A Son Becomes the Father
Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this story except for the idea and only a few characters scattered throughout the story. Everything else belongs to DC Comics.
You will be different. Sometimes you will feel like an outcast, but you will never be alone. You will make my strength your own. You will see my life through your eyes as your life will be seen through mine. A son becomes the father, and father becomes the son.
I remember those words being whispered in my ear as I slept. I remember the speaker's voice being soft, yet powerful. I remember the touch of soft skin across my cheek and I remember the rush of wind from my window as he flew off. Years later, I would learn that the man who spoke to me in my room was my father.
Lois Lane was my mother. She was the lead reporter for the Daily Planet newspaper in Metropolis, and the strongest person I have ever known in my entire life. Which, for me, is saying a lot. So when she died when I was eleven, my whole world came crashing down around me. Richard White, whom everyone, including my mother for a time, believed was my father, came back to Metropolis from his work in London for the funeral. But it wasn't Richard who took me to the funeral.
It was Clark Kent, long-time family friend and my mother's partner for the Planet. Richard had left for London when I was nine, and ever since, it was Clark who had been a father-figure to me. When Mom died, Clark took me over to his small apartment and offered me a place to stay until Richard could catch a flight back to Metropolis.
I don't remember much of the funeral. One thing I do remember is thinking that I had ever seen Clark cry until we went to the funeral. I wasn't old enough to understand the concept of death fully, so I didn't get why all of these grown ups all around me where crying. When Clark took me up to see my mother's casket, I asked him why they were going to bury my mother. He looked down at me with his blue, blue eyes and tried so very hard to smile.
"Mommy's dead, Jason," He told me with tears in his eyes. "You're not going to see her for a very long time, so you should say goodbye, okay?" His voice was as weak as I had ever heard it. He took me closer to the casket and I looked at my mother. She was white, much too white, I remember thinking. The way her soft hair fell about her warm face was what always registered her as 'mother', in my mind. Now, the soft hair and warm face were gone and were replaced by crinkly strands of wire and a cold, hard stone for a face. The mother I knew was gone, but I had yet to realize it.
Richard never came to the funeral. When Clark and I came home, to my home, the man I had called my father for so long was seated at our oak table, two empty bottles of wine and a full wine glass placed before him. Clark took me up to my room and told me to stay there and play with my piano a little bit while he went downstairs and talked to Richard. A few minutes after he left, my ear was pressed to the door, desperately trying to hear anything.
Amazingly, I could hear everything. The sound of birds outside, the rush of cars down our street, the gentle whooshing of the water against our dock... But I didn't want to hear those sounds. I focused on what I wanted to hear, and I heard Clark and my father as if I were sitting in on the conversation. I still remember that conversation.
"Richard, you have to stop this. Jason's upstairs." There was a clink of glass, bottles, I realized.
A chair was pushed out. "Don't tell me what to do with my son!" Richard yelled drunkenly.
I heard Clark sigh. "I'm not trying to tell you to do anything with your son. Just to get a hold of yourself." There was fumbling around with the cabinet and refrigerator doors.
They were both silent for a while. Then, "How was the funeral?"
The fumbling stopped. "Fine," Clark answered, and the noise resumed.
"I couldn't come, Clark," Richard told the other man. "I just couldn't come. I couldn't see her like...like that."
A blender started to buzz. "I know."
More silence. Finally, Richard spoke again. "Why didn't you save her...?" Everything stopped. It was almost as if time had been halted. The blender stopped buzzing, movement was absent from the kitchen, and I could hear neither of the two men's breathing.
"I couldn't." I heard Clark reply quietly. I had to strain to hear his words. "No matter how many times I was by her side... No matter how fast I flew... No matter how strong I was..." my ears picked up the sound of glass shattering under constant pressure. "I couldn't save her. I couldn't protect her."
A plane landed on the water then, and the rest of the conversation was lost to me.
At the time, I didn't understand what it was Clark had meant by saying that he couldn't save my mother. Sure, I had made the connection that Clark was Superman, but it wasn't until I wasmuch olderwhen I finally realized that Superman was also Clark. From there, everything snowballed out of control.
Soooo... This is actually an old idea of mine that i just really got full-swing into. i hope all of you like it. oh, and i'm asking from the start, because on my other story, Serena and Edoc'sil(check it out, if you haven't! it's really cool for Inheritance Trilogy fanatics XD) , i waited until chapter 54 to ask. If there's anyone out there who would like to beta-read for this story, that would be amazing. thank you!
drop a review if you can! thanks!