Chapter 1- What Happened To Superman?
*Many Weeks Later*

Lois Lane's funeral was well attended. Anyone who was anyone in Metropolis- hell, the entire world- had a debt to pay or some 6th degree of seperation from the reporter and came to pay their respects. Everyone, it seemed, but Superman, who everyone who ever picked up the Daily Planet knew was aquainted with Lois more than anyone could count. Clark, poor Clark, was there the whole time, mourning silently the way an adoring husband should.

But that was weeks ago, and the Earth continued to move in its un-ending rotation, causing the sun and moon to rise and set, and calendar pages to rip away, one by one. It was all a blur to Clark, as his broad shoulders were often seen slumped over whichever artical he worked on, only stopping for the continuous cups of coffee, a cry for help, or the two or three hours of sleep a night. He had long since forgotten what time it was, let alone the day of the week or what month he currently merely exsisted in.

On this night, it was no different. If anything hurt the Man of Steel, Clark would now be in a back brace from his bad posture and hours of strain from the odd angle at which he'd been at his desk. He glimpsed at the clock on the bottom right corner of his computer screen when he heard the frantic cry, which was interupted by a cough. Mechanically, much in the same way he had done for these past weeks, Clark hurried from the building and changed in the phonebooth, bursting from it as he flew overhead. He could see the smoke before he knew that was where the scream was coming from. Something entered his mind: Vaguely, he remembered an artical he'd written about a serial arsonist that had set several fires. Now that he thought about it, this was the third fire that he'd rushed into just that week. Who knew how long these fires had been going on, how long he allowed himself to be numb and almost negligent in his duties as protector of Metropolis.

Clark flew into the burning building without really thinking twice about it, the air of his flight already taking care of some of the flames. He didn't feel the heat. He never did, but the smoke did affect his vision. He sucked in air and breathed out a mighty wind, which brew out more flames. He soon found the woman who had cried out, but he also saw a large-set man in a fireman suit. Clark couldn't see much more than that, as the man was covered from head to toe, but he could just make out the dark brown of the fireman's moustache and the fact that this man was young, twenty-four at the oldest. Superman saw that the floor beneath both the woman and the fireman was sinking, about to collapse, and he hurried to duck under them both and carried them out of the building, blowing out the flames on the way out.

Clark barely heard the murmurs and gasps as people admired him. He instead gently put the woman and the fireman down just as he began to hear the ambulance's sirens. He knew that they still had a long way yet to get to the scene. He looked back to the building and saw that the firefighters were doing their jobs well, and were handling the rest of the fire. He looked at the man in front of him, who had taken off his helment. Superman saw that he had brown hair, and a growing beard to go along with the moustache, but he otherwise had kind, though concerned eyes. "Is there anyone else inside?" Superman asked him.

"I thought I saw someone on my way in. He was tall with long, blonde curley hair. He looked like a surfer type who took a wrong turn to the beach or something. I don't know, I got a weird feeling about 'im though, because he was standing there at the bottom of the stairs just... frozen," the firefighter said. "I think he might be the arsonist that's been everywhere. I'm sorry."

"Do not apologise to me. You saved that woman. Let me take care of the arsonist, if there is no one else inside."

"No one else. That I know of."

"Then this is where we part."

The firefighter watched as Superman took to the sky, aching to be able to just fly wherever he liked. The cough of the woman brought him back to the task at hand, and he supported the woman as he got her towards the ambulances that were just rolling up. He helped hoist the woman onto the stretcher with an oxygen mask over her face. He stayed at her side for a while longer as he thought about his (now literal) hero. When he looked at and spoke to Superman, it was so much different than what he always imagined an encounter with him would be. Superman stood tall and faced the flames of the fire even though everyone knew they wouldn't hurt him. He wasn't as kind or caring as the fire fighter had always seen him be on TV, and there was a determination on TV that wasn't there in real life. He did save him and the woman, but it it felt almost like a busness transaction. He seemed indifferent, cold almost, and the firefighter knew that something was wrong with Superman. The firefighter could tell that whatever kept Superman fighting all these years was gone.

What happened to Superman to make him this way? Was it Lois Lane, the woman he saved countless times, who had passes away? Was he not at her funeral because he was too distraught to think of her gone? Did he love her, even though she married a fellow reporter?

The firefighter heard his name called by a fellow volunteer, and he looked to see that they were gathering up the firehose and getting ready to head back to the station. He was grateful that this time there had been no fatalities of this fire. In the last fire, two people had died, along with countless pets, and the firefighter took it very hard, as he was in the building at the time, and he had to get out before he, too, parished in it. He knew the risks of becoming a firefighter long before he ever volunteered and started doing the training. He was grateful that he had passed his exams, though barely, so that he could help people, because above all else, that was what he wanted to do with his life, to make a difference. The money didn't matter to him.

The fire fighter took a couple of steps towards the fire truck when he felt a hand grab his wrist. The woman on the stretcher grabbed her oxygen mask and began to wheeze. "Whooo... huhhhhhhh... Who-Who..."

"That was Superman who saved you," the firefighter replied. "Please, ma'am, you need to keep the mask on. You've inhaled a lot of smo-"

"No. You. Who... you?" the woman asked.

"Brandon. Brandon Jennings," the firefighter told her.

"Br-Brandon Jennings... Thank you..." She sucked in a lot of air, but it sounded fleshy and the firefighter winced. "...for saving me."

"You're welcome..." Brandon left the last part of the sentance open as an invitation for the woman to tell him her name.

"Agn- nes."

"Well Agnes, you're very welcome. Now please," he said, guiding her hand to put the oxygen mask back in place, "There you go."

Brandon heard his name shouted again and after he helped load Agnes into the ambulance, he went back to the fire truck, feeling the affects of a new adrenalin high.