A/N: This is it- the end! A nice way to end your weekend, hopefully! Short and sweet. It's been a fabulous ride, dragging you along with me on this story. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I did. If you did, please review! This is your last chance to do so!

Also, a couple of notes: before you ask, the answer is yes. This story is loosely connected to another story of mine- "Superman's Daughter." You'll see one of the connections in this chapter, and in future chapters of that story (parts involving Jason). As you can see from the chapter title, there are no words this chapter- but I felt it was best that way. Again, please leave feedback for me! I need to know how successful this style and story was. Let me know if there's anything you wish was explained better- yes, I know the timeline is loose. It's not mentioned clearly, but this story concludes about two and a half years after "Superman Returns" (aka- Jason is seven years old. That's how I kept track of it best).

Enjoy, folks!

Disclaimer: I own this story and this story alone. Characters and locale are property of Warner Brothers or DC Comics or whoever else may have a share in that.

No Words At All- Epilogue

Clark sat carefully on the bed next to his wife- both careful not to jostle her and careful not to be seen floating above the matress. He stroked her arm gently, her skin slick and smooth to the touch. He perused her features, his gaze wandering up her body slowly as he took in the rumpled gown she wore, the pale, sweaty sheen of her skin, and her face.

Her face.

Her beautiful, beautiful face. That face like an angel's with her dark hair spread out on the pillow behind her, flowing beautifully against the white of the fabric, a perfect contrast to her pale, almost porcelain skin.

Her lips were drawn into a proud, gentle smile, pink and luscious despite their near chapped state. The expression those lips curved into was what Clark would call perfection.

Her brown eyes weren't just brown- they were irridescent, a deep molten chocolate color that showed some flecks that just barely qualified them to be hazel. And those deep, brown orbs had a certain sparkle to them that Clark couldn't recall seeing there before except for on rare occassions.

Of course, at this precise moment, Clark himself was not the recipient of her radiant stare, or her enthralled smile. Though Clark could hardly say he was jealous of her attention.

He, too, couldn't keep his gaze from wandering away from his beautiful wife to the little miracle that sat bundled in her arms.

Clark had only seen her eyes once, since she'd fallen back asleep, but he knew they were his. An almost unnatural blue, that had gazed up at him widely and with questioning, as if trying to figure out who exactly he was. His voice had soothed her, as if she had recognized it from all the times he had spoken to her while she resided inside her mother's belly.

Her features were much like her mother's. Her skin pale, the little hair she'd had was the same dark shade as Lois' tousseled locks. She had the same nose, and much the same mouth, too, curved into a slight pout as she finally slept in her mother's arms.

The cry belonged to Lois, of that Clark was nearly sure. He hadn't arrived on Earth young enough to hear any horror stories of his cries, anyways. But the tone, coupled with Clark's lung capacity, would make things difficult in the future, that was for sure. Not that Clark cared even one bit.

Speaking of Clark's inheritance... well, he wasn't sure what to think with that. From what Clark knew about Jason's birth, it had been a difficult one. He'd been born prematurely at seven months- Lois and Richard only believing it was six- and various health issues had ensued. As far as he could tell (and that was quite far, for Clark), his baby girl was born healthy and not a moment too soon. Her grip was strong- though, Clark guessed it had nothing to do with his strength. After all, everyone always said that babies had strong grips. Still, he'd like to think that her firm grasp had something to do with him.

But it wasn't any of those things specifically that made him love her. They made him love her more- the fact that she seemed to be the perfect mixture of himself and his wife. His Lois. But he couldn't use any of those things to justify or explain why he loved her. It was something completely different from any other feeling in the world. It was strange and wonderful and empowering and humbling all at once.

Lucy Lane Kent. Lara-El. God, it sounded so beautiful. She was so beautiful. No longer content to just stare, Clark reached out to touch his baby girl once more, his daughter. He stroked her soft, dark hair gently- just the barest of touches. Lois glanced up to look into her husband's enthralled face, so full of wonder. Clark's eyes slid over to meet hers. He tried to speak, but no words would come. Lois seemed to understand what he wanted to say. His features settled into a softened smile, and he gently kissed his wife's forehead. They didn't need words. If they could sit like this, staring at their newborn daughter in silence for eternity, Clark couldn't imagine ever being happier. But he would be. He could picture his entire future, and it was beautiful.

Finally, finally, Clark Kent felt his life was complete.