This story exists because of my correspondence with ff.n member Nimbus Llewelyn. Our back-and-forth on this idea (and about my similar project that involves the other Big Comic Company) enabled me to get off the starting line. Thank you, sir!

Cataclysm/Rebirth

The seven of them stood at the largest window in the Watchtower, staring mutely at the blackened husk that had once been the Earth. Four of them wept openly, the other three did not— only because their self-control was legendary.

"I can't believe… I can't believe we couldn't stop it," Superman said, his voice choked. "I can't believe we failed after all this time…."

"It's not just here," Jonn said. "It's the entire galaxy, perhaps the entire universe. But it happened so suddenly— what could have caused this?"

"Or who." Batman turned away from the window and said, his voice a thing of black ice and razor edges, "If there's an intelligence behind this, we owe it to… everyone we lost to find it and destroy it."

From a shadow near the window, a voice spoke, a voice that they'd all heard before, but that still gave most of them chills.

"There is no intelligence behind this disaster, Batman," said the man they knew only as the Stranger as he stepped out of the shadows. "Only entropy is to blame."

Batman rounded on the Stranger and said, "That's ridiculous— the universe is comparatively young, it can't possibly be winding down yet."

"The universe is, as you say, young, as such things are measured," the Stranger said, moving to stand at the window next to Wonder Woman. "Yet think on this, Batman… how many times has it been fractured into multitudes, rejoined… and shattered again?"

"Then we can rejoin it again," the Flash said, nodding. "We've done it before, we can—"

"No, Flash," the Stranger said. "It is over."

"The other universes—" Green Lantern started.

"Gone already," the Stranger said, his voice sad beyond description. "This… continuum is doomed."

"Bull!" snarled Hawkman. "There's a way, there's always a way, Stranger."

"Yes," Wonder Woman agreed. "Hawkman is right. You never appear to tell us things are hopeless, Stranger. You always bring hope, always."

"This continuum is doomed," the Stranger said again. Then a trace of a smile appeared on his face, barely visible in the shadow that his fedora always cast, and never mind the amount of light or its direction. "But there can be a rebirth. A new continuum, filled by a single universe, as it should have been from the beginning. Strong, firm… and inviolable."

"And the cost?" asked the Martian Manhunter.

"You seven must give up your… energies, your lives, voluntarily, at a place… I will take you where it must be done." The Stranger sighed. "If you give up your lives, the universe that results will mirror this one. You will all exist again… and you will protect your world, your continuum, as you always have.

"Will you do this thing?"

Superman drew himself up, scrubbed the tears from his face, and said, "Yes."

"For the universe? Yes." Green Lantern stepped up beside Superman.

"I'm in," the Flash said.

"Of course," Wonder Woman said, stepping to Superman's other side and taking his hand.

"I have watched a world die," the Manhunter said, his eyes glowing red. "This is the second I have lost. To save a universe… I will do as you say."

"Death and rebirth are a big part of who I am," Hawkman said. "I'm in."

The six of them looked at Batman, who stood mute for a moment before speaking. "We'll exist again… as we are here?"

"Yes," the Stranger said.

"Then… no."

For a moment, silence reigned— then the other six all started talking at once.

Finally, Superman yelled "QUIET!" and got it. He turned to Batman and asked, "Why, Bruce?"

For a moment, Batman did not answer. Then he drew in a breath and he said, "I swore an oath never to knowingly let another child suffer as I did. I swore it to my parents' memory, and I have kept that oath for all of my life. It's who I am… and I can't let another version of me suffer that again. I can't— and I won't."

Again, the others started talking— but this time, Batman himself demanded silence.

"This is who I am." He looked at each one of them, then said, "You can't change it. And the Stranger said that it had to be voluntary, so forcing me won't work— will it, Stranger?"

The Stranger's shoulders sagged, and he said, "No. It won't. And it must be all seven of you."

"Is there a way… what if we could make it so that you didn't have to watch your parents die, Bruce?" Superman asked. "There's got to be something we can do."

"If the Stranger can tell me that the new Bruce Wayne won't have to see his parents murdered in front of his eyes, then I'll participate." Batman looked to the Stranger. "Can you make that happen? Or can we?

"Can I make that happen?"

"I… you cannot," the Stranger said. "You will not survive the rebirth, even temporarily, you can't."

Something about the way the Stranger spoke made Jonn Jonzz investigate further. "Could I survive this 'rebirth,' just for the time necessary to insure that Bruce Wayne's parents aren't murdered.?"

"You cannot." The Stranger put a gentle, barely detectable emphasis on his pronunciation of the word 'you.'

"What about me?" Superman asked. "Can I survive the rebirth of the universe long enough to prevent Bruce from seeing his parents murdered?"

"You could," the Stranger agreed. "But… is it wise to leave that continuum without a Batman?"

"If that's the only way to see that the continuum exists at all?" Superman actually smiled. "Then it's worth it— if it's necessary."

"Why wouldn't it be necessary?" Wonder Woman asked. "If you save his parents, why would Bruce become Batman?"

"I get it!" the Flash said, and he grinned. "Inspiration is just as powerful a tool as pain. I became the Flash because of the men who sore the name before I did, and I kept the look that Barry wore because he inspired me."

Superman turned to the Stranger. "Can it work?"

"It can," the Stranger replied slowly. "But… it will result in some changes to the continuum, and to you specifically, as you are reborn in that place. It may have wider-reaching effects…."

"Will there still be heroes?" Hawkman asked.

"Yes." The Stranger smiled a little. "There will be heroes. And Bruce Wayne may still grow up to become the Batman… for the right reasons.

"We need to be as quick as possible, the window for rebirth is… beyond two hours from now, the chances of success drop drastically."

Superman's smile widened, and he turned to Batman. "I think I'll need to borrow your costume, Bruce— and I'll want some voice lessons. The martial arts I can handle, thanks to my knowledge of Klurkor."

"Why bother with a martial art?" Green Lantern asked. "Even a Kryptonian one? You're Superman, you know."

"Because Bruce needs to see a man saving his parents lives," Hawkman said, a hard smile on his face. "Not a Superman."

"Yes," Superman agreed. "Bruce… will you let me do this?"

For a long moment, Batman said nothing. Finally, he said, "The Stranger said that it would have effects on you as you're reborn… in the new universe. Are you sure you want to do this? To have your last act as a hero be… not you?"

"I'm sure," Superman said. Then he put a hand on Batman's shoulder and said, "And to go out saving two lives, saving a child from a lifetime of pain and loneliness? Bruce, that's me. That's Superman, and never mind what I'm wearing."

"Then… I have a spare costume here," Batman said. "I want to go out as Batman, not Bruce, so I'm keeping this one.

"The voice… did you ever see the original Highlander? Good, then start by trying to talk like the Kurgen…."

Half an hour later, Hawkman, the Flash, Green Lantern, the Martian Manhunter, Wonder Woman, and what looked like two of the Batman presented themselves to the Stranger.

"We're ready," Superman said, recognizable by his undisguised voice.

"Very well," the Stranger said. "Follow me."

The Stranger walked through the doorway from meeting room to teleporter room, and the seven heroes followed. As each passed the arch of the doorway, they vanished from the Justice League's Watchtower satellite and reappeared on the surface of a planet, though not one that many of them were familiar with.

"Where are we?" Wonder Woman asked.

"Oa," Green Lantern replied. "The planet of the Guardians… and the closest thing to a planetary center that the universe has."

"Yes," the Stranger replied. He pointed down the hill they had appeared on, and the heroes saw a whirling, strobing ball of light that looked to be a dozen yards tall. All the colors any of them had ever seen were visible… though the ball wasn't very bright.

"There." The Stranger started down the hill, and the Justice League followed after.

Once they all stood in front of the ball, the Stranger said, "For all but Superman, you have but to step into the light, and give your essence to this… seed of a universe.

"Superman, you will need to place your hand inside it and wait. Then… I will protect you from what follows, and move you to the place and time needed for you to keep your agreement with Batman."

"All right," Superman said. He looked around at the other six. "It has been a pleasure to know you all, to work with you… to save lives beside you.

"A pleasure… and an honor."

For a moment, no one moved, then the Flash flickered over to stand in front of Superman.

"Somebody has to go first, and since we are who we are, that pretty much has to be me." He hugged Superman, said, "See you around, big guy," and turned to the ball of light.

"HEY, BARRY!" he shouted. "JAY! BART!

"LAST ONE TO REINCARNATE'S A ROTTEN EGG!"

Then there was a streak of red and yellow— and the ball of light turned scarlet and gold for a moment.

"Like the man said, we are who we are," Hawkman said. His wings flapped, and he left the ground. In seconds, he was a couple of hundred feet in the air— and he turned and dived into the ball of light with the mace he carried cocked to swing, roaring a challenge as he dove. The ball flashed gold and green as Hawkman vanished.

"Yes." The Martian Manhunter returned to his natural form, tall, slender, and much less human. "My friends, I thank you for treating me as one of you.

"Farewell."

Jonn Jonzz simply stepped into the light, which burned the bright green of his skin for a long moment afterwards.

Green Lantern turned and shook each of his remaining friends' hands, then smiled a little and said, "Once a Green Lantern… always burning!"

Like Hawkman before him, Green Lantern shot into the air, much, much higher. At the edge of the ancient planet's atmosphere, he stopped, turned… and dove, a blaze of emerald fire expanding from his form and trailing after him as he went. When he passed into the ball of light, it burned emerald for a long moment.

"Clark." Batman turned and offered his hand to Superman. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Goodbye, Clark, Diana."

Without another word, Batman turned and walked into the light, which turned the charcoal gray of his cloak and cowl for a moment as he vanished.

Wonder Woman turned to Superman, hugged him long and tight, and said, "We will meet again, Clark."

"I know," Superman replied. "I'll look forward to it."

Wonder Woman smiled through the tears she was shedding, then turned, leapt into the air and flew into the light. Red, blue and gold rippled through the ball after she vanished into it.

"Okay," Superman said, and he sounded a good deal more like Batman than he did himself. "Let's do this, Stranger."

"Yes," the Stranger agreed. "Place your hand into the light, Superman. I will move us away at the moment of… renewal."

Superman place his gray-gloved hand into the ball of light, and immediately felt a draining sensation. As the ball rippled blue and red, with just a touch of yellow, he said, very mildly, "Ouch."

"It will not hurt for long, my friend." The Stranger watched the ball with his peculiar, blank eyes, and when it suddenly burst into a rainbow of light and contracted into a tiny, brilliant ball of energy, he stepped between Superman and the light, swept up the edges of the voluminous cloak he wore, and—

Light exploded around them, light and matter and pure power, and Superman could only stare, stare at the beauty of it all until he could barely stand the sheer wonder that he felt—

—and they were elsewhere, standing on a hill looking down on the lights of what appeared to be a thriving city.

"Where… are we?" Superman gasped, dropping to the grass. "And why… do I feel so weak?"

"We are on a hill outside of Gotham City," the Stranger said evenly. "It is Friday the fourth of October of 1996, and in the city below us, an eight year-old boy is leaning forward with excitement as, on the movie screen in front of him, Zorro begins to fight the villainous Captain Pasquale.

"Your weakness… you are no longer Superman. You are only a man, now— the energies that made you Superman went into the birth of this place. That enough remains to let you live for a time… that is why this place will be different from the universe it was modeled after."

"Worth it," Superman said. He stood, threw back his shoulders, and said, "Worth it all, Stranger, so long as there will still be heroes."

"There will be," the Stranger assured him. "One of the best and brightest will be a Kryptonian, my friend. Of that, you may rest assured."

"Thank you." Superman took a deep breath and said in a voice that was deeper, more harsh— the voice of Batman— "Let's go. I'm not the tactician Bruce is, I need more time to plan things out than he would."

The Stranger raised his cloak again— and the two men vanished.

Eight year-old Bruce Wayne came out of the back exit of the movie theater in a leap, swinging an imaginary sword at an imaginary villain and yelling "Ha! Now we will see who is the better man, Captain!"

"So, not as boring as you thought it would be, eh, Bruce?" Thomas Wayne said, laughing as his son turned and bowed to him and his wife.

"No, Dad, you were right," Bruce said, standing upright. "Totally right, that was so cool!"

"I certainly liked it," Mary agreed. "Of course, I'm looking forward to the new one they're starting now, too. Antonio Banderas should be an excellent Zorro."

"There's gonna be another one?" Bruce asked, turning to walk backwards, facing his parents. "When? Can we see it?"

"I suspect we'll see it, yes, Bruce," Thomas said. "Although if your mother's going to drool over Mr. Banderas, we may— Bruce, stop!"

Bruce stopped in place, surprised by his father's tone of voice. He looked around to see what he'd been about to back into, and felt his father's hand on his shoulder, pulling him back and behind his parents.

Then Bruce saw the man with the gun, and his questions died on his lips.

"Wallet," the man snarled. "Watches. Jewelry. Now!"

"Take it easy," Thomas Wayne said, reaching slowly into his coat. "You'll get everything you want, just take it easy."

"Shut up and give it to me!" the man nearly screamed. "Now! Now, or I start shooting!"

He raised the gun, pointed it at Thomas Wayne's face—

—and a shadow detached itself from the alley wall, or maybe the fire escape above the Waynes, and dropped to the concrete between the family and the gunman, leaving the gun pointed at it, not Dr. Wayne.

"Not today," the figure said in a low, guttural voice— and swept a hand up under the crook's gun-hand, deflecting it up. Bruce saw a dark-gray glove close around the crook's wrist and twist, heard a crack as some bone broke, and the gun dropped. The shadowy figure caught it by the barrel before it hit the ground, then tossed it to one side, where it landed neatly on a bag of garbage. He stepped sideways, and Bruce saw that he was dressed like a… bat? "Not ever."

The crook swung at the head of the big man in the bat costume, and the man blocked it easily, the edge of his hand catching the crook's other wrist. Then he stepped closer, kneed the crook in the stomach, and, as the attempted robber bent double, punched him square in the side of the neck

The crook collapsed like a sack of meat, and the bat-man bent over him, tied him up with some long, thin rope that he pulled from a compartment on his belt— which was covered with pouches and compartments of all sizes.

"Yes, I'd like to report a… an attempted mugging," Thomas's voice said, and Bruce looked up to see his dad on his cellular phone. "We're in Park Row, behind the Park Row Cinema. No, we're… not hurt. Someone… someone stopped it. Yes, all right."

The bat-costumed man stood up and looked around. "You're all right? All of you?"

"Yes, we're… fine, thank you," Thomas said slowly. "May I ask who you are?"

"I'm someone who wants to save lives," the man replied. "That's all."

"That was so cool!" Bruce burst out. "It was like— you were like Zorro, only better! I want to be just like you someday!"

"You can be," the bat-man said, squatting in front of Bruce. "You can be— but it will mean a lot of very hard work. You'll have to learn more than just to fight. You'll need to be a detective, maybe the greatest detective in the world. You'll need to be a scientist, an acrobat, and even a thief, so that you can catch thieves.

"It will be very hard work— but I believe that you can do it."

"I will!" Bruce said. "I will, and someday, I'll save someone like you saved us. I promise, I will!"

"I believe you," the man in the bat-costume said gravely. "But now… I need to go. Take care, folks.

"Work hard, young man."

"I will!" Bruce said.

"Wait, you can't just leave, the police— oh, hell, you saved our lives, I think," Thomas said. "Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome." The man turned and pulled a grappling-hook-loaded gun of some sort from his belt, aimed it up— and stopped when Bruce spoke again.

"Wait," Bruce said. "Why are you dressed like that? Are you a superhero? Like those guys from the JSA used to be?"

For moment, the man didn't answer, then he said, "Something like that. But you don't need powers to be a hero, young man.

"Remember that."

"Yes, sir."

The gun-thing chuffed, the grapple caught, and the bat-man vanished upwards into the darkness.

Even as a police car pulled up at the mouth of the alley, Bruce Wayne looked up at his parents and said, "Dad, Mom, do you think I could start taking karate lessons?"

On the rooftop, Superman heard this, and he smiled. He felt a presence at his side, and turned to see the Stranger.

"What happens now?" he asked the mysterious figure.

"Now we go back… and we both step into the seed just before it explodes," the Stranger answered. "We'll be on the other side of it, so won't see ourselves.

"It is an ending… but also a beginning."

"I saved a boy from a lifetime of pain," Superman said, "and maybe made it so that he and I can be friends, in whatever incarnations we take here, not just… sometimes-allies who respect each other.

"That's enough for me. I'm ready. Let's go, Stranger."

The Stranger swept his cloak around them both… and they vanished.

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Eight years earlier, outside Smallville, Kansas:

Martha Kent stepped out of the rental truck with her husband, looked at the house in front of them and said, "Well, it looks nice on the outside, at least."

"The inside's nice, too," Jonathan said. "And the furnace was only recently replaced. They put in central air at the same time. Also, the kitchen is huge."

"That's good," Martha said. "More room to spread the mess around as I learn to cook, Jonathan.

"Are you sure you knew what you were doing, marrying a spoiled rich girl who has no idea how to keep house, let alone be a farmer's wife?"

"I'm sure," Jonathan said, and he kissed her. "Are you sure that it's worth having your family disown you to marry an Agriculture-Degree-wielding, inexperienced farmer?"

"Yes," Martha said, and she wrapped him in a hug. "The only part I regret is that… well, the money would have made it easier to adopt."

"Hey, we'll be fine," Jonathan said against her hair. "Martha, you know I don't care about the genetic end of things, so if we can't adopt, we can see about a donor father."

"I want your child," Martha said quietly, "or I want to adopt. No middle ground."

"Stubborn woman," Jonathan sighed.

"Very," Martha agreed. "The sterility sucks, but losing you to cancer before we even got married? That would have been unbearable, Jonathan Kent.

"Now, let's go look around our house, shall we?"

They did that, then started unloading the truck. They finished the unloading just before nine, and Jonathan grinned. "Always marry an athletic woman. We got it all in, no help. Great deal.

"Hey, shall we go to town and hope something's open, or just eat the leftover chicken?"

"The Colonel is fine with me," Martha said. "I want food, then a shower, then… then I want to make this our house, Jonathan Kent."

"That sounds like a plan," Jonathan agreed. "It's nice out— picnic on the porch?"

They ate chicken and coleslaw on the front porch, drank sodas from the cooler they'd kept in the cab of the truck, and relaxed after the long trip from Pennsylvania.

They'd just finished eating when a light suddenly appeared near the side of the barn closest to them, and they both heard a peculiar rumbling sound.

"What the hell…?" Jonathan said, standing up and taking a step that way.

"I don't know," Martha said, "but let's go look."

She started that way, and Jonathan followed with a muttered, "I don't even know where the heck the flashlight is, and she's just walking over there. Good grief."

He caught up with his wife halfway to the barn, and they both stopped a few feet from the light and looked at it. From where they stood, is looked like a simple disk of blue-white light, maybe two feet in diameter, but they could both hear sounds that made them think of collapsing buildings, earthquakes and other disasters from the direction of the light.

"Maybe… the other side?" Jonathan suggested.

"Good idea," Martha agreed, and they walked around to where they stood between the disk of light and the barn— and both stared with mouths open at what they saw.

From this side, the light appeared to be a narrow ring of blue-white— surrounding a portal to… somewhere else.

"My god, what's happening?" Martha said as she stared.

"I don't know, but I don't think it's anything good," Jonathan said.

They could see some sort of lab through the window, and a man and woman, both dressed very oddly, in some sort of one-piece outfits that combined coverall and robe, at a table some five or six feet away, bent over something that the Kents couldn't see. Out a window past them, the Kents could see a city, though very plainly no city on Earth— the towers and spires could never have been designed on Earth, and they could see vehicles that looked like they came out of Star Wars zipping here and there.

"Jonathan?" Martha said, her voice breathless.

"I don't know, sweetheart," Jonathan said. "But I don't think we can do anything to help them, that… hole, or warp, or whatever it is, isn't big enough for us to go through, or for them to come here."

Then the woman on the other side of the window picked up whatever it was that she and the man had been bent over, turned— and saw Jonathan and Martha standing there and staring.

The woman said something sharp in a language that neither of the Kents understood, and the man looked up, too. The expression on his face when he saw them could only be described as "pure relief." He straightened, picked up something from the bench, and joined the woman as she walked towards them, carrying whatever it was that she'd picked up from the bench.

"Oh, my god!" Martha said as she realized what the woman was carrying. "Jonathan, that's a baby!"

"I… yes," was all Jonathan could get out. "Yes, it is."

The man reached the hole just ahead of the woman, stuck the odd-looking instrument he had in his hand through the disk— the warp, obviously— let it hum for a few seconds, then pulled it back, looked at it, and nodded once, sharply. He spoke to the woman in a language that sounded like nothing Jonathan or Martha had ever heard before, and she replied. Together, they looked up at Jonathan and Martha.

The man pointed at the baby the woman held, then at the window behind them, where the Kents could see buildings toppling and burning. The man shook his head once, and frowned. Then he pointed at the baby the woman held, and at the Kents.

"You want… yes." Jonathan nodded and stepped forward, held out his arms towards the disk. "Yes. We'll take the baby. Then he pointed at the edges of the warp, and made a spreading motion. "You can come, too, just… make it bigger."

The man closed his eyes and shook his head. He said something, and though Jonathan understood not a word, he understood the tone of voice; sadness and regret.

"I don't think they can make it bigger," Martha whispered. "Oh, Jonathan, those poor people—"

"I know," Jonathan Kent said quietly. "I know, Martha."

The man bent over and kissed the baby, the woman did the same… and they stepped towards the warp together. The woman shifted her grip on the child and, being very careful not to touch the edges of the warp, passed the child through the hole in space. Jonathan took the crying baby, stepped back from the warp, and looked at the man and woman on the other side.

"We'll take care of him," Jonathan said, cradling the baby carefully. "I… you don't understand a word I'm saying, but I promise you, we'll take care of your child."

The man and the woman each made the same gesture, a sort of reaching-smoothing thing, and the man nodded again, then reached towards something outside the frame of the warp— and the hole in space closed instantly, as though it had never been.

If not for the crying baby in his arms, Jonathan Kent wouldn't have believed that it ever happened.

"Jonathan… let's get inside," Martha said, stepping closer to him. "It's a little cool out here."

Jonathan blinked, looked at his wife, and chuckled. " 'It's a little cool out here.' We just got handed a baby from another planet, or maybe dimension, and that's all you have to say?"

"It's too cool for the baby, Jonathan," Martha said patiently. "Come on. Inside."

They went inside, Jonathan carrying the baby, whose cries trailed off as they walked, and who was asleep by the time they actually got into the house.

"Set him on the couch," Martha said, and she went to kneel there. "We'll need to go to town— no, wait, Smallville, we're not shopping for baby things in a town called Smallville, everyone will know that we didn't already have them if we do that."

"Martha," Jonathan said slowly, "what are you thinking?"

"Why, I'm thinking that no one here knows us, Jonathan Kent," Martha said. "For pity's sake, you even bought this house through the mail.

"And if no one knows us, they can't very well know that we didn't just have a baby."

"Martha Kent, we don't even know if this baby can pass for human," Jonathan said, "and you're already planning on keeping him?"

"Yes," Martha said. "The parents looked perfectly human. And we can't have a child of our own, so… well, Jonathan think about it. It looks to me like George Bush is going to win the election in November. So you really want to turn a baby over to the government when that government is being run by a man who used to be head of the CIA?" While she talked, Martha had been unwrapping the blankets from around the baby, and now she took off the cloth diaper. "Oops. We're keeping her, Jonathan.

"She looks like a perfectly human little girl."

"A girl," Jonathan said, and he grinned rather suddenly. "Well… this is gonna be pretty difficult, Martha. We'll have to come up with a reason why we don't have a birth certificate for her."

"Or get one," Martha said, a mischievous gleam in her eye as she wrapped the diaper again. "I have some money, Jonathan, that I managed to get out before the parents went insane. And I have some jewelry we can sell if we need to. We'll need to go to Kansas City, probably, but I'm sure that, given the number of migrant workers around, we can find a person who forges things like birth certificates easily enough."

Jonathan shook his head— but his grin stayed on. "I didn't marry an athletic woman, I married a potential criminal."

"But only for good causes." Martha stood up, picked the baby up and said, "Let's go. Salina's only forty minutes drive, this time of night, and they'll have something that's open late enough for us to shop for the baby."

"Okay, I know when I'm beat," Jonathan said. He went ahead of Martha, opening doors for her and holding the baby while she climbed into the truck. After he'd gotten in and started the vehicle, he said, "So… what are we naming our little girl, Martha?"

"We're not following my family's tradition and naming her after my maternal grandmother," his wife replied immediately. "That's how I ended up with a name that's at least thirty years out-of-date."

"Fair enough," Jonathan agreed. "What about… well, I told you that my sister died when I was fifteen. How would you feel about naming the baby after her?"

"I think that's a good idea," Martha said. "And maybe your mom's name for a middle name? She's been nothing less than wonderful to me, your mom."

"Clarissa Lynn Kent," Jonathan said, tasting the name. "I like it. Thank you, Martha."

"You're welcome," his wife said. She looked at the baby in her arms, who was watching her with brilliant blue eyes. "Hello, Clarissa. Welcome home, sweetheart."

The Kents succeeded in their planned deception of their new neighbors and community. Martha did manage to find a forger who produced a birth certificate for Clarissa. They simply didn't mention the baby to Jonathan's family in Pennsylvania for the first year, then told them that they'd adopted the girl.

Clarissa seemed perfectly normal for a great many years, if extremely bright (which pleased both her parents no end). It wasn't until just after her thirteenth birthday (celebrated, unknown to her, on the day that she'd been given to her parents) that anything unusual happened.

Clarissa had gotten off of the school bus, grabbed the mail from the box across from the end of the quarter-mile lane, and stood there reading a late birthday card and note from her Grandma Kent. She'd started to cross the road while still reading— and not noticed the oncoming car until she heard a horn and a screech of brakes.

Clarissa instinctively jumped— and came down on the far side of the barn behind the house, more than a quarter mile from where she'd started. In addition, the impact of her landing startled her father, who was working on the combine back there.

"Clarissa, what the heck— honey, are you okay?" Jonathan said after he'd spun around to see his daughter, pale as a ghost, standing a few feet from him. "What the heck was that thump? I thought the combine had fallen off the jack, except it's not on a jack."

"Daddy, I… I jumped." Clarissa swallowed hard and tried to explain better. "I was out by the road and I wasn't paying enough attention, and… and there was a car, and I jumped, and I… landed here."

Jonathan stepped closer, and stared. Clarissa was standing at the center of a small divot in the ground, and after a moment, he realized that it was a small crater— from the impact of her landing.

"Oh, boy," Jonathan said. He stepped close and hugged his daughter. "Come on, sweetheart, let's go find your mom. Looks like it's time we had a talk."

An hour later, Clarissa sat staring at her parents— adoptive parents, she guessed— and said, "So… I'm an alien!?"

"You're our daughter," the Kents said together, and Jonathan added, "You just happen to be from… somewhere else, Clarissa. We don't know where, have no way of knowing, but… well, from the sounds we heard, the things we saw, and other things… I think that wherever it was… it probably isn't there anymore."

"My parents… the ones who… who gave me to you," Clarissa said slowly. "What did they look like? Do I look like them? I mean— my hair's black, you guys both have brown hair. Is it… from them?"

"One second," Martha said, and she got up from the kitchen table and disappeared upstairs. When she came back, she had a sketchbook. She sat down again and handed the book to Clarissa.

"What… you drew them?" Clarissa asked, looking hopeful.

"I did," Martha said. "Drawing was maybe the only hobby I ever had that my parents encouraged, and right now, I'm very grateful."

"I've been grateful since you started selling paintings," Jonathan said. "Got us through at least the first couple of years, your paintings."

Clarissa was looking at the big sketchpad in front of her, and slowly, she reached out and opened it.

On the very first page was a picture of the man and woman who'd given Clarissa to the Kents, caught at the end of that reaching-smoothing gesture that they'd made after passing her through the warp.

"I… look like them, a little, don't I?" Clarissa asked, her voice thick.

"A lot," Jonathan said. "Your birth-father's hair and eyes, your mother's features. You do look like them."

"I… think I'm glad." Clarissa looked up at her parents, her real parents, and said, "You… I hope you don't mind, but I'm glad I look like them."

"I don't mind at all," Martha said. "Jonathan?"

"Not a bit," he said. He leaned forward and caught Clarissa's gaze. "Honey, those people loved you enough to give you up to… to entrust your life to something about ten thousand steps beyond 'complete strangers.' That's a damned good reason to be glad that you look like them, if you ask your mother and me."

"Thank you," Clarissa sniffled. She turned the page and said, "You saw… the place?"

"A very little of it," Martha said. "Just out the window in the… I'm pretty sure it was a laboratory they were in. But it was… beautiful, Clarissa, and I drew as much as I could remember, so that… well, we intended to tell you someday, sweetheart, but we were going to wait until you were older. Adolescence is hard enough without adding something like this to it, we wanted to wait until you were sixteen, at least."

"I… I'm glad I know," Clarissa said. "I think… I don't know what I think. But I know that I'm glad you're my parents, and that you cared enough to… to be honest with me, and—"

The girl sobbed suddenly, and got up to hug both her parents while holding the picture of the people who had given her up to save her life against her chest.