A/N: Hi people! The idea for this story came to me yesterday, and it was so intriguing that I couldn't resist. I am still posting my Batman fic, (just so my five readers know), but you all know how quickly two little plot bunnies can become ten. This can be taken either as a one-shot or the beginning of a bigger story arc. Depending on the number of reviews I get, I'll either continue or leave it as is (say five- I've never gotten five reviews for a single chapter before).

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that's related to Superman, except for the ticket stub from the movie, and his brief appearance in Hush- which is an awesome comic by the way. Jeph Loeb is a god.

An Accident of Fate

Richard glanced over at his sleeping wife. The lines of worry that creased her face during the day had been smoothed over, and she breathed steadily. He couldn't sleep, and was happy to watch her. Her forehead crinkled, so he reached for her, and she mumbled softly, "Su… no, no." His throat caught. He knew what she had begun to say. He pulled his hand back and quietly crept out of the room. As he walked down the hall, he could see her face on the plane. The worry, the fear. And she'd been so tender when she'd pulled the kryptonite out of Superman's side. And now, when she spoke of him, her eyes would go misty and she'd get a faraway look on her face. His heart ached fiercely, but how could he compete with the Man of Steel? He was only Richard White, licensed pilot, journalist for the Daily Planet, husband of Lois Lane. He could never be Superman. As hard as he tried, he was not his wife's first love. And it hurt.

He paused by his son's room. Jason was sleeping as easily as his mother had been. But unlike his mother, no unwelcome utterances came out of his mouth. Richard stood there for a long time. When he finally had the urge to move, he realized that he did not want to return to bed. Sighing, he walked downstairs and slipped out the sliding glass door quietly. A cold breeze ruffled his hair and picked at his shirt as he closed the door. The grass was wet with dew, and by the time he'd made it down to the dock, the hems of his pants were soaked and cold. Goosebumps prickled up his arms, but he ignored them. Winter was coming, and soon there would be snow on the ground. He breathed in deeply, letting the cold air coat his throat, and looked out at Metropolis. Even at this hour, the city was lit up like day. Metropolis was unusual. It was bright, clean, and colorful. He smiled sadly- the city was much like its savior in that respect. It brought him back to his time in Gotham. He'd been one of the reporters who'd covered the emergence of Batman. That city was like its hero as well- shadowy and frightening. A Dark Knight for a dark city. A White Knight (or Blue-suited Boy scout) for a light one.

He shifted his gaze to the night sky. The stars twinkled feebly in competition with the lights of the city, and the waning crescent of the moon was near invisible. A bright light flashed across the sky, and he wondered what would happen if he made a wish. Half-remembered images of his childhood, asking the night sky for a dream girl, came to mind. He'd gotten the dream girl, had been with her for five years, and realized after all that time that she still loved another man. Hell, wishes had worked before, why shouldn't they work now? So he closed his eyes and whispered to the wind, "I wish I were Superman."

The wind picked up and began to blow fiercely. He opened his eyes as leaves danced across the ground, and looked down at his hands. He still felt the same. He touched his face, feeling the stubble growing there. No, he was still Richard White. He was still standing on the dock behind his house, and he was still exhausted from the last few weeks. He turned and walked back inside, telling himself that it had just been a joke, that he hadn't really meant that he wanted to be Superman. But even as he thought it, he knew it was a lie. He wanted, desperately, to be the man that his wife loved. Even if it meant being another man.

The sun was rising over Mt. Fuji, tinting the clouds a pale salmon pink. The sky behind the mountain was shifting from deep blue to a near white. Superman hung suspended above the mountain, staring at the scene in silence. Residual pain from the wound in his side had kept him from sleeping lately, and a good sunrise was just what he needed. A small smile touched his lips as he admired its beauty. After the sky had lightened considerably, he spiraled upwards and out over the Pacific. The jumble of a hundred languages died as he hit the stratosphere. He could see the Polynesian islands below, then they sank behind the horizon as he flew back into the western hemisphere. Then he passed into the night. Cities lit with an inner brilliance disappeared behind him. He kept his ears open for anyone that might need his assistance, and of course ended up stopping over Gotham.

A scream echoed out of an alleyway, and he dove, knowing full well that there was another who would hear the cry. He could hear the engine behind him as he landed on a roof, watched with interest as Batman took out five men attacking a young woman and a little girl. Gotham was protected and watched, but it was still crime-ridden. The Bat had his hands full, but he insisted on independence from his counterpart. Superman shot into the sky again only after the men were all sprawled apart in the alley. As Batman led the girls through the alley to safety, he glanced up in time see a blue and red figure disappear towards Metropolis. Then the little girl whispered "Thank you," and took her sister's hand, and he vanished into the shadows.

As Superman hovered above his city, not a breath of air stirred his hair, no wind ruffled his cape. He scanned the buildings and the side streets of downtown, and then turned to the suburbs. He stopped when he saw a movement outside of Lois's house. Heart in his throat, he sped towards the house. He relaxed, however, when he saw that it was just Richard, looking out at Metropolis. He was cold, if the goosebumps on his arms were any indication, but he wasn't moving. As Richard White watched Metropolis, Superman watched him. It seemed that both of the men in Lois Lane's life were restless tonight.

When Richard turned his gaze to the sky, Superman sped out of sight. Instead of looking through the house at Richard, Superman looked up as well. He could see the stars much better, and noticed the shooting star seconds before Richard did. His mind went back to the years on the Kent farm. He remembered his mother telling him about the magic of shooting stars, remembered wishing that he could be normal, wishing Lana would pay attention to him, wishing to know his parents. Those things had all come true, in a fashion. But then he'd lost them all again. Even his father crystal had been taken, by a vengeful genius, and used against him. But he looked into the house, and watched the sleeping form of Lois. She seemed fitful, probably because her husband wasn't with her. Now that he was away from the sun, he could feel the steady pain of the kryptonite shard throbbing in his back. The object itself was gone, but he'd be feeling it for a long time.

So as the star passed above him, he whispered to himself, "I wish I were Richard White." And he didn't hear Richard White utter near identical words a few hundred feet away. The wind finally found the strength to stir his hair, but he stood perfectly still. He would have been able to stand still in the middle of a category five hurricane. With one last look at Lois and Jason, he rose into the air. That very action told him that he was, and would always be, Superman. But he wanted her to be happy. Even if it was with another man.

Well, what do you think? Should I continue? Or do you want me to leave it as is? Press the pretty blue button!