AN: This opening segment wasn't in my original plan, but I had a few comments about possible flash backs and considered how well this seemed to fit with the story. It also gave me a chance to show the main thing I love about this fandom – the difference between Clark and Superman. The last reason I thought it was important was for the joy of it. As one of my beta readers said, it's been a while since I've written anything really joyful, so this was a nice chance.

Speaking of beta readers, thanks go to Hellish Red Devil for reading over this monster not once, but twice, since I went back and changed a few things. Htbthomas sent me her corrections this morning, so this is slightly altered from it's original posting.

A word of warning, this is another mammoth chapter. I don't like to post such long chapters, but in this case, it had to be done. I've worked on the next chapter, and it looks to be the longest one yet, so I actually took a portion of Chapter Nine and spliced it into Chapter Eight to help balance out the size of each section.

And lastly, thanks to all of you who have been reading and reviewing. Thanks even if you haven't felt inspired to review. I honestly didn't think anyone would really like such an unhappy Superman story, but I've been overwhelmed with the wonderful feed back. I hope this chapter, as well as the next, makes the angst filled journey worth the wait.

Chapter Eight

I sat at the edge of the bay, my feet dangling over the dock so that my toes could just barely touch the water. It was midday, and normally Mom would be hovering over me to make sure I didn't fall in or touch some plant that might make me sick. But today was different. It was my birthday and she said she had a surprise for me, but that I had to go and sit outside until it was ready. I guessed that she was working on some kind of a cake that wouldn't have wheat or sugar. You know, the really gross kind that kids at school made fun of me for having to eat. I would eat it, and I would fake a smile like I usually did, but I wouldn't ask for seconds.

Some birthday.

I had asked for a trip to the zoo with my parents. I didn't see them very much since they worked all the time. I thought I was being pretty nice about it, really. Most kids asked for big parties that cost lots of money. Me – I just wanted a day with my family. Even if I did get to go to the zoo, it would only be mom and me. Dad was over in England for the week working on some story, so there would be no chance of seeing both of my parents today anyway.

I sighed and flicked the water with my toe, watching the little droplets send ripples out from the dock and away from me. I was bored, and that wasn't right. None of the kids at school had boring birthdays. Maybe mom would let me invite someone over and we could play games or watch a movie or something. That is, if I could find someone who didn't mind eating sugar-free candy and veggies as a birthday snack.

A gust of wind suddenly whipped around me. I brushed my bangs out of my eyes and gave the water another flick with my toe.

"Hello, Jason," a deep voice said from behind me.

I spun around, instantly recognizing the voice, to see if I was imagining things. I never quite believed it when he would come to visit. I always had to pinch myself to make sure I was awake and that he was really here. No one I knew ever saw him unless they were in trouble…or someone around them was in trouble. I seemed to be one of the only people who ever talked to him just because. And for some reason unknown to me, I was never supposed to tell anyone about it. Still, it always surprised me when he showed up. And today I was more surprised than ever.

"Superman!" I grinned, jumping up to meet him.

"How are you?" he said, taking a step closer to me.

"I'm good. It's my birthday today." I don't know why I told him that. As if Superman didn't have anything better to do than help me out of my boring birthday.

"I know. Your mom told me."

"She did?" I was stunned.

"Yes. That's why I'm here today."

"You came…for my birthday?" It didn't seem quite real.

"I would love to help you celebrate it."

"You would?" I gaped at him like an idiot, looking up into his face with the bright sunlight streaming behind him. Wow. He was so tall. "Well, I think mom's making a cake."

He chuckled. "That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean then?"

He knelt down so that we were almost eye-to-eye. "Well, I wondered if you might like to…go somewhere."

"Go where?"

"Anywhere you want to go."

I laughed, a huge smile coving my face. "Anywhere?"

"Anywhere."

I bit my bottom lip. "Would we fly?"

"Yes, but if that's too scary for you-"

"No! That would be great!" I said quickly, before he could start in being overprotective like my parents. And then I realized something. "I'd have to ask mom though." I highly doubted that she would let me go.

"Then you'd better ask me," my mother said, making me jump. I hadn't noticed that she'd even come outside.

"Mom!" I gasped, running to her side. "Superman said that he would take me anywhere I wanted to go today because it's my birthday."

She looked over my head to where he was kneeling, a smile on her face. "He did, huh?"

Superman smiled back at her in that odd way that he did whenever my mom was around.

"Yeah, so can I go? Please?" I would resort to begging if I had to.

"I don't know, Jason. Superman flies really high and really fast."

"Mom," I groaned. "He's Superman. He's not going to drop me. And even if he did drop me, he would catch me." I glanced over at him. "Right?"

Superman stood and walked over to my mom. "I would never hurt him, Lois."

They stared at each other. "I know," Mom sighed. "I just…"

"No one will see us." I didn't know why he felt like saying that to mom, but it seemed to calm her down a bit.

"Okay, okay, but I had better not hear any stories about freefalling," she warned.

Superman chuckled. "He'll be fine."

I suddenly realized that mom had agreed. My heart felt like it would explode in my chest. "You mean I can go? Really?"

"Yes," Mom said, smiling, then returning to overprotective mode. "But do everything he says. Don't wiggle too much. And if you start to feel cold or sick or-"

"Mom," I whined. "Please. Not in front of Superman."

"No, your mom's right," he said, placing his hand on my shoulder. "I know you're used to flying with your-" He stopped and looked up at mom. "Flying in a plane," he said, changing his words before looking back down at me. "But Jason, flying with me is very different. You could easily get motion sickness, and it could get cold, depending on how high we fly."

"Not too high," my mom warned.

"All right, I get it," I grumbled. "If I feel weird about anything, I'll say something. Now can we go?" I looked up at my mother, waiting expectantly. I noticed that Superman was waiting, too.

She tried to look mean, but her mouth soon smiled and she shook her head in defeat. "As if I could say no to two sets of blue eyes," she mumbled.

"Thanks, Mom!" I squealed, hugging her.

"Thank you, Lois," he said softly.

I looked up at my mom and Superman and watched as they exchanged odd smiles. Odd – really odd. And then he looked down at me.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes!" I cheered.

"Okay. May I pick you up?" His hands were reaching out to me.

I nodded, a tight knot suddenly filling up my stomach.

His hands lifted me up off the ground and he held me against his side, the way my dad always carried me when we were in a hurry and I was walking too slowly. I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding on tight, waiting for that moment when we would leave the ground. He gently patted my back with his free hand.

"Good?" he asked, smiling at me.

I nodded, feeling very excited.

And then we were in the air. I squealed and tightened my grip around his neck. He watched my face as I yelled out in excitement, whooping and cheering as higher and higher we flew. The land grew further and further away from our feet, until soon we were high above the clouds. The brightness of the sunlight made me squint at first, but then I noticed how beautiful everything looked.

"Wow!" I said slowly, glancing around at the clear, blue sky. "We're higher than the clouds! Do you come up here every day?"

Superman chuckled. "Yes. I like it up here."

"Me too! It's so bright!"

His eyes left me to look at the sun. "Does the sunlight hurt your eyes?"

I looked over at the sun as well, expecting to have to squint, but finding that my eyes were fine. In fact, I felt as if I couldn't look away from the sun. I didn't want to. "No," I answered truthfully.

"Do you feel the warmth?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," I nodded.

Superman drew my attention away from the sun and looked directly into my eyes. "The sun is strength, Jason. It is power. You must rely on it like you would a friend. If ever you feel weak or tired or hurt, stand in the brightest spot of sunlight you can find until you start to feel better."

"Sunlight can make me feel better?"

He nodded slowly. "It might not make you feel perfect, but it will make you feel better."

"Really?"

"I promise."

Something about the way he looked at me made me believe him. His eyes were so strong that I couldn't look away. Superman would never lie to me. He was my friend. If he said the sun would help me, then it had to be true.

"Now," he said, releasing my gaze. "Where do you want to go?"

I thought for a moment and couldn't decide. "Too many places to pick from."

He half smiled. "Then let's go everywhere."

"Everywhere? You can do that?"

He laughed again. "I think I can arrange it."

We flew back down under the clouds so that I could again see the ground below us. We flew over Metropolis, Chicago, New York, Gotham…all the big cities. Past the Golden Gate Bridge, Mount Rushmore, Wayne Tower, the Empire State Building. Over the Great Lakes, the Grand Canyon, the Rocky Mountains.

We left the United States behind us as he took me past the Eiffel Tower, the London Bridge, the Pyramids of Egypt, the Taj Mahal, the Great Wall of China. So many places I had seen pictures of in books. Places I had only read stories about. He would whisper the names of the landmarks in my ear as we flew past them. My eyes were as wide as saucers as I took it all in. There was just so much to see, so many places to explore. I wondered if I would ever see any of these places again.

And then, while we were over one of the oceans, I felt his hands grip me differently. I gasped and clung to him.

"Don't be afraid. I won't drop you."

I believed him.

"I just thought you might like to try something."

I didn't know what he might do, but I was more than willing to go for it. He grasped my waist, his large hands holding me with all the surety in the world, and lifted me away from his body. I was in front of him – or below him, really. The air whipped around me. My arms and legs were free, and I couldn't resist holding my arms out in front of me and pretending that I was flying all on my own. I yelled happily and stretched my body out as flat and as long as I could make it.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

Duh! "Faster!" was the only response I gave him.

We swooped up and around the clouds, looping around and heading back down to the water in a nosedive. We came up just in the nick of time, soaring up, up, up all the time, going faster and faster. It was nothing short of amazing. And I never wanted it to end.

But all too soon, I recognized the familiar skyline of Metropolis and we were floating back down to my front lawn. He shifted me back into his arms against his side, and I groaned in disappointment.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"I don't want to go back down."

"We've been gone a while. I don't want your mother to worry."

"I know. I just…I like it up here. With you."

He didn't smile, but his face softened into an expression I didn't quite understand. "I like being with you, too, Jason. I wish I could be with you more often."

That reminded me of something. "Do I have to keep this a secret?"

"Yes."

"I can't tell anyone what I did for my birthday? That's a real bummer, you know."

He looked sad. "Yes, I know. But it really is for the best."

"You said that about Mr. Clark, too. That it was better if I didn't tell anyone."

"No one can know who I am, Jason. It's too dangerous."

"Not even mom?"

"Not even your mother," he said softly, almost regretfully.

"But I know."

"Yes, and I trust you not to tell anyone."

I was confused. "Don't you trust my mom?"

He sighed. "I trust her implicitly, but it would only hurt her if she knew."

I disagreed. "I don't understand. You're her friend, both as Superman and as Mr. Clark. Wouldn't it be easier if she knew?"

"It seems that way, doesn't it." He said wistfully. "But Jason, you're going to have to trust me on this one. Please don't tell Lois just yet. Maybe someday, but not right now."

I thought about it for a moment. "Okay, I'll keep your secret, but only if you promise to take me flying again."

He chuckled. "Are you blackmailing me, Mr. White?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. Am I?"

He laughed full out this time. "How about we make it a birthday tradition?"

"Yeah?" I said in wonder as we neared the ground. "That would be great!"

He set me on my feet just as mom came darting out of the house. "Jason!" she called, wrapping her arms around me. "You've been gone forever! I was starting to wonder if you were ever coming back!"

"I would never take him away from you, Lois."

Mom looked up at Superman with another one of her odd expressions. "I wasn't – I didn't mean to sound as if I was accusing you of that. I was only worried that he might be getting hungry."

"I'm fine, mom," I assured her. "Superman says he'll come back and we can do it again on my next birthday!" I informed her excitedly.

Mom frowned. "I don't know about that. We'll have to see."

I groaned.

Mom ignored me. "Now say thank you and let Superman get back to the city. He's been very nice to take time out for you today, Jason."

I noticed that Superman's smile fell. "It wasn't an inconvenience, Lois. I was happy to spend some time with him." He rested one hand on my shoulder. "I hope you have a good birthday, Jason. I'll see you again soon."

And then he was gone.

It was the happiest memory I had of him. And that saddened me. Even though he had promised to take me flying again on other birthdays, it never happened. I flew with him for short distances here and there, but never like I had on my seventh birthday. When I turned eight, mom and dad rented out one of those party places for me and my friends to spend the day at. He came to my window that night to see me, but I was so very tired and worn out from the other fun I had had that day that we didn't go flying. On my ninth birthday, an earthquake in Southern California had him busy all day. Again, he came to my window, this time to apologize, but it was too late for much of a flight. My grandmother visited the next year, so I didn't even see him out of fear that grandma would ask too many questions.

By my eleventh birthday, I knew who he really was. I knew who I really was. Every birthday from then on seemed like a countdown to me – a countdown to a time when I could fly on my own. And then, when it had been made clear that would never happen, I didn't really want to go flying anymore.

I thought back over the way he had held me as a little boy and the things he had said about the sun. I compared it to what he said a few days ago as he held me out into the pure rays of light and forced me to accept the healing power the sun offered.

I thought about the odd glances I had witnessed over the years between him and my mother, and how I had lied—and still lied–for him . I thought about the lies I had told Kate, and the relief I felt now that I didn't have to hide from her anymore.

I thought about the way he smiled at me when I was little. The way he looked at me. The way I felt when he was near. I thought about how he respected Richard and never once said an unkind thing about the man I called my father.

That's when I noticed it. I ran back through my memories, searching. Had he ever called Richard my father? Had he ever referred to him by that title? I'd always been too focused on waiting for him to claim his position in my life to realize that he'd never really given Richard that position either. I couldn't think of one instance when I'd even heard him use the word father.

Yes, you have, Jason. My mind said to me. The son becomes the father. And the father becomes the son.

I couldn't dwell on those ancient words. They weren't the words I wanted to hear. Not really. I wondered if I would ever hear them.

I let my eyes travel up the outside of the old apartment building that stood at 344 Clinton Street. If ever I were to hear what I so very much wanted to hear, it would have to come from him honestly and freely. I didn't want to barge in and say, "Will you just admit that you're my father so I can move on with my life already?" I wanted him to say it without any prompting from me.

Behind me, the sun was setting. The crisp, evening air was cool. Overhead, the unmistakable flash of red and blue told me that he had just come home from whatever tragedy he had been alleviating. The window on the right side of the third floor came on and the figure of a man cast a shadow on the curtains.

It was now or never.

I stood up and walked into the foyer of the building. Security asked for my name, which I quickly gave, knowing very well that there were only two names on Clark Kent's list of allowed visitors, and mine was one of them. Did it matter that neither of those two people ever came to visit him?

It had been a long time since I'd been in his apartment. I didn't really want to go in there now, but I'd considered all the other options and thought this one would be the best. I didn't want him to know I was coming. I wanted the element of surprise on my side, and this was the last place he would ever expect to find me. Besides, I was infinitely more comfortable talking to him when he was dressed in normal clothing, when his family crest wasn't glaring at me in such bold colors.

I rode the elevator up to the third floor and stood outside of Apartment D. I looked at the door…past the door…to what was on the other side…to him. He was lounging on the couch in jeans and an old flannel shirt that looked as if it had seen better days, watching a football game like any other ordinary man would do after a long day of work. I always thought it was funny that he liked to watch sports. After all, he could outrun, out throw, and basically outplay any and every person on this planet. Yet he loved to watch the game anyway.

I lifted my hand…and hesitated.

Do it, Jason. It was Kate's voice in my head now. Tell him how you feel.

Still watching him through the door, I knocked three times.

He sat up, startled, and looked over his shoulder at the door. His hand instinctively went to the fake glasses sitting on the coffee table. And then he froze. The surprised look on his face made it clear that he could see me. "Jason," I heard him mutter. Just for his benefit, to let him know I could see him, too, I waved. Quickly, he switched off the TV and came to open the door.

"Hi," I said, my eyes not quite wanting to meet his.

"Hi." He was trying to sound casual, I could tell. "How's Kate?"

"She's good. She has to wear the cast for a month, but she'll be fine."

"And how are you?" he asked in an uncharacteristically unsteady voice.

I slipped my hands in my pockets and looked down at the floor. "That's kind of why I came over here. To talk." I slowly looked up to meet his eyes. "Can I come in?"

His eyes went wide in genuine amazement. "Yes. Of course." But there was a hint of worry in his voice, and his body language didn't emit the usual confidence that was normal for him.

I didn't blame him. I wasn't confident either. But I was here. And I couldn't turn back now.

I heard the door close behind me as I glanced around the apartment, taking in the subtle changes here and there. Clark Kent wasn't a fancy man. Still, there were changes. "You redecorated," I stated.

"Oh, yeah," he confirmed. "Just the couch. I got it last year. And the TV is new."

The walls were a soft, pale brown, a color I didn't remember. "You painted."

"Couple years ago, yes."

"How long did that take you? Ten minutes?"

He paused slightly. "A little longer than that."

The silence that grew between us then was very uncomfortable.

"Do you want something to drink?" I knew he was only asking out of the need to have something to do other than stare at me.

"Sure. Water is fine."

He left me alone to head into the kitchen. I took the opportunity to examine a few of the details of the room. There was very little art on the walls. Just a few random things that he had probably stuck up there so that if anyone were ever to come in they wouldn't realize how empty his life was. It reminded me of the way a model home was decorated – comfortable, but with nothing personal. The books that filled his bookcase were all well read, some classics, some not. The mantel over the fireplace held the only truly visible signs that that the person who lived here had any connections to the real world.

Pictures lined the shelf in an orderly row. Pictures of the farm he grew up on. Martha and Jonathan Kent smiling lovingly, their arms wrapped around him. I'd met Martha Kent once. I was about eight and she came to visit him at the Planet. She was very nice to me. Too bad she died before I knew that she was my grandmother. A picture of him getting a writing award at work was next. It was obvious why this picture had such a place of honor, for there standing next to him, and looking as happy as ever, was my mother. He'd chosen that particular picture not to show off the award, but for a plausible excuse to always have her image there next to him.

And then there was me. The first was a picture of my mom holding me soon after I was born. I had to be a few months old, because there were no wires or needles or any of the other unmistakable signs of how sick I was as an infant. The next picture was of my high school graduation. Just me standing alone, holding up my diploma with a huge grin plastered on my face. The last frame simply held a crayon scribbled drawing of Superman holding a little boy with the words, "I love you, Superman!" written in choppy, first grade handwriting next to it.

When he came back into the room, he didn't say anything. He just placed my glass down on the table and waited for me to turn around.

"Why do you still have this?" I asked, my voice very soft.

"I don't have very many things from you. There are actually five or six other drawings behind that one. I have the rest of them in a box in the bedroom."

"You kept all my drawings?" I said in wonder.

"Of course I did."

"Why? They're just stupid drawings."

"Not to me."

I turned to look at him then, taken aback by the sound of reverence in his voice. I had turned just in time to catch the small smile on his face before it fell and his eyes settled on me in that way that never failed to make me nervous. His eyes always seemed to see beyond me, which was entirely possible, of course, but it still made me anxious.

The time had come for me to explain what I was doing here. I took a deep breath, and prepared myself for the worst.

AN #2: PS - I will be out of town this weekend, so don't expect an update until I return Monday. Sorry. I know…it's a cliff hanger…but that's just the way the scene fell into place.