AN: First off, let me remind you that if you haven't read chapters 1-9 of In the shadow of my Father, then this chapter will make little to no sense. If anything, read chapter 9 so you can understand the change in Jason's relationship with Clark.

I originally intended for Age 20 to be a two parter – just Before and After - but upon talking about it with a few others and thinking long and hard over what needed to come next, it ended up much longer than planned. I have four sections that need to be addressed now, so I will tackle two now and two later. (Bonus points to the reviewer who can guess which two parts are missing here.) Thus, Age 20 becomes a three parter with the After bit split up into two for the sake of my beta readers' sanity! And speaking of…

Many thanks go to htbthomas and hellish red devil for all their support. And van-el gets the "blame" award for the scene with Lois that opens this chapter. It was his comment that made me realize it needed to be here.

Age 20 part two: After

…Mom…

I didn't tell her I was coming over. I didn't want her to have any warning. She would plan out answers and steel herself for what was to come, and that was the last thing I wanted. I didn't even knock on the front door to tell her I was there. After all, it was still my home even if I didn't really live there anymore. I just walked on in and went to her office where she was busy typing away at her computer, as usual.

"Mom?" I said softly.

She was startled. "Jason!" Her hand flew to her heart. "Scare me to death, why don't you?"

"Sorry."

"I didn't even hear the door open!" she gasped.

"I didn't mean to scare you."

"What are you doing here?"

And then she looked at me for the first time – really looked at me – her mouth gaping open as she took in my appearance. I'm sure I looked like a total mess with puffy eyes and a tortured expression on my face. More than that, I was tired – drained – both physically and emotionally, and I knew it showed in my body language. That's what a night of honest emotional outpouring does to you – it drains you.

Not to mention that I'd spent the last couple of hours aimlessly walking around Metropolis thinking over everything that Clark had said to me. I had to mentally replay every bit of dialogue, every conversation, every moment I'd ever spent with him to try and work out where I had gone wrong in my interpretation. If what he said to me tonight was true, and I couldn't deny the honesty I had felt from him, then up until now, everything I'd ever known—everything I'd ever assumed--about my relationship with him was wrong. Everything I knew about myself – about him – had to be reworked in my mind to adjust to this new bit of information.

I'd been through this once before in my life. When I was ten years old and I found out he was my father, I'd done pretty much the same thing. There had been so many questions I needed answered back then, so many holes to fill. Most importantly, I had to have the information verified from the only source that could confirm what I'd learned was true, and that source was my mother. Now, ten years later, being in nearly the same position, I found my feet dragging me back to her to once again confirm the truth for me. There were some things I needed to hear from her, just to make sure they matched up with what Clark had said. I knew it was an underhanded thing to do, but I was too emotionally raw for anything but the cold, hard truth.

"What happened?" Mom said, standing up and coming around her desk to get a better look at me.

"I need to talk to you about something."

Her worried eyes searched my face. "Are you okay?"

"I dunno. It all depends on what you have to say."

Her anxious expression deepened. "What's wrong?"

Swallowing hard, I dove right into the thick of things. "Whose idea was it not to tell me that Superman was my father?"

She blinked, obviously caught off guard.

"Was it your idea?" I asked. "Or was it his idea?"

She shook her head as if confused and slowly lowered her body into one of the soft leather chairs lining the wall. "Um…" She wet her lips. "Mine."

My heart skipped a beat.

"It was my idea," she confessed. "He didn't argue with me about it, but it was my idea. I mean, I'm the one who mentioned it first, I suppose."

It was something that had been plaguing my brain for the last few hours – something Clark had said that didn't register right away. I'd always assumed that it was Superman who had told Mom she couldn't tell me I was his son. He'd told me I couldn't tell Mom he was Clark, so it only made sense that he had done the same regarding my paternity. However, earlier tonight Clark had said that Mom asked him to wait until I was old enough to understand. Mom told him to keep quiet. It was the complete opposite of what I had always assumed, and I'd never hesitated to show my anger about it to him. Yet up until tonight Clark had never once put the blame of keeping my paternity a secret on my mother's shoulders. In fact, he didn't even blame her tonight. He was just stating facts.

Facts. Not assumptions. Facts. And Mom had just confirmed it.

"Why?" I asked weakly.

She took a few deep breaths and slumped back in her chair. "Well, first of all, Richard didn't know. I had to tell Richard first because I was afraid you would slip and tell him. Which basically leads to reason number two. I mean, you idolized Superman. You drew picture after picture of him. I was so afraid that if I told you he was your father that you would be so excited you'd want to tell all of your friends."

I frowned. "And he just agreed with you?"

She pushed her hair behind her ear. "Yes… well… sort of."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that he agreed with me, but that he told me he didn't want to wait too long to tell you. He wanted to see you and talk to you – he said that you needed to be able to talk to him as your father sooner rather than later. I guess he didn't know who his real father was until he was an adult, and he didn't want that for you."

It was my turn to be surprised.

"Did you know that?" Mom continued. "That he grew up here? That he came here as a child and didn't know who he really was until he was older?"

I chose my words very carefully. "Yes. I've known about that for a while, I just… didn't know you knew."

She hummed thoughtfully. "I've put pieces together over the years. The reporter in me tells me that there is an amazing story there – where he lived, who he was, who raised him. And yet the mother in me tells me to leave it alone."

I was speechless.

"Anyway, the point is that every day that passed – every month, every year – I could see that it pained him that you didn't know who he really was. Each time he came by the house, it would break my heart to see how happy and excited he was to just look at you, let alone if he got the chance to actually talk to you. And then when he would have to leave… the longing in his eyes…" She looked away from me, a sad smile on her face. "You probably don't believe me, but Jason, he was always desperate to talk to you."

Her words sparked a memory in my mind. I was eleven and Mom had asked him – Clark – to take me home from school. I had yelled at him and accused him of all sorts of things because he hadn't been to see me sooner. I heard his voice in my head saying I've wanted to talk to you – I've been desperate to talk to you just like mom said. Desperate to talk to me.

"Do you remember your seventh birthday?" she asked, snapping me out of my memory.

"Vividly," I stated, surprised that she had picked the very same birthday I had been thinking about earlier that day.

"When he asked me if he could come by and see you… oh God. I was terrified what he would say to you. He had never asked for time alone with you like that before. He said, 'He's my son, Lois, and he doesn't know me,' and I just couldn't say no to him. I thought for sure he was going to tell you he was your father."

"But you let me go," I said, a bit in confusion.

"He's your father. Even though he had managed to steal five minutes here or ten minutes there, it wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. And he loved you so much. I had to trust that what he would say and do that day would be in your best interest because he loved you."

I bit my lip. "Is that what he said?"

"What?"

"He said… that he loved me?"

She squinted at me. "When?"

"On my seventh birthday."

She shrugged. "Probably. I don't remember exactly, but he said it all the time. Why?"

I pursed my lips, mulling over her words. He said it all the time.

That was the other thing I'd spent the evening brooding over. Clark had said he loved me and that he has always loved me, in spite of the fact that I had never heard him say it. I'd spent my life waiting for him to say it only to discover that he had tried to say it and I had never let him. Over the last few hours, I'd managed to pinpoint so many possible times that it was almost ridiculous.

When I was eleven and he brought me home for school. He'd taken my hand and tried to tell me something when Mom pulled up and I ordered him to go. He could have been trying to tell me he loved me, and yet I'd told him to leave. When I was thirteen and was exposed to kryptonite for the first time, he'd come to my room and held me tight; I could clearly remember feeling how much he loved me. Or when I was fifteen and had run off from the school group to try to fly and he thought I'd been kidnapped or something – when he'd found me, he'd held me just as tight, with just as much emotion. And then later that night, after I'd told him to go away and leave me alone, he'd told Mom to tell me something. I hadn't heard it, but it had made him cry. "Make sure he knows," he had said. Or when I'd told him I hated him and never wanted to see him again, he hadn't wanted to leave me. He'd said he couldn't leave me. He'd begged me not to ask him to leave me. And then he'd tried to tell me something… and I wouldn't hear it. And my freshman year, when I'd pulled that awful stunt with the kryptonite, he'd pretty much said that he would die for me. He'd demanded that I give him the kryptonite even though it would kill him. "But at least it won't hurt you anymore," he had said.

I was so blind, so deaf. He'd said it all the time and I'd never heard it. I'd never allowed myself to hear it.

"Why are you asking all of this?" Mom pressed. "What's happened?"

I closed my eyes, letting my head drop forward. "I talked to him tonight," I admitted softly.

She was quiet for a moment before saying, "You talked to him… or you yelled at him?"

I looked up briefly. "A little of both. More talking than yelling though. And he did most of the talking."

Her mouth opened and then closed as if she was trying to decide what to say. "Did he confront you?"

"No, I went to his—" I stopped short of saying apartment. Mom obviously knew more than Clark realized. I'd asked him to tell her the truth, which he'd promised me he would. It would be very backhanded of me to spill the beans now when we had just reached a sort of compromise. "I went to him," I corrected.

Her eyebrows raised in amazement. "Really?"

I nodded.

"Why?" She shifted in her seat suddenly. "Not that I'm angry at you for doing it or I don't think you should have, because I'm glad you tried to talk to him. I want you to talk to him. I'm just surprised that after all this time you just up and decided to go."

I smiled an apologetic smile. "Kate told me to talk to him – that I needed to before I could move on."

Mom's frown returned full force. "Kate?"

Our eyes locked. "Yes, Mom. Kate."

"She… knows?"

"She knows. We got into a bad situation and he had to rescue us. Well, he had to rescue me. I had to use my powers and Kate saw the whole thing."

"Was she… angry?"

"Yes, but we talked it through. That's what Kate does – she gets people to talk. So I started talking and I told her everything."

Mom was sitting as still as stone. "And she sent you to talk to him because…?"

"Because she loves me and she doesn't want to see me spend the rest of my life hurting."

Mom shook her head in disbelief. "But she hates him!"

"No, I was wrong about that. He's not her favorite person in the world, but she doesn't hate him."

Mom gaped at me. "Are you kidding me?"

"We were both wrong, Mom."

"She called him an alien."

"Which he is."

"She accused him of selectively saving people."

"Which he does."

"How can you say that she doesn't hate him?"

"Because she can acknowledge the good that he does. She recognizes that he has done some remarkable things for humanity. She just doesn't think that he should be worshiped like a god."

"He isn't!"

"Yes, he is! Take a look around, Mom! You, of all people, know firsthand that the best way to sell a newspaper is to put his picture on the front page. People can't resist him."

"And that's his fault? She blames him for that?"

"She did. She accused him of trying to get attention, but she sees him differently now." I took a deep breath and added, "I see things differently now, too, and it's all because she made me go and talk to him about it."

Mom didn't have a response for that.

"You should thank her, Mom. She made me talk to him, and that's why I'm here talking to you. I have to make sure that I'm understanding things correctly, because there is so much that I haven't understood about the past, but I'm learning, and I'm sorry, and it's going to take time to work through. But I don't want you to hold a grudge against Kate for this one, because she got it right. She got me to talk to him." I swallowed the lump that had developed in my throat. "And I am going to marry her, so I really hope you can forgive her. 'Cause, Mom, I've said worse stuff about him than she did, and yet you're still here talking to me. You still love me, right?"

"Of course I love you."

"So, you can forgive me for all the horrible things I've said, but you can't forgive her?"

"It's different. She's not my daughter."

"What about your daughter-in-law?"

Mom looked taken aback. "You told her everything – everything – and she's really okay with it?"

"You thought once she knew the truth that she'd leave me. That's why you were so adamant that I tell her."

Mom's face went pink. "I'm sorry, Jason. I—I snapped. I know. And I passed judgment on her just as inaccurately as she did with Superman."

"So, you think maybe… you could try to get along with her?"

Mom's face scrunched in thought. "Do you think maybe you could wait a few years before you actually get married?"

"Yes," I said without hesitation.

"Then I'm willing to give her a second chance."

"That's it?" I said, waiting for the other shoe to drop. There had to be more.

"That's it."

"But – really?"

"If you're telling me the truth – that it was Kate who got you to work things out with your father – then I owe her more than a second chance."

…Kate…

The morning sunlight filled the room and covered my body with its warmth. I rolled over, turning towards it, seeking more if it. I had been so completely drained and exhausted last night that I'd just collapsed onto my bed and fallen immediately deeply asleep. With the sunlight pouring over my skin, radiating strength and life, I felt recharged and strong again. I stretched my arms up as I yawned, and then pushed the covers down to expose more of my body to the heat and radiation I so desperately craved. I even snaked one leg out from under the covers, it felt so good.

"You wake up with the sun."

I turned my head, surprised to see Kate lying there next to me. She hadn't been there when I went to sleep.

"Lance let me in," she explained upon seeing my reaction. "I hope you don't mind."

"No. Why would I mind?"

"I wasn't sure if you were upset with me."

I turned on my side to face her. "Why would I be upset with you?"

She snuggled into her pillow, lowering her eyes away from mine. It didn't escape my notice that she wasn't touching me at all. It was unlike Kate to stay so far away from me, and that spoke volumes."Because you didn't call me last night. I was worried those things had gone badly and that you'd blame me for making it worse."

"Oh," I sighed. "Well…"

"Well?" Worry covered her beautiful face. "Why didn't you call me?"

I had a good reason for it. I just hoped that she would understand it. "Okay, please don't take this the wrong way, but… I needed to think. I needed to be alone for a little while."

"But you still could have called me and told me you were all right."

"True, but honestly, Kate, I was so worn out that I didn't have the energy to talk about it anymore. I needed to sleep it out." I reached out and took one of her hands in reassurance. "If I had called you or gone over to your place, you would have asked questions. I just… couldn't… you know?"

She bit her bottom lip. "I'm too inquisitive. I've been told that by nearly every teacher I've ever had. I don't mean to pry, I just worry."

"I know that, and I really did consider calling you."

She was quiet for a moment. "Then… I take it that since you didn't want to talk about it that it went badly?"

I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. "Well, it was one of the most difficult conversations I've ever had to get through, but I wouldn't say that it went… badly. Painful, yes. But bad?" I shrugged.

"What did he say?" she whispered.

"Everything I've ever wanted him to say," I replied just as quietly. My eyes remained focused on the ceiling. "I wondered if someone had fed him the lines – like he was reading from a script or something."

Beside me, Kate's breathing quickened along with her heart rate, but she remained silent and let me offer up whatever I needed to say.

"He called me a—a miracle," I continued, fumbling over the word slightly. "My brain has been trying to wrap itself around that one ever since he said it. It's so opposite from what I've ever believed about myself."

"What do you mean?" Kate asked.

I wet my lips, but still didn't look over at her. "When I was younger and I thought Richard was my father, I knew that I had been born before they were married. It was clear that I was a mistake, and that it took them a good long time to work things out. I was completely not in their plans. And then when I found out that Superman was my father, that feeling of being a mistake intensified. Because – come on – there was no way he and Mom planned on this happening. A human and a Kryptonian aren't even supposed to be able to have children together, right? So that made me not only a mistake, but someone that was never even supposed to be born. Like some freak of nature – genetics gone awry. I was never even supposed to exist. It's like I'm living on borrowed time."

"Stop it," Kate snapped. I turned to look at her face and saw her eyebrows furrowed together in anger. "Don't talk like that. I hate it when you talk like that!"

"That's how I felt, Kate. That's how I've always felt. That's what I've always believed about myself. That I was a mistake who was never supposed to be born."

Her eyes closed in pain. "Please, stop it!"

"Listen to me, Kate. Hear me out." Her eyes opened to meet mine. I rolled back onto my side to face her. "He called me a miracle. His miracle. Do you have any idea what that did to me? What that means to me? It means that everything I've ever believed about myself… is wrong. I've spent all night long trying to convince myself that… that I'm not…" I really didn't' know how to word it. I hadn't quite figured it out yet for myself.

Kate offered me the words that were escaping me. "That just because they didn't plan on you, it doesn't mean that they aren't glad you're here."

"Yes!" I hissed out in excitement. "A miracle, Kate, by definition is something wonderful – something to marvel at – something awe-inspiring. That's what he compared me to. Not a mistake." I rolled onto my back again, feeling the power of the realization as my brain processed the very idea.

"Did he say why he's never told you that until now?" Kate asked.

Guilt once again started to flood my system. "Actually, Kate, he has been saying it. At least he's been trying to tell me. I've just been too pigheaded to notice ."

Kate was very quiet beside me as I explained the details of the evening. I told her of my accusations and how he'd responded to them. I told her what he had said about his time in the hospital when I was young. I told her how he'd been watching me, listening to my recitals and watching me grow up from a distance. I told her how he'd hugged me and told me he would always love me, and even though it was difficult to accept, I was able to believe him at long last.

Kate listened to every detail, asking a question here and there until she was satisfied with my answers. I never once felt as if I were discussing my personal life with a therapist, as I'd often accused her of doing, but rather that the woman I loved was anxious for me to work things out with my father so that I could move on, so that I could be truly happy. Plainly and simply, Kate cared more for my happiness than I'd ever realized. Then I explained how I went and talked with my mother afterwards. I explained how she'd confirmed everything he had said and then some. I even explained how I'd told mom about Kate's involvement in getting me to go talk to my father and how she should try to forgive Kate.

"You didn't!" Kate said, alarmed.

"I did."

She groaned.

"What's the matter?"

"Because now your mother's going to think that I made you go and tell her that just so she will like me!"

I nearly laughed. "No, she doesn't. Truth be told, I had to do some convincing that you weren't the enemy. But she is ready to talk. She wants me to thank you. In fact, both my mother and my father wanted me to thank you."

Kate blushed. "Really?"

"Yeah. You got me to do something that the two of them have been pestering me about for years . It's amazing what the threat of losing you will do to me."

Her eyes darted down as if she was trying to shield them from me. "I shouldn't have done that."

"What?"

"Used our relationship like that. Given you an ultimatum. It was in bad taste, especially considering how hypocritical it was."

"How so?"

"I asked you to go and make amends with a man that I, myself, harbor resentment for. I shouldn't ask you to do something unless I'm willing to do the same thing. That's hypocritical, Jason."

I smirked at her, still very much aware that she wasn't touching me. "Maybe, but it worked."

"But if it hadn't – if you hadn't gone to talk to him… or if things had turned out badly – then I might have lost you."

"Hey," I said, scooting closer to her, slipping a leg in between hers. "You couldn't lose me if you tried." I brushed her silken hair back from her face.

Her eyes finally lifted to look into mine. "Then you really aren't upset with me?"

"Why would I be upset with you? You didn't lie to me. You didn't try to hide the fact that you aren't entirely human."

"No, but you have no idea how scared I was all last night that something had gone wrong and you had decided that my ultimatum was too cruel for you to live with." Her hands slid around my waist as she snuggled closer to me.

I leaned in and rested my forehead against hers. "And you have no idea how scared I've been since the first day I met you that when you would find out who I really was, you'd call it quits. I'm still afraid of it, actually."

She blinked back her surprise. "Why? I told you I wanted this."

"Kate—" I took a deep breath, knowing what I was about to point out to her could possibly end it all, but I owed it to her. I loved her too much to not make sure she had thought of everything. "I need to make sure you understand something before we go any further. I know you've said you can accept who I am, but consider that… well…" I swallowed hard. "If I have kids… they will be… different."

"What do you mean if you have kids? You agreed to at least two a while back, or is my memory failing me?"

I gaped at her in wonder.

"I love you," she stated firmly. "I don't plan on having children, let alone making love with anyone else but you. Now, if you have a problem with that, then—OOF!"

I kissed her full on the mouth, stopping her from saying anything more. The kiss was slow and deep and the perfect release for the tension I'd been feeling since I'd woken up to find her so far away from me on the bed. I wasn't going to lose her. She was here and she wasn't going to go away. All that was left was to make it official.

I yanked my mouth away from hers, mumbling a quick, "Hold that thought," and darted out of bed to search for the item I'd been wanting to give her for weeks now. I'd tucked it away in my sock drawer the other night after the disastrous picnic. Once I'd found it, I took it out of its box and crawled back into bed.

"What are you doing?" Kate complained.

I only smiled at her and said, "I know I've already asked you this, but I screwed it up royally and I'm sorry for that. If I wasn't so anxious to get this over with, I'd wait to take you out to dinner and do this properly, but I love you and I just can't wait another second."

"Jason?"

I took hold of her left hand and held the half-carat solitaire diamond ring up where she could see it. "Will you marry me?"

She gasped and stared wide-eyed at the ring. "Jason! Oh! I… I…" She looked into my eyes. "It's beautiful!"

"I'm glad you like it."

"I'm just so… surprised!"

I chuckled at her. "You knew I had a ring. I even told you I had a ring for you."

"I know, I just didn't think it would be so pretty!"

"Well, again, I am glad you like it, but… you still haven't answered the question."

"What?" she blinked. "OH! Oh, yes. YES! Of course my answer is yes!" I slid the ring onto her finger and then smiled at her, feeling happier than I had in a very long time. She kissed me with such joy that I was completely lost. I felt as if I'd been starving for her. It had only been a few days since she'd found out the truth about me, but I'd spent each and every one of those days wondering if she would ever kiss me like this again. Now that she was, I reveled in it more than ever. As I nuzzled my way down her neck, I realized that she wasn't paying any attention to me but rather holding her hand out so she could admire her ring.

"You must really like it," I mumbled against her skin.

"I do. It's perfect."

I kissed her again, hoping to draw her focus back to me. It worked for a moment, but then she shocked me out of my skin by asking the really big question.

"So, when do I get to properly meet Superman?"