AN: I get asked a lot if I will write a chapter where Jason saves Superman. Well, this is that chapter. If you haven't read "Going Under" I suggest you do so or this chapter might not be so clear. You can find it here at under my published fics. It's the big "reveal" fic for my AU and will help you better understand the emotion of this chapter.

Many thanks to htbthomas, Hellish Red Devil, and Van-El for their help with this chapter. I do have one of the best beta teams, IMO. You guys all rock!

Age 22 part two: Divided

I was asleep when the phone rang. It was such a deep, peaceful sleep that I didn't even hear the phone at first, and considering how sensitive my ears are, that's saying something. It was the sleep of the dead and something I'd been gratefully experiencing ever since the wedding. The relief of having the pressure of the event taken off my shoulders – the anticipation of finally being legally married to this amazing woman – it all was released and my body was able to rest – really rest – for the first time in months.

It was actually Kate's elbow that woke me up. She was curled up in my arms with her back against my chest and had easy access to my rib cage. It didn't hurt, but I felt it, so she must have put some good force behind the jab. I reluctantly released my hold on her and rolled onto my back so I could reach for the phone.

Still half asleep, I said, "Hello?"

"Hi, Jason. It's Mom."

"Mom?" I said, still in a sleepy daze. "What's wrong?" I glanced at the clock, which told me it was just after five in the morning.

She laughed. "What's wrong? Clark is what's wrong."

I blinked, coming awake pretty fast at the way she snarled the name Clark. "So then… you know?"

She sighed. "Oh yeah, I know. I know everything."

I closed my eyes and sat up. "When did he tell you?"

"Yesterday. Last night."

"Last night," I repeated, looking over at Kate, who was anxiously staring up at me, biting at her bottom lip in concern.

"Exactly how long have you known, Jason?" Mom asked.

This was going to be an ugly conversation, I could tell that already. "Do you want me to come over there, Mom, so we can talk about this?"

She exhaled deeply. "I'm not sure what I want right now. It's as if my whole world has turned upside down and inside out. I'm not sure what to do next."

"I know exactly how you feel, Mom," I said in all honesty.

"No, you don't," she snapped. "You have no idea how I feel."

That made me angry. "Yes, I do know, and instead of fighting with you over the phone I'm going to come over there. Okay?"

"Fine. Do what you want."

The line went dead. I looked back over at Kate, who was making a rather unpleasant face. "She's pissed off, huh?"

"I think that is the understatement of the century." I swept my feet over the edge of the bed, stood up, and pulled on some clothes. "She's so mad she doesn't even know what to be mad about. She didn't even really yell at me."

"She's trying to keep it in check," Kate surmised. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No," I said slipping on my shoes. "Thanks, but this is something Mom and I will have to work out on our own." Leaning over the bed, I kissed her lips. "I'll be back… sometime today."

She nodded and sank back under the covers. I would much rather have been there beside her in the bed than facing what could possibly be the nastiest conversation I would ever have with my mother, but it was a conversation that I'd been expecting for years now. There were things that I could say to her now that I could never say to her before, and vice versa. I only hoped that she would be as understanding about my reasoning as she had expected me to be all those years ago when I first found out the truth about my father.

On my way over, I called Clark's apartment and got no answer. I considered heading over there, but opted to leave a message instead.

When I got to the house, she was in the kitchen making coffee. "I didn't get a lot of sleep last night," she explained when I took a sip and realized how strong she had made it. "I don't have the advantage of sunlight to help jumpstart my body, you know."

I frowned at her. "That's a low blow."

"So is lying to your mother for nearly all your life."

If that was how she was going to play it, I had plenty of ammunition. "How about lying to your son for his whole life?"

"It's not the same thing."

"It's exactly the same thing."

"I had plans to tell you! I was going to tell you. It was just a matter of time." She popped a hip. "You were never going to tell me this, were you?"

"Actually, Mom, the reason he told you was because I asked him to. If he hadn't come clean in the next month or so, I was going to tell you myself."

She chuckled darkly. "Yeah, right."

"But let's think about this. If I had told you all those years ago that Clark was really Superman, would you have believed me?"

"Just when exactly did you know?" she asked, dodging my question.

"Since I was five – right after he came back."

She huffed. "That's what he said. I was hoping he was lying."

"Why?"

"Because I was having a hard time believing that you had kept this from me. I've always known that he keeps secrets, but you… knowing that you kept this from me really hurts."

"You kept secrets too, Mom. Don't you think it hurt me when I found out Richard wasn't really my father?"

Anger flashed in her eyes. "This is totally different."

"No. It's no different."

"It's completely different, Jason!" she yelled. "It's worse than anything I could imagine." "You think you had it worse than me?" I asked.

"Yes."

"You think his lying to you was worse than his lying to me?"

"Yes."

I rolled my eyes. "That's crap, Mom. He's my father!"

"Yes, and I loved him!" The admission burst out of her at full volume. She held my gaze through the silence that followed, as if daring me to contradict her.

"He lied to us both," I said softly. "It's not going to do us much good to argue about who was hurt more by his actions."

She shook her head. "But you lied for him."

"So did you," I countered. "We could go around in circles all day if you want… or we could skip it and get to what's really important."

"And that would be?"

"That there are no more secrets. That now we can talk about things fully and openly."

She tutted and shook her head. "Kate and her annoying psychobabble has rubbed off on you."

"Kate's my wife now, Mom. Don't talk about her like that," I warned.

Mom looked at me apologetically. "You're right. Talk about psychobabble; I've just found out that my own love life has been a complete sham, so I feel the need to take it out on someone who's currently very happy with theirs."

That didn't sit well with me. "A sham?"

"A lie," she sighed, dropping into her favorite chair. "When I think of the number of times I thought I was being sly about slipping off for some kind of romantic liaison on the roof… and he was sitting at the desk right next to me the whole time… he must have had a good laugh every time."

"I don't know about that, Mom," I said, sitting across from her on the couch. "I think that he really believes that he was doing the right thing at the time." When she didn't respond after a few seconds, I continued. "And from what I understand, you can't really call it a sham because you two truly did… love each other… once."

Her eyes flicked up to meet mine as soon as the last word left my mouth. The intensity of her gaze sent a chill down my spine. Was she going to correct me for adding "once" to the end of the sentence? I didn't have the courage to ask her if she was still in love with him.

She pulled her eyes away from mine. "That time I grounded you for being rude to Clark…"

I blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in conversation. "What about it?"

"That was about your father… not my colleague, right?"

"Right," I confirmed.

"I should have seen it."

The conversation went on for most of the morning as she picked through moments and filled in the missing pieces. I told her whatever she wanted to know, but there were some things I couldn't tell her. Like when she asked me anything really personal about Clark and how he was able to shift from one identity to the next. I told her what I had seen, but I couldn't go into much detail because I was still finding out that sort of information for myself. We decided that there was so much to this man who played an integral part in both of our lives that we just didn't know. It wasn't an easy conversation by any means, but somehow we got through it.

Before I left she explained that she had told him to stay out of her way. "I don't really have anything more to say to him right now."

"That's going to be hard," I said, "considering that you work with him."

She downed her third cup of coffee. "So long as he stays on his side of the bullpen and I stay on mine, we should be fine."

Mom got more than what she wished for though. Not only did Clark stay away from her, he stayed away from everyone. I left message after message on his phone for him, but it wasn't until news reports started coming in about Superman's failure to show up to help with various disasters that he usually helped with that I really started to worry. A fire sweeping through Arizona threatened several cities and took a few lives. A drunk driver had almost crashed into a bus filled with schoolchildren, causing the bus to topple over and trap a few of the kids inside for hours. A bombing in an airport in Japan had planes grounded and lead to heightened security and international tension. And included in every story were the words, "Where is Superman?"

It was mom's call on Thursday from work that made me take action. "It's been six days now and nobody's seen him," she explained.

"He's been to work, hasn't he?"

"Nope."

I chilled. "Wait a sec – he hasn't even been in to the Planet?"

"Nope. He hasn't even called Perry to tell him he was taking time off. Jerk."

I ignored her jibe. "Mom, are you telling me that no one has seen Clark or Superman in over six days?"

"Well, that's why I was calling you. I wanted to know if you had talked to him." She was trying to sound very casual about it, but I could hear the worry behind her question.

"No, Mom. I haven't talked to him since the wedding."

"Oh," was her only reply.

"You don't think…" I couldn't finish the sentence, let alone the thought. The possibility that he might have left again made me tremble for reasons I didn't fully comprehend.

"I'm trying not to think about it," Mom said. "That's why I called you."

"You're not fooling anyone, Mom," I observed. "You want to know where he is just as much as I do."

She huffed. "Then go find him." Ah, Lois.

I hung up the phone and hoping that he would answer, immediately dialed Clark's number. As expected, I had no such luck.. With an unfamiliar sinking feeling in my stomach, I darted out the door of my apartment and headed to the other side of town where Clark lived. It was midmorning and, as usual, traffic was awful, so I ran the whole way, letting my feet carry me much faster than I should have allowed. I didn't care. I just needed to find him and find him now.

The security guard stationed at the desk in the lobby of his apartment building stood up the moment I entered. "Mr. White," he said, his face looking rather grim.

"Hi Frank. I need to see Mr. Kent."

"He isn't here."

I frowned. "How can you be sure?"

"He hasn't come through here in about a week. I've been starting to wonder where he went."

That didn't bode well. "You haven't seen him all week then?"

"No, sir. Last I saw him was when he left for work last Friday morning."

I swore under my breath. "Then he isn't here."

"Unless he can come and go without using the front door of the building."

I looked up at the older man in alarm. Clark could get into his apartment through the window… but how did the guard know about that? "Would you mind if I checked… just in case?" I asked.

He smiled softly. "Not a problem, Mr. White. I'll take you up there myself."

Frank led the way to the door at the end of the third floor and used his master key to open the lock, but I didn't need to have the door opened to know that Clark wasn't inside. I couldn't hear him. More than that, one glimpse with X-ray vision told me the place was empty.

"Sorry about this, Mr. White." Frank apologized.

"It's not your fault. I just wonder where he could be." My fear that he had left the planet again made my stomach twist into a knot.

"Maybe he went home," Frank offered.

"That's what I'm afraid of," I mumbled. Home… to Krypton…or what was left of it.

"Kansas is a nice place."

My head jerked up in surprise. "What did you say?"

"Kansas – where Mr. Kent is from. It's a nice place. Quiet. Out of the way."

"Frank," I said, smiling for the first time since my mother called me, "you're brilliant."

After a call to Kate to let her know what the plan was and a quick stop back at my apartment to pick up some clothes, I was on my way to the airport for the next flight to Kansas. It was a good thing my full time job with the orchestra hadn't started yet, for I didn't know how long this would take. I landed in Topeka and rented a car, making it to Smallville in a total of about six hours. The sun was setting when I arrived. It had been a long time since I'd been to Smallville, and I'd never actually gone into town. From my twelve-year-old memory, I tried to pull out any and all details that would help me find the Kent farm when I spotted the silo. We had raced from that point to the house. It had to be nearby.

I turned down the next dirt road and saw the old farmhouse in the distance. It looked deserted with no cars around the property or lights on in the house. Then I reminded myself that Clark didn't need a car, or lights for that matter. He had to be in there. I didn't want to consider the options of where he might be if he wasn't .

As I approached the house, memories flooded my mind – good memories of running through corn and of him fixing breakfast for me and singing so badly it hurt my ears. The front door, which was surprisingly unlocked, squeaked when I opened it. I stepped hesitantly into the old house.

It was dark – very dark – almost too dark. I noticed that every window was covered, every blind pulled shut. The old storm shutters that covered some of the windows were locked into place. The only light in the house was coming through the cracks around the doors and windows. It was also cool inside the house, much colder than it should have been for a summer evening, and I wondered how long the house had been shut up like this.

A week maybe?

Wanting some light, I opened some of the blinds so I could better find my way around the seemingly empty house. There was no sign of anyone living in the place. No food had been left out on the kitchen counter. No blankets thrown over the arm of the couch from where someone might have been lying to watch TV. And no sounds. It was dead silent. I pushed my hearing deeper into the quiet until I heard something.

Breathing. Very slow and shallow. And a faint heartbeat.

"Clark?" I called out into the quiet.

I listened again until I could pinpoint where the sound was coming from. At the back of the house, just off the dining room, there was a small den with no windows. It was just large enough for an old couch that had seen better days and a battered coffee table. The shelves were lined with books and pieces of model airplanes, random bits from a child's train set, and a well-worn football next to a baseball and glove. Lying facedown on the sofa, with one arm and leg falling over onto the floor, was Clark.

"Clark!" I gasped, rushing to him. "Clark, are you okay?"

Slowly, as if he were incapable of movement, Clark turned his head to look at me. "Jason?"

His face was pale and there were dark shadows around his eyes. The normally vibrant sapphire color had dulled into a plain and simple blue. His skin looked sallow and his whole frame appeared to be weakened and smaller – as if his bones had somehow shrunk a little, impossible as that seemed. But the most surprising feature was the beard stubble covering his chin. Given that my own hair didn't grow as fast as that of a normal human's thanks to the effect of the sun, I could go several days without needing to shave. I knew that for him the effect would be even stronger. For him to have any amount of a beard meant that he'd been without sunlight for a while.

"Oh God," I said, taking in the sight of him. "We have to get you into the sunlight."

"No," he groaned, burying his head back into the crook of his arm. "No light."

I ignored him and went to work opening up as many windows as I could. "How long have you been in here, anyway?"

"I don't know," he mumbled in a voice that sounded hoarse from lack of use. "Just leave me alone."

"Like hell I will," I said defiantly, coming back into the small room and trying to force him to turn over. "When was the last time you ate something?"

"I don't know. Jason, please, just leave me alone."

"No way. I know that trick. I am a master of it."

His eyes opened to look up at me questioningly. "What trick?"

"The whole 'I want to be alone' thing. People only say that as a test to see if the other person actually cares enough to stay with them. Well, I care, and I'm not leaving you alone."

He started at me in wonder. "You… care?"

"Yes," I grumbled. "Why do you think I'm here? I've been worried sick, afraid that you had left the planet again. Have you any idea the number of accidents that have been going on lately with no sign of Superman?"

He sighed and rolled back onto his stomach. "Stop."

"There were people killed in those fires in Arizona a few days ago."

"Stop," he repeated.

"Or that bomb in Japan. Everyone was terrified for hours."

"Just stop!"

"And those kids on that bus. It isn't like you to let little kids suffer like that."

Suddenly, he sat up and pounded his fist though the coffee table. "Will you shut up?" His voice rang loudly through the house, shaking me to the very core. "I have given everything – everything – to this planet!" He took a few shallow breaths. "I have a life, damn it! I am just a man…trying to live my life. It is not my fault that some idiot took a bomb into an airport in Japan. Nor is it my fault that another idiot drives drunk. I have my own problems!" he stressed. "Right now I'm having enough trouble dealing with my own problems, so forgive me if I'm not rushing off to fix someone else's mistakes."

I stood still, afraid to move or speak. I'd never seen him like this – never heard him speak so darkly about humanity or his own involvement with the tragedies that took place every day. I wasn't sure what to do or say to calm him down, nor was I certain of just how violent he would--or could--get. He was always a very gentle person. I'd never seen the full force of his anger, and right now it scared me to think of the potential damage that could be done because of it.

However, to my relief, the anger I felt emanating from him dissipated as he sank back down onto the couch. "Why did you come here, Jason?" he said in that same raspy, unfamiliar voice.

I swallowed. "I told you – I was worried that you had left. When Mom said that you hadn't been into work—"

"You talked to Lois?" he interrupted, coming up on his elbow and looking at me with hope in his pained eyes.

"Yeah," I replied. "She told me what happened."

He dropped back down and buried his face once more, hiding his eyes from me. But he couldn't hide the sound of his tears. "She told me to go away," he said softly.

"I know."

With his face still hidden, he said, "I have now had the privilege of being told by the two people I love more than anything – the two people I would do anything for – to go away. That I've hurt them. That they don't want to see me ever again."

Another chill washed over me because I knew he wasn't just talking about Mom. I knew who that second person was, and for the first time I felt true pain at having said those things to him.

A sob escaped his throat, followed by another he couldn't choke down. In a very broken and weak voice, he mumbled, "I love her. I love her. I love—" his voice cracked under his sob, "— love her. I love her, Jason. Oh God, I ache for her, I love her so much!"

My heart raced in my chest. I'd always known that he loved my mother, but hearing him voice it in such a way left me speechless. It was naive of me, but I'd always assumed that his love for her had softened over the years that she was married to Dad – that somehow he had been able to love her platonically as a friend who he had once been romantically involved with. But I was mistaken – gravely mistaken.

"I hurt her… and I hate myself for it," he moaned. "I've lost her. I've lost her forever. It hurts so much. I feel like I have a hole where my heart should be. I would rather be smothered in kryptonite than feel this, it hurts so much!"

I grimaced at the image and tried to think of something – anything to snap him out of this. However, it was what he said next that chilled me to the core.

"Maybe I should leave," he said.

My heart skipped a beat.

"She wants me to go, maybe I should go. I should do what she wants me to do for once and just go."

Anger and fear boiled inside of me.

"It would be better if I weren't here – if she didn't have to see me. That way I'd never hurt her again."

I scowled in frustration as the rage in my chest built.

"I should go… just leave… just go."

"Stop it!" I snapped.

He sniffed and looked up at me.

"You just shut up about that right now!" I ordered. "I don't ever want to hear you talking about leaving again. Ever! My God!" I gasped and threw my hands up in the air in disbelief. "Didn't you learn anything from the first time you left? Or weren't the consequences of that mistake bad enough for you? You think you need to go and make it worse?" He blinked at me in surprise.

"Now, I know that I'm not Mom," I pressed. "I know that you don't love me as much as you love her, but damn it – you're my father!" The well inside of me broke. "You're my father, and you are not going to leave again, do you hear me? I have not worked this hard – I've not tried to resolve these issues with you for you to just pack up and leave me again. If I have to go and get a shit load of kryptonite to keep you here, then so help me, I will."

His mouth hung open. I took advantage of his speechlessness and continued. "And for the record, you didn't lose Mom. You can't lose something that you don't have. It might hurt you to hear it, but you need to realize that she is married to another man. She hasn't been 'yours' for a very long time. So let it go already! She is not the only person on this planet that needs you or wants you here, or haven't you noticed that I've come all the way out here to find you because I was worried about you?"

He was sitting all the way up now, still gaping at me.

"Now get the hell off of that couch," I demanded, "drag your ass outside and get some damn sunlight before the sun sets! I'm not going to let you do this to yourself, okay?"

"All right, Jason," he nodded.

"I'm going to go find you something to eat, and when I'm done you had better still be here. 'Cause if you leave, don't even think about ever coming back."

He shook his head.

"Are we clear?"

"We're clear."

I didn't look back at him as I walked to the kitchen. Nor did I glance at him when I heard him go outside. I searched around the kitchen for any semblance of something to eat. He'd obviously not been here in a while for there wasn't anything perishable in the pantry; I was forced to settle on heating up a can of tomato soup and some put crackers with peanut butter on the side. Not the best meal in the world, but it was food nonetheless.

His feet padded softly across the floor just as I started pouring the soup into a bowl. I quickly glanced up at him to find him hovering in the doorway. "You didn't have much to eat in the pantry, so I hope you like soup."

"It's fine," he said gently. "It looks wonderful."

He sat down and slowly started in on the soup. I sat across from him, feeling like a guard keeping watch over a prisoner until he finished his meal. Hoping to ease the tension between us, I dipped a cracker into the peanut butter and slid it into my mouth.

After a few long seconds, he finally said, "Thank you, Jason."

"Don't mention it," I said, trying to sound indifferent to the situation.

"No, Jason. This," he signaled to the simple dinner in front of him, "really means a lot to me. Your being here means a lot to me."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "You're welcome."

He stirred his soup but didn't eat it. "I didn't mean it," he said quietly, keeping his eyes downcast. "I would never leave you, Jason. I shouldn't have even said it. It was stupid. I'm sorry." He took a deep breath. "And you're wrong about something. I don't love your mother more than I love you. I just love her… differently."

"I hope so," I smirked, "because that would be weird."

A small smile formed on his lips before he ran his hands through his hair and rested his elbows on the table with his head in his hands. "I've been going over it again and again in my head. I really thought I was doing the right thing for her."

"You know," I leaned forward, "I know what it is to have the woman you love angry at you. So I can sympathize with you. But I think the difference here – and I don't want to upset you with this – but for me, I knew from watching you that I had to tell Kate the truth as soon as I could."

"I told Lois the truth," he stated quickly. "I told her everything. She figured it out and I decided that once she knew, she should know everything. So I told her everything."

"And then you made her forget everything."

"It wasn't as if that decision was made lightly, Jason," he retorted, sounding more like himself. "And I certainly didn't take any pleasure in it. I didn't want her to forget me, forget what had happened between us, but I didn't think I had much of a choice."

I pursed my lips, silently disagreeing with him.

"You don't understand," he mumbled, stirring the soup.

"Then explain it to me."

His eyes met mine and I did not look away.

"I gave up everything for her, Jason."

I was caught off guard by the comment. "What do you mean?"

"I gave up my powers for her. I stepped into a chamber and allowed myself to be exposed to rays that harnessed the power of Krypton's sun so I could be just like any other mortal man… so I could be with her."

I was too stunned to speak. I'd never known about that, but couldn't find any way to ask about it. Before I could find my voice he was continuing on.

"For about twenty-four hours everything was perfect. I was just a man in love with a woman. But what I didn't know was that Zod had broken free from the Phantom Zone and was wreaking havoc on the world. So I had to go back. I had to give her up. The choice was a mortal life with Lois under Zod's control or a life in the free world as Superman… without Lois." Tears swelled in his eyes. "Forgive me, but I didn't think it would be much of a life for her if I let Zod take control. So I gave her up. And when it was all said and done… she was a mess."

He shook his head and covered his mouth with his hand. "She wasn't Lois. More than that, she told me that she couldn't live like that. She said that she could keep my secret, that wasn't the problem. I trusted her not to tell anyone. She said that the problem was that she couldn't go on seeing me day after day, knowing that I loved her and what we had together and not… love me back." He covered his eyes with his hands now, fighting back the obvious tears. "She said she didn't want to share me…"

He rubbed his eyes and rested his head in his hands again. "I thought that if she couldn't remember what had happened…" He sniffed. "That if she didn't know how close we had come to having what we both wanted…" He shook his head. "I really thought it was the right thing to do, because the minute it was done, she was right back to her normal self. She was focused and she was full of life… and she didn't even see me." He chuckled. "She sent me out for freshly squeezed orange juice."

There was a long pause before I asked, "Why didn't you tell her later, after you came back?"

He exhaled a long, slow breath. "Honestly… because of you." He looked at me with a soft smile. "You were an unexpected twist to the whole situation. A welcome twist, and one that I don't regret by any means, but a twist all the same. You knew one part of the secret and Lois knew another part. We had to tell you the truth… we had to tell Richard… it was like fitting pieces of a puzzle together at just the right time. But we waited too long, and you ended up hating me for it. By that point, I couldn't find it in me to tell Lois the truth. Like I told you when you first asked me to come clean about this with Lois – as much as I wanted to, I was too afraid that I would end up having you both angry at me. I couldn't risk that. Having one of you hate me is bad enough. I don't know if I'd be able to survive having both of you hate me."

"I never hated you, Dad," I offered.

He looked up at me in surprise. "Yes, you did."

"No, not really." Feeling guilty, I looked down at my hands on the table. "I didn't think you wanted me and I was always so afraid that you'd leave me because I wasn't good enough."

"Jason—"

"So I thought that if I pushed you away – if I had control over the situation – that it wouldn't hurt as much when you really did leave me."

"I'm not going to leave," he promised. Driving his point home, he reached across the table and placed his hand over mine. "I swear to you, Jason, I am not going to leave you."

I squeezed his hand and smiled. "And just so you know, Mom doesn't hate you, either."

What energy he had in him seemed to evaporate. "Yes, she does," he insisted, pulling his hand away from mine.

"She's angry at you, but she doesn't hate you. If she hated you, she wouldn't have called me and told me to come looking for you."

He considered it for a second. "I suppose." But he was not convinced.

"Since we're being so candid about everything right now, can you answer another question for me?" I asked.

"Sure."

"You said you became mortal, right?"

"Yes."

I shifted back in my chair, afraid of the question that I needed to ask. "Was that before or after you and mom… were… together."

Understanding lit his face. "Before."

That hadn't been the answer I was expecting. "So you were mortal when I was…"

"Conceived?" Clark finished for me. "Yes."

"Okay, so then why am I not human?"

"Mortal, Jason. I was mortal, not human. I was still me. My body didn't change. My blood didn't change. All that changed was the way my blood and body responded to the sun."

"Right, so why does my blood respond to the sun when yours didn't?"

"Because my DNA was still Kryptonian, and you have my DNA."

I thought for a moment. "Does this chamber still exist? The one that can make you mortal?"

"No, I destroyed it."

I frowned. "Damn. Here I thought that maybe there was a chance to be normal after all, because that's all I've ever wanted, really."

"No, you don't, Jason."

"Yes, I do," I insisted.

"No. Just think about it." He sat forward. "Think of how different your piano would sound to normal, mortal ears. Think how difficult it would be for you to find the precise sound you are looking for in a piece of music. Or the loss of the dexterity in your fingers and the speed of your hands over the keyboard. Do you really want to give that up?" When I didn't answer he said, "Is it really so bad being my son that you'd want to give up such a unique and precious talent?"

"No," I said firmly. "That isn't what this is about. This isn't about you. It's about wanting to be normal."

"Exactly. You don't want to be partially Kryptonian. Every time you say that you want to be normal, what I hear is that you don't want to be my son."

I'd never thought of it like that – never thought of it from his point of view. Instantly, I felt badly for it.

Clark pushed away from the table and stood up. "I need some air."

I watched him walk out onto the porch and lean against the railing. My insides squirmed and twisted over what I was feeling and what I had just said to him. I had come out here to help him and yet in the end all I did was make him feel worse. I couldn't just let it go like this. In the past, I would have triumphed over the fact that I'd hurt him, but not anymore.

I joined him out on the porch just as the sun was setting behind us. My heart was racing and I knew he could tell I was nervous about something, so I figured I should just say it and get it over with while the adrenaline was rushing through me.

"It isn't so bad being your son."

His head slowly turned so he could look at me, but he didn't speak.

"I like running fast. I like being strong. It's just a bummer that I can't go out and play baseball and really knock one out of the park and run the bases in no time flat. And you're right about the music, too. As much as I hate to admit this to you… the fact that I have ultra sensitive hearing has come in very handy over the years."

The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly.

"But more than that…" I faltered. With my eyes trained on my feet, I kicked at a rock on the porch like some shy schoolboy afraid to own up to his feelings. That was partially true. I'd never been this honest with him, but I figured I owed it to him since he had been so honest with me. "If I had been Richard's son—" My nerves got the better of me again. I took a deep breath and forced myself to say it. "If I had been Richard's biological son, then I would be the product of a casual affair – like a one-night stand. But… I'm your son. You and Mom really loved each other."

I swallowed hard. "I know that probably sounds stupid."

"It doesn't sound stupid at all," he smiled warmly.

I smiled back at him.

He shifted and suddenly glanced around to look at the car parked by the barn. "Did you drive all the way out here?"

"No, I flew and rented a car from the airport. I went to your apartment first and when you weren't there I figured this was the only other place you might be."

"You went through all that for me?"

I shrugged. "I didn't want you to leave again."

He placed a hand on my shoulder. "I'm not going to leave again. I promise you that. But things are going to be very different now. Lois…"

"I know," I nodded. "But I think she'll come around."

"I don't think so," he said remorsefully.

"Whoa – how's that for a switch. I'm the one thinking positively and you're the one being negative?"

He didn't laugh. "Not negative – just realistic." He arched his back and stretched a little. "I'm starving," he announced unexpectedly.

"Oh come on, you didn't like my soup?"

Now he chuckled. "I'm not sure how old that can of soup was, but it wasn't very tasty."

"Well, I didn't have a lot of options."

He combed his fingers through his hair. "So let's go get something to eat, then."

"Okay, what are you in the mood for?"

"I was thinking pasta sounded perfect."

"Got any good Italian places around here?"

"No," he sighed. "But Italy has good pasta."

My eyebrows shot up. "Italy?"

"They have the best pasta in Florence, actually."

"You want to go to Italy? Now?"

He looked at me as if I had missed the obvious. "Sure, why not?"

"Okay," I said skeptically.

I hated to admit to him for a second time that he was right, but I couldn't deny the fact. They did have the best pasta in Florence.