AN: Here's part two of the night where Jason's life changed for good. From the feedback I'm getting thus far, everyone is starting to better understand how it is that I came to see Jason as a possible wounded soul in this mess that Supes and Lois created for him. Through this all, I do want to stress that Supes really does think he's doing what Jason wants him to do – that he is doing the right thing by Jason. In some of the reviews, a few of you have said how much you want to slap Supes for how is he handling the situation. But remember that this is Jason's PoV and not Supes. Maybe I'll come back and show you what I imagine Supes is thinking through all of this – how much he wants to hold Jason and tell him how much he loves him and how much he means to him – and yet he feels he just can't. So yeah, he's messing up, but he doesn't realize it just yet.

Many many thanks to the betas – htbthomas and Hellish. I don't know where htbthomas finds the time to read all this stuff! And Hellish – your last e-mail had me grinning from ear to ear!

And thank you, my repeat readers, for letting me know what you like and don't like. I really do thrive off of feedback and constantly need more! Thank you for your patience as I get this story finished. I still have a long way to go!

Age 10 and a Half – Biology 102

It took me all of two seconds to realize that it would be impossible to really hide. How do you hide from someone who can see through any door, break down any wall, fly up to the top of the tallest tree? There literally was no place to hide.

Giving up and wanting desperately to be surrounded by something familiar, I turned and ran back into the house, up the stairs to my room where I threw myself down on my bed. The door was shattered and off the hinge, so I knew I wouldn't have privacy here. It would only be a matter of minutes before he showed up. Superman… my… father.

With my face buried in my pillow, I cried as loudly as I could, trying to get it all out before he came in to talk about it. I didn't want to cry in front of him, and surely he would come up here. He'd probably want to tell me how sorry he was and how much he wanted to do anything he can to make it right. That's the type of thing grown-ups always say. Not that there really was anything anyone could do or say make this right. Still, adults say things like that when they didn't know what else to say.

And then he'd tell me what would be expected of me. After all, he was Superman! He was the hero to end all heroes. He was famous and loved – almost worshipped. And I…I was his son. As much as my brain fought against the thought, I couldn't deny it. And now that I knew the deepest of all his secrets, he wouldn't be able to deny it either. I could already hear his baritone in my imagination. "Jason, you're my son, and with that position comes certain responsibilities."

And what would I say to him? I couldn't very well say no. Or could I?

"No thanks, I don't want to be your son."

Unfortunately, it didn't work that way.

Would I have to live with him now? Would I have to pretend to be a bumbling reporter so no one would know who I really was?

Would I get X-ray vision? Laser vision? Would I be able to fly?

I had so many questions, and only one person could answer them all. But how could I trust anything he would say now that I knew he had been lying to me for so long?

I heard footsteps in the hall. I felt the bed sag as he sat down. He placed his hand on my back. I held my breath, waiting for the inevitable.

"I'm so sorry, Jason."

I jumped. That wasn't Superman's voice. It was…

"Dad?" I said, turning my head on my pillow to see him

His brows were furrowed, but he forced his mouth to turn up into a smile. "Hey, Kiddo." He looked at me with such concern. I don't think I've ever seen him so worried. "I know you said you wanted to be alone, but Jason…" He shook his head. "I'm so, so sorry. You may doubt this right now, but I do love you. I love you so much."

Instinctively, I sat up and wrapped my arms around him, holding on as tight as I could. He held me to his chest, bending his head over mine as if he could cover me with his body and block out all the pain I was feeling.

"What happens now?" I mumbled into his shirt.

"I don't know, Jason," he said, and I appreciated the honesty. "This is new territory to all of us, so we're just going to have to play this by ear."

"Will I still stay here with you and Mom?"

"Where else would you go?"

"With him," I choked.

Dad sighed. "No, Jason. This is your home. You can stay here…I want you to stay here."

Slowly, I sat up and hesitantly looked into his face. "What do I call you now?"

He swallowed. "Whatever you are comfortable with. If you want to call me—"

"Dad. I want to call you Dad."

He wet his lips and nodded. "I like that."

Mom's footsteps were on the stairs.

"Can you…" I couldn't believe I was about to ask this question. "Do you think you could adopt me?"

His brows went up in surprise. "Adopt you?"

I nodded. "So I could be your son again."

His arms wrapped around me again, hugging me close enough to him that I could hear his heart pounding loudly in his chest.

From the doorway, Mom gasped, which let Dad know we weren't alone. "He wants me to adopt him," he said with an unfamiliar, raspy voice.

"I heard," Mom replied, coming into the room and sitting down on the other side of the bed. "Honey, Richard doesn't have to adopt you. Legally, you belong to him."

I looked from my mom to my dad to make sure it was the truth. "Really? You adopted me a long time ago?"

"No," Dad said. "I never had to adopt you. I've always been…" He licked his lips again. "When you were born, I thought that I… well… I didn't know—" He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know how to explain this."

"Let me," Mom said, touching Dad's knee and then looking directly into my eyes. "I should have told you this a long time ago, Jason. It was stupid of me to think I could wait this long to tell you."

She took a deep breath before continuing. "Before you were born, some scientists thought they discovered Krypton. You know what that is, right?"

I trembled upon hearing the name. "That's his planet."

"Yes, and these scientists thought that they found it – that it wasn't destroyed. They thought it still existed, and when Superman learned about it, he wanted to make sure it was true. That's why he left earth for those five years or so.

"Now, around the same time that he left, I met Richard," she looked at Dad, "and we fell in love. So when I found out that I was pregnant, I… naturally… assumed that Richard was your father."

Dad shifted on the bed, pursing his lips and trying to hide the fact that his heart was racing. I could hear it loud and clear. It didn't surprise me that Mom's heart was doing the exact same thing.

"I didn't know for several years that you weren't Richard's son," Mom confessed. "I had my suspicions, but… no real proof."

"Then how do you know I'm not?" I quipped. "Maybe I am his son!"

"Jason," Dad said shaking his head. "All the things you can do… all your abilities… those don't come from me or your mother."

"But how can you know for sure? I mean, what about blood tests and stuff?" I was determined to have solid proof.

"It's difficult to do a blood test, considering that Superman doesn't bleed," Dad explained slowly.

That was it! That was all I needed to hear. "That proves it then. I can't be his son because I can get hurt. I can bleed. You can hurt me. You can cut me!" I'd never been so excited about the fact that I was prone to injury in my entire life.

"Yes, you can," Mom said. "But don't forget that you're my son, too. Part of you is human."

What little joy I felt only a moment before completely vanished. Part of me was human. Only part. And the other part was…

I looked down at my hands, feeling totally lost. "So, what's going to happen to me?" I looked up at Mom. "What do I do now?"

She smiled at me and I could tell that it was forced. "You… grow up. You learn how to do these amazing things."

"And what about him?" I asked weakly.

"What do you mean?"

I shrugged. "Do I… I mean… will he…" I had so many questions, and he wasn't here to answer them. "Where is he?"

Mom stroked my hair. "I think he assumed you needed some time alone – that you wanted time to think about everything. But he will come back."

I wasn't sure if she was saying that to convince herself or me. She didn't say it with any real enthusiasm.

"And then what?" I asked.

She pursed her lips and looked over at Dad. It was Dad who said, "We'll take it one day at a time, Jason."

I curled up in a ball against his side and let him hold me. I felt so alone – more alone than I ever had in my entire life. What I needed was to feel the strength and support of someone who cared about me – someone who loved me. Dad held me tight and didn't let me go until I was ready, which was a long time.

I sniffed and sat up, wiping at my face. "I broke my piano," I said remorsefully.

"We'll get a new one," Dad assured.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to break it."

"Don't worry about it, honey," Mom said.

"I'm tired," I announced, knowing that they would leave. It was a strange thing, wanting to know I wasn't alone, and yet at the same time needing a chance to truly be alone.

"Okay," Mom said, standing up and pulling Dad with her. "We'll let you get some rest and have some time to yourself."

"We'll just be downstairs," Dad reminded me.

"So if you need anything-"

"I know," I said. "I just – I need to lay down and think for a little while."

"Okay, honey," Mom said with a soft smile. "You're sure?"

I nodded. Truth was, I wasn't sure of anything, but I wasn't about to show them how completely confused I was. They left the room, making their way around my broken door, and headed downstairs. I could hear them in the front room picking up pieces of my piano and trying to reason with each other.

"I'm not sure he should be alone right now."

"It's what he wants."

"That look in his eyes – that look of total hurt and rejection – that was the look I was trying to avoid."

"I know, Richard. Do you think I wanted him to find out this way?"

"We should have told him."

"I know! I know I was wrong and I know I messed up. Now please, can we just…clean this up and focus on making sure Jason is all right?"

It was quiet for a moment.

"I know I screwed up, Richard. I know."

She was crying. I could hear her soft sobs. I could see in my mind that Dad was holding her the way he had just held me. Comforting her.

But where was he? Where was Superman? I glanced out the window, expecting to see him floating outside, but he wasn't there. Why wasn't he here? Now when I needed him the most. I was certain he would show up if I called out to him…but I didn't want to have to ask. I shouldn't have to ask. He should just be here. That's his job, isn't it? That's his job as… my father.

I flopped onto my stomach, burying my face into my pillow and wishing for the world to vanish around me. The hands that clung to the pillow seemed unfamiliar – alien. The heart-beat thudding away in my chest suddenly sounded foreign – alien. The very skin holding my awkward body together didn't feel real anymore. I didn't feel real. I didn't feel right. I didn't feel like me…because I didn't really know who I was anymore.

I had powers – not talents – powers. I wasn't fully human. I was strong. I was fast. I had sensitive hearing. What was next? And how would that power show itself? I learned I was fast from running away from kids who wanted to pick on me. I learned I had sensitive hearing from listening to my coach at a ball game. I learned I was strong by pushing a piano.

And then I realized…I had hurt someone. How many more would I hurt as I got stronger and more powerful?

The situation was so very complex that I couldn't absorb it in full, not all at once. My mind was still reeling, trying to process it all and help stabilize my emotions, but it wasn't working fast enough. The more I thought about it, the more lost I felt, until I couldn't contain the pain I felt inside of me any longer.

I cried into my pillow like a baby. I'd never been told that it wasn't right for boys to cry. When I was hurt or sick or afraid, I knew it was all right to cry. But I couldn't remember ever feeling this hurt, sick, or afraid in my whole life. I cried to express that, and I found that I just couldn't stop.

Footsteps sounded up the stairs and into my room. I knew it was Mom from the soft way her feet padded against the floor.

"Sweetheart?" She sat down on the bed and rubbed my back.

I was still crying, and I knew talking would be difficult, but somehow I managed to say, "I'm afraid, Mom."

"What are you afraid of?" she probed gently.

"I don't know if I can do this." My voice broke as I spoke through the tears. I tilted my head just enough so that I could make eye contact with her. "He really is my father? I mean… you're sure he's my father?"

She swallowed. "He really is your father, Jason."

I sobbed into my pillow. "I don't know how to be like this."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know how to be…" I had to say it. "Superman. I don't want to be Superman. I don't know how to control it – how to stop it!"

"You can't stop it, Jason," she said, trying to soothe away my fears with the brush of her hand against my cheek. "This is who you are. But you can learn how to control it."

She didn't understand. "But when it just happens… I never know that's it's going to happen. I mean… that man… on the boat…"

"What man?"

"The one I…" I shifted so that I could look at her again. "I killed him, didn't I? I killed him when I shoved that piano across the room."

Mom's face looked worried, but she answered firmly. "Yes."

"So, how many more people could I end up killing? I mean, I don't know how to be like this. I don't know anything about it!"

"Jason, how can you say that? This is the only way you've ever been. It's the only thing you do know."

I sat up. "But I didn't understand it!"

"No, but now you do."

"So what?" I wiped at my face. "I'm supposed to be happy about it?"

"No," she took my hand in hers. "You can learn about it – learn from him. He will help you, I know he will."

I snorted. "Yeah, he's been a big help tonight."

"Jason," she said in a very parental, solid tone. "He's always been there, whether you knew it or not. He's been there whenever we needed his help."

"Except for tonight," I countered.

"Do you want me to have him come and—"

"No," I shook my head.

She sighed. "You ran away from him, honey. One of the things I know for certain about him is that when someone he cares about asks him to leave… he does. Now, if you want to talk to him, he'll come back."

I sniffed. "He cares about me?"

She looked shocked. "Honey, he loves you! Of course he cares about you."

I couldn't look at her. I knew better than she did. I knew things she didn't know. Secrets that cut right to the core. "You don't know, Mom."

"I do know."

"No, trust me. There are some things that you really don't know."

"Then tell me."

I looked into her eyes. In that moment, I could have told her everything I knew. I could have explained that if he really cared about me the way she was saying, Clark Kent could have told me. Clark Kent could have been more than some idiot reporter who worked with my mom. Clark Kent could have been my father. I could have told her and changed everything, and yet for some reason that I couldn't explain, I held back. I kept quiet. I kept his secret.

"Honey," she said, brushing my hair out of my eyes. "We'll get through this, we all will. Richard and I love you. Your father…loves you. We will all help you in whatever ways we can."

I looked down at my hands as they twisted and pulled at the bed covers and automatically responded with an unenthusiastic, "Yeah. I know."

She cupped my face in her hands. "I love you. I know I've screwed up, but I do love you."

My chin quivered. "I love you, too, Mom."

She hugged me and waited for my tears to stop before breaking away. "Do you think you can sleep?"

I shrugged.

"Try to sleep."

I nodded.

Mom left the room and I looked back out my window. I didn't see any blue. Nor red. Just night. I wondered if Mom would head outside and call to him to come and see me. I didn't want him to come if he didn't want to come. I needed to see him, but only if he wanted to see me, too.

Quickly, before I talked myself out of it, I hopped out of bed and darted over to my window. It was unlocked, as usual. I never locked my window in the hopes that Superman would decide to visit me at night. But this night was different than any others. Tonight I wasn't waiting for Superman to grace me with a visit. Tonight I was desperate for my father to come and tell me everything would be all right. Be he wasn't here. And I didn't want him here just because my mom asked him to talk to me.

And so that night, for the first time that I could remember, I locked my window.