"My… Richard is a good man."

She lowered her head, as if breaking eye contact could strengthen her resolve to believe what she was saying.

"And you've been gone a long time."

The simple words hit him with a stunning velocity; the truth of it overwhelming—he had been gone a long time. She would never know how long, the aching stretch of five lightless years, because she would never ask. She wouldn't ask Superman beyond the facts for her story, and she had yet to speak more than five words to Clark since his return. He turned over the memories in his head, the snapshots of their time together, crystal clear but filtered through the solitude that now defined him. Had it always been this way? Wasn't she the only one who had wanted more from him than just his strength?

He remembered the soft curves of her underneath his hand, so fragile, their legs intertwined and the laughter in her eyes when he asked the questions of a teenage boy, afraid of hurting her, afraid of letting her down. The images of that night were worn down by repeated viewings.

And when she had whispered his name against his ear, breathless and desperate, for just that moment, he felt something like love bordering on heartbreak. Superman.

Here they were again, the fearless Ms. Lane and Superman. But Kal-El was no longer the same man who had left Earth, full of confidence and hope, and Lois was no longer the young reporter who could fly away with him at a moment's notice, the same woman who had offered him everything she had in that one word.

He had been gone a long time.

"I know," he said.

Clark chewed on his burrito, not tasting a thing, and watched Lois out of the side of his eyes. He could hear her pulse jumping against her wrist, see the pink flush of her skin in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the office.

"Tell the truth now," Richard said, knife and fork pausing in the midst of cutting up Jason's dinner. Jimmy promptly stuffed his mouth to the brim, sensing the tension in the room.

"Have you been smoking?"

She laughed a little, pulse slowing down, "No. No, I haven't."

Why can't you tell them the truth, Lois?

Richard nodded, dissatisfied but deciding to save his suspicions for another, "Well, good. We do have a boy to set an example for, after all. Here's your veggie wrap," he said, holding it out for her. She took it quickly, following Jimmy's example and downing half of it in one bite.

"So how're you settling back in, Clark?" Richard asked, sitting down next to Jason, arm around the back of his son's chair.

"What?" Clark said, jerking his head up from the sounds of Lois chewing, eyes wide.

"Is it strange to be back after so long, I mean. Five years—I can't imagine."

Three pairs of eyes watched him, waiting for an answer.

"Well… uhhh… I'm very happy to be back. With all of you."

"We're happy to have you back, too, Mr. Clark!" Jimmy said around a mouthful of half-chewed beef.

Clark smiled, "Well, thanks, Jimmy." He leaned his chin on his hand, looking down at the table, "I… learned a lot while I was gone. More than I ever thought I would."

"It's good to be back. But it's hard. It's not what I imagined. Of course I knew—I expected things to be different—but—"

Then he looked over at Lois, busy with her veggie wrap, and his tongue rolled itself into the back of his throat and refused to come out. "I—well, I didn't think—wasn't thinking—"

Richard interjected, "You didn't realize that you'd be the one who changed the most?"

Clark pulled up short, blinking. His tongue slowly resumed its normal position. "Well…yes!...that's it exactly. How did you know?"

"Been on a few long stints myself, I think I've been in your shoes before. None quite so long, but there's always an adjustment period, afterwards. You don't have to worry, we all understand, right guys?" Richard smiled.

Jimmy nodded enthusiastically even though he wasn't totally sure what they were talking about, "Sure do!"

Lois looked up from fiddling with her wrapping paper, torn into about forty stamp-size pieces. "What? I'm sorry, my mind was a million miles away. Were we talking about the blackout?"

The blue waters flooded over the window of the door in a cascade, sealing off the last meager hope they had of escape. Richard couldn't wrap his mind around the enormity of what was happening.

They were going to die.

His wife and his child were going to sink into the bottom of the ocean with him, there was no alternate ending, there was nothing he could do. He looked at Jason, wanted to tell him that everything would be okay, that they'd make it out of here. But from the look on Jason's face he already knew. Lois rested in his other arm, limp as a rag doll, unmoving since the door had knocked her with a sickened thwack on the head.

Richard's eyes were drawn inexorably back to the roiling depths, but in his mind he saw that afternoon in the hospital, after thirteen hours of exhausting labor and promises to never let another man touch her again, Lois gave birth to their Jason, a week and a half early. The happiest day of his life. Lois's hair plastered around her face, ragged with exhaustion, but when she saw her face lit up with something he'd never seen before; it was as brilliant as the sun breaking through the clouds, a ray of light so bright that it was temporarily blinding. He held his son as carefully as fine china, awed at how tiny he was, the perfection that was his ten fingers and toes, his mouth sucking at the air looking for his mother.

"He takes so much after you, Lois, it's incredible."

"I can't believe that such a beautiful little boy just put me through those thirteen hours of pure agony." She touched his nose.

Richard laughed. "Wait until he's a teen."

"Oh, God. Hopefully he won't learn to talk until he's twenty."

"Good luck. With your genes I bet he'll have picked up a pen by the time he's one and be interviewing his nanny by the time he's two."

She smiled, eyelids fluttering.

"You're exhausted, sweetie, let the nurses take him. You need some rest."

"But I never want to let him go."

He smiled, putting his hand over hers. "I think I know how you feel."

He pulled Jason closer, throat closing up at the memory, unable to reconcile that someone so recently come into the world could leave it so quickly. There's gotta be a way I can get us out. There has to be. He was still desperately running through the possibilities when he felt the ship begin to move, up and up until it broke the surface again, the pane of glass clear once more.

Oh my God.

All the gut-grabbing fear that had paralyzed him slowly drained away, leaving him weak; he hugged Jason close, kissing him on the cheek, "We're going to be okay, son, we're going to be okay," and the door flew off, barely time to register what was happening before Superman was leaning over him, holding out his arm, "Take my hand." Richard steadied himself, letting go of the railing, suppressing the panic as he sank, and then he was being lifted, held secure, "You have them?"

He tightened his grip around them both and nodded. The water released its hold on them, falling away quickly, and Superman put his arms around all three of them, gentle steel, and flew them back to the plane.

Thank God, thank God, thank God, thank God.

Back in the plane, he got Jason strapped in lifted Lois off the floor, seeing that she was breathing normally. Thank—the mantra in his head paused—no, not God. Thank him. He looked back at Superman, standing outside the plane; he had greeted the sight of him on the news with distaste and the shadow he cast over his life with Lois with anger. Now he could barely contain the strength of his relief, his gratitude.

"I don't know how to thank you." He said, knowing the feeble words didn't begin to scratch at the depths of what he wanted to say.

Superman just smiled his enigmatic smile, eyes kind, and inclining his head, "No need." His eyes moved to Lois, darting over her in mere seconds, "She'll be fine." Richard nodded, trusting his prognosis.

"I can't take off in this weather," he admitted, unwilling to put their lives at risk again for his pride's sake.

"I'll point you in the right direction."

As they flew out of the storm, turbulent to the point of nausea, a shard of a thought lodged in his mind, refusing to be dislodged, even under the torrent of adrenaline, fear, and worry.

I can see why she loves him.