Thursday, May 15

Clark ran into the Daily Planet conference room and slid into his seat next to Lois just as editor-in-chief, Perry White, entered the room. Clark had gotten home from Kansas less than an hour ago and found a message on his answering machine from Lois about this 7:00 a.m. staff meeting. He'd meant to call his parents again before coming to work, but had to move at super-speed to clean up, dress, and get to the office on time.

"Glad you could join us, Mr. Kent." Perry gave Clark a half-grin in recognition of his almost-tardiness. "Well, boys and girls, we have a full day ahead of us, which is why I called you in an hour early." Perry began to pass out the assignments. To Lois Lane; "The Prime Minister of Israel is giving an address to the General Assembly of the United Nations." To Clark Kent; "The First Lady is visiting several hospitals and then giving a speech here in Metropolis." To Anna Burns; "The Secretary of the Interior is expected to make a major policy statement at the conference of the Environmental Engineer's Society."

To Catherine Grant; the society columnist, "Roseanne Arnold is coming to town for a book signing. Even though I couldn't care less, the people would like to know if her divorce is on or off this week." To Allen Myerson; "There is a concert being given by the rap group, You're Better Than That, to benefit the innocent victims of gang shootings. I see good human interest coverage here, and a chance to say something positive about some of our young people. I want there to be a major emphasis on this."

Perry took a deep breath and looked directly at Jimmy Olson. "The World Gymnastics Championships start today in Oneonta. I hate to send you out alone, son, but you're going to have to get me some pictures and a story from there. Do you think you're up to it?"

Jimmy felt both pride and a little frustration at being asked this question. He knew he could handle the assignment, even if it was just sports. He only wished the Chief had more confidence in him. "Sure I can, Chief. I'll get you the best first day coverage you've ever had."

Looking at the eager young man, Perry saw a little of himself as he'd been thirty-plus years earlier. He knew Olson would make a good reporter someday, but he needed to learn the business from the ground up. Perhaps it was still too soon to be sending Olson out on his own, but Perry just didn't have any choice.

After passing out the rest of the assignments, Perry walked to the head of the table. "I have only one more item. Since we're stretched so thin today, all of you won't have immediate access to our photographers. With Johnson off on maternity leave, Krebs and Sevenson out sick, and Edwards and Bushell out in Los Angeles on vacation, we're really shorthanded. Let me know your schedules and what you need, and I'll try to have someone available for you." He scanned the faces around the room. "Is there anything else?" When no one spoke, Perry said, "That's all for now. Go to work people."

The sounds of chairs being moved, and people talking suddenly filled the room as the Daily Planet writing staff left to start their day. Lois paused for a moment to confront Clark. "Where were you last night?" she said forcefully. "When you left you said you were going to your apartment because you were tired."

"I did go home," Clark answered sheepishly, though honestly.

"After the Chief called me about this meeting, I tried calling you several times. Perry said he tried to reach you too. Finally, about midnight I gave up trying and left the message on the machine."

"Um, er…um…. When I got home I turned the ringer off on the phone so I could get some sleep without being disturbed. The adrenaline rush after hearing about the tornadoes and talking to Mom left me really exhausted."

"You know, Clark, it isn't very smart to shut the phone off like that." Lois raised both her hands in a gesture of exasperation and then let them fall to her sides. "What if there had been some kind of emergency and your parents needed to contact you? What if I'd needed you for something?"

Being unable to tell the truth about where he'd gone, and knowing he'd never win the argument, Clark tilted his head sideways and smiled down at his friend. "You're right, of course. I guess I just wasn't thinking."

Grabbing her coffee cup from the desk and starting towards the door, Lois turned back to give one final, parting shot. "You're right about that, Farmboy."

As he watched the young woman leave the room, Clark marveled at her drive and determination, but also the quiet vulnerability that made her so appealing to him. Though she tried to hide it, Lois needed someone. How he wished it was him. But right now, he needed to talk to the Chief about an idea that had come to him during the meeting.

#####

Scott awoke with a jerk, the distressing, but all too familiar feeling of disorientation gripping him for an instant before he remembered where he was. He got out of bed slowly so he wouldn't awaken his father, and walked to the window. As he opened the curtains a crack and gazed out onto the freshly washed landscape, a bright shaft of sunlight pierced the room. He saw the previous night's storm had left lots of debris scattered in the yard, but he couldn't see any major damage. Reflecting on some of the stories the Kents had told at dinner about how bad tornadoes can be Scott decided the farm had weathered the storm well.

Closing the curtain, Scott pulled on his pants, quietly left the room and went down the hall to the bathroom. As he stood in front of the mirror, he thought about his foster father, Kent Lockhart. Scott didn't often think of his former life, but the similarity in names with their hosts reminded him of another time and another place. The memories weren't all bad, but even with all the trouble he and his father had, Scott much preferred being with his real father.

Not wanting to disturb his sleeping father, when Scott finished in the bathroom, he went into the kitchen. There he found Martha sitting at the table looking thoughtfully into a cup of coffee. "Hello, Mrs. Kent."

"Good morning, Scott. It's kind of early for a young man to be out of bed, isn't it? Didn't you sleep well?"

Scott was a little surprised when he looked at the clock and saw it was only 6:15. "I slept fine. The bed was very comfortable." Scott pulled out a chair and joined her at the table. He tilted his head towards the bedroom. "Your son must be quite an athlete. He's got trophies and ribbons all over his room."

Martha smiled broadly, thinking of her son's school years. He always had to control himself, but because he so enjoyed being like the other boys, sports had been a great pleasure to him. "Clark seemed to be good at whatever sport he tried. He was usually above average, sometimes winning awards, but always willing to try anything. Do you go out for sports, Scott?"

Remembering his one experience with team sports on the San Leon track team, Scott became subdued. "I like track, but I don't have much of a chance to participate since we're on the road a lot and have to stay low profile." Scott paused for a moment, and said even more quietly, "I'm good at running."

The irony in that answer didn't escape Martha. "It must be hard for you and your father to never have a place to call home. Are you sure that government man—George Fox, wasn't it—really wants to capture you?"

With a look of conviction in his eyes, Scott said firmly, "Fox will stop at nothing to put my father and me in a cage. It's so unfair." His voice rose sharply. "We're not a threat to anyone. We're just…different." Scott's lower lip quivered ever so slightly. It wasn't often he could talk about his feelings with anyone except his father. But somehow, Scott knew he could trust this woman.

Martha looked into Scott's eyes, and saw Clark. The memories of raising a child with unusual talents came back to her in a flood. She quietly asked, "It isn't easy being different, is it?"

Scott blinked back tears and shook his head. "No." He paused for a brief instant, and then said in a rush, "But I didn't ask for this!"

Since she'd had a very similar conversation with her own son many years ago, Martha understood some of the problems and pressures on this child of two worlds. "Scott, don't think of yourself as a victim. No one gets to choose who they are. Just remember, you're special, unlike anyone else on this planet."

"My father tells me that," Scott said, as he stared out the window above the sink, "but it doesn't make it any easier." When he turned back to Martha, Scott saw a strange, almost all-knowing expression on her face. He felt completely at ease when he saw her look of encouragement, so shared some of his innermost thoughts. "Before Dad came back three years ago, I always felt different, but in ways I didn't understand. Now that I'm learning about myself, some of the strangeness I felt before is beginning to make sense, but I still don't understand it all."

"Maybe, you never will. But I think as long as your father is here to help you, you'll continue to grow and learn all kinds of things about your unique heritage." With a twinge of sadness, Martha thought of the mysteries still surrounding Clark. They knew he was from the planet Krypton, but very little else.

"Sometimes I'd rather not be so 'unique'. Maybe then I could have a normal life and not have to move around all the time."

Thinking of how lucky they'd been for so many years that no one had found out about Clark, Martha felt a little guilt at their good fortune. If there had been a 'Fox' around when we found Clark, our lives could have been very different. The government men who came after the spacecraft landed never dreamed its passenger was the cute baby boy in my arms. She put her hand on Scott's arm and gave it a light squeeze. "Clark, er…Scott, normal for you will never be the same as it is for other young men. You have to use the gifts you've been given in the best way you can. Use them for good. Use them to help people."

Scott knew she was right. He did feel a lot of pride and joy while working with his dad on learning to use the sphere. His developing skills of healing and empathy were often frightening, but the side of his genetics that came from his father was becoming more familiar every day. Placing his other hand on top of Martha's, he got an immediate confirmation of one of his abilities. She understood, completely, absolutely, without question what he was feeling.

"Mrs. Kent, I wish my foster parents had understood me like you do. I can tell you know what it's like to be different, and I don't know why, but I think you've had this talk before."

Somewhat taken aback at this turn of the conversation, Martha slowly pulled away from Scott so as not to alarm him. She had to remember this young man was not quite human and she really didn't know much about his abilities. He wasn't Clark. She laughed nervously. "Well, not exactly, but every mother has to encourage her children at some point in their lives. It's just part of being a parent." Martha pushed back from the table and said, "I think it's time to fix breakfast. It's almost seven and Jonathan will be in from doing the chores anytime now. Why don't you go get your father out of bed?"

#####

Jadesz Ryialdi finished writing a long letter to his fiancee back home and placed it in an envelope. He'd been on tour with the Greek gymnastics team for several months and was now in Oneonta, New York to compete in the World Championships. Even though she understood his commitment to gymnastics, the long separations were difficult and he missed her tremendously. Grabbing his wallet, he started to the gift shop to buy stamps.

With his future bride still in his thoughts, Jadesz didn't see the two Chinese girls and their coach coming around the corner until it was too late to avoid a collision and the four of them ended up sprawled on the floor. The two girls sat up, looked at the gangly young man and began to giggle. They pointed and chattered in Chinese.

Jadesz didn't know their language, so he tried English hoping this almost universal language would allow him to communicate. "I'm sorry I wasn't watching where I was going. May I help you?" After scrambling to his feet, he offered his hand to the girls.

The girl's coach wasn't amused by the mishap. Speaking sharply in Chinese, he said, "Get up, quickly! You've not traveled half-way around the world to be distracted by anything, least of all by a young man. Hurry!" He had reports to mail to the Committee back home, and he'd arranged extra practice time for his girls. He pushed them towards the hotel lobby.

Jadesz shook his head and walked slowly down the hall.

Arnold and Carol Keleani saw the accident and rushed up the hall to see if anyone was hurt. Before they got to the site of the mishap, the people had disentangled themselves and left. "Well, Carol, I guess that's one crisis I won't have to mediate. What do you say we get the stamps for these letters and then some breakfast before things start popping around here?"

This husband and wife team worked for the International Gymnastics Committee helping to arrange and run the events. In the past twenty years the sport and competitors had changed a lot, but the young people were still a pleasure to them. The only regret Carol and Arnold had was spending so much time away from their aging parents and their home in Hawaii.

Down the hall from this happy scene, one of those young people was not so cheerful. Sandy Porter wiped the tears from her eyes, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The phone call from her mother at 5 A.M. hadn't been a complete surprise, but it still came as a shock. However, now it was almost time for her practice session to begin and she had to pull herself together. As the reigning US champion on the balance beam, Sandy knew she had to perform for her country, for herself, but mostly for her little sister. Angie had lost her battle with the cancer this morning. Her final words to their mother had been, "Tell Sandy to win one for me."

Splashing some water on her face, Sandy grabbed the letters she'd written the previous night and headed to the gift shop to buy stamps.

#####

Scott entered the bedroom where his father lay sleeping. As he listened to his slow breathing, and watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest, he thought about this man he'd come to love so much in such a short time. Scott knew inside the human body of Paul Forrester was a being from the stars. Though at one time that thought had frightened him, now it comforted him. It gave him a reason for some of the differences he felt in himself.

Scott realized that in his natural state his father would not need sleep, but the human form did need rest. He'd expended a lot of energy last night while healing Jonathan and this sleep was recharging his batteries, so to speak. But now, even Scott thought he'd had enough. He grabbed his father's foot and shouted, "Hey, lazy bones wake up!"

When he felt the pull on his foot, Paul slowly opened his eyes and stretched his arms above his head. He yawned and said, "Hello, Scott. What time is it? The sun is already shining brightly."

"It's time for you to get out of bed. Everyone else is ready for breakfast." Pulling the covers off his father, he had to jump to miss being tackled as Paul leaped from the bed. "Arggggh. You sure can move in a hurry when you want."

"Of course, I'm an alien. I have these powers."

Father and son laughed together at their private joke. "Well, see if you can keep up that speed and get to the kitchen. I'm going to help Mrs. Kent." He grinned broadly as he left his father.

It didn't take Paul long to get ready and he came into the kitchen at about the same time as Jonathan. "I see you've already been out working," Paul said, as he watched his host wipe the mud off his shoes and take off his jacket. "We'd like to help to thank you for your hospitality."

Jonathan saw Scott helping his wife make pancakes, and looked into the sincere face of this man offering help on the farm, and marveled at the goodness in these strangers from afar. Maybe we need more such visitors, he thought. So many humans nowadays only want to take, and never want to help do anything. "Well, I tell you, after breakfast there will be plenty for all of us to do. That storm left all kinds of junk in the yard and the fields. There's even half of a mobile home out in the middle of the corn."

Paul tried to picture the sight. "Half of a mobile home? In the corn? How is that possible?"

Jonathan laughed. "A twister can do all kinds of strange things. We're just lucky we didn't get a direct hit or we'd have more than a little debris to clean up."

Coming into the dining area with a plate of eggs and bacon, Martha met her husband's eyes. "We're lucky in other ways, too." She turned to face Paul and said, "Even though I said this last night, it's worth repeating. I'll never forget what you did for us during the storm. As far as I'm concerned, you don't owe anything. You're our guests for as long as you want to stay."

Scott saw his father blushing as he came into the room with a plate of pancakes. "Well, my dad and I would still like to help. But right now, let's eat. I'm starved!"

The adults laughed at the enthusiasm of the teenager for food as they all sat at the table. Taking a big bite of his pancakes, Jonathan looked at his wife. "Hey, these are great. Did you do something different, honey?"

Martha turned to Scott. "Well, in a way, I guess I did. I let Scott make them."

"Where'd you learn to make these, son?" Jonathan asked.

Somewhat embarrassed, Scott looked down at his plate, then at Jonathan. "My grandmother Stella taught me."

"Is the recipe a secret?" Jonathan asked. "I'd sure like to have these again."

At a look of encouragement from his father, Scott said, "They're easy, really. Just flour, eggs, milk and shortening. But the special ingredient, that makes them so good, is the corn meal."

"Well, I think I can make those," Martha said. "Now, tell us more about this grandmother of yours."

#####

Knocking at the open door of his editor's office, Clark said, "Chief, can I see you for a minute?"

"What is it, Kent? Don't you like your assignment?"

"No, I mean yes, I mean, I'm not here about that. The assignment is fine. I want to talk to you about getting some additional help while we're short-handed."

Perry looked at the young man standing in front of his desk. He'd almost let this one get away when he'd first interviewed. What a mistake that would have been. Clark Kent had shown himself more than once to be a team player and a major asset to the Daily Planet. "Well, what is it, son? We're all busy today. Anything to take some of the load off will be a welcome idea."

"I know someone who's looking for a job and…"

Perry frowned. "Now, Kent, we're almost in a crisis. We don't have time to train someone."

"But, Mr. White, you wouldn't have to train him. He's worked for newspapers and magazines before." Clark remembered what his mother had said about their guest's extensive traveling and said, "I think he would be a valuable, temporary, addition to the staff while we're short-handed."

"Well, who is this miracle solution to all my problems?"

Clark took a deep breath. "Paul Forrester."

"Forrester! You're just funnin' with me, aren't you, son? I've met Paul Forrester and he's not one to take on something unless it's flashy and offers him a chance to make a name for himself. Besides, he's been very elusive for the last few years, ever since that helicopter crash out in the Pacific Northwest."

"No, Chief, I'm serious. I think Paul Forrester could help us out and I know where to find him." Clark folded his arms over his chest, waiting for a reply.

"Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to talk to him. I have heard he's changed a lot. At the last editor's convention I attended, I talked to some people who had worked with him recently, and all of them say he's a changed man. One guy even said he acted so different from before that it was like he'd been taken over by an alien."

Clark suppressed the urge to laugh. "Then it will be okay if I have him call you?"

"No."

Clark's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "But I thought…"

"I don't want a phone call. It will help things out if we can get Forrester on board, but I don't want empty promises. If the man is serious about working for the Planet, he'll come here. Have Forrester in this office as soon as possible."

"I'll get right on it, Mr. White." As he left his editor's office, Clark hoped the long distance phone lines to Smallville were back in service. Otherwise, he'd have to disappear for a while to talk to his parents.

#####

Scott shook his head. "That isn't possible, is it?"

Jonathan laughed. "It most certainly is. I've seen live chickens without any feathers, straws driven into trees like nails, even a brick wall punctured by a board."

"But how can a wind do that?"

The phone rang interrupting Jonathan's answer. "Excuse me a minute while I get that." He stepped to the counter and picked up the phone. "Hello."

Martha watched her husband's face to see if she could get an idea of who was calling so early. He showed little reaction to the call and didn't even say much except uh-huh several times. When he hung up the receiver and started back to the table she asked, "Who was it, honey?"

"It was Clark. He was in a hurry and couldn't talk long, but he had an offer for Paul." Jonathan looked directly at Paul and said, "Perry White, editor of the Daily Planet, will hire you, but you have to get to Metropolis as soon as possible. Are you interested?"

"Metropolis?" Paul questioned. "Where's that?"

"It's on the east coast, in New York," Martha explained. "I know you said you wanted to avoid large cities, so maybe the job won't appeal to you, but we asked Clark last night if there might be work for you at the Planet." She glanced at her husband. "We figured there was no harm in asking."

Paul thought for a moment, and then turned to his son. "What do you think, Scott? Do we want to stay in Kansas or try out this big city?"

Feeling Fox would find them no matter where they went, Scott didn't believe it really made any difference. He stared dejectedly at his plate and mumbled, "Metropolis sounds fine to me. We've never been there."

"That's right, Scott, so we've never looked for your mother there. Maybe we'll get lucky." Paul put his hand on Scott's shoulder, and their eyes met for a brief moment.

Scott didn't want to think about leaving the Kents so soon, even though he knew this was only another temporary stop. Pushing his father's hand off his shoulder Scott said, "I'll go pack."

A stab of pain hit Paul as he watched his son walk down the hall. Someday we'll have a home, Scott, he thought to himself. Someday we'll have a place like this, where you can belong.

When Scott disappeared from view, Paul turned to the Kents. "Tell your son I'll take the job. How do we get to Metropolis?"

#####

First in English, then in other languages, they announced: "Contestants, please leave the apparatus. Practice time is over. The competition will begin in thirty minutes."

Sandy Porter finished her dismount from the balance beam, and walked over to her coach. "I just can't seem to land the double back roll. I've got to have that move if I'm going to win."

Contemplating the young woman standing in front of him, Joe Mann thought about her exceptional skill and drive. For thirteen of her sixteen years, she'd committed herself almost exclusively to her sport. Joe knew about her sister's death and he was amazed how focused Sandy was at a time like this. "When you start into the roll, you're leaning too far to the left. I think you're just tired and need to get some rest. Why don't you go to your room now, get some sleep, and we'll work on it again this afternoon."

"Okay. Call me when it's time to come back." Sandy hugged her coach, then walked slowly from the arena and returned to her hotel room. She took a shower and got ready for bed but wasn't quite ready for sleep. She turned on the television and went channel surfing with the remote control.

After only a few minutes, Sandy started talking aloud to herself, "Gee, this stuff is terrible. How can people watch it? I always thought I was missing something by not having time to see television programs, but I think I was wrong." She stopped briefly on a car chase, a game show, a news broadcast, a talk show, and then a steamy love scene. She had just about decided to turn the set off and try to sleep when something different caught her eye.

The announcer was describing a square, white appliance that almost filled the screen. "…automatic bread and dough maker. It has a choice of six bread settings, a dough cycle and your choice of light, medium, or dark crust. This breadmaker comes with an instructional video and a 70 page recipe book. As an added bonus if you order today, we'll include three boxes of the E-Z Baker bread mix. All this can be yours for the low bargain price of $159.99 or four easy payments of $39.99 for credit card customers only. Call 1-800-555-5776 and ask for item number J121. For fastest service, have your credit card ready, or send check or money order to the address on your screen. Sorry, no COD's. This is LSN, the Luthor Shopping Network, bringing you twenty-four hours of home buying opportunities. Stay tuned. We'll be right back."

Intrigued, Sandy paused. She'd heard of shopping channels but hadn't ever seen one. As she waited for the commercials to finish, she thought about the breadmaker. Her mother liked to bake, but didn't often have time because of the pressures of raising two daughters alone. Sandy jumped from the bed, grabbed her billfold and pulled out the credit card her mother had given last year when she first started traveling alone to the gymnastic events. Waiting for the program to return so she could get the phone number, Sandy felt pleased with her decision.

Jadesz Ryialdi completed three final revolutions on the rings then nailed his dismount solidly. Feeling on top of the world, he ran to the sidelines, hugged his coach, his teammates, and a few strangers. Not caring who heard, he shouted at the top of his voice, "I'm going to win this competition! I'm going to be the world champion!"

The Greek team coach smiled at the enthusiasm of his young protégé and slapped him on the back. "I'm sure you will be, if you keep that consistency in your routine. Now, go get some rest and be back here in three hours. You're in the first group to compete."

Jadesz gave his coach one final hug and sprinted from the arena. He slowed to a walk as he approached the hotel and decided he didn't really want to be alone. He entered the brightly lit coffee shop and found it almost empty at mid-morning.

After the waitress brought him the pineapple juice he'd ordered and charged it to his room, Jadesz walked to the lounge at the far end of the restaurant. As his eyes partially adjusted to the darker room, he realized its sole lighting was coming from the large TV that completely covered one wall. The furnishings consisted of soft chairs, a few small tables, and a large overstuffed sofa.

Jadesz took a seat at one end of the sofa and began to watch the image on the television. A pretty young woman held up a large, sparkling ring as an unseen announcer intoned, "This diamond and ruby ring is set in an 18 carat gold band and is perfect for gift giving, or for treating yourself. At only $297.50 or four easy payments of $74.50 for credit card customers only, this is a real bargain. Call 1-800-555-5776 and ask for item number T443. For fastest…"

"That's quite a stone, isn't it?"

The unseen voice coming out of the dark startled Jadesz. He jumped, spilling the juice in his lap, on the sofa, and on the carpet. Looking towards the direction from which the voice had come, he dimly made out a dark-haired woman sitting near the other end of the sofa.

Carol Keleani grabbed some napkins and walked quickly to Jadesz. As she sat down beside him she said, "Oh, I'm sorry. It was thoughtless of me to speak when you didn't know I was even here." She handed him some of the napkins and they both worked at soaking up the spilled juice. "I'm sorry I startled you."

Embarrassed by the mess he'd made, Jadesz said, "That's okay. You didn't mean to do it. It's just so dark I didn't realize there was anyone else here."

"That's my fault," Carol laughed. "I like to watch television without lights, so I turned them all off. Since I was alone in here, I didn't think it would hurt. If you want them on, the switch is right there beside you."

"No, the dark is fine." He smiled at the black-haired, middle-aged woman. "But right now, I think I'll go find a place to wash off this pineapple juice. It doesn't do me much good in my lap."

"Oh, gee. That's another thing I must apologize for doing. It's a shame you didn't get to finish your drink. Let me buy you another one."

"That's not necessary. I really didn't need it anyway. I'll come back shortly. Will you be here?"

"Certainly! I've been in the lounge watching this shopping channel for about an hour. After seeing things on the big screen TV I don't want to go back to my room because everything looks so much better here."

As he stood, Jadesz again looked at the flickering image of the model who was now holding a camera. "Our next item is the Pentax IQ zoom 90-WR 35mm camera. This is a weather-resistant AF camera with 38-90 zoom range, a detachable infrared remote control, and a red eye reduction zoom flash. At only $219.97, or four easy payments of $54.99 for credit card customers only, it's a bargain you can't afford to pass up. Call 1-800-555-5776 and ask for item number C7640. For….

"I've got to have that," Jadesz said, as he kept his eyes on the screen. "It will be the perfect thing to take along on our honeymoon next month." He sat down again, completely forgetting the wet stickiness on his hands and his pants. He turned to face Carol, and was surprised to discover she was no longer beside him. With his vision now accustomed to the dark in the room, he soon located her on the phone at the other end of the sofa. As the announcer began his closing remarks, he heard Carol say, "…I want to order the diamond and ruby ring, item number T443 and also the camera, item C7640. My credit card number is…"

With a glance at the television, Jadesz left the lounge at a run and squinted in the bright light of the outer room. Apologizing as he almost knocked over a waitress, he headed straight for his room, retrieved his wallet from the wall safe, and rushed back to the lounge. He'd use his credit card to order the camera and also get the ring as a surprise for his fiancee.

#####

With the resiliency of youth, Scott put his earlier sadness about having to leave the Kents behind him, and immersed himself in the task of cleaning up the storm damage. He was picking up blown down limbs when he pointed at a tree and yelled, "Hey, Dad, look at this. Isn't it weird?"

Paul walked over to his son and examined the tree closely. It stood about thirty feet high and had a trunk about three feet across. "Yes, it is weird. Why would there be a room in the limbs of the tree?"

"Huh? Oh, you mean the tree-house. That's not weird."

"A tree-house? Do people live in trees?"

"No, Dad. Kids build them to play in. I had one in Seattle. This is what I'm talking about." Scott pointed to an almost symmetrical zigzag split that started at the top of the crotch and extended all the way to the ground.

Still unsure he understood about tree-houses, Paul looked at the trunk. "What do you suppose caused that?"

Scott shrugged. "I don't know; the tornado I guess."

Paul snapped several pictures of the tree, and then asked, "Could a wind storm really do that?"

Coming up behind his guests and standing between them, Jonathan put his hands on both their shoulders and laughed, "No, not this time. A twister can do some pretty strange things, but this tree was struck by lightning. See how it's scorched in the crotch?" As Paul and Scott nodded, Jonathan continued, "It's a miracle it didn't burn, but I suppose there was so much rain and hail, any fire that started was put out almost immediately."

Paul touched the tree and shook his head. "It seems there is always something new to learn. Last night you said tornadoes were the most violent storms known to man. After seeing this and all the things thrown around the yard, I can believe it."

"There are a lot of people in the world who will never see a tornado, but here in Kansas and a lot of the central part of the country they're common. However, most of the time they aren't as destructive as the ones we had yesterday."

Paul looked at his son. "I'm glad we got to experience it and that I've been able to take pictures of these strange things, but I don't think we want to see another one."

"Well, when you live here all your life, you learn to respect them, and stay out of their way. But this is home to a lot of people, and most wouldn't move away just because of the storms."

Jonathan dropped his hands from Paul's and Scott's shoulders. "I want to thank you guys for helping Martha and me clean up this mess. It would have taken us twice as long to get things done without the extra hands."

As the three of them walked across the yard, Paul pointed at the corn field. "Do you want me to move the mobile home out there?"

Knowing Clark would take care of it for him at his next visit, Jonathan said, "No, I don't think we can do anything with it. It's too heavy."

"I can move it," Paul said, pulling the sphere from his pocket and holding it up, "with this."

Jonathan looked from father to son, remembering again the special nature of these people. "Yes, I suppose you can. But really, it isn't necessary."

"Maybe so, but I'd like to help. Since we're the only ones out here for miles, no one will see me. Some of the little corn plants under it might survive if we move it off from them right away."

This man obviously doesn't know anything about farming, Jonathan thought to himself. "The corn is done for. That hail beat it into the ground."

"I can do something about that too," Paul stated with conviction.

Not quite understanding what Paul meant, Jonathan said, "Okay, go ahead. If you'll move the mobile home over to that empty field it will be out of the way and I'll get a truck in later to haul it to the dump."

Paul pulled the sphere from his pocket and connected with it. The only sounds were the hum of the sphere, and the creaking of the twisted metal as he directed the blue energy beam at the bottom of the mobile home and lifted it about a foot from the ground. He first turned, and then walked slowly forward, carrying his burden in front of him. When he reached the empty field, Paul gently lowered the useless pile of scrap metal.

Paul moved back across the yard and surrounded the damaged tree with the blue light from the sphere. With a few pops and cracks, the trunk was again whole.

Jonathan watched in amazement as Paul next directed the blue light from the sphere into the corn field. Row by row, he saw the little corn plants lift their heads upright into the sunlight. Shaking his head, he thought to himself, even my son couldn't have done anything to save that crop. This man has some amazing talents. Jonathan looked back and forth between the field and Paul's face. Finally, he said, "That was quite something you just did." He grinned broadly and said, "But I don't know how I'll ever explain to my neighbors why my corn didn't suffer any hail damage."

Martha walked up behind them just as Paul extinguished the sphere. "It seems I missed all the excitement."

"Not excitement, just some molecular and cellular regeneration." Paul grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. "Plants are a whole lot easier than animals, or people." All joined together sharing Paul's hearty laugh.

Martha finally caught her breath. "We sure do appreciate all the help you've given us, but now, it's time for you guys to get washed up. Your flight leaves from Wichita in just over three hours and that's eighty miles away. We have to get on the road if we're going to make it."

"Are we going to eat first?" Scott asked.

Remembering her own son's voracious appetite when he was a teenager, Martha put on a straight face and said, "No, we don't have time."

As the boy's face fell, the corners of her own mouth crept up. Unable to keep up the pretense any longer, Martha burst into laughter. "Don't worry, Scott, I've packed sandwiches and sodas for us to eat in the car along the way. We won't let you starve!"

Jonathan and Martha each put one of their arms across Scott's shoulders. Hugging him between them, they began walking toward the house. Paul followed along behind, smiling at these people who'd taken them in like family.

#####

Jimmy threw the room key on the dresser, dropped his bags behind the door and flopped onto his back on the bed. He still couldn't believe the Chief had sent him to cover a story. In the hours after the staff meeting he'd gotten his travel advance, packed some clothes, picked up a company car, and driven the 125 miles to Oneonta. Now, it was time to go to work, but he was tired.

He lifted his head slightly so he could see the television and saw the red numbers on the digital clock advance to 2:02 p.m. Slowly rolling onto his side, he let his legs fall off the edge of the bed, then rose to a sitting position. "Well, Olson, you wanted this chance. Now, get a move on. The competition started four hours ago and staying in the hotel room isn't getting any pictures or interviews." He grabbed his camera, tape recorder, and the room key and headed to the lobby.

After asking directions to the arena at the hotel desk, Jimmy went into the coffee shop. He knew if he was going to stay alert during the next three hours of events, he'd need coffee. While waiting for the waitress to return with his order, he looked at his surroundings. The only people in the place were in the lounge at the end of the room.

Paying for his coffee, Jimmy started to leave when a shout from the lounge caught his attention. With the curiosity of a reporter, he headed towards the back of the restaurant. When he entered the dark room, he saw about a dozen people of all nationalities and ages watching a home shopping channel on a large screen television. An argument between two men and three women drew his attention to the far side of the room.

"I was here first! It's mine!" yelled the dark-haired, middle-aged woman, clutching the phone to her chest.

"Yeah, that's right. You've been hogging it for hours. Why do you always have to be the first to place an order?" The short, thin, young man grabbed at the phone.

As the woman raised it above her head to keep it out of his reach, she lost it to a man standing behind her. "Got it!"

Jimmy watched the scuffle with increasing interest. Here were five adults—three of whom he could see were athletes because of their uniforms—fighting over a phone. He made his way past several others, some of whom were also on phones, until he reached the altercation. "Hold on there, people. What seems to be the problem?"

A slender young woman glared at Jimmy. "Go find your own phone."

"Whoa, there," Jimmy said, ducking as she tried to push him away. "I don't want the phone. I just want to know what's going on?" The woman had an accent, and wore a uniform with the Italian flag on the arm.

"She won't let anyone use this phone to order."

Jimmy and the woman were pushed to the floor as the argument became more physical. He grimaced as the coffee spilled in his lap and onto the floor. Jimmy shouted to be heard above the continuing din. "Order what?"

"The single micro-cassette answering machine with time/day stamp for only $69.97."

"Huh?"

"The single…"

"I heard you." Jimmy got up and helped the woman stand. "But why is that so important?"

"I…I don't know. It just is."

Jimmy saw complete bewilderment in the woman's face. He raised his hands then waded into the middle of the group. "People," he shouted, "people, can't we reach a compromise?"

"What?" yelled the young man who wore a costume with the Greek flag on the shoulder.

Still shouting, Jimmy asked, "Have any of you ever heard of a designated driver?" Five pairs of eyes turned to stare at him. Jimmy continued quickly in order to take advantage of the sudden quiet that followed such an unexpected question. "If all of you want this—whatever it is—why not designate one person to make the call and order for all of you?" Seeing the five of them looking at each other, he knew they were at least thinking about his suggestion. "Well?"

The middle-aged woman finally broke the silence. "That makes a lot of sense. I don't know why I didn't think of it. Okay, young man, since you came up with the idea, you can be the one to place the orders." She grabbed the phone from the Greek man and extended it towards Jimmy.

Jimmy raised both hands in front of him to refuse the phone. "No, not me, I've got to get to the arena. You guys work it out." He backed away from the group and threaded his way through several pairs of legs. He stopped at the door and listened to the television for a moment wondering what all these people saw there.

A gas grill was on the screen and the announcer was saying, "…and a 20 pound LP tank is included. Call 1-800-555-5776 and ask for item number G454. For fastest service, have your credit card ready, or send check or money order to the address on your screen. Sorry, no COD's." Shaking his head in disbelief, Jimmy turned and left the room as the announcer finished his pitch, "This is LSN, the Luthor Shopping Network…."

#####

George Fox stared at the newspapers covering his desk, shook his head, and then placed it in his hands. "How could I have been so blind?" he asked himself aloud. Picking up the top paper, he continued to berate himself, "Wylie was reading this on the plane coming back from Denver. The New York Daily Star is not a rag." He picked up the next few papers in the pile and read aloud, "'Mysterious Phenomena in Space' from the London Voice, 'C'Est Manifique' or 'It's Magnificent' from the Paris Bulletin, 'Superman to the Rescue' from the Daily Planet." Fox tossed the papers back onto his desk. "These are not tabloids, and neither is the Metropolis Star, the Washington Post, USA Today, nor any of the rest of these."

Fox realized that on more than one occasion during the last few months, Wylie had tried to show him these papers. Again shaking his head, he mumbled, "When Wylie told me they weren't related to Forrester, I wouldn't listen. I wouldn't even look at them." He punched the button on the intercom and yelled, "Wylie, get in here!"

Fox looked up when his assistant entered the office. "What do we know about this, Superman?" Sweeping his hand through the air above his desk, he continued, "Surely there is more information than what is here. When I asked you to bring me data, all you brought were these newspapers and magazines. Is there anything in official channels?"

Pleased he'd finally gotten his boss to pay attention to something he felt important, Wylie spoke with authority. "Since I first started following this story a few months ago, I've learned very little about Superman other than what is in the newspapers. The FBI has no existing operations concerning Superman. Most of the government agencies either ignore him, or work with him. They don't seem to think he's a threat."

"Nonsense! An alien presence is always a danger. I've known that for almost twenty years."

"Yes, I know, sir. I did find mention in one report that a group called Bureau 39 is investigating Superman. They've been collecting evidence on UFO's, and reports of aliens since the Project Blue Book team was dissolved in 1969."

"Bureau 39?" Fox questioned. He tilted his head sideways, "I don't think I've ever heard of them."

Wylie suppressed a smile as he realized he knew something his boss didn't. "It's a ghost agency. I had to look into almost thirty year-old records to even find a brief mention of the original formation of the group. They are top, top secret."

Fox pursed his lips and frowned. Steepling his hands under his nose, he stared down at the papers. He searched his memory for the meaning of ghost agency. 'A group that does not officially exist, but which continues to receive funds because someone very high in the government believes their work is important.'

Looking up, Fox asked, "I don't suppose there's any way for us to get information about this Superman from their files, is there?"

"No. I tried."

"Well, I guess that means we'll just have to go to Metropolis and find out what we can on our own. Go arrange for the flight."

As his assistant left the office, Fox contemplated his next move. He knew government was full of waste and duplication of effort, but he often wished that at least the groups involved with national security could share information. Talking to himself again, he said, "George, you've worked for the government long enough to know that will never happen. Everybody has to have their own little pet project to channel funds into their district."

Fox stood and stretched, then stared at the map on his wall that contained the pins marking the alien sightings. Picking up his coffee cup, he walked to the pot and poured the steaming black liquid. As he took a drink, his eyes fell on the photographs of the alien and his son pinned to the bottom of the map, then down onto the pictures of Superman on his desk. A terrible vision appeared in his mind and he gasped, almost dropping his coffee. "If these two aliens join forces, there will be even more danger than there is now. I've got to make sure that doesn't happen."

Fox walked back to his desk and punched the intercom button again, "Wylie, what's taking so long? We have to get to Metropolis, now!"

#####

Paul gripped the arms of his seat as the plane started its descent into Metropolis International Airport. He and the Kents had discussed various modes of transportation, but decided only flying would get Scott and him here quickly enough to satisfy Perry White. The five-hour flight had been uneventful, but Paul was relieved it would soon be over. During the hour layover in Chicago, Paul had tried to call Liz, but she hadn't been home.

Thinking back to the phone call he'd made right after breakfast this morning, Paul sighed. I'm glad I've been sending money to Liz whenever I can, since our life on the run makes it impossible to keep a normal bank account. At least this way we're not taking complete advantage of her by asking for favors. Even though I won't ever be able to repay her for all the help she gives us, at least I earned some of the money for the plane fare.

Paul looked out the window, and pictured Martha and Jonathan as he'd last seen them, waving good-bye at the airport. It hadn't taken Liz long to get them tickets from Wichita under the names of Sam and Joe Smith. Because he knew the Kents were keeping a big secret of some kind, Paul wanted to make it difficult for Fox to trace them back to the Kansas, if he should find them working in Metropolis with their son.

"Are you all right, Dad?" Scott grinned broadly while looking first at his father's white knuckles, then at his grim face.

"Yes." Paul tried a weak smile. "This is getting easier, but I still don't like this kind of flying." Just then a solid bump jarred the plane. "Wheels? Right?"

"Right, Dad." Scott gave his father a reassuring smile. "We'll be on the ground in a few minutes."

"Good. I still like my own flying better." The plane touched down with an almost imperceptible bounce and Paul finally relaxed.

As they taxied to the terminal, Scott asked, "What now?"

"We're supposed to meet Clark Kent. Martha left a message at the newspaper telling him we were arriving at 7:00 p.m. local time." Paul looked at his watch and said, "We're right on-time, so he should be here."

"Do you think we'll recognize him? We can't just go with the first stranger who asks for Paul Forrester."

Understanding his son's concerns, Paul answered, "Martha told me Clark has seen Paul Forrester, so he'll recognize me, and we saw enough pictures of him at the house so we shouldn't have any trouble knowing who he is."

Clark sat waiting at the gate for the arrival of the plane, watching a large group of people. Many carried "Welcome home" signs, and most were standing in male-female pairs. His instincts told him this was a group of parents waiting for their children to return from a tour of some kind. He decided to remain seated behind this group because they started getting boisterous when they saw the plane taxiing to the terminal.

Clark pulled down his glasses slightly and used his x-ray vision to look through the crowd at each passenger as they came down the ramp. When Paul Forrester stepped through the door, Clark saw him turn his head slowly from side to side, then focus directly on his position behind the surging mass of parents and children greeting each other with great abandon. It was the same thing he'd seen him do in Kansas outside the barn. Fascinated, Clark watched this man make his way straight through the crowd until he was standing directly in front of him.

Quickly getting to his feet, Clark extended his hand. "Hello, Mr. Forrester. I'm Clark Kent. Welcome to Metropolis and the Daily Planet."

Reaching out to take the offered hand, Paul said, "Please, call me Paul. It's good to see you again, Mr. Kent."

Taken aback, Clark stammered, "Uh-uh, what do you mean? We've never met."

Frowning, and still holding the man's hand, Paul said, "Yes, we have, last night in your parent's barn."

"How…? How…?"

Paul sensed Clark's uneasiness and released his hand, but continued to gaze directly into his eyes. "You just feel…different from the other people I've met on this planet. I felt it the first time last night, and I felt it again as soon as I walked off the plane."

"You can 'feel' people?"

"Well, it's hard to explain, but feel is the best word I've found to describe it. I…"

"Hey, Dad, do you think we really should be talking about this now?" Scott was looking around at the thinning crowd and knew they would soon be standing alone in an empty terminal.

"No, I suppose we shouldn't," Paul agreed, as he put his arm around his son's shoulders. Looking first at Scott, then Clark, Paul said, "Mr. Kent, this is my son, Scott."

Scott reached out to take the offered hand and felt a strange tingling. He hadn't understood everything that had just happened, but realized there was more to this man standing here than just a farm boy from Kansas. He'd have to ask his father about it later. "What do we do now?"

Clark recovered quickly from the shock of being identified as Superman and said, "Please, my name is Clark. My grandfather was Mr. Kent." He released Scott's hand, and looked at Paul. "You'll stay with me tonight." He raised one eyebrow and smiled. "My parents were right we have a lot to talk about."

#####

Perry White picked up the phone. "Hello."

"Chief, it's Jimmy."

Hearing panic in the young man's voice, Perry asked, "Olson! What's wrong? What time is it?"

Jimmy spoke in a rush. "It's 8:25. Sorry to call you at home, but something weird is going on here."

"Now, son, calm down. What do you mean, 'weird'?"

Taking a deep breath, Jimmy continued at a more normal pace. "I've been talking to coaches, athletes, and gymnastic association officials for the last six hours. People just aren't acting normal."

"Meaning what, exactly?"

"Well, the Greek men's coach became absolutely livid when his star performer on the rings didn't show up for his competition. The girls on the Chinese vault team missed their event because their coach never called them. Several athletes didn't show for late practice sessions. A security guard at the main gate, and an official who checks the athletes' credentials didn't report for work. Half of both the Italian and Swedish men's floor exercise teams never made it to the arena. The French women's coach…"

"All right son, I get the picture. It does sound like there are more people missing events than you would expect, but that doesn't mean there's something wrong."

"Chief, it's not just people not showing up at the arena that seems wrong. When I first got here I found a group of athletes and others in a heated argument over a phone."

Perry laughed. "People argue all the time. That doesn't make it weird."

Jimmy's voice rose with passion. "But, Chief, doesn't it seem a little strange for people who've come from all over the world for one purpose to suddenly be missing events and fighting over something as trivial as a phone? The International Gymnastics Committee issued a warning today to all participants of the dire consequences they face for missing events. It's the first time in the sixty-eight year history of the Association they've had to make such a statement."

Perry had to admit it did sound like there was more to this than just a few dissatisfied athletes. Realizing it took a lot of courage for Olson to call for help rather than trying to handle the situation alone, Perry felt proud of the young man. He was thinking of the story rather than trying to be a hot dog. He was willing to swallow his pride and ask for help when he figured he was in over his head. "I think you're right about that," the editor stated. "It does seem odd." Wanting to keep up Olson's confidence, rather than suggesting he send help, Perry asked, "Tell me what you need, son."

Jimmy thought for a moment, trying to decide how best to say what he was thinking, but finally just took the direct approach. "I think I could use some help."

"You've got it. Lois will be there tomorrow." Perry paused briefly, and then changed the subject. "Did you get anything we can use from today's events?"

"Yeah!" Jimmy said excitedly. He felt much more at ease with the crisis behind him. "I sent some film and taped interviews down by courier earlier today. Doris in copy said she'd get it ready for the morning edition."

"Good work, son. I'll be talking to you again soon."

"Good-bye, Chief. And thanks."

#####

"This is it. We're home." Clark turned the key in the lock and opened the door of his apartment. He stepped inside and motioned for Paul and Scott to follow. "Leave your things at the bottom of the landing and have a seat. I'm going to go change."

Scott was surprised to see their host back and sitting in the chair facing them before he and his father sat down on the couch. "Wow! That was quick."

Paul saw the alarm in Clark's face, as Clark realized Scott didn't know his secret. Meeting Clark's eyes, he said, "It's all right. My son will understand your need for privacy."

"Huh?" Scott glanced back and forth between his dad and this man he'd just met. "I'll what?"

Paul put his hand on Scott's arm. "You remember how accepted we felt at the Kent's, and how they didn't seem surprised by the special things they saw us do?"

Scott nodded.

"You remember telling me how Martha seemed to understand how you felt, and how she told you to use your special abilities to help people?"

"Yeah." Scott glanced at the Kent's son, and then returned his gaze to his father wondering why he was talking about this now.

"You remember the Kents saying they'd met a visitor many years ago, and how we talked about it seemed they were keeping some kind of secret?"

Scott nodded again.

Paul turned to face their host. "When we met Clark at the airport, I knew what their secret was."

"Huh?" Scott glanced at Clark, then back to his father. A frown wrinkled Scott's forehead as a look of bewilderment came over him. "What?"

Clark folded his hands, looked directly at Scott, and said, "Me." He paused, turned away just for a second, and then took a deep breath. "I'm Superman."

Opening and closing his mouth a few times, Scott finally managed to speak. "You're the guy in the newspaper…who can fly?"

Clark smiled at Scott and nodded.

"Wow! That means, you're…you're an alien too, like my dad." Scott hesitated a moment, then added in a whisper, "…like me."

"Yes. My parents, the Kents, found me in a spaceship in 1966 when I was a just a baby. We don't know much about Krypton, the planet I'm from, why I'm here, or why I'm different than everyone else."

Scott looked at his father. "My dad came back from his world three years ago to be with me. Before that, I was in a foster home because my mom had to give me up to keep the government from getting me." Pausing to take a deep breath, Scott continued, very quietly, "She's from Wisconsin. We're trying to find her."

"I first came to this planet about eighteen years ago as an ambassador from my people," Paul explained. "There was a…a misunderstanding about my intentions. I had to leave after only three days, but I gave Jenny, Scott's mother, a baby as a very special gift." Gazing tenderly at Scott, he said, "I returned when I received a signal of distress from my son. Now, Scott is helping me learn about life on Earth and I'm glad for that." He squeezed Scott's arm gently. "I teach him things, too."

"Then you came here by choice?" Clark asked.

"Yes, in response to the invitation sent in the Voyager probe launched by the United States. My people had been to Earth before, but chose not to make contact." He thought for a moment. "In hindsight, it wasn't time yet when I first came, but I've never regretted it. Meeting Jenny and learning about love made it all worthwhile."

"But you've lost her now. Isn't that hard?"

Paul paused. "Yes, but I haven't given up trying to find that happiness again. When a man can live with the woman he loves, and raise his children, he is truly blessed."

As he pictured Lois in his mind, Clark said, "Yes, that's very true." Suddenly remembering his mother telling him Paul was a mapmaker of the universe, Clark asked, "Do you know anything about Krypton?"

"Not by that name. Can you give me some coordinates, or do you know where it's located in the night sky?"

Realizing it would be impossible for Paul to tell him anything without some clue to start with, Clark whispered, "I don't have any idea."

Paul saw the disappointment in Clark's face. "People from my world have explored the universe for millennia. We have observed many types of life, and have seen the creation, and destruction of whole civilizations, planets, stars and even galaxies. Though I have no personal knowledge of your home-world, I'm sure somewhere in our records there's information about your people."

"Can you find out anything about Krypton?"

Paul thought for a moment. "Maybe, but since the only clue we have to work with is that you are of the same life-form as humans, the search could take a while."

"You also know how long Clark has been on Earth, Dad. Wouldn't that help too?"

"Yes, Scott, it might. Since something must have happened to cause Clark to be sent here, we could also search for unusual occurrences that took place about the time Clark was found, adjusted for travel time, of course." Paul gave Clark a reassuring smile. "Right now, I can't make contact with my people. Earth's sun is in a position that blocks my transmission. But as soon as possible, I'll send a message and we'll see what we can find out."

Clark let out a deep breath and said, "Thank you." After a few moments of awkward silence, he frowned slightly. "How is it you look like Paul Forrester? Did you take over his body?"

"Of course not! I'd never do that," Paul answered quickly. "But in order to survive here I had to have a human body. I cloned this one," sweeping his hand from his head to his feet, "from a drop of Forrester's blood."

"Cloning?" Clark asked. "I didn't think that was possible."

"For humans, maybe it isn't, yet. But my people have been doing symbiotic transformations for many years."

"So, are you Forrester?"

"Not really. He died on Mount Hawthorne. I only look like him. I have none of his memories, his knowledge, or his skills. I had to learn what it means to be human, and how to be Paul Forrester."

"So a clone is nothing more than a biological machine and you, the real you, give it meaning, a life, a personality?"

"Yes. That's a good way to describe it."

Scott slapped his father's leg playfully. "It's a good thing you don't have the guy's personality." Smiling first at his father, then at Clark, he said, "Forrester's past gets us in trouble all the time."

The three shared some nervous laughter. After a few moments of silence, Paul asked, "Why do you wear the costume when you help people?"

Clark put his hands together in front of him, with his fingers spread, and only the tips touching. "Superman keeps the people I love safe. If it became known who I am, there are those who would use anyone close to me, especially my parents, to get to me, to coerce me to do their bidding or to make me stop being Superman."

"Then why do it?" Scott asked.

Looking first at Scott, and then focusing directly on Paul, Clark responded, "I know your father understands. We can't turn it off. When someone is hurting or in trouble I have to help. We have to help."

Scott regretted asking the question. "Yeah, I knew that."

"But it's hard sometimes to keep Superman a secret. Lois, my partner and my…friend is always talking about how wonderful she thinks Superman is, then in the next sentence she'll put down Clark Kent. I just have to take it. I can't say anything."

Leaning forward, Paul put his hand on Clark's shoulder and felt the turmoil inside. "Keeping a secret, especially a huge secret like you and I do, is very difficult. It'll eat away at you if you let it. Focus on the positive and don't start resenting Superman. Continue to be a friend to Lois and maybe someday she'll see Clark Kent as you want her to."

As the peace and calm washed over him, Clark spoke quietly. "I know being Superman is the right thing to do, but I have feelings. I may be the Man of Steel and be invulnerable, but I just want Lois to like me, Clark Kent. Sometimes, I'm jealous of Superman and he…is…me." Suddenly embarrassed, Clark said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to unload on you guys, but being able to talk about Superman to someone other than my parents is unusual. It feels so good. I've lived my whole life with this secret, never being able to talk like this before."

"That's because you've never met anyone like you," Paul said quietly, "at least, something like you." He removed his hand from Clark's shoulder, and turned to his son. "We have only each other. Fox keeps us on the move, and we have no chance to form attachments. Cherish your family and friends, because they give meaning to life."

"You're right about that." Clark thought for a moment about how lucky he was to have parents who loved him, and to have grown up in a 'normal' environment. After a brief pause, his forehead creased in a slight frown and he asked, "Who's Fox?"

"George Fox is an agent with the Federal Security Agency who's trying to catch us," Paul answered.

"He's the guy who chased my mother until she had to leave me with strangers, just to keep me safe," Scott said angrily.

Seeing the rage in the young man's eyes, Clark spoke softly. "My dad has always warned me to be careful about revealing my abilities." He looked from Paul to Scott and said, "He's always worried about someone coming to take me away to, in his words, 'dissect me like a frog'."

Paul nodded in understanding. "He's right. We've been captured, and it's not pleasant."

As he saw an involuntary shiver grip Scott, Clark felt a cold chill go up his own spine. "There's a man from the government, Jason Trask, who thinks I'm a threat to humanity. I'm not really worried for myself, but I have to protect my parents and the others I care about. Clark Kent is keeping Superman's identity safe."

For several seconds, the three new friends sat in silence. Finally, Clark stood and said, "I guess it's about time for bed. One of you can have the couch, but I'm afraid the other will have to sleep on the floor."

Scott glanced at his father and said, "The floor will be fine for me. I've slept in worse places."