A/N

Yes, I'm back -- thought I'd better update before the new year or risk losing Everyone who has ever read this story! Thanks for hanging on -- if you are still here, then you must be a patient person -- hope this holds you for a bit :)

The usual disclaimers -- to my great sadness and lack of wish-fulfillment.

24 Reality

The light is blinding, but he knows he can't avoid hitting it, absorbing it -- allowing it to absorb him.

He knows in his gut that this is true, real… NOW.

I should have known… who else could it be? He tries to arm his words with strength – strength he doesn't feel --"Father?"

A voice, both booming and a whisper -- in his mind, and inhabiting his being -- responds with an answer he does not expect, but realizes he has always known.

"Yes… 'Father', but I am neither the One you call Jor- El, nor am I Jonathan."

Unwilling to accept the, now obvious, truth -- for fear of losing his mind to the simplicity of it, Clark attempts to ground himself in his known reality.

The AI? Wait, this is not the Fortress.

The same soothing voice, filled with light and brilliance, answers him, "No Kal-el, you are no longer in the material realm. I have extracted you for a time."

My thoughts —- it, he… hears them. Oh, God.

"Or… any name you like, child, except those names given to the Other –- the one who turned his back on me, and thwarts my plan."

Clark's hand goes to his throat, where his words catch, and his flannel shirt tickles his fingertips with comforting familiarity. He looks down to see Shelby by his side nuzzling his jeans. He crouches to bury his hand in the large dog's wooly coat. Shelby's soft warmth is as real as Clark's pounding heart, and it calms him enough to ask his next question aloud. "But, why me? Where do I fit in?"

Above, in the wide-open sky, the rolling clouds stop motion as if in answer to his whispered query.

Fearful, Clark looks back across the cornfield, and sees Ben walking toward him, speaking words in Ben's voice –words that Ben would never say, "Kal-El, did you think I would allow you to alter the fabric of time for a whim? Lois Lane has much more to accomplish in the grand scheme. I could not allow the Other to cut short her journey to please a whim of a minion."

Clark's heart freezes, and, unbidden, a name slips out with his breath, "Lex Luthor."

A fearful, hideous thought overcomes the lone Kryptonian -- a shudder traveling down to feet bonded to borrowed homeland, belying his ability to fly.

"The… Other… did he destroy Krypton?"

Before Kal's eyes, his homeworld appears. The accompanying apparition of Jor-El speaks with his voice, but looks unlike any image of his biological father that Kal-El has ever seen; his visage painted with human sorrow and regret – and love for his offspring.

"No, my child, Krypton's sun exploded; it was simple nature, or physics, as you call it. The people were stubborn and willful, and should have evacuated. I have mourned their decision for the eons since."

Slow, inevitable realization flows through Clark, like cold farm-fresh milk downed from the bottle. Chill, and thorough -- invading his deepest parts with pure white clarity.

"If you are… God, then you are all-seeing, all-knowing. Why not… unmake the… Other? He killed my family… my homeworld!"

The silence, loud as thunder, and then the voice, silver fire lightningm slices to the truth.

"Ah, Kal-El. As my child, you should know I cannot destroy anything – I only create. Destruction is his desire."

World-weary, Clark shuffles to sit on his porch steps, where Shelby licks his hand, and nuzzles the tears on his cheeks, "I still don't understand…. Why did Krypton have to die?"

The screen door opens, and Martha Kent comes out to settle herself beside him. Before speaking, she turns to Shelby and, with a sigh, ruffles the old dogs ears.

Clark looks into his mother's eyes, and her voice is a balm to his soul, "Oh, Clark, that was very difficult for me. All children are mine, including those of Krypton. They are all created in my image, and from my heart, but I have a plan of which no human can conceive."

An expression of pure pain darkens Kal-El's eyes, and he turns from the changeling apparition, "You are wrong, I am not human."

Out of the corner of his eye, a tiny hand reaches to touch his cheek, and he turns into the touch. Jason sits cuddled up to him, and when he speaks, his baby voice makes an odd, yet somehow perfect, counterpoint to His unshakable message, "Ah, what is human, child? This is another question mired in semantics, which your simple and pure existence cannot discern. You are human, Kal-El, just shaped for a different home-world."

Jason disappears, his baby-scent lingering, and Clark stands up, wiping away his tears. He asks in a whisper, already knowing the answer, "Why did you not save them? I don't know… force them to see their mistake."

In answer, Kal-El sees Krypton. Spectacular visions of flying cars, in a virtual city-paradise, meld with images of scientists in fantastic laboratories -- where genetics experiments with horrible creations languish in stasis chambers. A woman he does not recognize, dressed in Kryptonian garb, walks toward him. When she speaks, he hears the tones of his biological mother, Lara.

"What some of your religions call free will – another concept you cannot conceive in entirety. I cannot explain any more, you are too upset. My heart breaks for you, my child. It will, forever."

All of my homeworld dies, but Lois must live. Why? It doesn't make sense.

"Trust me, my son. My daughter, Lois, must live, but – don't speak — I know your thoughts, your mother must also --"

"-- Have… Alzheimer's."

Clark looks down at Shelby and the dog's face glows with his unconditional love. The words he hears in his mind may as well be Shelby's words as anyone's.

"Kal-El, I will tell you this – there is no disease Alzheimer's as such, just an altered perception of life, combined with your limited ability to identify with it. Listen to her, and look closely – her feelings are naked and near to my heart – at this moment, she is the most precious of my children, innocent and vulnerable. How you deal with this challenge scribes your destiny."

"But, your plan… it takes away my free will. I am a puppet without a choice."

"Ah, they always misunderstand. Talk to Ben. Ask him what the best teachers do. What he tells you will help show you the way. You are a teacher, Superman, a role model, for your friends -- and for humanity – but, so is Lois; as is every one of my children."

A sense of falling. Words echoing.

"As a child, you have choices. The difficulty is making the right ones -- choices that lead to life rather than death, creation versus destruction, compassion over chaos."

Landing like a stone, Clark stumbles his way to his mother's house, x-raying as he runs, fearful of the possibilities – yet desirous that this be HOME. He sees Ben in the kitchen, by the sink -- helping Martha wash up, Jason sitting by them.

"Jason, Mom, Ben – I need to stop – help me stop."

"Dear, whatever do you mean?" Martha's innocent question halts Clark in his tracks. He realizes he has stopped --that it is over.

He doesn't miss Ben's stern look, and miniscule head shake, not now. Clark calms himself, drinking in Jason's bright eyes questioning his breathless entrance. Willing himself not to crush the banister in his grip, Clark freezes, frightened to speak, lest he break this spell -- and this reality fades like all the others before. How long has he been swimming through time, and filtering through dimensions and possibilities?

He feels like it has been forever.

"How long have I been gone, Ben?"

"About a half-hour, Son."

Stunned, Clark summons otherworldly control to keep from blurting out his fears and revelations to this simple man -- who cares about his family so much, but can't help but blurt, "And… everything is… the same?"

Stupid question… how would he know if it was diff --

A poignant glance at his mother allows Clark to read Ben's mind. "Pretty much, son."

Clark pulls a kitchen chair up and sits, looking around at his family. "I know, now… I can't change things -- that I never did change anything. I was fated to save Lois – it was all meant to happen."

A tiny voice pipes up, and Clark is drawn to his son's longing look, "Dad? Is mom okay? I want to see her."

"She's OK, Munchkin. We'll see her soon. Why don't you go wash up for bed, and I'll come up to tuck you in."

"What did you tell him, Ben?"

"He thinks she's asleep – like… a coma, but not so serious. We'll have to tell him eventually."

Clark follows Jason's tiny form with his eyes as he bounds up the stairs, and he sighs, "I just hope we won't have to tell him that his mother doesn't remember him."

TBC

-- as one of my dear fellow fanfic writers has already quoted - "reviews are love"