Like Father, Like Daughter

By Emma63

Summary: Claire, Lois and Clark's precocious young daughter, tries to find the source of those mysterious "whoosh" sounds she hears all the time.

{-}: thoughts/[-]: telepathic message/(-): plain 'ol parentheses! Time: 9 years after the marriage of Lois Lane and Clark Kent


Whoosh! *That* sound once more filled Claire's ears. Her eyes opened wide, and in her rush to get her small, six-year-old body to the window, she forgot that she was several feet above the ground, and fell off her bed. Odd, but ever since last year, she had frequently heard that "Whoosh!", though she hadn't quite managed to find its source— yet. She felt she was looking for something, or expecting something… but what?

"Claire!" Lois Lane-Kent ran into her daughter's room, worried after hearing the thud which had been Claire's body falling onto the floor.

She stopped short upon seeing her child by the open window. The sight of her standing there, with her ebony, shoulder-length hair blowing in the wind, took her back to a time where *she* had done exactly the same thing— while awaiting the arrival of Superman. Only that was *before* she had discovered Clark was something more than just a friend, and a partner… before she had found the greatest love of her life… before she had figured out that her fantasy was really Clark Kent, AKA Superman.

Lois snapped herself back into the present, aware that Claire would catch a cold if she stood in the drafty area much longer.

"Sweetie, let's go back to bed. You can sleep with Mommy if you want."

The miniature version of Lois, however, seemed oblivious to her mother's presence. She was too excited about what she was attempting to accomplish. In what seemed like slow motion to Lois, Claire climbed up onto the windowsill…

Lois rushed to her daughter's side, crying out, "Claire, no!" after realizing what she was trying to do. But it was too late, Claire had jumped from their 5th story window.

Lois had no choice. She instantly yelled, "Superman, HELP!" It was especially at times like these that she wished she could fly. It was so unfair!

Just as she started to call, "Supe-", she saw the familiar swish of her curtains and her baby in the arms of none other than the Man-of-Steel himself.

"Thank goodness!" Lois always knew she had nothing to worry about, Clark Kent wouldn't let his child be in any danger, but her maternal instincts always muddled her common sense.

"Superman, thank you!" Lois looked up into her husband's eyes with a twinkle in her own — he was going to get a *very* special surprise tonight. Though maybe she should make him squirm a little. After all, this *was* the longest wait so far for him to rescue a family member— nearly 4 seconds.

Now, however, was a let-out-a-mother's-anxiety time.

"Claire, what were you thinking?! Don't you know how dangerous that is! You are NOT Superman! And, by the way, I haven't heard you thank him yet! He just saved your life, and if it wasn't for him, you'd be-"

"Now, Lois-" Clark had been frightened too, and he knew Lois was only babbling because she had been worried, but he felt that it was clearly time to interfere. Claire had hid behind his cape and had a piece of it, along with her thumb, in her little mouth.

[You're *not* helping here, Clark.] She sent him a telepathic message, a skill which came in handy often.

"Lois — Claire just wanted to feel the freedom of the sky, didn't you?" He had almost added a 'honey' at the end of that, but restrained himself.

Claire nodded, and held her arms out to him — a sign that she wanted him to pick her up. He did, and she leaned close to his ear and whispered, "Thank you, Superman." Then she motioned for him to put her down, and she ran to her mom, who immediately picked her up without being asked.

And then Lois heard an "I'm sorry, Mommy, but it felt so nice, and I *had* to try flying!" to which Lois sighed, remembering that obsession of hers all to well.

"I'll be going now, Lois. Good-bye, Claire- try not to jump out of anymore windows and worry your mom!" With that, Superman disappeared, and a few seconds later, Claire heard the familiar "whoosh!" and saw her daddy come running towards her.

She quickly wanted to be transferred to Clark, because she had an inexplicable feeling that her daddy would know what *that* sound was.

"Mommy, me and Daddy have to talk. By ourself," Claire added (her grammar wasn't particularly great — after all, she was only six years old!).

Giving Clark the I'm-not-mad-just-hurt look, Lois left the room, but not without getting an I'll-tell-you-all-about-it- later-when-we're-alone look back from Clark.

"Now, what is it, pumpkin?" It still amazed Clark that he had found so many different nicknames for his wife and child. Actually, they both loved him all the more for his efforts.

"Daddy, did you ever *think* about something 'til you can almost reach it, and then it just gets away from you?"

"Yes, honey, I did. In fact, your mommy and I *always* seem to be getting into some kind of problem or another because of it. But there's nothing to worry about, because you take after your mom, and when she gets going, there's no stopping her until she finds out what she's after! And then it comes just like *that*," Clark demonstrated by snapping his fingers.

Claire Kent's face suddenly lit up with a smile.

Clark lovingly hugged his daughter. It got him in the gut every time, this beautiful smile of hers, just like her mother's.

She mischievously glanced sideways at her father and asked, "Daddy, does Superman live here?"

Clark, still caught on her smile, thought that his daughter meant, 'does Superman live on Earth?' and answered affirmatively.

One thing did penetrate his mind, however. Just as she did earlier in the evening, she leaned close to Clark's ear and whispered, "Thank you, Daddy."

"You're welcome, sweetheart. Now, get back into bed, it's — and this time I *mean* it — WAY past your bedtime."

Lois jumped on Clark as soon as he came through the door.

"So —? What happened?"

"Her reporter instinct kicked in."


"Hey, what can I say, she takes after two of the best in the world!"

"Clark, I'm warning you —"

As she threatened her husband, the hand that held up the coverlet over the 'surprise' slipped and revealed a VERY imaginative lace concoction — he wondered where she had gotten it.

"Clark Jerome Kent, if you —" Lois was getting frustrated, but noticed her husband's gaze directed at her 'surprise'. "Oops. Um, I was *thinking* about giving you an incentive to save our daughter just a couple of seconds earlier, but I guess since you're not going to tell me —"

"All she wanted was to ask a 'Lois Lane'-type interrogative question and I told her it'll come to her sooner or later now let's talk about that incentive!"

"Boy, should you be ashamed of yourself! I don't know whether I've created a love maniac or ruined a reporter! Who taught you to rattle off run-on sentences like that?"

"Why, Mrs. Kent, if there's something wrong with me, you could fix it, I'm sure. Now where *did* you get that Superman negligée?"

"Oh, just in a Superman Fan Club catalog," Lois replied slyly, not wanting to reveal that Martha Kent had made it for her.

She *had* looked in the catalog, but the stuff she found was nowhere near what she had wanted. Most of the items were too cheesy and distasteful. So she had gone to Martha…although it had been an embarrassing thing to ask of her, she seemed so much more like a friend than a mother-in- law, and more than willing to help. Besides, who could do better than the woman who made the suit in the first place?

"They have a Superman Fan Club?" If they had a fan club for him, whoa, would they need one for his wife! She looked *too* good in that 'truth and justice' logo of his!

Lois rolled her eyes. Clark always did seem to be the last one to know how great he really was. Ah, to be that modest… a trait that had not been endearing to Ms. Lane, and one that still hadn't been passed on to Mrs. Kent.

"Of course they do, darling. Now let's stop talking about the rest of the world, and you can show me *again* how great Superman is, and then how Clark Kent is even better!"

(A week later)

"Nah-nah, you can't catch me!"

"Yes, I can too catch you, Nathan!" Claire exclaimed at school the next day.

"No you can't, you're just a gir-rl," the skinny, blond boy teased.

"You take that back!"

"What, you mean you're not a GIRL?"

"I am, but you take back that meany 'mark!" (what she meant was RE-mark, the vocabulary coming from her parents, but being translated into first grade sophisticated language.)

Nathan continued to taunt her, and sticking his tongue out, said, "Why don't you MAKE me! Bet you can't, 'cuz you're a GIR-RL!! Nah-nah!"

"You're gonna be sorry!" And with that, Claire gave him a nasty left hook, causing Nathan to bleed profusely.

~Later that afternoon~

"Mr. Kent, I cannot believe how undisciplined your child is! And to think, I thought Superman's influence would do Claire some good. He is a close family friend, is he not?"

"Yes, Mrs. Hoppleby, he is. And I'm really terribly sorry about Nathan. I'm sure Claire didn't mean to actually punch him unconscious."

Mrs. Hoppleby softened a bit. After all, maybe she could get Superman's autograph for her son if she asked Mr. Kent nicely. Anyhow, she had read Mr. Kent's articles, and, meeting him face to face, found him to be very charming and handsome. Very handsome, in fact. Thinking twice about it, Nathan probably had provoked the blow. It wasn't his first fight. There had been several over the course of the past year.

"I really am very sorry, Mrs. Hoppleby, if you'd like a written apology from Claire to go along with the other —"

"No, that's quite all right. There is one thing you can do, Mr. Kent."

"Just name it and I'll do my best to do it."

"Could you ask Superman to give my Nathan an autographed picture? My boy sure does love him a lot!"

"No problem, Mrs. Hoppleby. I'll even have him hand deliver it to your doorstep. How about, say, four o'clock tomorrow afternoon?"

"That would be wonderful! Our address is 564 White Oak. Thank you, good-bye."

"Good-bye, and thank you for being so understanding." Clark heaved a sigh of relief. He had to admit, there were some advantages to having a powerful alter-ego!

"Claire, what possessed you? Lately all I seem to be lecturing you about is dangerous behavior! Now, tell me again WHY you knocked Nathan Hoppleby unconscious?"

{Oh boy, sorry, Claire, but you're gonna have to sit through this one without Daddy's help} Clark thought.

"Mom, Nathan called me a GIR-RL," Claire imitated Nathan down to the nasally whine in his voice.

"Well, aren't you one?"

"Yeah, but he was 'sultin me!"

"You mean, he was insulting you?"

"Yes, I just *said* he was 'sultin me! Mommy, do I have to say EVERYTHING twice? Anyways, he 'sulted me, and I couldn't help it! You always told me to defend my rights!"

Clark couldn't help it. He started to chuckle uncontrollably. Lois, bless her soul, ignored him.

"Yes, sweetie, I know I said that, but I didn't mean for you to punch a little boy! Violence isn't something that's used lightly like that! Promise me that you won't do anything rash like that again."

"Yes, Mommy."

Lois could not ignore Clark any longer. "Okay, Mr. Hot-Shot, YOU take a stab at it!" she cried, huffing out of the room.

"Daddy? Can I ask you something?"

"Yes, precious, what did you want to ask?"

"Well —"


"Um, what's 'rash' mean?"

"'Rash'?" Clark was puzzled.

"Yeah, y'know, Mommy said for me to promise that I won't do anything rash like what I did again."

"Oh!" Clark had to hold his breath to keep from laughing out loud. He did not want to hurt his daughter's feelings.

"When a person says that you do something 'rash', it means you do it without thinking about the consequences. Do you know what 'consequence' is?"

Claire shook her head.

"It means the end result of something."

"I understand, Daddy. But y'know what?"


"I'm not sorry I hit Nathan Hoppleby."

"And why not?"

"Well, I'm sorry he got that hurt, because even though he should've got hurt for his meany 'mark, he shouldn't've got that hurt. But I'm not sorry 'cuz I know that I'm really your daughter. I'm really strong, huh! So I know for sure I'm your daughter!"

"What?!" The last two remarks just went over his head, but the thing about her not being his daughter, well, Clark was shocked to think that Claire had doubts as serious as that. "Of course you're my daughter!"

Claire giggled at the sight of her father's horrified expression. "No, Daddy, I didn't mean it *that* way, I meant I'm really your daughter!"

"Can you tell me what you mean, exactly?"

"Well, I mean, do you remember last week when I jumped out of our window?"

"I sure do, and don't you ever do that again!" {At least, not until you learn how to fly, that is} Clark thought, sure that the superpower of flight *would* be passed on to Claire.

"Well, Daddy, I don't want to scare you, I don't think I will, but I wasn't a bit scared! I was really flying! And all that time when I watched Superman fly around saving people, I wanted to jump and fly with him — only I didn't, until last week. But it was so fun! I want to do it again, Daddy!"

Suddenly something clicked in the corner of Clark's mind, but he wasn't quite sure what.

"Do what again, cutie-pie?"

"I want to fly with you again, Daddy — or can I call you Superman?!" Claire gleefully added with a wide grin.


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