed the little girl to his wife's arms before he ran towards the elevator with a lost look in his eyes. He knew where he was going.
"Hi, you must be Sherlock. John has told me a lot about you, it seems like you're one of his good friends around here," Mary smiled kindly, "do you mind accompanying us to our sushi night at home? It would be nice to invite some friends of his to our home!" Our home.
"Oh, that's very nice of you," Sherlock said, walking towards the door with them, "I would not mind at all, thanks for inviting me. I'll be there by the time I finish some of my stuff, too. See you."
Sherlock realized it hadn't been the first time he let Mary go home without him, and it only meant one thing: John had waited for him even when he started a new bond with someone else.
John stepped onto the roof of the building with a sigh of relief. He had forgotten his wife and daughter would come today, and he's already had a tough day remembering and trying to forget.
He got a box of cigarettes out of his pocket and tried to light one of them. God, where was the lighter?
"Left pocket, but I'd prefer if you put that cigarette back into its box," a familiar voice sounded near him.
"What are you doing here?" John asked turning to his right, where he found the man he had had enough of for the day, for the week or even the month, maybe.
"I was told you needed an interview, and I'm here to help with your homework."
"Right, thanks for saving me from school, Superman."
John was exhausted, and this wasn't the right time to lose his mind. He held on to what he had: anger.
"Okay then," he whispered as the superhero walked towards him, getting closer and closer. He grabbed the recorder and pressed the red button, "first question: where did you go?"
"Krypton," Superman answered. John knew it all along, but his knowledge had nothing to do here; Greg wouldn't believe it until he had the proof on his power, "but I came back. I'm sure there have been a lot of important events in the world while I was away."
The journalist just stared at him while he listened to every word he said, not quite processing the information. He examined his face patiently, his eyes going from the gelled hair with a curl or two untangling and falling on his brow, to his pale blue eyes, deep like the sea, to his cupid bow lips, all of this while he heard the deep tone he spoke with. After this, he shook his head, smiling.
"But you said it was destroyed before you were rocketed to earth."
"I wanted to see it by myself."
"Why did you come back?" he asked, dryly.
"I'm sure that's not the right question; you're mostly known by your professionalism and, right now, you're not doing it correctly," Superman whispered at him, smirking.
John turned, hiding himself from the knowing look his ex was giving him. Yes, let's just call him like that. After all, he used to consider Superman his boyfriend; his life, actually.
"John."
He closed his eyes, feeling the wind caress his face, now that this would be his final moment of peace before what he was about to do.
"Will you come with me?" the man behind him asked, and John fought a smile. He wouldn't refuse; he had missed this so much.
John hated him, he swore he hated him. He had always been mad at him for leaving him alone, without even telling him about anything; it just hadn't been fair, and now he comes back, when he thought he didn't need anything else, like his trip to Krypton had been like going on vacations.
"Why?"
Superman sighed deeply, like it was his last breath. Oh, he could've sworn it had felt like it was his last breath. "There are some things I need to show you."
John just turned around, not saying anything. He kicked out his light brown shoes, showing a pair of light blue socks with a cloud pattern that seemed to have been drawn by a child. Superman stared at them while John was stepping on the other man's feet and just smiled, widely, proudly; it looked like John hadn't changed at all.
"Sometimes my…" he stopped, choosing different words to continue talking, "Mary makes these weird things with her personality and it really feels like I'm floating around, it's very silly," John smiled, remembering his family was somewhere in town, heading home, "we have taken some flying lessons and it's been pretty amazing, she takes me up all the time."
"Oh, sure," he heard Superman say, "but I'm certain you haven't flown like this in a while."
The next thing John did was look down, and all he saw was London beneath them. He hugged the hero out of fear that he would fall, his cheek touching the superhero's chest and his hands grabbing the other man's arms. A few minutes had passed when the lights, the cars and the deafening noise of his city seemed to fade away as they flew higher around London's sky.
"What can you hear?"
"Nothing, actually," John rolled his eyes, laughing softly with Superman's question, "What can you hear from up here?"
"Everything."
"I sense the beginning of a metaphor. I'm begging you, please, do continue," said the journalist, with a hint of sarcasm, knowing that his interlocutor wasn't going to notice.
"Well, I can hear everything and, sometimes, I hear people crying and claiming for a hero that, according to you, they don't need. And that's why I'm here, that's why I came back. Millions of people are so lost, so desperate on this planet that they constantly need to be saved, and they are glad now that they have me to help them carry on."
John heard these words and shut his eyes; he didn't want to hear anything else from this man, at least for today, and tomorrow, and maybe the rest of the month.
"You're just underestimating the human race," he replied, quietly, and he only did it because he wanted to try to win this conversation, though he knew it wouldn't be possible.
"No, I'm not. You know I'm being quite modest when referring to you and your people."
"Oh, modest aliens, that's breaking news," John laughed it off, staring into Superman's eyes one more time and sighing again. God, he'd never get tired of this.
The only reply to that answer was a crooked smile on his ex's lips. If John could say one thing, just one thing he loved about himself, it definitely was that he was the only person on earth who could make Superman smile like a little kid on a candy shop; he just loved it.
"Why did you write it?" he asked.
"I had to. I moved on, so did the rest of the world," John said, inhaling deeply, "well, that's what I thought, but now you're back."
"Right, and I'll take you back now." John nodded at this, and entwined his right hand's fingers with Superman's, preparing for their flight back, being led by the superhero.
They avoided each other's eyes as much as possible; both of them hated romance as a cliché thing, and they didn't even want it to be romantic for them, it was just a serious conversation that would help John at work, or that's what they thought. John took a look at their hands and smiled, feeling the warmth of his companion flow through him.
When they arrived and John felt his feet touch the ground, he looked stared at Superman in confusion. They had only had a conversation; it had been nothing more than words, so it wasn't a pressure to be so close to each other, it really wasn't… Damn it.
When he decided what he really wanted, the only part of his feet touching the floor were his toes, and John had invaded Superman's personal space as relaxed as he pretended to be, and the other man getting his face closer to his as their noses started touching tenderly, their eyes began to closed and as their breaths brushed each other's lips lightly, and then it happened. John remembered it wasn't right, and shook his head, letting go of Superman's arms and putting his shoes back on, not looking at his face until he opened his mouth to say something that seemed to sound harmless.
"Mary is a great woman," John sighed, smiling back at the man he had been about to kiss.
Superman closed his eyes and John took a step back, looking at him in complete silence.
"Goodnight, John," the superhero dared to say, before preparing himself to fly away.
"I-"
John couldn't talk; he just couldn't pronounce a word without breaking down. He just stared into Superman's eyes, pleading for understanding.
"I suppose I'll see you around?"
"Always around," Superman whispered softly, avoiding John's eyes and showing his disappointment, before finally flying away from the building.
John watched him go as he put his hands inside his pockets, and found in one of them his cigarette lighter. He smiled, staring at it.
He didn't feel like smoking anymore.
When John arrived home, he noticed he had come at the perfect time for dinner. Opening the front door, he left his coat hanging behind it and walked towards the kitchen, where Mary, Juliet and Sherlock were sitting, having some tea.
"Oh, John, we were waiting for you!" Mary said, walking towards him and giving him a peck on the lips, "I invited your friend Sherlock, I thought you'd like to start bringing more friends of yours," she continued, whispering as she smiled friendly at the guest.
"That's no problem," John smiled at her, breathing heavily; he was being very awkward and it was pretty much noticeable for his wife. He mentally punched himself on the face when the worried question came to him.
"Love, are you alright?" the blonde woman asked carefully, caressing John's shoulder lovingly, until she sighed as she became annoyed, "wait, did you stay at work for more than you should have because you wanted to smoke, again?"
John laughed, staring at her in complete silence. Sometimes he wondered how long it would take for her to notice what was really going on there.
"No, Mary. I didn't want to smoke," well, I did,he thought, but I found a superhero that distracted me from finding my cigarette lighter, "I just finished writing some things for tomorrow and then went to the roof. I just needed some air."
After this, Mary and John went to the table with the sushi Mary promised earlier to John.
Sherlock and Juliet talked a lot about school and the simple life of a seven year old, even though sometimes John's friend stopped listening and thought about God knows what things, as John had noticed while Juliet talked to him about her stuff. Sherlock had been really weird that day, like he was having some problems.
Before leaving Sherlock at the door and hugging him goodbye, he promised he would ask him about it later.
"God, Sherlock was really silent, is he always like that?" Mary asked as John started doing the dishes.
Juliet left the kitchen and walked into the living room, where the piano was waiting for her. She had been taking piano lessons for several years now, and she was really clever for her age. John saw her go and he sensed something wrong in the air.
"Well, yes, he is, but not like that," John said, "he's been acting really strange these days. I don't know why."
"Maybe you're not the only one affected with the Superman news," Mary whispered at him, entertained. It had been nothing else but a joke, but John just didn't get it, so he went for it and talked more than he should have.
"Who said I'm affected?"
"I was just kidding, John."
He shook his head, turning to Mary with a hint of anger on his face while he listened to his daughter play some random tune. Well, he thought it would take longer for Mary to actually notice what was happening. He inhaled sharply.
"You've been acting really weird, too. Since Superman rescued the passengers from your train ride the other day, you have been really… distant." Mary took his hands, staring into his eyes, "Is it really affecting you?"
"No, it isn't affecting me. It shouldn't affect me, don't you think?"
"Well, it shouldn't, but it might be. Don't think you're fooling me, you've told me about him before and it would be fine if this had something to do with your current behavior."
"I haven't, Mary," John opened his eyes widely.
"Well, technically not you; your articles have."
God, no; she read that thing, too. Shit, he thought this couldn't have gone worse.
"Tell me something, John," she let go of his hands, smiling at him softly. Mary only smiled like that when she was thinking things she preferred not to hear, "do you love him?"
"Do I love him?" John asked her, sighing as he got closer to her, "For God's sake, Mary, are you really asking me that?"
John stopped himself from answering for a moment, ignoring the fact that he was pushing whatever he felt about Superman away from his mind.
"Mary," he finally said, caressing her cheek, "you're the only one that I love, and you know it."
When he saw a wave of calm invade Mary's face, he knew it had been the right thing to say. And he did love her, so he spoke with the truth, but he wouldn't have done the same thing if he had seen the man staring through their window and listening to them while they were in the middle of the discussion, he would've doubted about his answer.
Having heard all of this, Superman shook his head slowly and flew away from the Watsons' house. He knew it all along, anyway; he knew he shouldn't have listened to his answer.
In the middle of the night, a simple thought came to both of their minds before finally drifting away, leaving a smile on their faces. John didn't say "no".
Author Notes:
Oh, thank God I finished this one. I'm quite relieved now, waiting for your approval. I hope you like it.
Thanks to Jerrica, my beta, who fixed a lot of stuff for me. She's great. And hey, I know a lot of people hate Superman Returns but, really, I think it's just adorable and, why would I not give it a try changing some things? :)
I promise this fanfic is already finished, so you won't be disappointed in the future. (And I decided I would keep writing SITN for all of you, dearest readers.)
- Mel.