Flying solo on this endeavor but I hope that you will enjoy it just the same. Really, I just needed to get this little guy out of my head so I can go back to torturing my other characters. A semi continuation of Sans Immortality with a tiny OC. Thanks for reading.
He loved this time of year. Particularly the longer, warmer days and the general pleasantness it brought to people shaking off the winter blues. Not quite the end of spring, only a few weeks until summer, lingering flowers heralded their end with a final spectacular blossom before the scorching summer heat melted them away. He carried three bouquets of said blossoms up the grassy hill to meet his family.
"Hi guys sorry I'm late."
Grinning through the friendly banter and gentle scolding, he divvied up the flowers.
Red roses, "Yes ma'am I'm doing well and the kids are fine."
Pink carnations, he lowered his voice to a whisper, "Hello honey I missed you. Ma sends her regards."
One multi-colored flower, "He is fine, getting bigger every day." That flower was special, bred from a few bits of genetic material recovered from a crashed meteor in New Mexico. It only grew under red light and only bloomed once a year but that was all he needed.
"These last few months have been better than…" he stopped short at his story's preemption, "No Bruce," he continued with a grin, "The flowers were for the ladies but if you would like…," another interruption in the form of a stream of humorous threats. Bruce never wanted flowers but feigned jealousy every time knowing full well Clark would only bring them to Mrs. Wayne, Lois, and Lara.
For a man who was often solemn and silent in his prime, hundreds of years later he'd turned into a bit of a chatterbox. Martha and Thomas were content listening to Bruce and Lois bicker like siblings. She still gave Bruce a sufficient amount of hell when possible. Lara and Jor-El maintained their quiet strength, beyond acknowledging his presence they typically only spoke when spoken to.
In tribute to his Kryptonian parents a pair of tombstones. Commemorating not the end of Krypton but when they, from his perspective, passed away. Jor-El never repeated himself. He and Lara had a unique answer for everything. Walking into the fortress, hearing his father greet him with the same introductions given when he turned eighteen, he knew it was over. For him it would be over too, how soon, he couldn't know. What he did know was contrary to his earlier belief he wasn't immortal. Extremely slow to age, but his body was breaking down. Stellar Kryptonian cells no longer absorbing sunlight as they did formerly. Battles took more recovery time, more hours in the sun. Therefore, he steered clear more than he used to. Role of mentor seemed to fit better these days; beside there were enough members of the Bat clan now to invade a small country.
Clark strolled between the ebony headstones weaving tales of the month's adventures. Somehow talking to the six monuments was therapeutic, in their hush, wisdom and peace. Visiting on special occasions allowed him a moment to work out troubles, pour out his pains to the understanding ears of a few of his greatest confidants. Hovering around Lois' grave was never accidental. He valued her opinion most, missed her voice the most, and longed for her touch the most. The warmth of the stone beneath his fingers and feel of her name etched in the granite was comforting.
As expected her death rocked him significantly as did Bruce's a year later. Disappearing from the world scene seemed the next natural step; a deathbed promise to Bruce guaranteed he'd stick around, family. Grandchildren and great-grandchildren all around, nearly fourteen generations worth regardless of last name, they were Waynes to the core. Any one of them that desired, trained in the hero way. The entire regiment now contained in a very detailed heavily guarded book in the caverns below Wayne Manor. Inadvertently it gave him a chance at parenthood. They all needed guidance and an occasional helping of tough love. He was thankful for the preparation.
"Daddy, what are you doing?"
A small voice followed a set of warm fingers interlacing with his. He glanced down finding jet-black hair falling gracefully on either side of a pair of inquisitive brown eyes. He knelt, gathering the child close to him.
"I'm talking to your mom, your grandparents, and your uncle Bruce. Mom's surprised how big you've gotten."
Hiding the question behind cupped hands, he whispered a question into Clark's ear.
"Did they remember?"
"Would you believe it? They all remembered this year."
A running family joke, sometimes they remembered, other times they didn't. Usually, Bruce "forgot" only to come through at the last possible second with happy birthday wishes.
They both stared reverently at Lois' grave hearing exactly the words each of them needed to hear. Lane was his blessing, a surprising call from S.T.A.R. Labs, a single remaining sample of Lois' DNA. Never in a million years did he imagine sequestering himself in the fortress for weeks peering through yellowing cloning notes written by Lex Luthor of all people would give him and Lois their first and only child.
"I wish you were here to see him," he whispered softly through a tear.
Lane's tiny palm warmed his face as he wiped it away.
"S'ok don't cry, Daddy. Mommy says s'ok."
It was nice they shared that similar belief. Even though he'd never met her, Lois was just as real to him.
"You're right," he replied gathering Lane into his arms, "How about some dinner? I think I hear Grayson calling."
"Can we fly back home?"
A trek of no more than a football field's distance to the manor but Lane was not the type to pass up an opportunity to take to the air.
"Why don't you fly us back to the house?" Clark questioned playfully in return, lifting his son high above his head.
Automatically Lane posed his body in his father's form, clenched fists one straight ahead, eyes focused on the horizon with a determination that was purely a testament to his lineage. Truthfully, the horizon held something different for both of them. Lane's happiness was paramount regardless of what path he ultimately decided to take. Another ten or another hundred he'd live just as happily knowing somewhere on this wide green world the perfect union of he and Lois' love would live forever.