The last three and a half years had been fair to Pete Ross. Having moved to Wichita for his senior year with his mother, he found himself isolated. No father (the divorce had left his dad bitterly back in Smallville) and no brothers (all of whom had headed off to college years earlier). All his friends had been left back in Smallville too, and trying to break into a new school his senior year had not been easy – especially a upper-middle class school in his new upper-middle class – i.e. white - neighborhood. His skin color had never really been an issue back in Smallville, but here, it seemed all too apparent that the people in this school judged him at first glance on his race. So, Pete had been all too happy to grab his diploma as soon as possible and head off to the University of Colorado at Denver come the next September. College had treated him better; in a bigger city, people had been more accepting, and there had been far more to do in terms of social activities.

But, every now and then, Pete found his thoughts drifting back to the sleepy Kansas town where he had spent his first seventeen years.

He thought of Lana Lang, the most beautiful girl in school who had caught the attention of every guy within the same time zone as her and someone who had grown into a close friend as they years went by; he had broken down and cried for the first time since he was thirteen when he heard that she had died.

He thought of Chloe Sullivan, the perky, cute girl reporter with her bleached blond hair and soft skin – the girl he'd been in love with since eight grade, when she'd come to Smallville. Every once in a while, he wrote her a letter without a return address, letting her know that he was all right.

But most of all, he thought of his best friend, Clark. A guy who had stood by him through thick and thin, who had put his own life in danger more than once to help him. A man who had been as much of a brother to him as the two siblings who shared his DNA. A man who had told him a secret about himself, something so incredible Pete would never have believed it had he not seen it with his own eyes. A man who Pete had betrayed.

Oh, he knew Clark would have never seen it that way. Clark would have just nodded in his slightly doofy way and said, Pete, you gotta do whatever you think is best. I trust you. The one thing he knew Clark couldn't do, though, was understand. Clark Kent, superhuman powers or not, had never run away from anything in his life – especially his friends and family.

(Well, okay, Pete told himself, there was that one time when he ran off to Metropolis after sophomore year, but that was certainly understandable – he was under the influence of what amounted to a powerful drug. Besides, he believed he had been doing what he had to so as to protect his loved ones. Even when he was running away, he was doing the right thing, Pete grimly thought.)

But Pete had worried that he wasn't strong enough for his friend – that he would give away that secret one day, and that all Clark's world would come crashing down because of it, and it would all be Pete's fault. So he went with his mother off to Wichita, then to Colorado, with every intention of never seeing his friend again.

Oh, Clark had tried to contact him – he had left messages, sent letters to Pete's house all throughout senior year. Pete's mother had pleaded with her son to keep up with his old friend, but he resolutely refused; there was no way she could understand.

So now, in the second week of August of the year 2007, Pete had gone a little over three years and three months without seeing the man who he respected more than any other, the man who had changed his life in more ways than one. Pete had been at his mother's house since May, and had spent much of the time sitting inside flipping through television channels

So, when the doorbell rang, Pete never would have guessed who was standing on the door when he opened it.

"Hey, Pete," Clark said softly. "Long time no see."

Pete was frozen. For what seemed like an eternity, he just stared at his oldest friend, as if he was just a trick of the light that would go away if he stared long enough. Then, as if suddenly jump-stared into motion by a car battery, he wrapped his arms around Clark in a massive bear hug.

"So, how's life been treating you, man?" Clark asked as he surveyed Pete's living room: the bigscreen TV with attached Playstation 3, the four-piece leather sectional, the gunmetal Sony home theater system and the cherry coffee table all seemed such a contrast to the worn couch and cheap stereo in Clark's own living room. No doubt a product of the alimony, Clark thought before frowning inwardly. I wonder if Pete thinks that way too.

Pete ambled in carrying a can of Vanilla Coke in either hand, one of which he passed off to Clark. "It's been all right. I haven't been threatened by any homicidal maniacs in the last couple years; haven't been beaten up or shot at, either."

Clark smiled. "That makes one of us."

Thankfully in Clark's mind, this managed to eke a smile out of Pete. "How's the big hero's life been? You still fighting off meteor freaks and billionaires?"

Clark took a sip from his drink. "Actually, I moved onto Kryptonian villains and witches before heading on to organized crime and finally settling on dictators and fascist leaders." After he'd said it, Clark was amazed that he'd managed to get it out with a straight face. Replaying it over in his head, it sounded incredibly hokey.

Apparently Pete thought so too, as he burst out into chuckles after a moment. "Get outta town, Clark. Witches? Alien bad guys? Man, you've been watching too much TV if you thought I was gonna by that – even considering our lives."

Clark dropped his hand on Pete's shoulder. "Pete – we have a lot of catching up to do.

For about two hours, Clark went over just about every detail he could think of about the last couple years of his life. Pete, to his credit, took it all in stride – he'd seen his share of weird things during his tenure in Smallville, so most of it he was able to take in. But not quite everything.

"Okay, let me see if I've got this witch thing straight. Lana bought a spell book from the Internet that belonged to some ancient witch ancestor of hers," he said.

Clark nodded. "Countess Isobel Thoreau, or something, I was never quite sure."

"And she helped two of her old friends take over the bodies of Chloe and Chloe's cousin before attacking you in your loft, robbing you of your powers and stealing some Kryptonian artifact that you had hidden in the cave. But you managed to get your powers back and free them from the spell.

"Then, later on, you and Lana went to China to look for another of these artifacts but were captured by the Chinese and tortured, causing Lana's witch side to reappear and go Crouching Tiger on your ass all over an ancient temple.

"But finally, Lana was rid of the curse when she fulfilled the prophecy and killed her ex-boyfriend's mother, who as you said, bore a striking resemblance to Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman."

Clark matched the retelling against the version in his head, then decided they were close enough. "That's pretty much it."

The two stared off into the distance for a moment. Then, Pete turned to Clark.

"Chloe's cousin – was she hot?"

Clark laughted. Pete, you always manage to get down to the important stuff, don't you. "Yeah, she was. Tall, too – she had to be 5'8", minimum. Kind of bitchy, and spunky as anyone you've ever met. A little annoying, too. She tended to use up the shampoo and not yell anyone, which really pissed me off. I'd end up in the shower, all clean except for my hair, and I'd find out there's no shampoo."

Pete blinked hard and held up a finger. "Whoa whoa whoa, Clark. You were living with this girl?"

"Oh, didn't I mention that? She came and stayed with us for about four months after she got kicked out of college. It was the longest four months of my life – I couldn't use my powers around the farm without looking over my shoulder. She kicked me out of my own bedroom – I had to sleep on the goddamn couch!"

Pete looked incredulous. "So you're telling me that there was this babe living – living! – in your house with you, sleeping in your bed and staring at your stupid Jurassic Park posters and model cars, and basically always around. Please, Clark, tell me you tapped that."

Clark looked away sheepishly. "Well…not exactly."

Pete veritably exploded off the couch. "Jesus Christ, Clark! You spend four months with a hottie living under your roof, and you don't do anything! What is wrong with you? I mean, did you at least see her naked or something?"

"What, you mean like X-ray her in the bedroom?"

"Anything!"

Clark smiled devilishly. "Well, there was one time when I accidentally walked in on her when she was getting out of the shower…"

Pete grinned. "Now we're talking! So, how was she?"

Clark just whistled long and low with raised eyebrows.

Pete just shook his head, still smiling as he sat back down and reached for his soda – the third of the afternoon. "Man oh man, Clark. Man oh man. I still can't believe you didn't do anything."

Well, Clark allowed himself to think in the privacy of his own head, it wasn't like there weren't times when I wanted to. On more than one late night occasion, when there had been nobody downstairs but Clark and a box of Kleenex, Clark had managed to keep a careful ear trained for sounds from above while letting his imagination run as free as it pleased. He could feel her pressed against him in his mind, the tingle of her against his invulnerable skin as she rubbed her hand up his chest, the soft firmness of her breasts cradled in his hands… More than once, he'd found himself having to stop for a minute in order to quell the fire which seemed ready to burst from his eyes – something, strangely, it hadn't done for any of the other girls he had fantasized about before or since.

Why lie? It was the best I never had, he thought.

Indeed, he had to shake away a faint tingle in his pupils even now just remembering Lois Lane. Despite all her antagonizing of him, he still felt (on some level) attracted to her. Maybe he'd managed to push it away on some level because he didn't want to hurt Chloe by ever doing something to Lois. Maybe he was afraid that he'd let his passions get out of hand, and somebody would get hurt.

Or maybe she was just annoying.

Clark's eyes cast down to a picture sitting in a frame alongside the couch, which prompted a smile. He reached down and grabbed it.

"I've been looking for this picture for ages now," he said, his eyes never leaving the image.

"Yeah, it was really the best picture of us I had."

Clark still remembered the day the photo was from. Halloween dance, junior year. Clark and Pete had decided to actually put some thought into their outfits for the annual Costume Dance, and in a burst of originality, Pete had decided they should go "Miami Vice-style." Pete had managed to scrounge up his oldest brother's pink suit from prom years before to go as Tubbs, while Clark had convinced his mother to buy him a white jacket so he could look like Don Johnson. In the picture, the two of them were both wearing their "cop faces" (the most serious scowls they could muster at the moment) and trying to look as badass as possible – all the way down to their matching ten dollar aviator sunglasses.

Those were better days, Clark thought. Even with all the weird things that happened in our lives, we were still innocent then. Sixteen years old, and it was all fun and games.

"Life was better then, Pete," he said with a sigh.

To his surprise, Pete scoffed. "No it wasn't, Clark. It just looks better in the rear view mirror than out the side window. You don't remember all those nights you sat up in your loft, pining for Lana and staring out your telescope? Red kryptonite and mind control making you wonder if anybody was really the person they acted like? Hell, not one but two Luthors all but living next door? Sure, life seemed simpler back then. But it wasn't better. If there's anything these last couple years have taught me, it's that you can't spend the rest of your life staring over your shoulder at the past. You have to keep looking ahead if you want to keep moving forwards."

Clark looked at his friend, slightly amazed at his speech. "Wow."

Pete looked away. "Sorry. Was that too corny?"

"No, actually – it was just right. I didn't know you had that kind of thing in you, dude. You ever think about becoming a motivational speaker or something?"

"Actually, it's only been the last year or two I've been able to bust that. I started getting involved in student government at college first year, and you know what?"

"What?"

"I really like it. Thinking there might be a career in it."

Clark raised his eyebrows. "I don't there's much career in student government past senior year, buddy."

"Very funny, Clark. If you weren't invulnerable, I'd hit you."

"Seriously, though – government? That'd be cool."

"Yeah, it would. It'd be a chance for me to actually be able to help people like you do, Clark. I mean, I may not be able to smash up African dictators' palaces, but I could be one of the guys who orders the sanctions. What about you?"

Clark sat back in the couch. "Well, I'd much rather have something nonviolent like sanctions rather than a military takeover of some country. Too much violence that way."

"That's not what I meant. What do you think you might want to do?"

Clark sighed. "That's something I've been thinking about a lot lately. I've thought about it, and I decided I'm going public – well, not me, technically. More like…another side of me."

Pete stared at his friend. "You mean, like a new identity?"

"More like a dual one. You know, have one side who can fly around and save people, while Clark Kent gets to live a normal life. My mom even made up an outfit for me to wear when I'm being super."

Pete smiled. " 'Being super' – I like that. Have you thought about what you want to call yourself?"

It was Clark's turn to smile. "Yeah, I have."

"Superman."

Pete weighed the name in his head for a minute. "Not bad. It certainly fits," he added.

"Yeah, but do you think it's too ostentatious?"

"For anybody else? Probably. For you? No way," Pete said, before noticing the look that came over his friend's face. The one thing Clark always hated was anyone insinuating that he was better than anybody else. "Sorry, man," Pete backpedaled. "That didn't come out right."

"I understand, Pete." Clark's head hung down for a second. "I know what you meant. It's just…tough, being different sometimes, y'know?"

Pete clapped his hand on Clark's shoulder, causing his friend to turn and look at him.

"Yes, Clark. I do."

"I also know that you have stronger morals and convictions than anyone I've ever met. Powers or no powers, I bet you'd fight off half the world just to pull a little kid out of traffic. You have always been a great man, Clark, and it's not your superpowers that make it so. It's your soul that makes you extraordinary. That's what's different about you, more than anything else – the man inside the Superman. And that's something you should never be ashamed of."

Clark looked over at his friend, who he'd never known to be capable of such profound statements. He really has changed.

"I'm not going to become Superman just yet, Pete. I don't think I'm ready for the responsibility. I know that sounds like I'm chickening out, but…I don't want to get into something more than I'm ready for at this point in my life."

Pete nodded. "You gotta do what you think is right."

Clark smiled wryly. "You know, you would make one helluva politician."

Pete clapped his friend on the back. "All in good time, my man. All in good time."

Clark stood to leave, and Pete gave him a hug. "It was good to see you again, man. I'll try not to be so distant this time around."

Clark nodded. "And I'll be sure to tell all my friends to vote for Pete Ross for President."

Pete snorted at that one. "Yeah, sure. Right around the time I marry Chloe."

Clark gave him one last smile. "You never know what's coming around the bend, pal."

Then, with a wink and a nod, Clark was gone.