AN: Well here it is – my final chapter. I have an epilogue finished up and will post that in a day or so just to add the final touch to the story. I'm thrilled beyond belief that so many of you have stuck with me through this nightmare of an angst fic and didn't flame me for giving them such a strained relationship. I was really very afraid that I'd become the black sheep of the Superman fandom!

If you have enjoyed this fic, please check out Being Jason White, which I wrote AFTER this story as a companion piece. It gives a more detailed history of the events I only hint at in this fic.

Thanks to the betas. Hellish – you rox. Htbthomas – how you find the time to beta read for EVERYONE in this fandom and write a fabo fic is beyond me.

I found this quote in a review for Superman Returns and nearly died laughing. I think it sums up why I was so drawn to write a story about Jason and his confused life.

"Jason White is the physiologically messed up child of a human being and a Kryptonian. He has asthma and apparently every other physical ailment that Bryan, Mike and Dan could find in the New England Journal of Medicine. He's very smart, but physically under par. Does that sound particularly "super" to you? Nope."

This chapter has been slightly altered since it's original posting.

Chapter Ten

"Mr. White," the security guard chimed as I entered the building.

"Hi, Frank. How are you?"

"Surprised to see you," he answered, making me pause on my way to the elevator. "Aren't you a week early?"

It was a confirmation of something I had known for a while now; the routine was getting old. "I thought I'd surprise him for once."

The old man nodded and returned to reading his newspaper. I pressed the button to call the elevator and waited impatiently, tapping my toes and fidgeting with my watch. I was nervous. Very nervous. I only hoped it didn't show too badly.

"Anything the matter?" Frank asked after a moment.

"No," I lied, not looking at him. "Why?"

"You look nervous."

So much for that. But then, Frank always seemed to notice things that the average person didn't. It made me wonder just how much he knew about a certain mild-mannered reporter living in the building.

"I'm fine," I assured him, just as the doors to the elevator opened, offering me some freedom from his insightful queries.

But my nervous energy only grew as I ascended to the third floor. I'd never been in this position before. I wasn't sure how to break the news to him…nor was I really certain how he would respond to it. We hadn't ever broached this topic before, which was odd in and of itself, considering all the things we had talked about. I knew why I had always avoided it, but it worried me as to why he had avoided it. I would find out sooner rather than later.

The doors opened again and I slowly approached the door to his apartment. I could hear the TV beyond the door, so I knew he was home without having to use any tricks of the trade. Taking a deep breath, I knocked lightly on the door.

The locked clicked a few seconds later and the door swung open. "Jason," he said with a smile. "What are you…um…?"

I smiled back at him. "I just…wanted to talk. Is that okay?"

"Yeah," he answered, looking a bit surprised. "Of course. Come on in."

I walked into the main living area, stuffing my hands in my pockets to keep from giving away my nervousness. He followed close behind, picking up a few random articles of clothes strewn about and stacking the paperwork tossed around the kitchen table into a neat little pile.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I wasn't expecting company."

I laughed at him. "I can clean our apartment in about twenty minutes and it's about twice the size of your place. I'm pretty sure it would take you…oh…five seconds to clean this place."

He shrugged. "Call me lazy."

"Sure, 'cause that's the first adjective that comes to mind when I think of you. Lazy," I joked.

"All right. All right," he sighed, signaling for me to have a seat. "Can I get you something to drink? Soda? Beer?"

"A beer is fine. Thanks." I wondered how long it would take me to get over the fact that he actually drank alcohol. I remembered the first time we met for lunch and I nearly choked when I found him with a Heineken in hand.

"Don't be so surprised," he had said. "It's not like I'm doing anything illegal. Besides, I'd have to drink an entire keg to even get remotely tipsy."

He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me alone to glance around the apartment. I took the liberty of switching off the TV, which suddenly made the apartment intensely quiet. My knee began to shake in anticipation of telling him my news while my eyes wandered unconsciously over to the pictures he had on the mantle. There was one of Kate and me on our wedding day; Kate had framed it specifically for him to make sure he knew she wanted him to display it.

A piece of paper next to the picture caught my eye, and I stood up to walk over and examine the item. To my surprise, it was the program from the contest I had participated in nearly three years ago. I flipped it open and read the short blurb I had been allowed to include:

Rachmaninoff's "Rhapsody on a Theme by Paganini" has been one of my mother's favorite pieces of music for a long time. It is for her that I chose this piece for my first selection. It's generally considered one of the most romantic pieces of music ever written. Therefore, I must admit that although I selected the piece for my mother, I will be thinking of my fiancée as I play it. My second selection is "Le Réveil des Oiseaux" by Messiaen, which is commonly referred to as one of his bird pieces. My dad is a pilot. I've always been somewhat jealous of my father's ability to fly, but I've never had the discipline to learn for myself. It is for my dad – my father – that I chose my second piece.

I hadn't won the competition, but my third place finish had opened more than enough doors to start a career. I knew that this program held a place of honor on the mantle, not because of the award I had achieved, but for the sentiment implied in that small spattering of words. Who would have ever guessed that Clark Kent was a sentimental guy? Yet here on his mantle for the entire world to see, should they care to look, was visible proof.

"Here you go," he said, announcing his return to the room and handing me a cold bottle.

I thanked him and took a drink, hoping the alcohol would soothe some of my tense nerves.

"So," he started, gulping down some of his own drink. "Did I…get the week wrong…or…?"

"No," I said, waving it off. "I just…had something I needed to talk to you about that couldn't wait, so I came by. I didn't think it'd be a problem."

"It's not a problem. I'm just…surprised."

I sat down on the arm of the sofa. "Well, maybe you shouldn't be. I mean…I was going to mention this when we met next week, but since I'm here…I guess I can get to it now."

He looked confused, but didn't say anything. That was usually his style. He would quietly wait for me to get though whatever ramble I needed to get through before he said anything.

"This whole meeting up once a month thing…" I sighed. "I'm not sure it's really…necessary…anymore."

The confusion on his face didn't go away, which was my cue that he needed more information.

"I mean, it was good for a while. I think it was really good to get me to talk even when I didn't want to talk, but now…I mean…do you really think we need to keep this up?"

His expression was rather blank as he said, "Whatever you want, Jason."

"Only if that's what you want," I added, opening the door for him to tell me what he was really thinking.

He pursed his lips. "I want…whatever makes you comfortable. I've really enjoyed our visits and I don't want them to stop, but if you would rather -"

"I'm not saying that I want them to stop. That's not what I'm saying at all."

He looked up at me in relief.

I went on with my explanation. "What I mean is that I think we're past the whole scheduled appointment thing." I shifted down to sit on the couch and placed my beer on the coffee table. "It worked for a while, and that was great, but I think we've moved past that and we should…you know…be natural about it. If we bump into each other some day, then we could talk for a while. If I want to come over some time, it shouldn't surprise you to see me here. If we see each other two or three times in one week, that's fine. If we go two or three months without anything but a phone call, big deal. You know, I don't know anyone my age that has a regular monthly appointment with a parent…unless they're in some kind of medical facility." I smiled up at him. "Last I checked, you were pretty healthy and your sanity wasn't in question."

He sat down on the chair opposite from me. "Well, I don't know about that. I'm sure loads of people think I'm a little crazy."

"True," I laughed. "Still, you get my point, right? I don't want you to see this as a step back, but as a step forward."

"You're right," he said with a head nod. "You're absolutely right. My door is always open. You should feel free to come over here whenever you want, and I need to stop acting so surprised by it."

"And vice versa. You should feel free to come by my apartment."

That stopped him and he raised his eyebrows at me. "Really?"

I rolled my eyes at the way his voice went up in pitch, proving that there really was a fine line between the real Clark Kent and the goofy man he pretended to be. "Yes, really," I confirmed. "Kate was just saying how weird it was that you've only been to our place once. And even that was just for a party and not very personal."

He swirled the liquid around in the beer bottle before placing it next to mine on the coffee table. "I didn't want…to…bother you."

"Bother me?"

"I didn't want to intrude…on your life," he rephrased.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "It wouldn't be an intrusion."

"I understand that, and I thank you for it. But a while ago, you might have felt differently. You might have considered it intruding. I didn't want to pressure you into doing anything more than what you were comfortable with. Whatever you were willing to give, I would gladly take, and I wouldn't ask for more."

"Well, maybe you should start asking for more," I stated.

His mouth opened and closed as if he had something to say but wasn't quite sure how to say it. A shake of his head told me that he wasn't going to say whatever it was that was on his mind. I hated that.

"What?" I pressed. "Come on. I thought we were past the whole walking on eggshells thing."

His eyes met mine, and I could see that he was torn between saying what he wanted to say and saying what he thought I wanted to hear. It was a look I had grown accustomed to in recent years. I held his gaze until he finally spoke.

"I've never been certain how far is too far with you. You suggested meeting up once a month to talk and catch up and I thought that was wonderful. Even though there were times when I thought of calling you or stopping by, I would always reconsider. I was afraid of crossing the boundaries – afraid that it would be too much and that I would inadvertently push you away again. So I stuck to the plan, only now you're saying I shouldn't have done that."

I could see how he was getting mixed signals. "No," I explained. "What you did was fine. I'm just saying that now…I think we can move on. Be more casual about things." He nodded, but I could tell that he still wasn't convinced. I'd been so adamant about him staying out of my life for so long that I couldn't really blame him for being confused now, even after all the progress we had made.

"Given everything that's happened over the last few months…" I let my words trail off, not wanting to remind him too much of the painful situation he was in regarding my mom. I wet my lips and leaned forward slightly. "You're my father," I stressed. "You have a right to talk to me whenever you need to talk to me. You're welcome in my home – in my life. That's what all these meetings have been about."

His mouth turned up in a small smile, but it looked to me as if he was trying to fight off a full-out grin.

"Besides," I smiled back at him. "If you start to get annoying and I want you to leave me alone, I won't hesitate to tell you."

He chuckled under his breath, his head dropping to look down at his lap. "I don't doubt it."

I suddenly remembered why exactly I had wanted to talk to him in the first place and was surprised at how sidetracked I'd gotten in the conversation. The feeling of anxiousness returned and I fiddled with my wedding band as a momentary distraction.

"But you know," I said, gathering up my courage, "this wasn't why I came over here tonight." I stopped long enough for him to look up at me. "I mean, it's been important to get this out…especially considering…"

"Considering?"

"I was supposed to make it clear to you that you're welcome to visit our apartment whenever you want because you'll probably want to visit our apartment a lot…soon." I was blubbering, which was a dead giveaway that I had big news.

"I will?" he asked, not quite understanding what I was getting at.

"At least, I think so. I mean…" I was nervously wringing my hands now, unable to look at him directly, about to say the words that I'd never, ever said before. "Most people like to drop by… a lot…to visit their…grandchildren."

I slowly looked up to find him gazing back at me with wide eyes. "Grandchildren?"

Then I realized what I had said. "Grandchild, I mean. There's only one. At least…I'm pretty sure there's only one."

"Jason?" he grinned at me.

"Kate's pregnant." There. I'd said it. It was out and I could stop panicking. Or start panicking…whichever the case may be.

He eased back in his chair, smiling madly at me with a slight chuckle. "Congratulations! What did um… what did your mother say?" His reason for hesitancy wasn't lost on me.

"We haven't told her yet. Mom and Dad are coming for dinner tomorrow night, so I'm sure it will be all over the office soon enough. I wanted you to hear it from me first, face-to-face, and not through the grapevine. We considered having you over for dinner as well, but then we thought…"

"No. You were right to do it this way. Lois…"

I knew what he wanted to say. He wasn't my mom's favorite person right now, and I knew how much that hurt him. Ever since he had told her the truth about his identity, she had wanted to keep her distance from him, which was difficult, considering how they worked together. He'd had a rough time of things – Mom had made sure of that. In fact, I'd never seen him so broken down as the day he told Mom the truth.

"She'll come around." It was a weak offering, but it was all I had.

"Maybe. We'll see." He didn't seem to believe me.

"Hey, if I can get over it and move on, then so can she," I offered as some sort of hope. "Just give her time."

He shook it off and smiled at me. "So, how long have you known?"

"Well, Kate's been suspicious for a few weeks now. She…ugh…" I rolled my eyes and laughed to myself about my wife's irrational behavior over the last ten days. "She bought a packet of pregnancy tests and insisted on taking all four of them over the course of three days just to be sure. And even though they were all positive, she didn't want me to say anything to anyone until she had medical proof. So she had the blood test done, and that came back positive, but she wanted to wait until her OB/GYN could see her before we said anything official. So this afternoon, we went to her doctor to have an ultrasound."

From my shirt pocket, I pulled out a fuzzy black and white picture of what looked like nothing and handed it over to him.

"What is this?" he asked, still grinning.

"Well, duh. That's a Mexican jumping bean. At least that's what I thought it looked like."

"Yeah?" he laughed.

"It's just that little…" There was no good term for it. "…blob thing there. That's the baby." I pointed it out. "On the ultrasound, it kind of pulses really fast, jumping around a bit. That's the heartbeat. But you can't see that in the picture."

He thought for a moment. "I'm sorry if this sounds odd, but couldn't you…see it?"

He meant with the X-ray vision. "I suppose I could, but I don't really know what I'm looking for. I don't have much experience with pregnant women. But I can hear the heartbeat," I offered.

"Yeah?" That made him smile again.

"I couldn't make it out at first because I didn't know what I was listening for. I couldn't distinguish it, you know. It doesn't sound like a normal human heartbeat."

His smile vanished all together. "What do you mean?"

I realized my word choice wasn't exactly the best. "I mean a fetus' heartbeat doesn't sound like an adult's heart beat. It's different. Faster."

"But the baby's okay?" he worried.

"Yeah. Everything looks fine," I assured him. "It's still early, but so far, so good." I should have stopped at everything looks fine, for he didn't look relieved. "I can't really tell the doctor to check for Kryptonian DNA, you know."

"I know," he sighed, looking back down at the ultrasound picture. "Is Kate doing well?

"She's great. She's ecstatic."

"Lois said that when she was pregnant…there were complications," he frowned.

"Well, that was just me being sick, as usual."

He gaped at me and I suddenly understood his question. How stupid could I be?

"Oh," I stammered. "She's fine. Really. She's fine. In fact, she's been really great about it. She says that since I'm half human, that the baby will be three quarters human, which she figures will give him the ability to clean his room really fast, but won't allow him to see through his girlfriend's clothes."

He smirked at me in disbelief.

"Her words, not mine," I added.

"Him?" he asked.

"Or her. We decided we couldn't call the baby it, so we went with him."

"But Kate…she feels fine?" he pressed.

"She's got the typical nausea and wooziness. Stuff like that. Nothing to be worried about. And the doctor said the baby looks fine." I hoped that would make him feel better. I hadn't considered that he would be so concerned about Kate's health.

"Well, if ever something should happen..." he said. "If ever you need – or she needs…"

"We know who to call," I finished. "Trust me, we've already talked about that. You're infinitely faster than an ambulance or a car."

There was a moment of quiet as we both sat and thought about the conversation. His eyes lingered on the odd little photograph before he handed it over to me. "Well, congratulations, Jason. I'm very happy for you." His eyes met mine briefly as he added, "You're going to make a wonderful father."

I took the picture from him and decided I should be completely honest with him. "I'm scared out of my mind."

He blinked in surprise. "Why?"

I shrugged. "I don't know much about babies. I love kids and all, but…I don't know. It's different when it's your own."

"Very different," he said softly.

"I just don't want to mess this up."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I felt badly for having said them. I could see that he felt guilty and pained by them, and that only made me feel guilty and pained for having said them.

"You won't mess it up, Jason. Not like I did."

"That isn't what I meant."

"Yes, it is," he said quickly. "And you're right. I did mess things up – with your mother and with you."

"Well, I can't vouch for Mom, but I wasn't exactly an angel of a son," I admitted. "I think our situation was a little unusual though." He looked at me and I changed my mind. "Okay, it was very unusual."

"It still doesn't excuse the fact that I didn't make it clear that I loved you from the beginning. If I could go back and change anything, that's what I would change." He shifted in his chair. "No, I take that back. If I could change anything, I would have never left, and then none of this would have happened."

"You don't know that," I said. "It might have made things worse."

"How so?" he questioned.

I'd done a lot of thinking about this in recent years, especially over the last few months since Mom knew the whole truth. But I'd never told him my thoughts on the issue. Mom said many times that it was his fault for leaving, but I didn't think that his staying would have solved anything. I was surprised that I had actually considered this, let alone that I was offering this to him after everything we'd been through.

"The way I understand it, Mom and Dad hooked up just after you left. There was a time when she really thought I was Richard's son. If you had stayed, Mom might not have…been interested in Richard. And then how confusing would that have made things for her when she figured out she was…pregnant with me?"

He frowned at me. "I wouldn't have left her on her own."

"I know that."

"Do you?"

I nodded. "But you still can't say that it would have made things better."

"That's true," he agreed. "But I do know that it would have made things better if I had been clear with you from the start."

"Now, I can agree with you on that."

"Promise me something, Jason," he insisted, leaning forward and looking me directly in the eyes. "Promise me that you won't let a day go by without telling this baby that you love him. Tell him every day, even the days that he's angry at you. And don't tell him because you expect him to say it back to you. Just tell him because it's the truth and he deserves to know."

I was quiet for a moment, taking in the weight of his words. "I promise."

He picked up his bottle and held it out to me. "So, here's to you," he toasted.

I clinked my bottle against his and we both took a drink, only to return to the contemplative silence between us. There was a deeper meaning behind his words that bothered me. It was something that had been bothering me for a while. There was something I needed to say to him that I hadn't ever been able to say. Even when he was wracked with guilt and heartache over some of the things Mom said to him that day she found out the truth – I hadn't been able to say the thing that I knew he needed to hear. I didn't want to say it then because it would sound flippant. But now I realized that by not telling him, I was making him just as miserable as I had been for all those years I had kept him out of my life.

"Dad," I said, purposefully using the term and drawing his immediate attention. "I love you," I muttered softly. "Just so you know."

He stared back at me for a moment. "Jason, you didn't have to-"

"Yes, I did."

"I didn't say what I said just so you would-"

"I know," I interrupted. "And I didn't say what I said because of what you said."

He chuckled at me.

"I just wanted you to know," I finished.

His eyes held on to mine intensely. "Thank you."

The quiet of the room was disturbed by the faint, distant sound of a siren. "What is that?" I asked, trying to listen more closely.

His head turned to the side as he listened. "It's a little girl. She's lost her mother and can't find her."

I picked up on the cries of the child, but that wasn't the sound that had distracted me. "No, that's not what I mean. The sirens."

He furrowed his brow, listening. "You can hear that?" He sounded impressed.

"Yeah. Why? How far away is it?"

"It's a car accident about fifteen or twenty miles away."

"It must be a big one if I can hear it."

"It is. A couple of semis went head to head."

"Hum," I mused, astonished that I had picked up on it so easily. "I'll tell you what. You take care of the accident, and I'll make sure the little girl finds her mom."

A smile tugged at his lips. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm too tired to take care of a car accident tonight," I teased.

"Ha ha," he mocked, standing up. "But really, you're all right with this?"

"Just go," I demanded with a smile. "Save some lives."

With a nod, he was out of the apartment in a flash. I quickly made my way back down to the lobby and out to where the little girl sat on a bench, crying. She was holding a stuffed bunny and playing with the ends of her long, red hair.

"Hey there," I said, kneeling down to her level. "What's the matter?"

"I can't find my mommy," she said through her tears. "I saw Superman, but he didn't stop to help me."

"Well, Superman's a really busy guy. But I'll tell you something. He heard you crying and asked me if I could try to help you find your mommy."

Her eyes went wide. "He did?"

"Yup. I know Superman pretty well."

"You do?" she seemed impressed.

"Yup. And he doesn't like it when little girls are lost. So will you let me help you?"

She nodded and wiped at her eyes.

"What's your name?"

"I'm not supposed to tell my name to strangers."

Oops. "Right. That's very right. You shouldn't. So let's see…where did you last see your mommy?"

She pointed down the street. "We were shopping."

"And does your mommy have pretty red hair like yours?"

She nodded. "But hers is short and curly."

I took the little girl's hand and headed down towards the shops she had indicated, looking into them as we went. Every now and then, I would stop and look through the shop to try to find the missing mother. On a whim, I focused on the shops across the street and found a rather frantic red-headed woman pleading with a sales clerk. I listened closely to pick up on their conversation.

"Please, she's only six. We were in here about an hour ago. Are you sure you didn't see her?"

"I'm sorry, Ma'am."

"If you do see her, will you tell her to stay put until I find her? Her name is Clara."

I looked down at the little girl. "Is your name Clara?"

She gaped at me. "Yes."

"I think I found your mother."

I led her across the street just as the woman was exiting the shop. She spotted us almost instantly. "Clara!"

"Mommy!"

The mother grabbed up the little girl in her arms and hugged her tightly. "Oh, God! I was so worried!"

"I waited for Superman," Clara told her mother, "but when he didn't come, this man said he would help me instead. He knows Superman."

"Oh he does, does he?" she said with a chuckle. "Well, thank you very much, Mister…?"

"White," I said. "And it was my pleasure."

"He said Superman sent him to help me!" Clara said enthusiastically.

The mother only laughed. "Then Mr. White will have to tell Superman thank you for us, won't he." She winked at me, thinking the whole thing was a joke.

"I will be sure to tell him," I promised. And I kept my word.