AN: If you've read chapter seven of ItSomF then you know what this chapter is all about. If you haven't read that, then this might be a surprise. Needless to say, I've had this scene in my head for a LONG time. I also want to say that those of you who were angry at Jason's behavior in the last chapter were very right. He is behaving like a spoiled child. That's kind of my point here. I'm not saying it's right, I'm just showing what might happen in this situation. But I do believe in happy endings, so it will all work out in the end. Along those same lines, this will be the last of the overly tragic chapters! YEAH! I have to switch gears for the love story that happens next and then I will be caught up to the event of ItSomF. So, there is light at the end of the tunnel. I did warn all of you that it was going to get VERY, VERY bad before it got better.

Thanks to Hellish who beta'd this one solo. htbthomas is SWAMPED, and so I might fix a few correction in a day or two when she does get a chance to read it. But I still appreciate her efforts to cheer me on!

Age 18 – Being Human

"Remind me again why we signed up for this class?" Lance asked with a groan.

"Because we had to."

"I hate geology."

I'd heard that from him about a dozen times. "We picked it because it was the only one that didn't start at eight in the morning. You like to sleep in, right?"

"Right."

"So, we take geology."

Lance Harper wasn't the most intelligent guy I'd ever met, but he sure was fun. How we ever ended up as roommates is beyond my comprehension, we were so opposite from each other, but it was working out pretty well so far. I helped him with his general studies classes and he hooked me up with a few nice girls at parties and such. Lance always knew where the good parties were.

He was a health and fitness major who came to the school on a soccer scholarship. When he wasn't in class or at a party, he was kicking a ball against a wall or running the track or at the gym lifting weights. He wasn't a tall guy by any means, but what he lacked in height he made up for in personality. I liked him right from the start, and we became good friends through our first semester at Metropolis University. I even went to the gym with him a few times to run the track or spot him as he lifted. And I almost always let him win.

We made a good team at parties, too. He found the girls and I was the safe ride home. Given the fact that alcohol seemed to have little to no effect on my alien body, I was always the designated driver. Of course, I always said that I'd had only one or two beers. Truth was, I could drink a keg and feel only slightly tipsy. It was one of the benefits to having this inhuman body.

For the most part, I tried to ignore what I could do and who I was. I tried to live as normally as possible. After all, that's what I had asked for. But I found it more difficult than I had expected. I was and would always be part Kryptonian, no matter what I did. My only hope was that no one would ever find out. I'd put up this charade in public for all my life, finding the chance to relax a little at home. But now that I lived every day, every moment, with people who hadn't any clue what I could really do, I found it next to impossible to keep it up all the time. I knew it was only a matter of time before I slipped and did something so inhuman that someone would take notice. Lance wasn't book smart, but he wasn't stupid, either. Sooner or later, he was bound to catch me moving too quickly or hearing something I shouldn't be able to hear.

"Why do people study this stuff, anyway?" he asked as we headed into our classroom.

"Geology?"

"Yeah. Rocks. I mean, they're rocks. They don't do anything. What's the point?"

"Well, you can't build anything until you know the properties of the building materials. Different rocks serve different purposes." I considered putting it in terms he would better understand. "Kind of like – you don't want the smallest guy on the team to be the goalie."

"Oh." He smiled and nodded. "Cool." Typical Lance.

We entered the classroom and Lance was instantly drawn to the three attractive girls sitting near the back. He didn't even bother to make sure I was following him. He just eased up to them, sat right down, and introduced himself. It was obvious that at least one of the girls liked his approach. Now, if only I could be that smooth. Regrettably, it seemed that starting up a conversation with a pretty girl was not, and would never be, one of my strengths.

I waved at them when Lance pointed me out and slid, red-faced, into the seat next to him. My stomach did an unusual flip-flop.

"Marcy says she and her friends are having a party this weekend at their apartment complex."

I squinted at him. "Who's Marcy?"

He thumbed over his right shoulder. "Brunette."

"Oh. Um."

Lance smiled brightly. "We are so going. If her other friends look anything like these friends - dude - we could be in for some real fun."

I felt a bit queasy at the thought of that for some reason. It didn't settle well with me, and I couldn't figure out why. Lance went back to flirting with the girls and I settled back in my seat, perplexed at the uneasy feeling slowly spreading throughout my body.

The professor came into the room and started handing out the syllabi. I took one and tried to read what it said. My stomach twisted. And my body began to ache.

"Welcome to Geology 101. I am Professor Colburn," the instructor said. His voice sounded oddly distant. It rattled my ears.

My head pounded as the teacher continued his introduction. I rubbed my eyes and pinched my nose, confused and dazed by what I was suddenly feeling.

"Jase?" Lance said. "You okay, bro?"

"Yeah," I lied. "I just… have a headache."

I hadn't had a headache in a long time. In fact, I hadn't felt sick in years. I still had a few issues with my breathing and asthma, but nothing serious, nothing that required me to use an inhaler anymore. But actually being sick had almost become a foreign concept to me. The sunlight made sure of that. The last time I was ever really, truly sick was…

My heart skipped and I suddenly felt chilled. I looked up at the teacher, prattling on about his love of the universe and all things mineral. On his desk sat several unusual rocks that he was going to let us examine as an introductory demonstration. I looked to my left and for the first time noticed several large, glass cabinets filled with more rocks similar to the ones on his desk. Naturally, a geologist would be a rock collector.

My eyes skimmed over the collection, looking for the one rock I was certain was the cause of my sudden illness. What else could it be? Only one thing could made me feel this weak. There – sitting smack dab in the middle of the top shelf in the cabinet directly across from me – was a green chunk of rock the size of a watermelon, but not as round, and certainly not as smooth.

Kryptonite.

Damn.

I blinked once and slowly turned back around in my chair and closed my eyes in submission. As best as I could, I tried to think my way out of the situation. So the professor had Kryptonite. So what? I knew it wasn't going to kill me, just make me sick. I'd have to switch classes, which would be a real bother considering how difficult it had been to talk Lance into it, and given that he was probably attached to a few girls in the class now, he wouldn't want to leave. But I would have to. I'd just have to make it through this class and then I'd feel better.

I kept reminding myself that it wouldn't kill me. With each minute that ticked by I repeated the phrase. It will not kill me. Only forty more minutes to go. It will not kill me. Only thirty-nine more minutes to go. It will not kill me.

Lance elbowed me, "Dude, you look really sick."

"I am sick," I admitted.

"Are you gonna barf? Cause if you are—"

"I'm not gonna barf."

"You're pale, Jase," he observed. "Like, you're turning green."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks for the reminder."

I glanced at the clock to see that I still had thirty-six minutes to go. My stomach churned. My head reeled. My body ached. My heart raced. My vision blurred.

It will not kill me. Only thirty-five minutes to go.

"Excuse me, are you feeling all right?" the professor asked, looking down at me.

"He's really sick, sir," Lance spoke up for me. "I think he's gonna barf."

"Maybe you should head out. Try to get some fresh air. Splash some water on your face"

I nodded, grateful for the professor's kindness and flexibility given the situation. I slipped on my coat and grabbed at my backpack, founding it nearly too heavy to lift. I used all my force to heave it up over my shoulder as I stumbled out of the classroom. I meandered through the hallway, heading right for the door, knowing deep down that it wasn't fresh air I needed, but rather sunlight. I hated to admit it, but what I craved more than anything in that moment was the sunlight.

I pushed open the door to the commons and was met with cold, wet air. I looked up at the winter sky to see it completely covered in clouds. A light drizzle of icy rain prickled at my face. I moaned, my head falling backwards and then forwards in disbelief. Of all the days for me to be exposed to kryptonite, it would also rain.

Damn it! Damn my alien biology!

I spent the remainder of the afternoon in bed, aching and feeling completely lousy. The weather report called for rain for the next day or so, which only meant that my physical discomfort would continue long enough to impede my ability to do much of anything useful or productive. I wasn't completely incompetent, but I wasn't far from it. The only plus side of this situation was that it was actually quiet for once. I heard things around me, but certainly not any sound that came from a great distance.

When Lance came back from his daily workout later on I was determined to get over this thing and go out for the evening with him to the local pizza place. We went there nearly every Monday for the live music and the cheap food. He came in the dorm room to find me sitting up on my bed with my eyes closed and my fingers massaging my temples.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm trying to get better," I replied unemotionally.

Lance started collecting his shower things. "Why?"

"So we can head out."

"You're seriously going out with the group tonight?"

I looked at him with tired eyes. "We go out every Monday. Why wouldn't I go out?"

"'Cause you're sick, man."

I shook my head. "It's just… nothing. I'll get over it."

"Jase," he frowned at me. "Stay in. You're sick. You should sleep."

"Sleep isn't going to help," I said, rolling down on my side to lie on my bed.

"Sleep and get plenty of fluids – general orders from Mom," he said with a wide grin.

I rubbed my eyes again. "I just don't want to feel like this."

"No one does," he said, opening the door to head over to the bathroom to get cleaned up. "But you know, it's all part of being human." He stopped and turned back to look at me. "Hey, did that Marcy chick call here?"

But I didn't hear his question, for my brain got stuck at the previous comment. "What did you just say?"

"Did Marcy call?"

"No, no. Before that."

"Oh, about being human?"

"Yeah."

He shrugged. "Everyone gets sick. It sucks, but what can you do?"

He left the room, unaware of how such a small statement had affected me. My brain went into overdrive thinking about his words. Being sick – feeling this way – was part of being human. Humans feel pain when they are wounded. Humans grow weak under stress and tired under physical exertion. For all intents and purposes, in this moment, having been exposed to kryptonite, there wasn't much difference between a typical, ordinary human being and me.

I sat up, thinking clearly for the first time all day. I had wanted for all these years to be human, and now a possible answer was staring me right in the face. Could it really be that simple? Could I really be able to finally live the same way everyone else did without worry of accidentally giving the secret away? My powers were almost gone. There was no risk of hearing something I shouldn't be able to hear. Running faster than I should be able to run. Being stronger than was humanly possible. If I could keep this up – if I could keep my body in this weakened state – I just might be able to pass for human.

I could think of two problems with the idea straight off. First of all, I'd have to steal the kryptonite. Not only was that a real crime, but I didn't know if I'd be able to do it. Seeing as how I currently didn't have any strength, I would have to wait until I was stronger to swipe it. And even then, I'd end up being exposed to it while I was trying to steal it, which meant I might not be able to pull this off.

Second of all, I'd have to retrain my body to live like this all the time. I'd have to learn to walk even though I felt sluggish. How to concentrate in spite of my mind being muddled. How to handle physical pain again. None of them worried me as much as losing my sensitive hearing. As much as I had enjoyed the quiet today, I wasn't so stupid that I didn't understand this could affect my ability to play the piano. That was a real worry. But I decided to take the risk, anyway.

And so, the next day, for the few moments the sun decided to shine, I made sure my body filled up on as much radiation as possible until I felt more like myself again – more like the partial alien I was. Then, late that night while Lance was off on a date, I easily slipped into the science building and stopped right outside the door to Professor Colburn's room. I took a deep breath and quickly twisted the knob around until the door came open. Not wasting any precious time, I darted to the cabinet and slid the hefty, green meteor rock into my backpack.

My knees buckled slightly, but I forced myself to stand up straight. The weight of the bag felt ten times heavier than it really was as I slung it over my shoulders, but I didn't care. I wiped the handle to the cabinet as well as the doorknob clean to leave no sign that I had been there and pulled the door shut.

My feet dragged as I made my way back to my dorm. My vision blurred. Sounds rattled in my head like empty bottle cans. I felt cold. But again, I didn't care. After all, it was all part of being human, and no one wanted to be human more than I did.

My breath started to quicken. The air seemed as thick as soup. I couldn't let myself panic in any way. Panicking now might bring on an attack, and that was the last thing I wanted. I knew the kryptonite didn't bring on my asthma, but panicking would. So I willed my mind to calm down as I plodded heavily back across campus.

Once in my room, I labored to get the rock out of the bag and into a box in my closet. I was panting now and on the verge of collapsing, which was exactly what I ended up doing. Lance found me sometime later and helped me get into bed. I'm not sure how long I slept. I just know that it was the deepest sleep I'd ever had. And I'm not sure when I woke up, either. In fact, the next week was such a mess I wasn't sure of anything.

The forecast had been accurate. It rained. And it rained. And it rained some more. All the while I was getting weaker and weaker. Lance told me to see a doctor, so I did. I was told I had the flu. That was a laugh, but I took the meds anyway just for show. My body ached. I was constantly cold. And in spite of my willpower to avoid it, my asthma was back. I missed class after class after class, opting to sleep instead of move. I got away with it for a few days, but after missing two piano lessons, my teacher demanded that I come in. I was on a piano scholarship, after all.

I'm not sure how I get there, but I'm sure I must have looked like I was drunk or at least high on some kind of drug. I sat on the piano bench, swaying from side to side, and plunked out the most hideous sounding piece of crap I'd ever played.

"What the hell is going on with you, Jason?" Professor Bolyard snapped at me.

"I'm sick. I have the flu," I mumbled almost incoherently.

"You have missed far too many classes for my liking. If you are really that sick, you need to be in a hospital."

"I'm taking my medicine."

"It obviously isn't working. Go back to the doctor and tell him you are not getting better. Tell him that you either need to get better or be admitted for treatment."

I rolled my eyes, which was such the wrong thing to do.

"We expect more from our scholarship holders, Mr. White. This school is not going to pay for you to just throw that money away because you are too careless to tend to your illness." His voice had risen in volume and was hurting my ears. "Now, I do not want to see you in here again until you have solved this matter. You will get help and you will solve this matter or you will lose your scholarship, understand?"

I blinked. "Yes, sir," I slurred.

It was then that I started to consider how very imprudent this whole scheme was. I spent all night thinking about what I really wanted. Which was more important to me – being human or being a musician? Which brought more happiness to my life? I couldn't really say I'd been very happy the last week or so. And I knew that I would be miserable if I could never play the piano again. Music was my escape. Music was my source of expression. Music was my second language. Was I really willing to give it all up just to feel like this for the rest of my life? No, I wasn't.

When morning rolled around, I figured I would have a rough time getting rid of the rock without looking suspicious. What I hadn't figured on was that Lance was one step ahead of me. My rough week was about to get even rougher.

He came into our room, leaving the door wide open, and stood with his hands in his pockets, looking very guilty. "I've been worried about you, bro. So I hope you don't think I'm a snitch."

"What do you mean?"

"I called over to the Daily Planet and asked for your mom."

I frowned. "What?"

"I told her you were really sick and she said she'd be here as soon as she could."

My already cold body chilled. "You told her I was sick?"

"I told her you've been sick all week. That you've slept all the time. Stuff like that."

Great. Just great. Mom knew I couldn't get sick. At least, not like that. She would know it was kryptonite. If she came here, she would figure it out right away what I was up to.

"Thanks, Lance," I growled, flopping back against my bed. "So she's coming here then?"

"Um…" he shifted his feet. "I dunno. She said she'd be here, but then this guy shows up and says that your mom sent him over to check on you – that he was closer and could get here faster."

I froze.

"This guy," I said. "Is he tall? Nerdy-looking? Glasses?"

Lance looked over his shoulder to the open door. "Yeah."

"Is he in the hallway?"

He blushed slightly. "Yeah. I think he heard you call him nerdy."

"Probably," I groaned. "It wouldn't be the worst thing I've ever called him."

Lance looked at me, puzzled. "Do you want me to tell him to go away, or what?"

I considered doing just that. After all, he had agreed to stay away from me, and this was clearly breaking that promise. However, I also understood that he was probably feeling the effects of the kryptonite right now. He was probably growing weak and sick. And I knew that no matter how awful I felt right now, he most likely felt ten times worse. It was malicious of me, but I couldn't resist the temptation of actually being stronger than him for a while.

"You know what," I said, sitting up as best as I could. "If he wants to talk to me so badly, then who am I to stop him? Let him in."

Lance stepped out into the hall. "You heard all that, right?"

Clark came into view, looking rather pale and tense. "I heard."

Our eyes met, and I could see he was angry with me. Typical. I could also see that he was shaky on his legs. He walked into my room, all color drained from his face, his breathing too shallow for Superman. Oh yeah, he could feel the kryptonite. It was painfully obvious that he was having difficulty even standing up straight.

"You okay, dude?" Lance asked Clark.

"I'm fine," Clark replied in a light voice. "Would you mind letting me speak to Jason in private?"

Lace looked at me for approval, and I nodded. Once Lance had walked away, Clark slowly closed the door to my room. He leaned against the wall for support, holding on to the doorknob as if it was the only thing keeping him from falling down. If it was that bad for him, why was he even here? Why risk it? Was he doing this to impress me? To show me that anything I could do he could do better?

"I thought you agreed to leave me alone," I snapped at him.

"I did," he confirmed. "But I figured fatal exposure to kryptonite trumps all agreements."

I snorted. "Fatal?"

He eyed me over his shoulder, still leaning against the door. "Your mother told me that you were sick, so I came over here looking for some hidden kryptonite that might have been the cause of your illness. I never thought I would find it in your room." He took a few labored breaths. "What the hell are you doing, Jason?"

His voice was firm, harsh, and demanded my attention. It startled me, for I'd only ever heard him use that tone one other time – when he shouted at me in front of mom and nearly blew his cover. Even then, he didn't swear at me. He'd never sworn at me. It was unlike him to talk to me like that, with a voice so authoritative. It was the voice of a parent, and it left me slightly dazed.

"Are you trying to kill yourself?" he asked.

"Kryptonite won't kill me," I countered quickly. "You told me that a long time ago."

"I said I didn't think it would kill you. And I warned you about testing it to see if I was right!"

"That's not what I'm doing."

"Then explain this to me." He wobbled on his feet and came to rest in the corner beside the door. "Why would you want to do this to yourself?"

I swallowed. "It's just part of being human."

"Human?"

"Yeah, human. Just like everyone else. I have no powers – no abilities. I'm just like any other human being waiting out their mortality." In spite of my efforts to sound normal, my speech was slightly slurred.

He looked at me for a moment, his brows furrowed together. "You can't be serious."

I raised an eyebrow in silent reply.

His head fell forward and he steadied himself by placing his hands on his knees. "Jason, this is not what it's like to be mortal."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've been mortal and this is not what it feels like."

I laughed. "Yeah, right. When were you ever mortal?"

The air in the room stilled as I waited for him to answer. He raised his head to look at me, but only briefly, as if he was considering lying to me. I could see it in the way his eyes shifted. There was something he didn't want me to know.

"You were mortal?" I challenged.

"Yes."

I frowned in disbelief. "When?"

"When I went to Krypton."

"You mean when you left mom?" I said bitterly.

His eyes closed, and he nodded angrily. "Yes, Jason. When I left your mother. When she was pregnant. When you were born. When I made the biggest mistake of my life. Yes!"

I hadn't been expecting that from him, and he very nearly fell over as he yelled at me. As weak as my own body was, I could only imagine how difficult it was for him right now.

"When I left this solar system and was away from the yellow sun." He was panting now, and sweating. I'd never seen him sweat before. "I was mortal then."

I considered his words and found them believable, but there was something in the way he looked at me a moment ago that told me there was more to it than that. Something more that he was unwilling to let me know. Something that made this whole confession of his just another one of his many half-truths.

"You're lying to me," I stated boldly.

He gaped at me. "No, I'm not."

"Then what aren't you telling me?"

His eyes darted away from mine like a caged rabbit. "I'm not lying to you, Jason. Why would I lie about something like this? Good God, Jason!" His body slid down the wall and came to rest in a heap on the floor, his legs bent up in front of him and his head resting back into the corner. He sat there with his eyes closed for a good, long while, his deep and shallow breaths the only sound in the otherwise still room.

"I want," he panted, "you to give me," he huffed, "the kryptonite. I'm not leaving here," he breathed, "with out it."

Give it to him? Was he crazy? "It will kill you!"

"But at least it won't hurt you anymore."

He was crazy. Did he really think I was actually going to give him the very substance that would kill him? Obviously he did, for he repeated his demand.

"Give it to me, Jason."

"No," I said firmly.

His hands balled up into fists. "Damn it, Jason!" he roared with a sudden ferocity. You will give it to me!" Anger flared in his weary eyes.

"I will not—"

"Jason, please—"

"— give it to you."

"Don't do this!"

"But if you will listen to me—"

"If not for me—"

"— you'll see that I am going—"

"— think about your mother."

"— to get rid of it."

"This will kill her!"

"I know."

The shouting match came to an abrupt halt.

"What?" he said, confused.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not going to give it to you, but I will get rid of it. You can go be a martyr for someone else, but I don't want that on my head. I have enough to deal with as it is."

He blinked. "But you will get rid of it?"

"I said that I would. And I'm not doing it for you either, just so you know. I can't play piano worth a damn. My music is the only thing I've got going for me right about now, and I'm not about to give it up."

He sighed and let his head fall back against the wall again with a thud. "Where did you even get it?"

"From my professor."

"He just gave it to you?"

"No, I took it."

He shook his head, once again disappointed with my actions. "I'm not going to tell Lois about this."

That surprised me. "You're gonna lie to her again?"

His blue eyes flashed up at me. "If you want me to tell your mother that you have purposefully been exposing yourself to kryptonite, so be it. I think we both know that your temper is nothing compared to your mother's."

He had a point there. Mom was sure to be royally pissed off at me – if not for the kryptonite, then for almost wrecking my college career. So I nodded. "She will ask, though."

"And I will tell her that I found it and got rid of it, and that you should be just fine in a few days." His breathing was so shallow now that he could hardly talk, his voice not more than a whisper. "Which is the truth."

"More or less," I added cynically.

We stared at each other for a long, heavy moment. The tension was thick and palpable.

It had been ages since I'd seen him so weak. A distant part of my mind remembered when my mother had pulled him out of the water that disastrous day and how hurt he had been. More than that, I would never escape the image of him in a hospital bed. But those were memories of a child who didn't know the truth. I was not a child anymore.

"Are we done then?" I asked bitterly. "I'm sure you have something infinitely more important to do."

His face visibly softened. "No. As a matter of fact, I don't."

I rolled my eyes.

He took a deep breath and slowly moved so that he was kneeling. His right hand reached up to grab the doorknob while his left steadied him against the wall. It was like watching an old cripple trying to find their footing. He panted, gasping for breath and sweating from the exertion of his activity.

Once he was upright, he tipped backwards and lost his balance. Somehow I forced my legs to move quickly and I managed to catch him and help keep him from falling to the floor.

"Thank you," he said softly, looking at me with honest gratitude. "How long have you had the kryptonite?"

"Little more than a week," I admitted.

He looked impressed. "And you're still able to stand." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

He turned and rested his hand on the doorknob and his head against the wall. "You promise me that you will get rid of it?"

"I promise," I whined. "Just so long as you promise to leave me alone."

He paused and moved his head just enough so that I could see his profile. "You'll never be alone, Jason."

He opened the door and staggered out into the hall without even so much as a goodbye or a glance back at me.

I wish I could say that we both kept our promises, but I can't. I wish I could say that he was the one who broke his promise, but it was the other way around. I didn't actually get rid of the kryptonite. I kept it. I hid it for a while in the basement of the dorm, behind the washer and dryer where no one would see it. And then later, I had a lead box built to store it in. I didn't think it would be right to put it back out into the world where someone could eventually use it against him. I considered it my one act of charity towards him even though he didn't deserve it. I hated him, but I didn't want him dead.

He kept his side of the deal, though. He did stay away from me. He had come to help me, thinking I was genuinely hurt, and I'd treated him like garbage yet again. He'd pretty much said that he would risk his life for mine, and I had brushed it off as if it didn't matter to me. He'd hurt me so many times in the past that I couldn't understand why his departure this time hurt me so much more. Maybe it was because I knew I'd put the final nail in the coffin. Maybe it was because I somehow knew it would be years before I would speak to him again. Maybe because this time I knew it was really my fault.

But I couldn't let it stop my life. I'd made a horrible mistake. Like father, like son, huh? But I had to go on and press forward. I threw everything I had into my music. All my heart, all my soul. It became my life, my everything. It was my saving grace. My peace and my joy.

Until I met her.