Chapter 15

Clark super sped quickly and effortlessly through the clouds. It felt so good to be flying again, his thoughts of the last 24hrs gratefully consumed by the sound of the wind howling around him. Part of him wished he could just keep flying, close his eyes, just enjoy the familiar sensations of weightlessness and freedom.

But his super hearing, still focused on the bank robbery in progress, reminded him he had a less relaxing destination in mind.

As he made his approach, listening to the sounds of innocent bystanders screaming in fear as they were ordered around by armed gunmen, he felt an unusual level of anger rising within him.

He'd stopped so many incidents like this over the years, but with all the memories that had been churned up over the last few days, he had to admit he was feeling particularly intolerant of men who thought they could forcibly control others through fear. By the time he'd made it to Mexico, his anger was coming dangerously close to rage.

He exploded into the bank.

The entire doorway broke into hundreds of splinters of wood that flew out into the room much more violently than he'd intended. He was dimly aware of a voice in the back of his head telling him that had been a reckless thing to do, but he shook it off. His focus needed to be on the men with guns, who were turning their weapons to point his way.

Clark took in his surroundings at super speed. Most of the gunmen had their faces completely covered with black balaclavas. A man he assumed was the leader stood in the centre of the room with only the bottom half of his face covered by a skull-patterned scarf. There were around fifteen of them in total, and they were covering every corner of the bank. A few had taken position on the balcony, and a couple had emerged from back rooms, clearly disturbed by his unexpected entrance.

Everyone was staring at him. Villain and innocent bystander alike. The hostages looked up at him with pleading and hopeful expressions on their faces. Clark locked eyes with the leader, not bothering to hide his rising aggression. The other man glared back at him, his gun poised and ready to fire.

Clark couldn't explain it. He knew their guns could do nothing to hurt him. He knew he could easily wipe the threatening expression off the other man's face. But there was something about the menace in the man's eyes… No, it wasn't anywhere near as menacing as the man who haunted his dreams… but apparently, it was enough.

His body responded.

His breath caught in his throat and his heart rate started to increase. The world began to shift into slow motion and he brought his hand up to his chest, frowning in confusion as he pulled in a wheezing breathe and winced against the growing tightness in his chest.

A surge of panic flooded through his system.

Why now? He thought to himself, frustrated, and baffled by his body's response to a situation that he'd been in a thousand times. Something that logically shouldn't be in the least bit scary to him now that he had his powers back.

One of the gunmen shot at him, breaking him out of his thoughts and pulling him back to normal speed. The bullets bounced off his chest wildly and he knew he needed to move fast to avoid anyone getting hurt from rebounding bullet casings.

He managed to force his body into action, super speeding towards the firing gunman and knocking him into a wall. As soon as he'd taken one man down, another came at him, then another and another. Each time they fired their weapons, he threw out his hands, easily shoving them away. Despite his ongoing struggle for breath, he just kept going, kept moving forwards. Fear coursed through him, but autopilot had kicked in, preventing him from freezing in place.

The two gunmen on the balcony started raining bullets down on him and he winced at the onslaught of sound, his senses suddenly feeling raw once again. He resisted the urge to cover his ears.

Clark flew up to their position, grabbing them roughly by their guns and throwing them over the balcony, just barely holding back enough not to do any real damage. Clark knew he was being rougher than he usually would, but right now the anger he felt seemed like it was the only thing stronger than his fear.

He jumped down, scanning the room for anyone he'd not yet taken out. At first, no one moved, and he wondered if he'd somehow taken them all out without realizing. The moment of silence allowed the pain in his chest to claim some attention once again, and his hand flew back up to the red 'S' on his chest as he tried to steady his breathing.

A sudden wave of dizziness caused him to sway slightly and he realized he was starting to feel physically drained by his body's response. Catching him by surprise, one of the gunmen approached from behind and fired what must have been a sawn-off shotgun at close range.

Clark spun round and looked at the man in shock as he stumbled backwards. That had actually hurt! He scanned the weapon, expecting to see some tinge of green coming from within, but it seemed perfectly ordinary. Besides, he didn't seem to be feeling the effects of kryptonite. There was no mistaking that hellish feeling.

What the hell was happening to him?

The man in front of him, who seemed to be relishing in his enemy's confusion and surprise, seized the opportunity to gain the upper hand. He fired two more shots, getting as close to Superman as he could for maximum impact.

Clark found he couldn't brace himself against the impact of the shotgun blasts. Grunting from the unexpected pain, he stumbled backward before finally falling to the ground.

When his head hit the bank floor, he faded into unconsciousness.

You aren't going to win

The voice came from inside him, though it felt like it was also surrounding him. John Henry lifted his hands up to his ears, knowing logically that it would do nothing to block it out, but unable to fight the impulse.

'It won't be long now father,' John thought he heard another voice say, but it was distant, outside of the current battle going on inside his mind.

He pushed it away. He needed to focus all his energy on fighting back against the other man's psychic presence. He could feel him like a ghost passing through his skin. He saw flashes of shadow in his mind, a figure growing clearer, trying to take control.

He pulled another memory of Natalie to the surface – the day he'd taught her to ride a bike. The swelling of pride he'd felt when he saw her off and riding on her own. It gave him just enough strength to shake off the other man's fresh attempt to dominate their shared consciousness.

You're pathetic. Weak.

'You're a psychopathic killer!' John screamed, unsure if it was out loud or in his own mind. 'I will die before I let you use my body to massacre innocent people.'

Your threats are empty. You will soon be buried in the dark.

The man's voice was deep and booming, dripping with conviction and menace. The kind of voice that commanded authority.

John held his hands tightly against his head and squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the force of the other man's attack on his mind once again. He felt like someone was trying to rip him apart from the inside out, both squeezing and pulling at the same time, all his senses raw and exposed.

He let out a deep primal scream as his eyes began to flicker red.

Jordan looked down at the old photo album he'd dug out from an embarrassingly still unpacked box and stared down at the family photos within. Images from a time when things had been so much simpler. Or at least, that's what he'd thought.

He saw his dad's happy face as he embraced both of his sons on their tenth birthday, that goofy grin plastered over his features even as Jonathan and Jordan's expressions showed an embarrassed reluctance at having the moment captured on film. His dad's joy was so convincing that Jordan couldn't help but feel sucked in by the innocence of it. But looking at the photos with everything he knew now, he was also wondering what was hidden beneath.

He'd been staring at that one particular photo for a while, focusing on his dad's face and trying to track back in his mind to what had been going on with Superman at the time.

He knew something big had happened around that time. They had woken up that morning hoping to watch their favorite cartoons, but there had been something on the news that had taken over every channel. Jordan remembered he and his brother were annoyed with their dad because he'd missed family time the night before.

He'd promised he would be there and once again, he wasn't. Then he'd had to rush off that morning, after only spending a few hours with them. Some journalism assignment that was apparently more important than being there with them on their birthday. Or at least, that's all they'd known at the time.

Then it hit him - that huge earthquake in Florida. It had happened the day before their birthday. Superman had been on the scene within seconds of the disaster. He'd saved so many lives, but obviously, he couldn't be everywhere at once.

A lot of people died that day.

For weeks, Superman had been on site for the rescue operation, working with the emergency services and all the volunteers – at first to find any survivors, and then to try and clear some of the wreckage and begin to rebuild.

Inevitably, he'd also had to pull many bodies from the rubble too. Bodies they couldn't reach by human means, of people he hadn't been able to save.

Jordan was so young at the time, but he still remembered the sadness on his mom's face as she watched the news coverage. At the time he just thought she was sad for her friend Superman, and for all the people that had died. Now he understood she was feeling something much more personal than that. She knew just how much her husband was having to emotionally manage just to keep going. She was probably comforting him every night before they went to sleep. If he slept at all.

Jordan stared at his father's face in the photo and wondered what the toll was of getting so good at hiding that sort of thing from the people around him. Just smiling and laughing like there was nothing wrong.

He understood why he had to in some ways. It was part of keeping his secret, and it was part of wanting to protect his sons, wanting them to have a happy childhood. But did he even have friends to share that stuff with? Did he even talk to his mom? Or their Grandma?

Or was he so used to pretending he was fine that he just kept it all to himself?

Jordan heard a short knock on his bedroom door and lifted his head up to see his brother hovering in the doorway, looking curiously at the photo album in his hand.

'Trip down memory lane, huh?' he asked, gesturing towards the book and coming over to join his brother on the edge of the bed.

'Just… thinking,' was all he could say in response.

'Careful… you'll hurt yourself,' his brother teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Jonathan was so much like their dad when it came to this stuff. Just shrugging things off, wanting to move on and pretend things didn't matter to him that obviously did. Jordan was sure it was partly down to his own mental health taking the spotlight over the years. It seemed like the more help Jordan had needed; the less Jonathan admitted he needed anything for himself.

'Do you think he's just… always pretending?' Jordan asked his brother, still gazing at his dad's image.

'What do you mean?' Jonathan frowned.

'I don't know… it's like… when we found out dad was Superman, we had to run all our memories through a new filter, right? All those times dad couldn't open a peanut butter jar without mom's help… he was lying…' he began to explain. 'We had to work out what was real and what was pretend.'

'Well yeah, there was lots of stuff he pretended about,' Jonathan nodded, waiting to see where his brother was going with this. 'That doesn't mean he was always pretending.'

'Well, that's just it… what if that wasn't all he was faking,' Jordan said. 'What if him being a happy, carefree dorky dad was a cover-up of something too.'

'Jordan…' Jonathan said skeptically, like he always did when he thought his brother was catastrophising.

'I'm not saying he does it intentionally,' Jordan defended, 'it's just… with everything we saw last night… the panic attack, the flashback… it's making me wonder how much we really know him? Like, how much of himself does he not let us see?'

Jordan searched his brother's eyes for his response, and was surprised to see him thinking about it rather than brushing it off.

'Your right,' Jonathan said after a moment's pause. 'There's probably a lot of things he's had to deal with as Superman that he doesn't talk about.'

Jordan felt the relief of his brother's understanding wash through him. Then he saw his brother smile before continuing.

'But Jordan, there is absolutely no WAY that anyone can fake dad's level of dorkiness,' Jonathan said emphatically. 'You saw him around the harvest fest! He's not that good an actor, no one is. He's not just pretending to be happy, Jordan, that stuff really REALLY makes him happy,' he said, rolling his eyes slightly at his last statement.

Jordan scoffed his agreement, looking back down at his dad's goofy grin. 'Yeah, I guess your right.'

Jonathan's eyes drifted to the picture Jordan had been staring at.

'He's happy when he's with us too,' Jon added pointedly. 'You know that, right? That't not fake either.'

Jordan sighed before responding, 'I know… I just feel like we're still discovering all these different sides to him, you know? And it's not just that he's this cool costumed hero that always defeats the bad guy and saves kittens from trees.'

Jonathan nodded quietly. 'Yeah, there's definitely more to it than that, isn't there?'

Jordan sighed again, relieved that his brother really understood what he was saying.

'Oh my god,' Jon exclaimed suddenly, pointing at another photo of a young Jordan in a homemade Star Trek outfit doing a vulcan salute. 'Is that from the school dance where you went dressed as spock?'

Before Jordan could even answer, his brother fell about laughing, and he wacked him in the side with a playful punch.

'Yeah, maybe some memories really should stay hidden,' he said with mock seriousness, snapping the album shut for effect.

Jordan smiled at his brother who had stopped laughing and was giving him that look he always gave him when he wanted to make sure his teasing wasn't being taken the wrong way. He never stopped looking out for him, even when he was being a jackass.

Impulsively, he grabbed him and pulled him towards him for a hug, half expecting him to object and pull away. But he felt Jon return his embrace, and they both sunk into the comfort of the much-needed physical reassurance.

As much as his brother could be a pain sometimes, Jordan was extremely grateful he wasn't in this alone.

Clark began to stir just as a torrent of bullets from what sounded like a machine gun rained down on his already freshly bruised chest. The pain threatened to push him back into unconsciousness, but he managed to clutch onto the sounds around him, fighting against the darkness and preventing himself from going under again.

His eyes still closed, he heard the leader barking orders at the one gunman that remained conscious, demanding that he bring the bags of cash out of the vault. They were clearly trying to make a hasty exit, prepared to leave the others behind to make their escape.

With all the strength he could muster, Clark willed himself up off the ground, hovering slightly higher than the leader, and casting a shadow over both men. The leader froze in place, spotting the shocked expression on his partner's face as he looked up at the superhero behind them. He spun around, raising his weapon slightly.

Before either of them could make another move, Clark flew at them with his arms stretched out, slamming the leader backward and into the other man, like a bowling ball taking out the last pin on the floor. Both gunmen went down easily, and he floated back down to the ground.

Hostages and bank staff stood up slowly from their positions on the floor, looking around to confirm it was safe. Once they felt sure all the gunmen were down, they began gratefully applauding their superhero's success.

Clark was still vibrating with fear and anger, but he pulled on his best Superman mask and diligently nodded, raising his hand in a brief wave of acknowledgment to the people around him. It was important that Superman was always seen to be friendly, warm, open, he reminded himself. It was part of how he continued to keep the public's trust.

As he turned around, he was relieved to see a local police officer approaching. If he could hand this over to the authorities, he could get out of there as quickly as possible. Hopefully without anyone noticing how much he was trembling or his still panicked intakes of breath.

'You got this from here?' he asked the man in spanish.

'Are you okay?' the man asked in return, his gaze drifting to the place on the floor where the superhero had fallen.

Clark nodded and smiled back at the man, but inside he was cursing himself. So many people must have seen him taken out by simple bullets. News of this was going to spread like wildfire, and god knows what it might lead to. What if people started coming after him, thinking he might be vulnerable to attack? What if they staged more situations like this, putting innocent people at risk, just to draw him out?

'I'll be fine,' he reassured, trying to make the whole incident seem as inconsequential as possible.

'Thank you,' the man said gratefully, and Clark nodded once more before he sped out of the building.

He thought about heading straight home but instead found himself climbing higher and higher. He needed the comfort of another of his safe havens - the space above the clouds.

Pretty much as soon as he'd perfected the art of flying, it was where he often went to decompress. Like his fortress of solitude, it was somewhere that was just for him. Where no one and nothing could reach him.

He'd taken Lois up with him after he'd told her who he was, wanting to share with her the parts of his life that he rarely let anyone into. To let her see the world through his eyes. But mostly he would spend hours up there alone, just drifting. Not part of the earth, but not part of the stars either.

Right now, it seemed like the best place he could get to as quickly as possible. It was ironic how something like floating above the clouds could be grounding. But one thing he remembered from Jordan's counsellor was that what worked for everyone was usually subjective. For him, being up above the chaos of the world below, was the best place for him to find some balance again.

Besides, like he'd told Tag just months before, the air was thinner up there. Hopefully, that would help calm him down.

Once he was above the clouds, he let himself just float. The unobscured sunlight washed over him, and he felt his body regaining some of it's strength, but he could tell the marks from the bullets impact were surprisingly not healing.

What the hell was going on with him?

He dimmed his ever-present super hearing so that it was nothing more than gentle background noise and tried to focus on the softer sounds around him. The low whistle of the ebbing and flowing winds. A flock of birds about a mile away, calling out to each other as they flew up and down, making their own path through the clouds. The gentle ringing in his ears that always accompanied these brief moments of stillness.

Still unable to completely shake the fear clutching at his chest, he reached out his hearing for another specific grounding tool.

Lois's heartbeat.

He found it quickly, by now an expert at finding it's consistent but subtly distinctive beat. Using it's rhythm as a guide, Clark took in a deep, long, and still slightly shaky breath. He held it for a count of three, before letting the breath out as slowly as he could, feeling himself starting to calm.

After a few more deep breaths he felt himself returning to normal. He listened to the steady thrumming of his wife's heart for a few moments more, reassured by it's even pace.

She was fine. The boys were fine.

It was him who wasn't fine.

Becoming more aware of the pain emanating from all over his torso as his adrenaline died down, Clark realized the sun was still having no effect on what he assumed must be bruises left by the bullets.

Whatever was going on, it was obvious there wasn't going to be a quick fix this time.

He headed back to the farmhouse, hoping that ice pack Lois had given Jordan after he was attacked by Tag was still in the freezer.