AN: This chapter is a bit different from anything I've written so far. I wanted to try and give my readers a sample of what I think it's like to really be Jason in this scene. So I tried to let you hear what he was hearing, even if it was confusing. I hope you can manage to follow along, but at the same time, I hope you realize how very difficult it is for Jason.

Many thanks to htbthomas and Hellish for the beta read. They both assured me that this wasn't as confusing as I feared. And many thanks to those of you who review time after time. You keep me writing!

Next chapter…the crap is really going to hit the fan.

Age 10 – The Sounds of Silence

The score was tied three to three. It was the top of the ninth and my team was in the outfield. If we could stop the Wolves from scoring any runs in this inning…and then if we could score at least one run…we would win. My team was undefeated, which meant that this wasn't a necessary win for us. We would be going to the playoffs anyway, regardless of the outcome of this game. The point was we wanted to go into the playoffs as the one team who managed to beat all the others. Undefeated. That was a huge accomplishment.

I scraped my foot on the ground, bringing up some dirt under my cleat and getting a good grip into the earth. From my position in the outfield, I could easily see every member of my team as they waited for the next player to come up to bat. Not a single player on my team looked nervous. They all looked determined – ready to win this and get to the finals. I felt the same way.

This was only my second summer in Little League. At the end of fourth grade, I accidentally let it slip to my mom that I had been playing ball with the guys. After the usual routine of parental hysterics, she finally settled down and realized that no one was suspicious of me…or rather, what I could do. I had learned how to hold back and not be overly showy, so much so that I had managed to pass myself off as an average, run-of-the-mill player. After a very long and heated discussion, my parents decided, at long last, that I could play on a real team. So last summer I went to tryouts and was placed in the outfield as number 23 on the East Metropolis Dragons. Nice.

Outfield was a good place for me. I could run just fast enough that any ball heading my way was in danger of being caught. My only problem was in my hand-eye coordination; I dropped the ball more times than I cared to admit. All last fall, Dad had spent night after night out in the yard throwing pitches at me while I tried to catch them. I got so good that this summer I hardly ever dropped the ball. In fact, I had become one of the most feared members of my team, and that was a position I quite liked holding .

It helped balance things out for me now that I could play ball. Kids didn't tease me as much. I wasn't a total outcast at school anymore. Most importantly, I could get away with piano lessons without the guys laughing at me. They knew I had what it took to win a ball game. So what if I spent some time on the piano, too. I even heard that Mark Edwards was thinking of starting lessons because Christina Peet told him she thought my piano playing was cool…and Mark had a major crush on Amanda.

It was turning out to be the best summer of my life. Between winning every ball game, playing in recitals, and finally hitting double digit on my birthday, things seemed to be going so great. If only we could win this last game and make it into the playoffs – and then eventually win the championship – everything would be perfect.

The player coming up to bat was one of the biggest guys on the Wolves' team. He was a bully of a kid that no one liked, and boy, was he strong. I took my stance with my glove out in front of me, ready to catch whatever would come my way.

"He's a powerful hitter. Let's hope White can catch this."

I looked around me, uncertain of where the voice was coming from. It sounded like my coach, but he was up front in the dugout, while this voice seemed to be coming from someone standing right next to me. Weird.

The pitcher threw a curve ball. The batter took a clumsy swing at the ball and missed.

"Come on, Pierson, pitch him out."

Again, the voice of my couch sounded impossibly close. I looked over at the dugout to see if he had moved. He stood right where he always stood, watching the game and narrating to himself .

"A kid that big shouldn't be allowed to play Little League."

I watched his mouth form the words and heard his voice clear as crystal. Yet he was still on the other side of the field from me. It was impossible…and yet I could hear him perfectly.

The sound of the ball cracking against a bat snapped me out of my thoughts and I turned to find where the ball had gone. It was in the air, heading right towards me. I extended my hands above my head and run to get under the ball. I jumped as the ball came within reach and caught the ball safely in my glove.

The crowd cheered – they cheered loudly. It was louder than I'd ever heard before. I flinched, and had it not been for the ball in my glove, I would have covered my ears with my hands.

"Toss it back, Jason!" the pitcher called.

I was still startled by the volume of the voices around me, but I tossed the ball back without making a big deal out of it. I shook my head, thinking that my ears must have popped open or something, which was what was making everything sound so weirdly amplified. Whenever Dad took me flying in his plane, there was always a moment when my ears would feel clogged and then suddenly pop. Maybe this was something like that.

The second hitter came up to bat and struck out. Again, the crowd was cheering so loudly that it was really starting to bother me. When the third batter was called out at first base, it was my team's last chance to hit. I ran towards the dugout, trying to ignore the pulsating sounds around me. More than the voices, I was hearing the sounds of the cleats pounding into the earth, the hands of the onlookers clapping, even the cars driving past us on the street.

I stood still and looked around, sounds quickly filling every inch of my ears, bombarding me from all directions. I covered my ears, desperate to silence the noise and find some peace. My eyes caught sight of my mother, who had stood up in the bleachers and was watching me with a worried expression.

"Something's wrong," I heard her say to Dad.

Noise and more noise. Louder and louder, constantly increasing…

Cars…

Laughter…

Wind…

My coach patted my back. "Jason? You okay?"

Voices…

And more voices…

Feet stomping…

Hands clapping…

It was all so loud, pounding in my ears, never stopping, the volume growing and growing…

Mom was at my side now. I looked at her face and saw her form the word, "Jason?" I could hardly make out the sound of her voice now with all the other sounds around me.

"It's loud," I said, and my voice rumbled through my head like a megaphone put to my ear. I cried out in fear…in pain…it was so loud! Everything…all around…inside me…I could hear it all. And it terrified me beyond all reason.

"Make it stop!" I called out, even though I knew my voice was too loud in my head.

Dizzy from all the sound, I fell to my knees with my hands still over my ears. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out everything and everyone around me. Someone picked me up. Someone was saying something to me. I could make out my name mixed in with the thousands and thousands of other sounds swirling in the air.

Forcing my eyes open to see what was going on, I focused on my dad's face. He was carrying me and I could tell from the way his feet sounded on the ground that he was going as fast as he could.

A car door…

Fabric against leather…

My father's panting breath as he lowered me into the seat…

The car door slamming…

Voices filling the air in a jumble…

"We have to get him out of here."

"What's going on with Jason?"

"What a freak show."

"Where can we take him?"

"There goes our winning streak."

"I hope he's all right."

"Somewhere quiet."

"I've never seen anything like that."

"I'm sure we can win without White."

"We're in Metropolis, Richard. There isn't anyplace quiet."

"Want to go get pizza after the game?"

"I always hated that kid."

"Well, where's Mr. Wonderful? He could take him some place quiet."

"Wonder if he's contagious."

"He takes all those freaky medications."

"Just get in the car and drive."

"Let us know what's wrong."

"Please call me when he's feeling better."

Car doors…

Slam…

"Okay, back to the game."

"Let's win this thing."

"Any suggestions?"

"Home."

The engine roared and the radio blasted right behind my head. I screamed in spite of the fact that my voice sounded louder than any other sound. It hurt…and it wasn't stopping.

I'm not sure how fast Dad drove to get home, but I do know that it was a matter of moments and we were pulling into the drive. Another moment and I was being carried up to my room.

Birds chirping…

The ocean splashing against the deck…

"Take him to his room where he can at least lie down."

That was mom's voice. It was clearer now that there weren't so many other voices around. But even still, it was difficult to concentrate on what she was saying.

I felt the soft cushion of my bed and immediately crawled under the pillows, covering my face in the process. I pressed the pillows against my ears, trying to block out any and all sound and finding that it was impossible. For even though there were no voices to distract me – even though there were no cars or music or birds – there was still me.

My breathing…

My rapid heart beat…

My throat swallowing hard…

The previously unnoticeable sound of my every strand of hair moving against the pillow…

I started to cry – really cry – and that only made things worse. I didn't know how to stop it. I didn't know what was happening to me. It was all a jumble and it terrified me. All I wanted to do was to scream for help at the top of my lungs, but I knew that if I did it would only hurt more.

I felt pressure on my back. It was a hand rubbing my back. I could hear the sound the fabric made against my skin.

"Jason?"

I knew that voice.

"Take the pillows away from your ears."

I shook my head no, not wanting to hear anything.

"Jason, please. Covering your ears will only make the sounds worse."

He was right. It was worse, but I had to try. I couldn't just lie here and do nothing.

"You have to trust me, Jason. You have to take the pillows away from your ears."

I tried to slow my crying. I didn't want him to see me crying. He would think I was a big baby for bawling like this. I huffed a few more times and slowly pulled the pillows away from my head.

The sounds of my body were replaced with the sounds of everything else. A clock ticking …the hum of the computer…a fan blowing…

"He's in with Jason now," Mom said. I looked around for her, but I couldn't see her.

The clock was ticking.

"Alone?" It was Dad's voice, but like Mom, he wasn't in the room.

"He can help. Please, Richard."

"Jason," Superman said, drawing my attention. "Look at me."

The air conditioner whirred to life.

I sat up, looking around the room in confusion.

"What's he going to tell him?" Dad sounded worried.

"Look at me, Jason," Superman repeated. "Focus on me."

Mom's voice made focusing very hard. "He just wants to help."

"Look at me when I'm talking and force all the other sounds to the back."

A dog barked somewhere outside.

"I can hear everything," I said quietly, afraid of the sound of my own voice.

"I know," he said just as softly, sitting next to me on the bed. "But you have to ignore it."

My chin quivered. "How? It's so loud."

"As if Jason isn't confused enough already?"

"We don't have much choice here, Richard."

"Focus on me." His voice was so gentle – soothing. "It helps if you watch my mouth when I talk. That way you can ignore the other sounds more easily. Just let them blend into a hum in the background."

"Just make it stop," I said.

"I can't."

"I need to go to the doctor. There has to be some medicine I can take. There's always some kind of pill or a shot. I'll take a shot, twenty shots, even, any day of the week to get rid of this!"

"Not this time."

I gaped at him. "What do you mean? This has to go away, right? I can't live like this."

He sighed, his face looking at me with such sadness. "This isn't going to go away, Jason. This is…permanent."

"Are we allowed to go see how he's doing?"

The clock was still ticking

"I don't know."

Superman was breathing.

"It's quiet in there."

The dog barked.

"I want to see him."

I could hear Superman's heart beating.

"This has to stop!" I demanded. "This isn't normal!" The tears were coming back and I couldn't do anything to stop them. "What's wrong with me?"

He scooted closer to me and placed his hands on my arms. "There is nothing wrong with you, Jason. Nothing."

I shook my head. "But this isn't right!"

"This is how you are. This is normal for you."

"What do you mean?" I said through my tears.

"Your ears are more sensitive than other people's ears. You'll be able to hear things that others won't."

He sounded like he was telling me something I should be excited about, but I wasn't. Not even close.

"Why?" I cried. "Why do I have to have this? Haven't I had enough problems in my life? Can't I just be normal?"

His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but he didn't. He looked at me with such pain and sadness.

"Make it stop," I whimpered as I crumbled into his arms.

He held me, rocking gently and rubbing my back as if to soothe away the pain in my head. "You'll be okay." He said. "It will just take time."

I didn't understand what he meant. What would take time? There was no way I would be able to live with all this noise. It was horrible. Unbearable. I couldn't concentrate.

"Is he all right?" Mom asked. She was in the room now. Superman stood up to give her room next to me on the bed.

I sniffed and wiped at my eyes. "Can we go to the doctor and see if he can give me anything to help?"

Her eyes darted to look at Superman, who shook his head sadly. Mom ran her hand down my cheek in that way that moms do when something bad happens and there's nothing they can do to fix it.

"I'm sorry, honey. This…this isn't…"

I sobbed, wrapping my arms around her tightly and wishing with all my might that I would wake up and find out this was a dream. More like a nightmare.

"What can we do for him?" Dad asked from the door way.

Superman sighed. "You have to help him learn to concentrate on the important sounds. Voices will be the most difficult."

"So what do we do?" Dad said more slowly.

"I know this is going to sound strange, but you have to talk to him as if he were…well…deaf."

"Deaf?" Dad growled. "You mean yell at him?"

"No, I mean that you should speak very slowly and clearly. Make sure he's looking at you when you are talking to him. Don't expect him to respond to you if you just call to him from the other side of the house. Remember that he's hearing hundreds of sounds, not just your voice."

"What about school?" Mom asked, stroking my hair and holding me tightly against her.

"School…will probably be difficult. The faster he can learn to focus on one voice over the others, the better things will be. But…"

"But?" Dad said.

"It's difficult. Things will be very difficult for awhile."

The room was quiet for a moment. I could hear Mom's heart beating away in her chest. That dog was still barking somewhere.

"You have to be careful what you say from now on," Superman explained. "He'll be able to hear you, even if he isn't concentrating on hearing you. Make plans for birthdays and Christmas and…anything private when Jason's not around."

"Great," I groaned. "Now I'm just more of a freak."

Mom gasped and squeezed me tighter. "No, honey. You're not a freak. You just have talents that other people don't have."

"Well, I don't want this one!"

"Lois-" Superman started, but Mom stopped him with her hand.

It was then that I wondered why Superman was here at all. In the confusion of the moment, I hadn't thought about the fact that Superman really didn't have anything to do with this – with me. Why was he even here? I wasn't hurt – not technically. He wasn't here to save my life or rescue me from danger. And he never came to see me when Mom or Dad were here.

Was it for the advice? Was he here because Mom and Dad asked him to help me? That my hearing was similar to his for some reason? But how was that possible? I was human. He was an alien. What was happening to me couldn't be anything like him…could it? It was all so confusing.

"Maybe…you should go," Mom whispered.

Superman nodded and left the room quietly.

When we were alone, Mom asked, "What about sleeping? How does he sleep with all this noise?"

"Ear plugs," Dad said. "We'll get him the best."

"No," I said, pushing away from Mom and looking over her at Dad. "It doesn't make things better. When I plug my ears…" I didn't even know how to describe it. "It doesn't help. I'll just…" I shrugged.

They were looking at me in pity. I didn't like it at all. In fact, I hated it.

"Can I be alone for a little while?" I asked.

"Sure, honey. Whatever you want." Mom got up from the bed and took Dad's hand.

"We'll be downstairs if you want anything," Dad said.

They left the room with Mom giving me one more glance over her shoulder before she shut the door. I immediately flopped myself down on my bed. Angry and frustrated by it all, I kicked off my cleats and started listening to the continuous swirl of sounds filling the air. I couldn't help but hear them talking about me in the distance.

"It's sooner than we thought," Dad said.

"Shhh," was Mom's reply.

The wind rattled the windows.

An airplane flew over the house.

"We have to tell him."

"Not yet."