AN: I first wanted to explain that if you are on my author alert list, you will be notified shortly of a new Clois fic that I've written for the 12 Days of Clois Christmas fic-a-thon going on over at LJ. This fic is set WAY in the future of the Jason story line I've started here, so those of you who've thought I've been cruel to Lois and Clark by keeping them apart…well…you will want to read this fic. There is a teaser already posted at the LJ: I'd give you a link, but won't let me. Grrr...

I'm so very glad that many of you enjoy seeing this side of Jason and that no one has thrown rotten tomatoes at me yet! It's going to get a LOT worse before it gets better. Jason has quite a bit to say in this chapter. As you read this section, try to hear his voice high pitched, not yet mature, and rambling on uncontrollably. If you've read Shadow of Father, you may remember him doing much the same thing when he tells Kate his story. Hopefully from this, you can see how he grew up to be that very angry, hurt young man.

Thanks to htbthomas and to Hellish for the beta reads. They worked over time this week to get this chapter, as well as my Clois fic finished. You both ROX!

Next chapter… Supes takes Jason to see his "home."

Age 11 – Rants and Raves

The cold winter wind whipped around me, making me shiver and pull my coat closed. I wished spring would hurry up and get here so I could stop shivering as I waited outside my school. Mom was late, as usual, but there wasn't anything I could do about it. Dad was on assignment, so there wasn't anyone else who could come and pick me up from school. Well… there was someone else, but I hadn't seen him in over four months. Not since I found out the truth about him… and about me.

At least I wasn't waiting all alone. I'd made friends with a boy from another class named Marcus. His mom was a lawyer and she was always late picking him up. His parents were divorced and his dad lived in California, so we were always stuck together waiting outside the school.

"There's my mom," Marcus said, jumping down from the wall we were sitting on. "You want me to ask if you can come home with me?"

I shook my head. "Nah, I'm sure Mom just got caught up with a story. She'll be here soon."

"Jason?" Marcus' mom called from the car. "Honey, you can come home with us. I don't feel right leaving you here all by yourself."

I knew exactly why she was worried. Over the last six weeks, some crazy psycho had been kidnapping kids and holding them for ransom. The police hadn't been able to catch the guy yet, even with the help of… Superman. Once the money was dropped, the kid would mysteriously appear in some random location that only Superman could reach easily – on top of buildings, out in the middle of the water, locked inside a steel vault. There had been six kidnappings in total – one a week. And so far this week, no one had reported a missing child. It was only a matter of time before some other kid went missing. Parents all over the city were on edge.

"Why don't you come with us? I'll call your mom and—"

My cell phone went off in my pocket. I jumped down from my perch and flipped the phone open to see Mom's name on the caller ID. "It's my mom. You can go ahead and go."

"Are you sure?" Marcus asked.

"Yeah, she's probably just around the corner."

"Okay, Jason," Marcus waved and climbed into the car. "See you later!"

I pressed the answer button and put the phone to my ear. "Hi, Mom."

"Hi, honey. I'm sorry I'm late."

"It's okay." I was used to waiting. "How much longer d'you think you'll be?"

She sighed. "Well, that's the problem. I'm not going to be able to get away for a while yet. I just got a call from someone I need to interview tonight. So you'll be on your own for a little while."

I grinned. That meant I could go to the store and get some chips and a soda. Mom never let me eat stuff like that. "You want me to get a cab for myself and head home? Dad gave me some money before he left."

"No, honey, I'd feel a lot better if you had an adult with you."

"Well, my friend Marcus just left with his mom and I don't know any of the other kids still here well enough to hitch a ride."

"I know. That's why I asked Clark if he wouldn't mind picking you up."

It was as if all the blood drained from my body. "What?"

"He should be there by now. Look around, will you?"

I looked over my shoulder and sure enough, there stood Clark Kent. Or Superman. Or whatever I was supposed to call him. He waved at me, a soft smile on his face.

I turned away with a groan. "Mom, no. I don't need a babysitter."

"I know you don't, Jason, but with all these kidnappings going on, I just want you to be safe. So, Clark is just going to make sure you get home safely and then you'll be on your own."

"But Mom, I'll be okay. I've taken a taxi alone before."

I felt a hand on my shoulder and before I could react, the phone left my hand.

"Hi, Lois," he said into the receiver. "Yeah, I'm here and he's just fine."

I scowled at him.

"He looks a little angry, though." It was that stupid, phony, idiot voice of his.

I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, I know. I'll have him call you when he gets home. Bye, Lois."

I huffed and crossed my arms in front of my chest. He held the phone out for me to take. I just glared at him for a moment before I angrily swiped it away from him.

"I don't need a babysitter," I growled.

"Your mom was just worried about you."

"Which is more than I can say for you."

"Jason, I worry about you. I just—"

I didn't have time to listen to his excuses. I knew he was only here because my mom asked him to be – which was exactly what I didn't want. Raising my arm high in the air, I called, "Taxi!" as loudly as I could.

"What are you doing?" he asked from behind me.

I didn't turn around to answer. "I'm doing the hula; what does it look like I'm doing?" Then once again I called, "Taxi!"

"We don't have to take a taxi, Jason. We can…you know…" He pointed into the air as if I were too stupid to figure out his meaning.

I ignored him, not wanting to give him the advantage of being in control of the situation. "Taxi!" I yelled a third time.

To my surprise, he stepped in front of me and whistled. The next taxi came to a screeching halt at the curb. I squinted up at him, unwilling to thank him, and climbed into the car. Rather than sliding over to the other side so that he could get in behind me, I slammed the door, forcing him to walk around the car and get in on the other side.

"Three twelve Riverside Drive," I told the driver, and then turned my body to the side to look out the window.

As the car drove away from the curb, I made a vow that I wasn't going to be the one to talk first. There were so many things I wanted to say to him, so many things that I wanted to ask, but he had hurt me by not contacting me in the last several months. I wasn't about to make this easy for him and open up to him as if nothing had happened – as if he hadn't been avoiding me. I wasn't the same little boy that I was four months ago. I no longer thought of him as the world's greatest protector, but rather as the world's worst father figure.

"Are you going to talk to me?" he asked quietly.

I let my silence answer for me as we drove over the South Side bridge.

A few moments later he said, "I've been worried about you."

I tutted, but didn't turn to look at him. Trees outside passed by in a blur, signaling our trip was thankfully nearing an end.

"Jason, will you please look at me?"

I bit my lip, wanting to say something to him, but forcing myself to stay facing away from him. He avoided me for all this time, and it hurt. I wanted him to know what it felt like to be ignored, even if it didn't matter all that much to him.

The taxi pulled up in front of my house and I quickly paid the driver and climbed out of the car. Without even saying good-bye, I slammed the car door and walked up to the house. I had just managed to unlock the door when I heard his voice from behind me.

"We really need to talk about this."

I spun around to face him. "What are you doing? Why didn't you leave with the taxi?"

"I promised Lois I would make sure you got home safely."

"I'm home. I'm safe. So you can go now."

"I'd really like to talk with you, Jason."

"About what?" I spat.

He looked confused. "About…us."

"If it was so important for you to talk to me," I scoffed, "you wouldn't have waited this long to see me."

Turning my back on him, I flung open the door to my house and slammed it in his face before he could try to convince me to listen to him. He got me to acknowledge him, but at least I had held my ground and kept him out of the house.

"Jason," he said. "There are some things we need to talk about, so either you let me in and we can talk in private or I can say what I need to say out here. Just so that you hear me."

Yeah, like he'd really risk someone hearing him talking to his son. I rolled my eyes and picked up the phone, dialing my mom's cell phone. "I'm calling my mom to tell her that you are gone!" I yelled at him. The phone clicked. "Hi, Mom," I said when she answered.

"Oh, good, you're home. Is Clark still there?"

"No, he just left," I said loudly, making sure he would hear me. "And Mom, don't ever ask him to watch me again."

"Why?"

"Because he's an idiot," I stressed, only for his benefit.

"Oh, Jason. Stop it."

"I'm serious, Mom. The guy really drives me insane." Let him chew on that one for a while.

"Well at least you're home safe. I should be able to get out of here in about an hour, okay?"

She said she'd pick up dinner on her way home and that I should stay away from the TV until my homework was finished. And then the line went dead. I hung up the phone and walked back to the door, wondering if he was still out there or if he had taken the hint and flown away. I considered opening the door to look and actually stood with my hand on the doorknob for about a minute while I thought about what I wanted to say to him.

"Open the door, Jason," I heard him say softly.

So he was still there.

"Please," he coaxed. "I won't come in unless you say it's all right."

I huffed, closing my eyes and thinking long and hard about what would happen if I told him to go away. Would he really just go away and leave me alone? Or would he fight me and demand that I open the door? And did I really want him to go? Truth was, no, I wanted him to fight me for it. I wanted him to stand up to me the way a parent should stand up to a disobedient child. I just didn't know how far I could push before I really got in trouble.

"I can see that you want to open the door, Jason," he declared.

That made me mad, and gave me the excuse I needed to find the courage to open the door. "You know, that's really annoying," I said angrily, swinging the door wide open. "If I had X-ray vision, I wouldn't spy on people like that."

"I wasn't spying on you, I was watching you," he said.

"What's the difference?"

"The difference is that you knew I was out here."

"No, I didn't."

"That whole conversation with your mother was for my benefit. You wanted me to hear that conversation…and I deserved it." His gaze held mine for a moment. "And I think that you need to be careful with what you say because it's very likely that someday you will have X-ray vision."

I felt like I had been hit in the gut. "Really?"

His shoulders fell as he exhaled a deep breath. "That's one of the things we need to talk about. Now, may I please come in?"

I hesitated, but only for a moment. Giving in, I backed away from the door and motioned with my arm for him to enter. He did, looking grateful and at the same time slightly uncomfortable. I gently closed the door and walked into the living room where I plopped down on the sofa. He followed behind, taking a seat in the chair across from me and looking very nervous.

Twenty seconds passed as we sat there quietly. I know because I counted the ticks of the grandfather clock. Not wanting to look at him, I kept my focus on the floor in front of me. I wasn't sure what he was going to say, but I was nervous all the same. He'd probably tell me what he expected from me and how I was supposed to live this new life of mine. There was probably some kind of superhero code I'd have to learn or rules I'd have to follow. I'd once heard Mom say that there were things Superman wasn't allowed to do and I always wondered what those things were. Maybe now he would tell me.

"So," he started, "your mom said you got a new piano."

I blinked in confusion. "What?"

"Your piano. Lois told me that you got a new one."

I couldn't figure out what that had to do with X-ray vision. "Yeah… so?"

"Just… that's… nice."

Was he kidding me? This was his first time to talk to me in four months and he was asking about my piano?

"How's school going?" he asked casually.

I wanted to rip my hair out. Why was he asking such stupid questions? "School? You want to know about school?"

"Yes, of course. Is there a reason I shouldn't ask about school?"

"I'm just wondering why." I felt the pressure inside of me build and I couldn't hold it in. "Did you read some stupid parental guidebook that told you to start with small talk? Chapter five – how to begin a conversation with a son you've ignored for four months."

"Jason—"

"School sucks, okay!" I spat out. "It completely and totally sucks."

His face hardened. I'd obviously pushed hard enough to get a real reaction this time.

"Lois told me you were having… difficulties."

I laughed. "Difficulties. That's one way to put it, I guess."

"Well, how would you put it?"

I wet my lips and looked away, feeling so tense and frustrated and wanting more than anything to just curl up into a ball and wish the world away. I didn't know how to admit to him that I wasn't doing so well. He was Superman. He was invincible. And I… I was failing miserably at everything right now. I didn't want him to know how bad things were… and yet I needed him to know. I needed him to help me – to tell me that he could make things right – the way a father should. And so out it spilled.

"I can't concentrate," I started slowly. "I hear everything – which, by the way," I looked him in the eyes, "thanks for that." My eyes darted back to the floor. "I only manage to focus on about half of the things I need to hear at school. Just when I think I'm getting the hang of it, I miss something and end up failing a test. Not to mention that my mind starts wandering all the time now. I'm always thinking about what's going on… why you won't come and see me… what's going to happen to me. Not knowing… it makes concentrating ten times harder." I swallowed hard, embarrassed and somewhat surprised that I'd actually admitted so much to him. And yet there was more that needed to be said.

"My friends - well, what friends I still have – think I'm stupid or something for failing all my classes. That I've got ADD or something. I mean, I have all these other illnesses. Why wouldn't I have ADD? And the kids I used to think were my friends are all making fun of me now since I don't play ball anymore. They think I've lost my mind for giving up ball to play the piano. Not that playing the piano isn't okay or that I don't like it, because I do. It's just that the guys think I must be some sort of sissy for being more interested in music than sports. I could get away with taking piano lessons as long as I was playing ball, too. Now that I can't play ball, 'cause the noise is just too distracting, they think I'm some sort of freak. And it turns out that I am some sort of freak."

It was like the dam had opened and everything I'd been holding inside of me for the last four months came spilling out in an endless, unchecked torrent. It surprised me somewhat that Clark just sat there and let me rant. I half expected him to stop me, but he didn't. And neither did I. I sat forward in my seat and pressed on.

"But I'm not allowed to tell anyone about being a freak, even when I'm asked point blank. 'Cause see, my history teacher got the paper out the other day. With all these kidnappings, your picture is on the front page more than ever now. So, she thought it would be a good time for us to learn all about Superman and where you're from and why you are here and what you can and can't do. And I'm sitting through the class ready to crawl under my desk and just die, when she calls on me. She says – to the whole class – 'Jason knows Superman. He's even flown with him. Tell us, Jason, what Superman is really like.' Now how am I supposed to respond to that?"

My anger was growing as the pitch and volume of my voice rose. Clark's expression went from concerned to downright worried. His frown deepened, and I enjoyed it.

"What exactly was I supposed to say to her? 'Oh, jeepers, Mrs. Holt. He's swell!' When in reality, I want to tell her that you are nothing but a liar. You've lied to me, you've lied to my mom, you've lied to everyone on this planet – that you aren't the Mr. Wonderful that everyone thinks you are. But no, I can't say that. I'm not allowed. It might clue people into the fact that I know you a little bit better than you are willing to admit."

That reminded me of something else I was livid about. "And speaking of not being able to say anything, I have to put up with Mom coming home nearly every day with some idiotic story about some stupid thing you did at work. As if I don't get enough of you on the TV or in the paper or on posters, I also get your name shoved in my face at home! 'Oh, that Clark, he's so silly!' And I just want to scream at her to shut up about you, but I can't because she doesn't know who you really are! And to top it all off, she's covering the whole kidnapping thing right now. So she talks about Clark and Superman at the same time and it completely drives me insane!"

My arms were flailing now, punctuating my harsh words. My voice was cracking as I fought back tears. But I couldn't stop. I had to get this out of me or I thought I might explode.

"Not to mention that the couple of real friends that I do have – that are nice to me even though I am acting all crazy right now – are also caught up in this whole kidnapping thing. I mean, you're everywhere! It's all anyone can talk about – not that they didn't talk about you before, but saving all these kids left and right has been nothing but torture for me. Every other conversation in the halls is about what Superman is going to have to do next to save whoever is lucky enough to get kidnapped next. 'Cause that's what everyone thinks – that these kids are lucky to get rescued by Superman, lucky to spend time flying with you. Do you know that I've actually heard kids talking about trying to get themselves kidnapped just so you will have to save them – so that you'll pay attention to them? I want to say to all of them, 'Good luck getting Superman to pay attention to you. I'm his kid and he won't even pay attention to me!'"

"Jason, that's not—" he hissed.

And I blew up. "It's been FOUR MONTHS!" I shouted at him, standing up. "Four friggin' months! And you won't even talk to me! Four months that I'm left thinking – where is he? Why won't he come see me? What have I done that he won't come and talk to me? I know you're busy and all, but you've got time to save all those other kids. Not just save them but stop and take pictures with them and make press statements all for publicity, while I'm here wondering when you're going to come to see me. It was Christmas and you didn't come. I had a birthday and you didn't come. You've got time to go save some stranger, but you don't have any time for me!"

He stood up, reaching out to me. "Jason—"

"I AM YOUR SON!" I raged.

My words hung in the air, waiting for his reply. But all he did was stare back at me, looking stunned and very worried.

"I'm your son," I repeated, feeling hot tears in my eyes. "I shouldn't have to wait four months for you to acknowledge me."

His eyes drilled into me with an intensity I'd never felt before. My stomach lurched and my legs felt weak. Quickly, I sat down, hiding my eyes from him, not wanting him to see me cry.

The clock was ticking away in the hall. Ten seconds. I tried to casually wipe at my face to get rid of the tears. Fifteen seconds. I pulled my legs up underneath me, wanting to disappear. Twenty. My heart was beating very fast now, waiting for him to say something – anything. Twenty-five.

"I did come to see you." His voice was soft and gentle.

But I didn't believe him. "No, you didn't."

"I came every night for two weeks."

I snorted. "Nice effort. What do you want – an award for parent of the year?

"Your window was locked," he said, trying to sound unaffected by my biting words.

"And what was wrong with you that you couldn't just open the window? It wasn't like it was made of kryptonite."

"I wasn't going to break into your room, Jason. You locked your window for a reason. I took that as a sign that you didn't want to see me."

He was right, of course, but it didn't change anything. Mom and Dad would never have given up so easily. In fact, they didn't give up. They talked to me. They told me over and over again that they would help me through this and that they loved me. Mom would never have let me lock her out – or let me say such awful things like I had said to him tonight. I'd be grounded so fast, I wouldn't know what hit me.

But this wasn't Mom. Or Dad – Richard. This was Clark. And I was learning very quickly that he didn't play by the normal parent-child rules.

"I haven't locked my window in over a month," I pointed out.

"I know," he said, sitting down and trying to look me in the eyes. "And I have been to see you."

I scowled. "When?"

"I've actually come by several times, but you've been asleep."

I huffed. "So, why didn't you wake me up?"

"Because Lois told me that you had difficulty sleeping lately, with the hearing and… and everything on your mind. I didn't want to wake you up when you needed your rest."

"Then come when I'm just going to bed." Did I have to think of everything? Was he really that clueless? "Or better yet, come when I'm awake. Come like…now…when we could talk. I mean, gosh, this isn't brain surgery; this is talking to your kid! What is so difficult about that?"

"It's difficult—" he stopped and sighed, closing his eyes and running a hand through his hair. "It's difficult because I can't come here as Clark when Lois or Richard is here. I can only come as Superman. And if Superman showed up in the daytime to talk to you that would draw attention."

"So?"

"Jason, you don't seem to understand how much danger I could put you in by coming here too frequently. Especially with all these kidnappings."

"Why?" I groaned, frustrated and feeling like he wasn't telling me everything. Like always. "You think someone's going to kidnap me?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation.

"Why?" I sneered. "Because I'm your son?"

His eyes held fast to mine as I waited for his answer. Softly, as he if were afraid of the word, he said, "Yes."

My stomach did a sort of flip-flop. "But no one knows."

"That's why I needed to talk to you. Have you said anything to anyone? Anything at all?"

It was then that I realized he hadn't come to talk to me because he cared about me and needed me to understand that he would help me. He had come over here today to figure out if I was telling anyone. He was worried I would ruin his little secret! "I didn't tell anyone!" I snapped. "And even if I did, who would believe me? I have a hard time believing it myself."

He frowned. "You're sure you didn't tell anyone? Not even a little slip?"

"No!" I bellowed. "You think I want people to know I'm an alien?"

He sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and suddenly looking very serious. "I didn't mean to accuse you, Jason. I just – I've been so anxious to talk to you – to make sure you understand how careful you have to be. These kidnappings…" He took a deep breath. "I haven't known any of the children. I haven't known any of their parents. I've done hours of research trying to put some kind of a connection to all the victims, and I keep coming up short. The only connection they have is that they are all held for the same amount of ransom money, and the kids are left in situation that only I can easily get them out of. And then there are the letters – and this hasn't been in the press, so you can't say anything about the letters to anyone. But each one of the children had a letter… for me. Now, I don't know why, but these kidnappings are about me. I'm the target. But what has me worried sick is that the real target in all of this… is you."

I gulped, feeling suddenly worried myself.

"I've wanted to talk to you – I've been desperate to talk to you. And not just because of this, but for all the reasons you've wanted to talk to me. So, when Lois asked me to pick you up at school today, I jumped at the chance. It provided me with the perfect opportunity to talk to you for more than two minutes without raising any suspicion. I can't come here as Superman. Do you understand that now?"

A part of me understood, but that didn't mean I wanted to admit it to him.

"Jason?"

When I didn't answer him, he sighed heavily and slumped back against his chair, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. He placed his glasses on the side table and ran both of his hands through his hair in frustration. I watched him, amazed and baffled at how stunning the transformation was. It was as if Clark Kent vanished and Superman appeared right in front of my eyes. It was so strange to see him like that. He was Superman, and yet he was dressed in normal clothing. My breath hitched and I shivered as I realized that he looked… like me.

"I can't stand that you're angry at me, Jason," he said. "You're very right – I shouldn't have waited so long to talk to you. That was very wrong of me, and I'm so, so sorry," he apologized. "What can I do to make this better? Tell me what you need me to do and I will do it."

I pursed my lips, thinking of all the things I wanted – all the questions I had – and settled on the biggest question I had right now. "Well, what's going to happen to me?"

"How do you mean?"

"You said I'd get X-ray vision. Will I… be able to do all the things you can do?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I really don't know. A part of you is human. You're… different from me."

I was different from everyone. And hearing him say it didn't make me feel any better. He must have sensed this, because he stopped talking and stood up to pace around the room. My eyes followed him as he nervously shifted from one foot to the other, scratching his head before turning to face me. It seemed to me that he was trying to decide if he wanted to leave or if he should stay.

"I'm not doing a very good job, am I?" he mumbled with his back to me now. "I've been so anxious to talk to you, and now that I'm here I find that I don't know how to talk to you."

To my utter surprise, he walked over to the sofa and sat down right beside me, his body turned just enough so that he could look at me plainly. "I'm not human, Jason. I'm not. But I need you to understand one of the reasons my father sent me here to earth – specifically – is that on many levels, I'm not that different. It's my blood that makes me different."

I looked up at him questioningly.

He leaned in to me, "Yes, I do have blood. It might not be as accessible as yours is, but I do have blood. And because earth's son is yellow and not red, my blood reacts in a way that makes it possible for me to do some amazing things. Now, there are a few other factors to some of the things I can do. I have a different molecular structure. The density of my body—"

He stopped when he noticed that I wasn't really able to understand everything he was explaining.

"I'm not a doctor," he said. "And I can't take a blood sample from you and ask a doctor to compare it to mine. So I don't know just what part of you is human and what part of you is Kryptonian. I can't tell you what you'll be able to do, because there is a difference. I can tell that all ready – from the way you talk about your hearing and that you have difficulty concentrating on one voice."

"You don't have trouble with it?" I asked anxiously.

"I did – very briefly. But I quickly learned how to tune it in and out. Kind of like tuning in a radio station. I don't have trouble in crowds like you do."

"Great," I sighed. "So I'll never be able to control it."

"I didn't say that," he corrected quickly. "I said that it's different for you, but I'm sure you'll learn to control it. And that goes the same for any other ability that you may or may not develop. We just have to wait and see."

I looked down at my hands resting in my lap, unhappy with the fact that he couldn't be more specific. That's what I wanted to know more than anything, and it made me very afraid that he couldn't at least tell me when or what might happen to me.

Gently, I felt his hand touch my knee. My body froze as I watched how hesitantly he rested his hand against my knee – as if he were afraid to touch me. His fingers twitched slightly, and with an unexpected jerk, he moved his hand over mine, covering it and holding it carefully.

"I know… that it's scary. Believe me, I know. And I know you're frustrated at me for not giving you a more precise answer to your question. Do I think you'll develop more abilities? Yes. But I don't know what they will be, nor can I tell you when it will happen or how easily you'll be able to control it. I can't make you any promises about that other than to say that I will help you. I can't be here every day, Jason. I can't." His voice grew very soft. "But I promise that when you need me, I will be here. If you are hurt, or you are frightened, or you need help in any way, you call for me and I will come."

His hand squeezed mine in what I gathered was a farewell gesture. I looked up into his eyes, needing one more question answered before he left. "What do I call you?" I asked quietly. "Father? Dad? Is there some Kryptonian word that I should know of?"

His face hardened somewhat, his eyes focusing on me so directly and intensely that I felt a shiver run down my spine. His jaw was clenched, and I saw his swallow. "You call me Clark," he said, his voice sounding so different from its normal tone. "Or Superman. Depending on the situation."

He squeezed my hand again, his thumb stroking my skin. "No one can know, Jason. No one can ever know."

My eyes fell, and I reluctantly nodded my head in agreement.

"Until I figure out what's going on with these kidnappings, I want you to promise me that you will be extra careful. If you notice anyone following you, watching you, anything suspicious at all, I want you to tell your mom or Richard right away. Don't even second-guess yourself. If you think something or someone looks strange, then you make sure they know."

"Okay," I agreed.

His eyes searched my face, looking deeply into my eyes as if he were trying to communicate something to me with his mind. I didn't flinch away, not even when he brushed my bangs out of my eyes and cupped my cheek in his hand.

"Jason—" he said, and I noticed that his eyes were wet. Very slowly – quietly – he said, "I need you to know—"

The sound of a car door slamming made us both jump and turn our attention to the front door. "That's Mom," I announced.

Our eyes met, and he frowned.

"You'd better go," I said.

He sighed. "I didn't—"

"Go!" I ordered, hearing the front door opening.

And then he was gone.

Three weeks later, the mystery of the kidnappings was solved. A woman, who had lost her only daughter in an accident when Superman failed to reach her in time, had been behind the whole thing. Clark had been right about the fact that she had been targeting him, but it didn't have anything to do with me. I thought that once the whole incident blew over, I would see him again. But he didn't come.

At the same time, fighting for space on the front page of every newspaper was the story of how escaped prisoner and Superman's long time enemy, Lex Luthor, had been found dead in the basement of an office building. No one knew what he was doing there or how he had died. His neck was broken, but there was no sign of a struggle. Mom and Dad didn't talk much about it other than to say they the world was better off without him.

And things got better for me, too. For one thing, I figured out how to control my hearing. By the time I started seventh grade, I was able to pick out individual sounds. My grades went back to normal, and I started making friends again. But Superman… Clark… never came to visit. And soon I stopped watching the skies for any sign of him.