The wake, the funeral, and the official reception afterwards took a lot more out of Elise than she expected. She'd been in Smallville before and liked Martha, but her connection to the older woman wasn't as strong as Jason's or Kala's or even Kristin's. Still, to be surrounded by such profound and sincere grief for so long was taxing.

And then, too, she was supporting Jason. He looked like a miserable puppy to her, stunned and solemn, and Elise found herself watching over him to make sure he remembered to eat. She hated leaving him at the farmhouse after the wake and going back to the hotel, but she knew exactly what would happen if she stayed: she'd wind up in bed with him, telling herself she was just going to hold him and comfort him. It would turn into more than that, and then when she went back to California she'd break his heart all over again.

She hated being the heartbreaker. But even more than that, she hated the little voice somewhere deep inside telling her to quit Berkeley, transfer back East, and stay with him. She hated the way no one was surprised to see her, as if she was already his wife and they all expected her to be by his side. Miranda Elise Thorne was no one's accessory, no one's foregone conclusion.

No matter how much she wanted to be, sometimes. Above everything else, she kept hearing her mother say, You're nineteen, honey. There's a whole world out there you've never seen. Don't close the door on it just yet, please.

Her parents had never quite warmed to Jason and his family, and Elise couldn't tell them that the reason they were kind of weird and secretive was that they were actually aliens—but in a good way. Really. Yeah, that would go over well.

At least the reception was finally winding down. Jason sagged into a chair, and Elise sat on the arm of it, rubbing his shoulder. "It's gonna be all right," she said softly. "I know it doesn't feel like that now, but it will be."

"I know," he sighed, and took her hand. Looking up at her, he smiled wanly and said, "Thank you for being here."

She ran a hand through his hair—thoroughly tamed for the funeral, but returning to its natural tousled state now—and smiled right back. "Hey, what are friends for?"

"You're more than a friend," Jason said automatically.

"Not right now I'm not," Elise told him, fighting the urge to bite her lip. Crying wasn't going to do anyone any favors right now.

His eyes looked far older than he was, and full of sadness. "I have plenty of friends. But there's only one of you, Elise. You know more … and you care more. Even when you try to hide it."

Elise closed her eyes and sighed. She wasn't going to fight with him, not right now. "Fine. I'm not an ordinary friend, I'll give you that. But I'm not staying, Jason."

"I know." His voice claimed acceptance, but his eyes said he was hoping she'd change her mind. And she had to admit, it was tempting to just let this happen, like it was some kind of destiny.

…

The way Sebast figured it, Alan's stint as Kala's boyfriend was over from the moment they got back from the funeral. He was still being a passive aggressive little bitch, just when Kala needed support the most, and though they hung on for a couple days, it all ended in a huge argument after a show.

Sebast heard the yelling and headed out of the hotel and across the road to a drugstore. By the time a fuming Kala returned to their room, he had two pints of top-grade ice cream and the most recent DVD from their favorite horror collection. Kala saw it and gave a hitching laugh. "Oh, yeah. Nothing better for getting over a douche-nozzle than Ben & Jerry's and Chupacabra 666: The Devil's Goatsucker. How bad can this one be, you think?"

"No worse than Bride of the Goatsucker," he said with a shrug. So they sat around and watched terrible Mexican horror, ate ice cream, and mocked bad acting. Sebast's impression of the 'Satanic high priest' finally made her laugh, especially when he grabbed her shirt and shook her. "I don't know the difference between Mayan gods, Incan gods, and the Christian devil, but I know we've gotta have a creepy old man to balance out the half-naked teenagers! Summon the goatsucker!"

When the credits rolled, Kala found the remote and paused the TV, her expression torn between hilarity, disgust, and disbelief. "That was such shit," she finally said. "God, Bride at least knew it was a T&A exploitation flick. This … what the hell were they thinking?"

"I'm thinking all the profits from Chupacabra 3D: Goatsucker's Revenge went up their noses," Sebast offered, miming snorting something. "How does a franchise go from pretty good to pretty crappy to pretty great, and then slide right down the toilet like this? Bride of the Goatsucker and Son of the Goatsucker were predictable, yeah, but at least they were watchable."

"Makes me wonder what they'll do for the seventh one. If they can get funding for a seventh one."

"Makes me wonder who played the Spanish priest at the end. The ending sucks, yeah, but he's a hottie." Sebast waggled his eyebrows, and Kala rolled her eyes. She un-paused it and let the credits scroll, Sebast leaning forward. "Jon … K something, they're scrolling too fast."

Kala recognized it, though. "Him? He's a model! No wonder he can't act for shit. He has like one five-minute scene in some art-house film. How the hell did he get into the Chupacabra series?"

"I don't care if he can act, chula," Sebast told her, and she threw a pillow at him. That quickly degenerated into a pillow fight, which Sebast let Kala win.

Afterward, as they lay snuggled together, Kala heaved a sigh. "How come all my relationships crash and burn?"

"You're asking me?" Sebast murmured with a shrug. "Chula, I don't do relationships anymore. There's too many gorgeous boys out there. It'd be unfair if I tied myself down to one."

She bopped his nose affectionately. "Yeah, but you're a slut, Sebast."

"I know. I'm proud to be a man-slut. It's my calling in life. But you … maybe it's just hard to find a man worthy of all this awesomeness." He ran a hand down her side, and Kala purred happily, snuggling in closer.

"I can live with being single as long as I have my best friend forever," Kala murmured drowsily.

"You'll always have me, mi Kala. I'm impossible to get rid of. Like herpes." That got another laugh, and then she fell asleep with her head on his shoulder.

It looked like he'd just about managed to keep Kala from the worst of her post-break-up moods. But Sebast had something in mind to really brighten her smile. Later, once she was deeply asleep, he'd make a call.

…

Clark was still at the farmhouse three days after the funeral. He kept finding little things that needed to be done: a board that had to be nailed back in, a light bulb that had burned out, a slow-running drain. Ben watched him with amusement, and finally walked out to the chicken coop that Clark was re-roofing with a beer for each of them. "Come sit on the porch a spell, Clark. I need to talk to you."

So this was when they'd finally talk about what Ben surely knew by now. Clark had been nervous, but now he felt relieved. Over the last few days, every time he got ready to say something, someone would call or drop by. So he took the moment to sit down and discuss it with gratitude. "Ben, I know you have to have some questions."

Ben sipped his beer slowly. "Course I do. The main one on my mind is, what are we going to do with the farm?"

That came out of left field. "Huh … what?"

The older man looked at him with a grin. "C'mon now, Clark. I don't see you and Lois moving out here. I know you love it, but I don't think either of you could live full time in Smallville. And I'm not getting any younger, either, so I won't always be here. Someone's got to keep the place up, and I've only got the one grandson who'll be staying on at my family place. Besides, I want to keep this one in Kent hands. That means someone's got to stay on the land."

"Oh. Right." Clark sipped his beer, still trying to catch up to the conversation they were having, instead of the one he'd expected to have.

Ben leaned back in the old bentwood rocker. "You can't leave an old house like this standing empty. Houses need life in them, Clark. Especially if they've had life in them for over a hundred years. When they stand empty, they get lonely. They fall in on themselves. This place needs a caretaker for when I'm gone."

"Um, well…."

"I'm thinking of setting up a living trust so your twins will get the farm when I pass on. Now, I know Kala's never going to live in Kansas—too much gypsy in that one to settle down here—but Jason might. I asked him while he was here, and he said he loves the old place. I'm not sure what exactly his plans for the future are going to be, where he wants to work and such, but it sounds like he can work anywhere if he wants, as long as he can get hold of a computer. And if he winds up teaching, well, commuting will be easier for him than it will for most people, right?"

"Um, yeah. But not as easy as it is for me. Ben, I really—" Clark began, and Ben waved him off.

"Listen, boy. You are Martha's son, and you always will be, all right? I knew you were adopted. From the looks of things you came from a little further away that North Dakota, but that doesn't matter to me. I'm telling you, as your stepfather, you don't need to make any apologies to me for not having said anything earlier."

Clark decided to try one more time to explain. "I just don't want you to think we deliberately excluded you, Ben. No one was ever told—everyone who knows found out on their own, even the kids. When it got to be over half a dozen people, we decided not to tell anyone, ever, for their safety if not mine."

Ben shrugged. "Makes sense. If you're smart enough to figure it out, you're probably smart enough to keep your mouth shut. And I do understand, Clark. You've got Lois and the kids to think of. Never telling anyone is the best policy."

"Well, we did tell one person," Clark finally admitted. "Ella Lane. She figured out who the twins' father was before Lois and I got back together, and she wasn't going to believe Clark Kent was their father when she knew Kala could hear through two closed doors and Jason could break indestructible toys."

To his surprise, Ben chuckled. "Now, I can see that. I wouldn't want to cross Ella Lane. Anyone can tell where Lois got her fire from." With that, he held his beer bottle out to Clark, and gave him a knowing smile. "To secrets well kept, and secrets shared, and to family, always. Hmm?"

"I'll drink to that," Clark said. He clinked the bottles together and both men took a long drink. Clark remembered sitting on this same porch with Jonathan, sipping much more gingerly, and having the same feeling of warm companionship.

"Now, about the farm," Ben said, and this time Clark was able to follow the conversation much more easily.

…

Kala was pretty much a morning person, but Sebast's enthusiasm that day was just getting to be too much. He was up early, and decided that the only thing they could possibly do was go to the airport and watch the planes landing and taking off. Before she was even dressed, he was pouncing on her like a deranged squirrel. "C'mon, mamita, it always cheers you up, and I know you've been dragging a little lately. It'll be fun. I'll even buy you that pumpkin caramel frappuchino thing you like from the coffee shop."

She couldn't tell him why she'd always loved the airport: flight was the superpower she'd always wanted most. Now that she had it, planes weren't the thrill they once were, not when she could fly faster and higher and make sharper turns. Also, passenger jet pilots frowned on doing barrel rolls midflight, while Kala could do as many rolls, swoops, and dives as she had time for.

Still, she had to admit that taking a break helped. They sat in rocking chairs conveniently placed by the concourse's windows, sipped coffee, and watched people as much as they watched planes. "Oh my. I love her hair," Kala said, nodding at a young woman with bright burgundy locks.

"Mm-hmm. It'd look good in your streaks," Sebast remarked, scanning the concourse. "Now me, I like … holy shit, what's this cowboy doing in San Francisco? Looking for the rest of the Village People?"

Kala turned to look in the same direction, and her jaw dropped. Walking up the concourse with a backpack over one shoulder—and a cowboy hat on his head—was a very familiar figure. He was completely out of place in this context, as strange as seeing a whitetail buck walking across a shopping center parking lot. "Holy … Dustin? Dustin's here?"

For a moment she couldn't breathe. Dustin saw her and grinned, and Kala's heart clenched in her chest like a fist. No one had touched her heart quite like Dustin. Not Nick, not Alan, not any high-school crush. He got her in ways that only Sebast did, and while their tastes in music and other things were vastly different, it had never come between them.

She just blinked, staring, and he tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrows, the grin becoming uncertain. That look had always melted her heart, and this time it broke her shocked paralysis.

Getting to her feet, Kala smiled broadly and held her arms out. Dustin stopped where he was and did the same. And then, laughing, they ran at each other, Dustin dropping the bag and sweeping Kala into his arms, swinging her around. "Well, hello, beautiful! Fancy seeing you here."

"Oh my God, Dustin!" she laughed, and gave him a smooch when he set her down. "But what are you doing here? Don't you have to work?"

Dustin hugged her tight and kissed her cheek. "Nah. Dad and Wade can run the shop. Thing is, I realized something. Lots of people wait 'til they retire to go see the world, and by then they're too old to really enjoy it. I figure I'll get my sightseeing done early. That is, if you'll let me fall in with your band."

That was when it clicked for Kala. She turned around slowly and stared at Sebast, who had ambled up to them carrying both their drinks. "Hey, Dustin, good to see you." He held out a fist, which Dustin dutifully bumped.

"Good to see you too, Sebast," he replied.

"Sebast called you," Kala said flatly.

Dustin jostled her, his arm still around her shoulders. "Hey now. Yeah, he called me. But he just wanted me to call you up. Coming out here to see you was my idea. I haven't bought my return tickets yet, so if you're too busy I'll just…."

Kala didn't let him finish the sentence, kissing him on the lips this time. "You are more than welcome to hang around with us for as long as you want, Dustin. Honestly, I probably need you in my life right now more than ever. This tour is insane, and you—you're the best cure for that kind of madness I know of."

"So you're telling me I'm the sanest guy you know?" he asked, with an amused chuckle. Dustin looked directly at Sebast then, and added very seriously, "Somehow that doesn't surprise me."

"We're all mad here, my friend," Sebast told him, and they all laughed.

"C'mon, let's get your luggage and bring you back to meet the band," Kala said, linking one arm through each boy's elbow and tugging them down the concourse. "But Dustin, that hat … what's with the hat, anyway?"

"I figured I was coming out west, why not dress the part?" Dustin sounded perfectly sincere, but the gleam in his eyes told her volumes.

"You are not playing ignorant yokel for the band," she declared, and then her phone and Sebast's chirped simultaneously.

Sebast, who had a hand free, checked his first. "It's Morgan. He found us a bassist, says he's good, but he wants us to meet him. Hey, know what? We should introduce Dustin as our manager, see what this Robb guy does. Dustin, you can play ignorant yokel all you want, it's just entertaining to watch some of these bitches act like they're so high and mighty."

"If Kala doesn't want me to, I won't. But the hat stays. I kinda like it. Besides, I can ride a horse, shoot, and repair fence. I might as well be a cowboy."

"Except for the cow part," Kala said, pouting. Sebast might think it was funny to watch other people look down their noses at Dustin and his country accent, but it made her blood boil just as wrathfully as when people in Smallville looked askance at Sebast's eyeliner.

"Yeah, well, I might have some trouble with the cow part of things," Dustin admitted, and then grinned. "I do like the hat, though."

Kala rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. "Boys! Why do I even bother? Fine, wear the cowboy hat. Just get used to the fact that we play Goth rock on the tour bus, not country."

Dustin managed to slide his arm out from hers just to put it around her shoulder and tug her into a sideways walking hug. "Y'know, I find I like a little Goth rock in my life. It grows on you." Kala smiled up at him, and that was when he added with a very serious tone, "Kind of like a fungus."

Kala punched him lightly in the side. "Jerk."

"Missed you too, Kala."

…

On the way to the meeting, Perry glanced at Lois' planner and snorted. "Good grief, Lane, how the hell do expect to run this paper if you don't know how to spell the 'board' in 'board meeting'?"

She cut him a ruthless smile. "I have no intention of running this paper. I'll just figure out a way to keep you alive forever—even if it's just your head in a cryo-tank or something—so I never have to become full management."

"Still doesn't explain why a Pulitzer Prize winner thinks that 'board' has an 'e' in it," Perry grumbled.

"That's not a misspelling, old man. It's an accurate description, from where I sit." With that she stepped past him as he held the door, the plainly marking 'bored meeting' on her planner making her opinion of these administrative duties clear.

"Get used to it, Lane," Perry barked, smiling beneath the bluster. "Everyone knows you're a curse on aircraft, so you won't be able to get any more front-page blockbusters by falling out of helicopters and planes and God only knows what else. Might as well learn management."

"Can it, White. I manage my department, and that's all I want," she shot back. "You can't take the City out of the girl, so don't try taking the girl out of City."

The rest of the department heads were arriving, including her own husband, and most of them looked amused or exasperated. The ongoing quarrel between the Chief and his heir apparent was no longer news, but it was reliable entertainment.

To most of them, anyway. "Yeah, you manage it with a whip and a chair," someone muttered, and Perry saw Lois' head snap around to fix the offender with the patented Lane Death Glare.

"What was that about Lane and a whip? Whoever said that, keep your daydreams to yourselves. We've got a business to run here. And we own this paper, so we might as well make sure we can pay our own damn salaries."

With that, he sat down and nodded to Keith from Accounting, who always had a dozen graphs and charts and things on hand. After him came Circulation and then Advertising. By the time someone suggested a different scented insert for each holiday, Lois was eyeing her husband across the table with a rubber band in her hand and a devilish gleam in her eye. Bored Lane women made their own fun, but it wasn't always fun for everyone else.

Perry got up, accidentally kicking her chair while she was lining up the shot, and the rubber band snapped back on her own wrist. As she cursed under her breath, he took charge of the meeting, haranguing those who'd slacked off and even giving a little praise to those who'd done well. The way he figured it, they had about another hour of progress reports and general news to wade through before they could all get back to work, and with a little luck Lane might not shoot someone's eye out with a rubber band before they did. He really hoped she hadn't seen that TV show where the two guys proved it was possible to build a crossbow out of paper, a pencil, and some string. And if she had, he hoped she didn't have any string.

Lois merely scowled at him as the head of Features talked about changes she wanted to make, but then Lois' phone chirped. She quickly took it out, several people staring at her, and then her face lit up with a huge smile. "Excuse me. Sorry, Chief, I've got to go. Gotta pick my kid up from school."

"I thought your kids were in college," one of the guys from Accounting said tersely.

"The older two are, the youngest is eleven," Lois said with a sweet smile that promised revenge.

Accounting wasn't as familiar with Lois as other departments, and he didn't take the warning. "Wait, you and Kent had another kid?"

"She's talking about my grand-niece," Perry said gruffly. "My nephew Richard's daughter."

"Yeah, my youngest," Lois said blithely, ignoring the startled way the accountant looked at Clark. Clark just gave a tiny smile and shook his head at the smirk she cast at him.

Perry just sighed and waved her out. Lane-Kent and White family dynamics weren't exactly common knowledge outside of City and International, and knowing Lois, she was enjoying causing a stir as much as she enjoyed escaping the meeting. To get things back on track, Perry snapped out, "Well? It's not like Lane doesn't have someone to take notes for her. You were saying, Kelly?"

…

When Sebast pictured a California bassist, he tended to think surfer boy. Golden tan, longish blonde hair, dreamy eyes. And maybe, if San Francisco lived up to its reputation, at least bi. The extra 'b' in Robb, that seemed to hint at an artistic, iconoclastic personality. A guy could dream, right?

Of course, they were talking about someone who was interested in signing up with a Goth band. California Goths were a little different, a little breezier and less angsty than their East Coast counterparts, more stylish in some ways. Maybe this Robb was someone tall and graceful and just a little otherworldly, one of those fey boys who looked like they'd just stepped out of a Goth remake of Lord of the Rings.

But when they got back to the hotel, the guy standing with Morgan was none of those. Sebast had been expecting the typical California body-obsession to give their new bassist the kind of body you could only get from hours at the gym, but this guy was a little on the husky side instead. He looked more like emo than Goth, too, with the chunk of his dark hair that fell over his eyes dyed bright green. Then again, his clothes had enough leather, buckles, and chains to fit in with any of the above, though the frayed jeans and motorcycle boots made Sebast think punk. He also had a safety pin through his right ear lobe, which added to the punk impression.

To Sebast, it all sort of said 'wannabe', like the guy didn't have his own sense of style and just borrowed from the crowd he happened to be running with. And this tour had bands from several genres in the alt spectrum. Sebast wasn't sure what to make of him; adding new people to a band was like some weird kind of marriage. It didn't matter how talented they were if you couldn't stand living in a tour bus with them for half the year.

Kala, of course, stepped forward and held out her hand, smiling that winning smile of hers. "Hi, I'm Kala," she said.

"Hi," Robb said, and there was a hint of shyness in his pleased smile. He took her hand and shook it, and Sebast had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He'd seen that look on many guys' faces when Kala turned her full-charisma-wattage grin on them. Another one who fell in love at first sight.

Kala saw it too, because she decided to shut it down right away. Directing him to each of the boys accompanying her, she said, "This is Sebast, my co-singer and my best friend. And this is Dustin, my boyfriend."

To his credit, Dustin didn't bat an eyelash. Sebast hadn't intended to summon him for a rebound hookup; first and foremost, he was a good friend, and Kala needed as many of those as she could get right now. But then, Sebast figured Dustin wouldn't mind getting promoted to boyfriend within an hour of landing in California. He and Kala had never really fallen out of love, anyway, and if she had to have a boyfriend, at least Sebast approved of Dustin.

Dustin just shook Robb's hand with a friendly smile and a polite, "Nice to meet you." The bassist smiled back, and Sebast had him pegged. Lonely, talented, shy, this Robb wanted very badly to part of a crowd, any crowd, cooler than he was. Luckily nobody in the band was a status-seeking snob, so as long as he could play the bass as well as Morgan said he could, he'd fit right in with no trouble.

By the time they got the instruments set up for a jam session, Dustin was talking with Robb and Morgan and Ned like he'd known them for years. "I met Kala when she was six," he was telling Robb. "First time I saw her, she was running from her brother—he's my best friend, now—who was chasing her around with a giant bullfrog he'd found somewhere. Muddy ankles and bossy attitude, that's what I remember."

Kala was scandalized. "Dustin! Don't go telling little-kid stories to my band! That's what I have Mom for."

"Nah, Mom's for bringing out the baby pictures," Dustin teased, and Kala glared at him.

"Okay, children, let's make some music," Sebast said. "Robb, got a favorite song we all know?"

The new guy thought for a minute, and then said, "How 'bout Strange Love?"

"Classic. I like it," Kala said with a smile, and Morgan strummed a quick scale on his guitar.

An hour later, they'd playing through Strange Love twice, a couple others by Depeche Mode, Beautiful by Joydrop, Head Like a Hole by Nine Inch Nails, and Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division. Sebast nodded to Kala, excited but cautious. So far it was very promising, but now it was time for the acid test. "All right, how about one of ours?" he said. "Morgan, give him the bass line for Like Her."

Sebast and Kala both held their breath. Robb wouldn't have had a chance to practice unless he was really zealous about being prepared, and even then he couldn't have known which song they might pick. He fumbled a bit, but caught onto it quickly, and he sounded damn good with Morgan's guitar and Ned's drums.

Kala looked at him and smiled. This spare and haunting song was one of the first they'd written, and she couldn't help singing the first lines softly. Sebast took his cue, letting his voice rise to wrap around hers. The refrain relied on split-second timing, and in the final verse they sang counterpoint to each other, which was always a challenge. Their voices wove in and out of the instrumental accompaniment, and when the song ended Robb added a couple of grace notes that faded away softly.

Absolute silence, and all of them knew Robb was hired. He was good, really seriously good. And then Dustin said quietly, "Damn, I've got goosebumps now."

They'd almost forgotten him, wrapped up in the music, and Kala laughed and hugged him. Sebast offered Robb his hand again. "You're hired, mijo. Welcome to the band."

…

Lois pulled up to Kristin's school exactly on time, and said into the empty car, "Yes, worrywart, you can breathe. I made it without breaking any laws. Well, any important ones."

"You will not speed with my daughter in the car, Lois," Lana scolded, her voice perfectly clear through the speakerphone.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm terrified," Lois said dismissively. "Hey, I hear Jane Lutter still flinches at the mention of your name."

"She shouldn't have called you what she called you in my hearing," Lana replied primly. "I don't regret slapping her in the slightest."

The reporter smiled. "And that's why I let you marry my ex."

Her clear laugher hadn't changed in thirteen years. "Your sense of humor is why I let you marry one of my oldest and best friends, Lois."

"Yeah, right. Nothing could've stopped that marriage. Not even a volcano." Lois had only found out about Clark being late to his own wedding when Lana let it slip at Martha's wake. Lois grinned to remember the story, picturing Martha hiding the ring bearer's pillow and then Lana unplugging the speakers, all so she wouldn't know her groom was delayed. Only those two from Smallville would go to so much trouble to spare her a little anxiety.

Although, on her wedding day, it had been much more than a little anxiety. Lois Lane had never really wanted to be married, and she'd sidled out of the room when her sister Lucy tossed the bouquet at her own wedding. The thought of saying 'I do' and meaning it, even with the literal man of her dreams, was shattering. Although in spite of some of the things they'd faced together, and the price she'd paid for choices made in haste and fear, it had been the best decision of her life to marry him.

Lana chuckled. "You're grinning. I can hear you grinning, Lois. It's adorable."

"He's the only one allowed to call me adorable," Lois shot back.

"It's true. Every time you think back on marrying him, you smile like a teenage girl reading Romeo and Juliet for the first time. Have I told you recently how glad I am that you two finally got everything together and that you're still so madly in love with each other?"

Dodging the question, Lois huffed. "Romeo and Juliet is about two stupid teenagers, it takes place over something like three days, and everybody dies at the end. It sucks. No wonder everyone has relationship issues these days, if that's our standard of romance."

"That doesn't change the fact that you and Clark are completely ridiculous about each other. Or that it's adorable."

"Now you're just being a pest, cheerleader. Don't you have some last-minute meeting to be at? If you've got time to harass me, you could pick up your own kid." The snark in Lois' voice was only for show, and both women knew it.

"I'm on my way in right now. Give Little K my love, Lo, and thank you for picking her up. Oh, and thank your daughter for the hair."

Lois broke the connection as kids began to stream from the school, wondering what she'd meant by that. Kristin had stayed an extra day in Smallville with her mother, and Kala had been there too. So what…?

"Hey, Lo-Lo!"

And then she saw the Kristin hurriedly making her way to the car, catching glimpses of her through the crowd. "Oh my God," Lois groaned. "She's lucky Red hasn't killed her."

Kristin's long, beautiful auburn hair—the exact same glorious shade Lana had cherished in her youth—now had bright purple streaks at the temples exactly like Kala's. Running into her arms, the munchkin hugged her tight and Lois returned it in equal measure. When the little redhead pulled back, she noticed her Lo's crooked smile and where that hazel gaze was directed. Glancing at the strand just to her right, Kristin flashed the older woman a grin and chirped, "Big K did it. Isn't it cool?"

All Lois could do was laugh.

…

Jason woke slowly, snuggled up warm and comfortable with Elise in his arms. He sighed happily; the previous night's memories were fuzzy, but she was here in bed with him, and that meant all was right and well with the world. Jason slid his arm around her waist and tugged her closer, nuzzling her shoulder. She shifted backwards against him, fitting herself against his body like two spoons in a drawer, and made a sleepy murmur of contentment.

This was the best way to wake up, no urgency. Somehow he knew it wasn't a lab day and he could drowse until noon. Jason had time to appreciate Elise's warmth, the curve of her waist under his arm, the silken feel of her skin. He stretched a little and nuzzled into her hair, letting the pale blonde waves tickle his nose—

Wait.

Jason opened his eyes a little more, blinking in confusion. Something wasn't right. Elise was a brunette … but that was definitely blonde hair right in front of him.

He sat up abruptly, and Cassie Sandsmark rolled over to look up at him in bemusement. Any sleepiness was blasted out of him by the sheer shock, eyes huge. "Oh, shit!" Jason yelped.

And then realized that by sitting up, he'd knocked the covers down, and he was completely buck-naked. In trying to grab the comforter, he lost his balance and fell off the edge of the bed, landing on his butt on the floor.

Cassie sat up, shoved her hair out of her eyes, and laughed at him as he tried to claw the comforter over his lap and not look at her. "Gotta say, that's the first time I've gotten that reaction," she teased.

"Oh my God. Okay. Yeah. Cassie, I'm - " He held up both hands in the don't-shoot-me gesture. "Okay, wait, I need coffee before I can think, but I need pants before I can make coffee. Also, I may be completely lame, but I need you to have a shirt on, at least. Preferably underwear, too. Please." That won fresh laughter, and he craned his head around, muttering as he felt his cheeks burning, "Pants, pants, where the heck are my pants?"

"By the door, I think. Calm down, Jase," Cassie chuckled, finding her shirt beside the bed and tugging it on. Jason awkwardly headed to the door and hurriedly hopped into his pants, change falling out of the pockets.

Memories were coming back now, of Elise leaving after the funeral, telling him she was still his friend but just his friend, for now anyway. Being bummed out, but trying to pick his life back up while still grieving Martha. Cassie poking at him constantly, telling him he needed to get out and do something, stop laying around like an oversized alien sloth, then going with her on a mission that landed them in Toronto since Gotham was still on lockdown. Nabbing a gang of art thieves red-handed, stopping for dinner at the first likely place afterward, and discovering they were both legal to drink in Ontario. A drink or two had sounded like a good idea, it wasn't as if they'd be driving, and he had a lot of things he'd like to let go.

Canadian beer, Cassie's sunny smile, the way she always understood him. Making jokes about a goddess and an alien walking into a bar. Leaving, the night air crisp, feeling a little light-headed—Kryptonian metabolism notwithstanding, Jason wasn't used to alcohol. Making their way back to Titans Tower, by leaps and bounds for Jason, by flight for Cassie, and she'd done a long series of slow loops so as not to get too far ahead of him.

Walking her to her room, talking in the doorway. Jason wasn't sure if he'd kissed her first, or if she'd kissed him, but it had been very nice indeed. Everyone kept telling him to date other girls, and this was kind of a date, right? Crime-fighting, dinner, drinks, and a kiss at the end.

Only the kiss hadn't been the end. Jason blushed as he handed Cassie her coffee and sat down again on the edge of the bed. He was wincing slightly, feeling like the worst kind of cretin as he ran a hand through his hair. "Umm….So…"

She bit her lip, clearly trying not to laugh out loud again. "You are seriously adorable, you know that, Super-dork? You look like a cross between an apologetic spaniel and a teddy bear."

"Well, I didn't really mean to do this, especially with the way everything else has been crazy," he said miserably, not really being able to look her in the eye. How could he have done something this completely moronic? His father would be unutterably proud of this little incident, he was sure. He sighed then and continued, his expression earnest as he made himself look her in the eye. She deserved that acknowledgement. It had been his mistake, not hers. "And I never meant to hurt you, either. I mean, Cassie, we're such good friends and I don't want to ruin that. And I might have done that because I was drunk and stupid." He frowned then, shaking his head and looking sheepish. "So now … I have no idea what to say."

She sighed and propped her chin in her hand, looking at him. Her smile was affectionate when she reached out to rap him lightly on the nose. "Do you have to be the ultimate good guy? Oh Jason, this is gonna come as a shock, but we both know that most of our crew doesn't consider something like this to be a marriage proposal or something. It happens. It's okay. I didn't mean to do this either, you know. But if it was anyone, I'm glad it was you. We were a lot more smashed than we thought, huh?" She gave him an amused little smile.

"Yeah, but … I also feel like an enormous jerk for freaking out. I was just surprised. I don't remember a lot of last night, to be honest. And I'm not the kind of guy… I mean, I don't normally do things like this. I mean, Cassie…" He trailed off then, dropping his forehead into his palm for a moment. Of all the situations he would have expected to find himself in, this hadn't been one of them. Dad might be disappointed, but Mom would have been having a field day with this. After a moment, he glanced back at Cassie. "I'm totally screwing this up, aren't I?" He was still blushing, and he ran his hand through his already-rumpled hair again.

Cassie raised an eyebrow at him, finally laughing a little. "Stop, you. I'm not mad at you at all. At all, okay? Honestly, I expect nothing less than an awkward morning-after from you, Super-monogamous, regardless of how awesome the night before was. And I kind of appreciate it, you know. Lots of guys would be running up and down the hallway in their boxers yelling, 'I scored a demi-goddess!' You, you're all worried about my feelings. It's what makes you you, Jason, and that's part of why you're one of my best friends. That's not going to change, you dork."

"Thanks, I think," he replied, still bashful. "Besides, you're not a score. You're my friend, and a pretty awesome person."

Bracing her hand on the bed between them, she leaned over and kissed the tip of his nose briefly. "Don't worry so much. Zero drama. I'm on the pill, and we used a condom. Both times, if I remember correctly. It didn't suck, and who knows? Maybe there was a reason for it. Besides, what's one night between besties, right? No regrets here, SB, none at all. I mean, it could have been worse, you know. You could have been out with one of the others. Right?"

That last quip finally made Jason laugh, her grin infectious. "I guess you're right."

"I'm always right. Unless, of course, you'd like to take me out on a real date and see where this goes. I'd be up for that." She shrugged and sipped her coffee, arching an eyebrow.

Everything that had happened so far this morning had through him for a loop, but he found himself smiling back at her. She had a point and one that he decided to let himself seriously consider. "I, um … You know what, I'd like that."

Cassie's grin was almost brighter than the sunlight pouring into her room. "Well, all right then." With a chuckle, she clinked mugs with him. "Awesome."

Elise was still The One so far as Jason was concerned, but taking Cassie out for dinner and movie would be nice. If his grandmother's passing had taught him one thing, it was that one needed to live their lives as they came, not wait around for it to find you. And he and Cassie understood each other and she was one of his closest friends. It didn't have to be the end-all and be-all of dramatic late-teens love, he finally realized. The world hadn't ended because he slept with Cassie once. Maybe, just maybe, everyone was right and he really should at least date another girl. And if he was going to date, he was starting to realize there was no one right now he'd rather spend time with than Cassie.