PROLOGUE

"Lois."

Lois Lane turned at the sound of the voice, her face gradually turning over her shoulder at the sound of the feminine call. Her face danced in the warm light of the Kansas sun, its golden glow falling over her features, exposing the flushed cheeks and her red stained eyes, dry streaks making their way down her face like riverbeds. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of her friend, her legs quickly taking her forward as she collapsed into her arms.

"Selina!" she screamed, head dropping against her shoulder, the other woman's head resting lightly on her own. "He's gone, Selina. He's gone!"

"I'm sorry, Lois," she replied, offering trite words but having nothing else to give. The quivering woman in her arms shivered and shook, her body spasming as a new wave of tears began to pour from her eyes, her hands clutched tightly in front of her body as she pressed against Selina Kyle. Selina hadn't had to do anything like this in, well, ever, and she could only hold tight to Lois as she shook and trembled, convulsing, the two women forming a tragic pair in the frame of the doorway that led into the Kent home.

A brief shadow neither paid attention passed in front of it, a hulking figure of a man there, dressed in suit that would cost the monthly salary of an average man. His face was locked, teeth grit against one another but hidden behind his lips, eyes passing over the scene. His breath came slowly, calmly, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket as he watched the wife of his best friend cradled in the arm of his own significant other.

Softly a voice spoke from just off to the man's side. "She doesn't look well," came the low voice of Martha Kent, her eyes hovering on the distant cornfields of the Kansas plains before passing over to him.

"No," he replied, not moving. "She doesn't."

"Neither do you."

Bruce Wayne turned, looking to Martha. "I'm fine, Mrs. Kent."

"You can say it, Bruce," she said, a sad smile creeping against the corner of her lips. "But you look more like your father and mother than you realize. Maybe nobody else can tell what you're going through, but I can."

He turned away, heaving out a deep breath. Over the last year, Martha Kent had turned into a surprising confidant, someone acquainted with his parents while they were alive and that he seemed unable to mask his emotions from. "He's not dead, Mrs. Kent."

"Bruce. Sometimes, there are mysteries. Sometimes there aren't. We all saw what happened."

"Did we? I'm not so sure."

Her eyes turned away, gazing back out at the sun, descending in the distance. "Jon's been out back all day, with Shelby. Guess he's handling this a lot like you."

Bruce lowered his head, footsteps shuffling away as he sighed, descending off the porch and onto the dirt path that ran around the home, out back toward the barn. Already he could see Jonathan out there, hammer striking down on loose planks against the barn wall, the family dog lying in the grass nearby. Shelby didn't move or stir, instead the faithful animal's head tucked on its paws, a curious eye watching as Bruce moved toward them. Jon, too, noticed, and he quickly set the hammer aside.

"Bruce," he said, thrusting a hand out as the multi billionaire approached. "Glad you could come out."

"Mr. Kent," he replied, stopping a few feet in front of the older man and, glancing aside a moment, finally staring him in the eyes. "Jonathan."

"Finally okay with a first name basis, are you son?"

"It seems… appropriate, after all this time."

"Agreed." He glanced aside, taking a look at the paneling on the barn. "What do you think? Sturdy looking enough? Winter's almost here and I want to make sure it can take the winds. Horses hate it when they pick up too much."

Bruce's eyes scanned the walls, picking up on minute details that would escape the average man. "You might want to take a second look at the upper paneling. It's not apparent from out here, but it's rotting. You'll want to get that replaced, too."

Jonathan's eyes shot upward, glancing at the roof of the barn. "You got a good eye, Bruce. Ever think about taking up farming?"

"When I retire, maybe."

Mr. Kent turned aside, smiling slightly. "You've got more jokes in you than people give you credit for."

"Most people just don't get my sense of humor." He paused, taking another step closer. "But we both know that's not what I'm back here for."

"Martha's got it in her head that I need to talk or some other nonsense. I don't, no more than you do."

"That's different Mr. Kent. He was your son."

Jonathan's head dipped a second before casting back up, staring at Bruce's large figure, almost as big as his own boy's, standing there against the sun. "Yeah, he was. But he was also your friend. Unless that's not worth talking about."

Bruce pulled his hands from his jacket pocket, nodding. "You're right. It is worth talking about."

For a long moment the two men stood, staring at one another across the short distance, empty air and grass between them. Shelby raised his head, staring at Bruce then over at Jonathan before raising up on his legs, tail wagging as he looked between them. The two men glanced at the dog, then back at the house. Jonathan broke first.

"Is Martha back there?"

"Yes. She's on the porch."

"And Lois?"

"With Selina."

"So you brought her. Good girl, Bruce."

"I think so."

Jonathan nodded, lowering himself slightly and patting Shelby across the head before taking trudging steps forward, moving through the grass. "Well, alright then. Maybe neither one of us wants to admit it, but maybe it would be best to talk."

Bruce nodded, following alongside Mr. Kent as they returned to the front porch. "He was the best of us, Jon."

"Yeah, he was. Superman. The world's finest." He sighed. "But to me, he was just my boy. Clark."