Stony Ways by bakasi Rated: PG13 Submitted: June 2007 Author's note: I posted this story on the boards in several parts, namely Secret Fears, Sunday's Gain, Seeking Heroes and Serendipitous Infinity. They are one story, and so I didn't send them to the archive separated because it wouldn't have made sense. I like to thank LaraMoon who kept beta reading for me and encouraged me so often to go on writing. Apart from Rebecca none of these characters belong to me; I only borrowed them to have a little fun. Please don't pursue me; I don't earn money with this, thus I'm poor. <<<<>>>> indicates flashback The song mentioned in "Serendipitous Infinity" is the amazing "Dreamland" by Art Garfunkle. ****************************************************** Stony Ways ***Secret Fears*** Clark Kent enjoyed one of those rare moments between sleep and wakefulness. It was the time when he wasn't really asleep but also hadn't woken up yet. These brief, little, precious minutes were full of the loveliest dreams. This place was too narrow for grief and sorrow. He didn't need to worry about belonging or being different. These few seconds or minutes were all his. Since he didn't know when he had to leave this refuge or when he would have the chance to come back to it again, he drank in as much of it as possible. Right now he dreamt of finally finding his destination, or to be more precise - about having found it. The woman he searched for didn't have a face yet. She was more a presence than a real being. Had he been awake, Clark would have sadly dismissed the thought of ever finding the woman to love in this rough world. He had almost lost hope of falling in love with the perfect girl. It just wasn't possible, not for someone like him. Who would accept him the way he was? Who wouldn't be afraid of him? Was there anyone he could trust with the truth? But that wasn't important right now, because in his dreams his lips were captured in a wonderful kiss. Soft hands were trailing down his chest, stroking it and lips were placing kisses on it. He was aware of every movement of these silky hands and something landed on his stomach, making him gasp. Clark opened his eyes, wide-awake now. He was welcomed with a warm, beautiful smile. "Good morning, pumpkin," he murmured, his voice still a little drowsy, and smiled back into dark brown eyes. "Good morning, Daddy," Becca replied, hugging Clark, who embraced the little girl. "I told you not to call me dad, Rebecca," Clark admonished her playfully. "I didn't call you dad, I said daddy," she protested. "Rebecca!" "Okay, I won't do it again, Daddy!" Becca promised. It was a game between them that they played almost each morning. The little seven-year-old whirlwind didn't get tired of it. It had started when Clark had tried to convince her that she should call him Clark instead of daddy because he wasn't really her father. Becca knew that, but she refused to obey him in this case. She had started to make it a morning ritual between them, instead. Calling her Rebecca was a vital part of it. Clark almost never called her Rebecca. When he did, and it wasn't playful, she knew at once that she had done something bad. "Come here, you!" he turned her around so that she was lying on her back and started to tickle her. Becca giggled and tried to struggle free under Clark's soft grip. Clark laughed and released her. "How about breakfast?" "Sounds good," she replied. Clark got up and walked over to the kitchen, while Becca cuddled into his still warm pillows. The new apartment was spacious. They had just moved in the day before and it was still full of brown boxes with an enormous amount of things. Most of them were Becca's as Clark claimed. Becca on the other hand insisted stubbornly that nearly all of them belonged to Clark. So they hadn't agreed yet as to who was going to unpack them. Clark had never been happier with an apartment. It was bright and after Clark had renovated, it was also very homey. There was a bathroom and the living room and bedroom were separated. A spiral staircase led to another room Rebecca had chosen as hers. It was barely believable that of all places he had found a flat in Metropolis that offered Becca a room of her own. Most of the time she had had her bed within his room. It had been okay for her, but now that she was growing older, he felt that she needed her privacy. And there was another room they both didn't really know how to use. In the kitchen Clark started preparing breakfast. He fried eggs and made coffee for himself and milk for Becca. He placed jam and bread on the table, all made the good old-fashioned way. He liked to see things develop and if he had time, he didn't use super-powers. So it took some time till everything was ready. When Clark sat down at the table, Becca came to join him. "Isn't there something that you miss?" she asked sadly. "Oh, yes, the coffee. It's so much better in Europe." Clark sighed. "Daddy, I'm serious!" Becca complained. "I'm serious, too, pumpkin," Clark replied with a boyish grin. "Oh, Becky, I know how much you hate to travel constantly. I know it's my fault. But you'll find friends here in no time; I promise, honey. And I'll really do my best that this won't happen again so soon here in Metropolis. It's a huge city. One more freak doesn't actually count, does he?" "You're not a freak, Daddy," Becca stated firmly. "Just why do you have to do these things all the time? I thought you could control them." "Why did I have to have this nice little chat with the mother of that girl you bullied on that playground back in Plymouth?" Clark returned the question. "Because I couldn't stand there and watch while she was hurting the baby-boy!" Clark grinned at her words inwardly. The "baby-boy" had been five years old and barely younger than Becca. "And I can't stand there and watch when people around me are in trouble, and I know I can help," Clark explained. "I know, Daddy. It's just..." she hesitated briefly, unsure what to say. "I want to stay somewhere for more than half a year." Clark winced. That had been his mother's words and Becca was repeating them. It added to his bad conscience. "There are a lot of advantages in the USA. Your grandparents are far closer, and we can fly there over the weekends." Clark hadn't dared to take Becca on a real quick flight, so they had needed hours to get from Europe to the USA. It hadn't been possible to visit his parents for such a short time as only the weekend. Becca's smile was small and hardly visible, even for Clark. "I promise you that we won't move again so fast." He only hoped that he would be able to keep his promise. It wasn't exactly the first time that he had made it, and each time they had arrived at a new place, he had failed to grant Becca her greatest wish of finally finding a home. "What are we going to do today, Daddy?" Becca asked curiously. "I have an interview with the Daily Planet's editor-in-chief," Clark replied and tried to hide that he was worrying about that. He was short on money since he had rented the apartment. The landlord had asked for a deposit, and there wasn't much left for the two of them. He really hoped that he was getting that job. He was only eating breakfast with Rebecca to show her that everything was all right when it wasn't. He only hoped that his little act worked, and Becca didn't notice anything until he was earning enough money for both of them. "And what about me?" she wanted to know. He could hear her disappointment because she might have expected him to take her out somewhere. Clark really wished that he could do that instead of leaving her alone. Well, she wouldn't be exactly alone. "Don't you remember, honey? Grandma and Grandpa wanted to spend a few days in Metropolis. They will come over soon and take you to whatever you want to see in the big city." A smile appeared on her face. As much as Becca loved days with Clark, she adored her grandparents. Days with them were equally special. Her mood lightened up, and she had that air of expectation around her. "That's going to be great!" she exulted enthusiastically. * * * An hour later, Clark was on his way to the Daily Planet, and he was sick to his stomach. Had he ever been so nervous? His future literally depended on this job, and neither his parents nor Becca knew that. Normally he would have told his parents about his problems. But Clark could clearly remember his mother's speech when he had decided to be Becca's father. She had told him that it was risky and not easy to integrate in his life. Not only because he was young, he was also different. It had been about the first time that his mother had brought up that argument. Usually she avoided making him feel like anything but her beloved son. They had been right in many ways, and Clark had been aware of the problems. Nonetheless, he had decided to go down the rocky way and raise Becca himself like he had promised her mother. His parents respected that and of course understood that a young father and nice grandparents might be a better choice for Becca than old parents and a frequently traveling brother. It had been a difficult problem, and of course, there wasn't a simple solution to it. In the end, they had agreed to grant Becca's mother her last wish and let Clark be the father. But Clark hated to admit that he was suffering from the downsides of the decision. He loved Becca as though she actually were his daughter. He didn't want to miss a single day with her. But he truly hated not being able to offer her a completely stable life. So far he hadn't gotten into trouble with the authorities, though that was a constant fear in his life. When Becca had been orphaned, the youth welfare office had respected the mother's last will. Clark had had to undergo a psychological examination. When they had found that he was mature enough to take the responsibility, they had gritted their teeth and agreed to leave the little girl with Clark. They had frequently checked on Becca and hadn't found a reason to take her away from him so far. But how long would that work? Clark wanted to send Becca to school now. He had been her teacher at home before, and her progress had been good. Becca could read, write and calculate. She knew things about history and nature. They had visited a lot of things during their classes. One of the reasons for home schooling had been that he was afraid Becca would let his secret slip unintentionally. But she had understood how important it was to keep it, and he wanted to give her the opportunity to make friends. When she was in school he would be able to earn more money. That had been difficult at times. Clark looked up and saw the majestic symbol of the Daily Planet. His heart began to beat even faster, if that were possible. It thundered in his ears, and he felt his knees grow weak. The globe was the symbol of all his hopes, and it seemed to call him. Walking over to the building caused a strange feeling of coming home in him. But that didn't make him feel better at all; he just became more and more nervous. A home he didn't know wasn't comforting him. When he reached the big entrance his trembling hands wandered over to the handles, and he opened the door. His hesitation was only brief before he swallowed hard and gathered all his courage to make the first step into the building. His gut screamed to run away and to escape the stress of the interview that lay before him. But consciously he knew it was important that he go on and ignore his anxiety. Clark stepped over to the elevators and waited for the lift to arrive. With a couple of people he entered the elevator, and as the doors closed, he noticed that this was the point of no return. The first stop was the floor where the newsroom was situated. When the elevator reached it, Clark stepped out. The newsroom was busy. A few dozen people were running around or were frantically typing stories into their computers. Others were calling people, chatting with them on the phone. It was loud and crowded, obviously chaotic and strangely organized at the same time. Maybe it was comparable with a bee hive. The bees seemed to be flying around without destination, but that was only the shallow view of it. They were highly organized and so was the Daily Planet. The queen bee, which was male in this case, sat in the center of interest. The office of the editor-in-chief was across the room. From there, Mr. White saw and heard everything. Clark stepped down the ramp and was on the same level with the newsroom now. He walked through the reporters and felt very exposed, though only some of them were really watching him. It was somehow like the dream where he went to school naked. But Clark tried to blind out his uneasiness and walked over to Mr. White's office. Searching for his last amount of courage, he lifted his hand and knocked. "Yes?" the voice of an obviously stressed man replied. Clark opened the door a little. "Mr. White? I'm Clark Kent. I have an appointment for an interview with you," he said shyly. His mouth was dry. "Kent?" Mr. White repeated and kept silent for a moment as if he was trying to remember the name. "Yeah, I know. Professor Carlton called me. He told me a lot of good things about you. Okay, so come in, Mr. Kent." Clark opened the door a little further and stepped into the office. There were some pictures of Elvis, and the desk looked as if its owner was a really busy man. Clark closed the door behind him and went over to the editor-in-chief. He shook his hand and took a seat as Mr. White invited him to do so. "What was the last paper you worked for?" Mr. White started the interview. "The Devon Chronicle," Clark replied. "I see..." Mr. White said, not hiding a certain disappointment. Clark assumed that it was because he hadn't written for the London Times. "And before that?" Clark decided that it was the easiest to hand Mr. White his portfolio with a few examples of his work. Mr. White took it and began to skim through the articles. "Smallville Press...Borneo Gazette..." he murmured and looked at the other articles silently. "There's not a single famous newspaper within these." Mr. White shook his head sadly. "And the articles...the mating ritual of a gecko? As much as I'd like to help you, Mr. Kent, the Daily Planet needs reporters with more experience. They should be able to deal with affairs of international interest. With..." Mr. White didn't manage to finish his sentence. A young man stormed into the office. "Chief, I've fixed your toaster!" he announced. "Jimmy!" Mr. White barked. "Not now." "But..." Jimmy tried again. "I told you to return later!" Perry impatiently waved at Jimmy to leave. Right behind him a young woman entered the office. For a brief moment time stood still. She was obviously furious, incredible and awesome. Her beauty was earth shattering, making Clark's jaw drop instantly as he saw her. She was telling Mr. White something, and it had to be an argument. But Clark didn't hear the words; he just saw the movements of her delicate lips. Her gestures were strong enough to involve her whole body. Her eyes were like dark brown honey, and they gleamed with an intense fire. She had the single most amazing heart beat he had ever heard. This woman had an air of courage and determination about her that fascinated Clark just as much as her outer appearance. He knew at once that he wanted to get acquainted with her. He wouldn't give up until he knew the secrets under her surface. And a vague inkling told him that he would be totally addicted to her before he even got that knowledge. When time went on, the lady vanished out of the office and left a very bemused Clark Kent. After what seemed like ages, he used all his willpower to close his mouth and to return his attention to Mr. White. The editor-in-chief was still working through the articles. "Well, they're good writing, Mr. Kent. It seems that you've traveled a lot." Clark nodded. "I know that I don't have much experience with big newspapers and politics. But if you give me a chance, I promise you to work hard and do my best. You wouldn't be disappointed." He added in a low voice. Clark so much needed this job, but he didn't feel like begging for it. His heart was again beating rapidly. Or was it still beating rapidly? Clark wouldn't have been able to tell. All he knew was that he prayed silently. He didn't want to return home unemployed. He had held a lot of jobs during the past years, and it hadn't always been writing for newspapers. Clark knew that he would find something, but Metropolis was expensive, and he would have to have a lot of jobs to offer Becca the life she deserved. Since junior high all he had wanted to be was a journalist. It was important for both Becca and himself that he get this job. The Daily Planet was for him what Mount Everest was for Reinhold Messner. The only difference was that Messner had already climbed to the top. "I'm afraid I don't have anything for you, Mr. Kent. You can't expect me to give someone with almost no references a job at one of the world's most important newspapers." Perry devastated all Clark's hopes. "I hope you understand. I'm sorry, Mr. Kent." Weakly, Clark shook the editor's hand. Inwardly he screamed that he didn't understand and that he thought Mr. White was a damn snob. He was disappointed and furious, and Clark knew that this could turn into something horrible. He mumbled a good-bye and left the office, straightly heading for the elevators to escape the Planet. An incredible weight seemed to press him down to the floor. It was something that was even too heavy for him to carry. How was he going to explain this to Becca and his parents? But that wasn't exactly the problem. They would understand because not every interview could be successful. They would encourage him to try again with the Metropolis Star or any other newspaper. Neither of them understood the real meaning of this. Clark Kent was on his way to lose the constant battle that he had led since he had taken over responsibility for Becca. It was the first time in years that he quarreled with fate. Why had Lily asked so much of him? Why had she trusted him with Becca? Clark was running out of luck, and he was going to disappoint his parents. He would lose Becca. The worst pain of all was disappointing her. She loved him unconditionally. What had she told him this morning? *You're not a freak, Daddy* Clark winced at the memory. He hadn't told her, but her words had meant the world to him. In fact, he hadn't even noticed that himself, then. But now he was awfully aware of it. To distract himself from the misery that had washed over him, Clark allowed himself a last look at that beautiful woman. He heard her heart beat, which sent pleasant shivers through his spine. She was still furious about something, and this time she told the young man, whom Mr. White had called Jimmy. Clark listened and noticed that her voice was soft and warm underneath the anger. "Do you believe it? Perry has assigned me that touchy-feely theater story. What's the news on that? Theaters are closed every day. That's not going to win me a Kerth. I'm an investigative reporter. I'm not writing gossip." She looked over to another woman who was dressed as if she was constantly hunting down men. The face of the fascinating beauty conveyed contempt. "Hey, Lois. Calm down a bit and please don't bite my head off. It's not my fault. And if I were you, I would rather write that piece than get into trouble with Perry," Jimmy replied. Lois shook her head. "I'm not going to write this piece. Let Perry do the table dance or whatever." She went away from Jimmy and returned to her desk. Clark watched her leave. "Don't even think about it!" someone said. Clark returned to the present, startled. He looked into Jimmy's young, smiling face. "Think of what?" Clark asked and shook hands with Jimmy. "Lois Lane. I don't recall anyone of the staff members asking her out and being able to tell the story. She doesn't date other reporters," Jimmy explained. "I'm Jimmy Olsen." "Clark Kent. Well, unfortunately I'm not a staff member," Clark replied. "Oh, I hope that's not my fault," Jimmy said sympathetically, and as Clark shook his head, he continued. "Anyway, that won't help either. Rumors are that she doesn't date at all. At least Cat constantly claims that." "What's that theater story about?" Clark inquired. "You heard?" Jimmy asked surprised. "In Mr. White's office," Clark said quickly. That was a lie. He hadn't heard a word of the argument in the editor's office. But he could hardly tell Jimmy that. However, he had convinced the younger man. Jimmy told him what he wanted to know. When Clark left the office after their little chat, his mind was a little less depressed. He had a plan. ***Sunday's Gain*** Clark left the Daily Planet and walked through the streets. He wasn't sure if this was indeed a good idea. Did he really have the time to waste on an effort that might be in vain? How could he justify writing that story if Mr. White didn't change his mind? When Clark had heard that Lois Lane wasn't going to write the theatre story, he had felt the sudden urge to do it. Maybe he should just grab his things and walk directly over to the editor of the Metropolis Star and try again to get a job. But the theatre attracted him with magical force, maybe because Lily had played little roles back in school. He had always adored her in the cute clothes she had worn then. Clark missed her. She had been such a good friend and such a nice woman. But it wasn't taking him anywhere if he got lost in grief now. He had to be strong for Becca's sake. Jimmy had given him instructions where to go. Clark wasn't exactly familiar with the streets of Metropolis. Had it not been for his strange abilities, he wouldn't have found his way in any of those cities he had seen during the past years. He really wanted to feel at home somewhere, but he had never actually had that feeling yet. Clark sighed. He had promised to do his best, so they would not have to leave Metropolis again. He owed it to Becca to really try. Working for the Daily Planet would be great; he had read so many articles in that paper. Clark decided that he wanted to give it a second try. This might be selfish and unreasonable, but he wanted to forget about his inhibitions for a single moment to make his dream come true. The beautiful Lois Lane was definitely a reason why working for the Planet had become even more attractive to Clark. But right now he needed to concentrate on his way or else he was likely to miss the theatre. Jimmy had described the building and had told Clark that it had been famous years ago. Plays from well-known authors had premiered there. It had been a place of glamour and fame. From the sight of the building, no one would have ever guessed that, as Jimmy had put it. Clark could only agree with Jimmy's statement. The former theatre looked, well, sad. Maybe that adjective could only describe living beings, but the shattered windows that were replaced with boards seemed to be mourning the more pleasant days of the past. The building had obviously seen better days, and Clark acknowledged that the wrecking ball couldn't possibly do any harm to the building that hadn't already been done. It was probably for the best that the theatre be closed and the building demolished. Otherwise people could be in danger. Clark heard a voice and noticed that it came from the inside. He followed it and entered the building. On the walls there were posters from plays that hadn't been on stage for ages. Dust was everywhere, and Clark assumed that the theatre hadn't been closed recently, but years ago. The voice belonged to an old woman who proudly stood on stage on the other side of the auditorium. She was wearing a robe that must have been beautiful once upon a time. It was obviously moth-eaten and quite battered now. But the woman didn't seem to care. She saw nothing and surely hadn't heard him coming. "And all the world's a stage, and men and women merely players." Her eyes found Clark and she stopped. "I just wanted to say good-bye," she said softly. "Take all the time you need," Clark replied and sat down on one of the few chairs that hadn't been completely destroyed. "This building has meant the world to me; it's not easy to go." Her eyes conveyed her grief, and Clark could see tears glistening in them. "When I first came here I had barely any money, and I had lost hope of finding a place to live. My parents had warned me that life as an actress would be poor. I have never been searching for wealth or fame. All I ever wanted was a place where I felt that I belonged." Clark nodded. It was the same with him, and he could understand her sadness. "And you found it here?" he asked sympathetically. "Oh, yes, I did. Those were wonderful years. I never became rich, but I found a family. My parents had never been much of a family to me; they had always wanted me to be different." She smiled at him. "This was the dress I wore when I was Juliet. It was the best role I've ever had. She was a girl that was loved so much and loved so much in return. It's an eternal love story. Even death couldn't separate them. Isn't that wonderful?" "But didn't Romeo and Juliet deserve to be together in life? Fate took away their chance to feel the intimacy of spending their life together and to bring up children. What would their tale have been like if they had lived?" Clark inquired. "They would have argued and lost each other over the years. Real love isn't eternal, young man. Trust me, I have lived way longer than you have," she stated. "That sounds so sad," Clark stated gently. "Life is sad," she answered and left the stage to sit down next to Clark. "This theatre belonged to my husband. We all grew old and so did this building. His heart broke when the last curtain fell, and he received his final ovation. His father and grandfather had stood on this stage. They had been Hamlet and Lear. But he had to be the one who had lost it all. He couldn't live with the pain and found solace in the arms of a younger woman. Life isn't fair. To cope with his own grief, he ripped my heart out. I used to come to the theatre to relive the memories. Can you see the ladies in their impressive dresses? Can you smell their perfume still hanging in the air? Close your eyes, and you will hear the murmurs of spectators long gone. When I'm here it's as if my husband were still with me, holding my hand. He was always nervous and I can still smell his sweat. It's as if he has never left me. Eternal love ... that's something only a theatre offers." * * * After his chat with the old woman in the theater Clark had made his way home. It was about three o'clock. Rebecca and his parents had already returned when he entered the flat. The little whirlwind ran across the room directly towards him and jumped up. Clark caught her and lifted Becca up into his arms. "Hey, pumpkin. Looks like you had a great day," he greeted her when he saw the big grin on her face. "Oh, yeah," she said contentedly and pressed a wet kiss on his cheek. "Hi, Mom and Dad," he adjusted his grip on Rebecca and glanced over her shoulder at his parents. "I seriously hope she behaved herself." "Come on, Clark. Did she ever cause us trouble?" Martha replied and walked over to her son. Clark sat Becca back on the floor and hugged his mother. "It's great to have you back here," she said. "I'm sorry that I didn't really say hello this morning. My mind was a little occupied," Clark apologized. "It's good to see you, Dad." He hugged his father as well. "That's unfair, you can call him dad, though he isn't your dad either," Becca complained and tugged at Clark's suit jacket. "She's right; that's unfair, Clark," Martha agreed and winked at Becca conspiratorially. "I tell you what's unfair, two against one is unfair," Clark muttered. "Can't you help me, Dad?" "And spend the whole night arguing with your mother? I don't think so." Jonathan laughed and shook his head. "I'm afraid we have to leave now. Martha and I have tickets to the opera tonight. We don't want to be late. And there are a whole lot of things that we have to do first." "We'll talk about your interview later, honey. Is that okay with you?" Martha asked, concerned. Clark wondered whether his mother had telepathic abilities. He was almost sure that she knew something was wrong. But Clark nodded to assure his mother that they didn't need to discuss this immediately. He was glad that he had more time, and maybe he could manage to convince Mr. White after all. He wished his parents a good time, and Becca kissed her grandparents good-bye. When the two Kents left the apartment, Becca and Clark were on their own again. "So did you get the job, Daddy?" Becca wanted to know. Clark turned to her and tried to smile, but he failed. "Not yet, Becky," he replied. "But I'll try again this afternoon." Becca didn't answer; she only glanced at the boxes that were spread all over the apartment. Clark's glance followed her gaze. They still needed to unpack things and preferably as soon as possible. He sighed. He would need his laptop to write the article and moreover a place for it. Becca was the queen of unspoken suggestions. One glance was enough to tell anything she wanted to say. That didn't mean that she usually kept silent. It was just a special ability of hers. Clark knew that she was right. "You go upstairs, Becca. I'll do this the quick way, and I don't want you to be anywhere near me, comprende?" he stated firmly, but with a smile on his face. Becca nodded and grinned. Clark was aware that she loved watching him do super-stuff. And sometimes she tended to be more curious than it was good for her. "Okay, Daddy," Becca replied and went over to the spiral staircase. She climbed it and was out of sight. Clark scanned the boxes and then vanished into a blur. The books seemingly appeared out of nowhere on the bookshelves. Dishes and clothes found their way into cupboards and wardrobes. The number of boxes diminished. In a few minutes most of the empty spaces in the apartment were filled, and it looked even homier than it had before. When Clark was finished, there was only one box left, and Clark carried it upstairs to Becca's room. "Here you are, pumpkin. That's your job," he said softly. "You can start to do that while I'm working on an article." Becca looked at him with disappointment. She had probably hoped that he would spin through her room and put into place the thousand things she had. But she was old enough to do some things on her own. And after all, she knew where the things should be. He tousled her hair and made his way down the staircase. "It won't take long, honey." "Okay, Daddy." Becca glanced with unhappy eyes at the huge box and sighed. Clark knew that she hated cleaning up. Putting everything her room contained into place had to be hard for her. When he returned downstairs, Clark walked over to the kitchen where he had left the laptop. He booted up the computer and sat down. Clark launched the word processor and started typing. The old woman had fascinated him. She had told him about the theater and her life. He had felt her grief and all the joy she had felt herself. Jimmy had told him what kind of article Mr. White expected, especially concerning the length of it. Clark had been right, it didn't take him long to write the article. When he was finished, he printed the document. "Becca, honey. Please, come down. I want to go to the Daily Planet again," he said. Rebecca was in front of him in almost no time. He suspected that she would rather go out with him than have to cope with the box. He couldn't help but smile. "Get your jacket, pumpkin. You know, it's cold outside." Clark took his own coat and handed Becca her scarf. "Ready?" "Yes, Daddy," she smiled and laid her small hand in his big one. "Okay, let's go, then." It was the first time that they left the apartment and went for a walk trough the streets of Metropolis together. Snowflakes were falling down, but it was still too warm for them to remain on the ground. They could see their breath hanging in the air. Becca told Clark what she had seen today. His parents had taken her to the zoo and to Centennial Park. When Becca mentioned the funny penguins in their black tuxedos, Clark couldn't help but laugh. She could describe them so vividly that he had the impression of having been there with her. It didn't take long until the two of them reached the Planet. At the sight of the building, Clark felt his heart rate increase again. Would Mr. White even listen? After all, he had wanted someone to write the article, but would he accept Clark's version? Or had he convinced Ms. Lane to write it? Clark assumed that she was a very tough woman. But she surely wasn't as hard as she claimed to be. Why was he thinking about this woman again? He should be worried about the job because even if Mr. White printed his article, that didn't mean he was hired. Clark swallowed hard when he entered the Daily Planet. Having Becca with him now made it a little easier, despite the earlier rejection. The entrance of the building obviously impressed Becca. Her mouth gaped open and she fell silent. Clark noticed, embarrassed, that he hadn't really listened to her before. But now that she wasn't talking, he was aware that she had been earlier. Hand in hand they went over to the elevators and took the first one that arrived. In a matter of minutes the two of them reached the newsroom. Clark's nerves were frayed, and he felt sweat appearing on his forehead. Becca's presence, though comforting, wasn't enough to calm him down. Being turned down had been bad enough, but what if it happened a second time and in front of Becca? Clark didn't want to think about it. She had no idea that he had problems, and she never needed to know. Walking across the newsroom hadn't become any easier. But Becca wore her incredibly sweet smile that melted every heart. This time everyone looking at him was smiling back. Clark felt a rush of gratefulness washing through him. He would read her the best possible story tonight, cook her favorite meal, or anything like that. As they arrived in front of Mr. White's office, Clark bent down to Becca. "You wait here, pumpkin," he whispered gently. "It won't take long." With a sigh, Clark got up again and gathered all his courage to knock at the door. Mr. White called him in, and Clark glanced at Becca for affirmation. She nodded at him and gave him a bright grin. Then he entered the office. "Mr. Kent!" Mr. White sounded surprised. "What can I do for you? Did you forget something?" "Uhh, no, Mr. White. Excuse me, it's just....I overheard that you wanted an article about a closed theatre and that Ms. Lane wasn't going to write it. I..." he stopped and handed Mr. White the article. The editor took the paper and began to read it. His face didn't show any feeling and left Clark worrying what Mr. White thought about it. Clark wished that reading the minds of others was a part of his powers, but he couldn't do anything but wait. Time didn't seem to pass. Clark had no idea if he stood there minutes or hours. Then, finally, the editor looked up and studied Clark's face. "You might lack experience, Mr. Kent, but there is one thing that I honor more than this. Courage and initiative are vital character traits of a good reporter. And you have both. Please consider yourself as hired. Welcome to the Daily Planet!" Mr. White said and shook Clark's hand. Clark barely trusted his ears. He had made it. He had gotten the job! A rush of excitement filled him. "I...thank you, Mr. White," Clark stammered. "I'll see you on Monday at eight o'clock in the morning, Mr. Kent. We've got your address, haven't we?" he asked. Clark weakly nodded his head. He still couldn't believe it. It felt like several tons of stone had been lifted from his shoulders, and he could breathe more easily. "I'll be there," he managed to reply. "See you on Monday, Mr. White." Clark shook the editor's hand again and was guided out of the room. Something disturbed him about Monday. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. Suddenly it hit him. Becca's first day in school! Clark swallowed hard. There was no way he could ask for a day off on his first day at work. That was downright impossible! But how was he going to explain that to Becca? And even worse, how was he going to tell his mother? She would figure out a way to skin him. A little shaky, Clark returned to the patiently waiting Becca. "Did you get the job?" she asked curiously. Clark nodded. "Yes, honey," he replied absent-mindedly. How was he going to make up for such terrible news for Becca? She definitely didn't deserve having to go to school for the first time without him to be there for her. Damn, why couldn't life be easier? Becca jumped up and down, pulling at Clark's arm as if she wanted him to do this little dance with her. Clark lifted her up and hugged her. When he set her down again, Clark gave Becca a soft push towards the elevators. Again the reporters in the newsroom were watching him curiously. But this time it didn't bother Clark. He didn't need to be nervous anymore. His dream had come true. This moment was almost perfect. Ms. Lane wasn't around, which disappointed him slightly. They hadn't reached the elevators when Jimmy approached them. "Did it work?" he wanted to know and studied Clark's face nervously. "Yes. Mr. White has changed his mind," Clark said happily, and a big grin appeared on his face. "Welcome to the Planet!" Jimmy sighed with relief and returned the smile. "And who are you?" he turned to Becca. "I'm Rebecca Kent, his daughter," Becca replied in a dignified tone and offered Jimmy her hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. ..." "Olsen," Jimmy answered, startled. Clark chuckled as he looked from Becca over to a very bewildered Jimmy, who shook the little girl's hand. "You have to say it's nice to meet you, too," Becca whispered. Clark started to laugh. This was just so...Becca. He could have sworn that he had admonished Becca with just these words not so long ago. She made a habit of copying adults. "I'll see you on Monday, Jimmy," Clark laid his hands on Becca's shoulders to drag her away. "Thanks for everything. I owe you one." "No problem!" Jimmy managed to say. "I'm glad that I was able to help." "Good-bye, Mr. Olsen." Becca waved at Jimmy and went over to the elevators along with Clark. "Good-bye, Rebecca," Jimmy replied, obviously still fascinated by the little girl. * * * Clark and Becca returned to the street, which was very busy, though it was already getting dark. The wind was even colder than before, and Becca started to shiver. Clark looked over to her and drew her closer. "Come on, honey. Let's return home. You can have some hot chocolate, if you like. And I think your grandma left us some cookies," he offered. He had briefly thought about taking her to the ice-rink in Centennial Park. But there was still a whole weekend to come. And he still had to find a way to apologize for what he would do to her on Monday. There was just no possible excuse for not attending her first day in school, regardless how badly he needed money. But what was he going to do? Give up the job? He couldn't do that either. Clark really felt bad about this. Becca agreed to go home. Clark saw that she was tired. It had been a long day for her. Again she laid her hand in his, and together they walked towards their new home. This time Becca didn't speak. She had fallen silent, and Clark wondered what was going on under the sweet little curls of her hair. Was she freezing and her mouth too cold to open? Usually Becca never stopped talking. "Since you have this job now, does that mean that we're going to stay here?" Becca asked suddenly. "Becky, I told you that I'd do my very best. I want to find a home as much as you do, honey. Really," he confirmed when he noticed her doubtful glance. She nodded but remained silent. He knew that he had disappointed her once too often to make her believe him so easily. He knew that she trusted and loved him. And she could rely on him in almost any possible way. But concerning his abilities, he was unreliable. He hated himself for it, but his need to help was so strong that he couldn't ignore people in danger. It was right at this moment that Clark's promise was tested. He heard screams of fear. People were coughing violently and things were crushing on the ground. Something was burning but sirens from the fire trucks were nowhere to be heard. Hadn't they been called yet? Clark turned to Becca and lifted her up quickly, ignoring her protests. He knew that she wouldn't be able to keep up with his pace when he started running. Clark followed the noise and hurried to get there. The fire couldn't be far away, but he still didn't hear sirens. He frantically looked out for a payphone, but he didn't see one. What would he tell the emergency services, anyway? He didn't exactly know where this fire was. "Where are you going, Daddy?" Becca asked him. "You promised you wouldn't do it again, Dad." She sounded rather desperate and there was an unusual urgency in her way of saying 'Dad'. Of course she knew that he was on his way to help someone in danger. She admired him for doing these things, but there was little she dreaded more. Moments like these had always been the first step that would lead to another move into another town in another country. It wasn't only she who feared moments like these. Clark was equally afraid. He didn't know what would be worse: losing Becca's love and trust or see people dying whom he could have helped. Either possibility was terrible. He couldn't reply to Becca. There was no way he could form these words that were surely going to hurt her. Clark approached the screams and he saw flames thanks to his super-vision. Otherwise he might have missed the house. He had reached a part of Metropolis that was densely covered with apartment buildings. But it was Friday night and most people had gone out. The streets were abandoned and so were most apartments around. Clark didn't really wonder why no one had called 911. There was a laundromat at the corner of the street. Clark set Becca back down on the ground. "Honey, please go into that laundromat and ask them to call the firefighters. There's a house burning over there. If you get in trouble, call me. You know, I'll be there in just a second." Becca nodded weakly, and Clark felt sick to his stomach. Why was he always doing this to her? Why was he leaving his little seven-year-old girl alone? Because he had no choice, because people would die if he didn't. He started running over to the building. Clark could hear the fire, but he could hardly see it. He scanned the house and located the fire on the third floor. Clark rushed in and ran directly up the staircase. Smoke hung in the air that was thick and black. He could barely see anything, and if he hadn't been able to hold his breath, his lungs would have hurt. It was hot, but that word didn't quite describe it. Clark could barely imagine how terrible this had to be for the humans stuck in this building. He carefully listened for sounds around him, since his vision wasn't of much help in this darkness. And he listened for Becca's heartbeat to make sure that she was still all right. He shouldn't have left her alone; it was irresponsible. With his scan he had located two people who were still trapped by the flames. He approached them, as quickly as possible. Clark felt a nagging fear inside him. It wasn't because of the flames. He didn't dread fire. What if someone saw him? What if he saved the people, and they recognized him afterwards? It had always been like dancing on a volcano. But what were his problems compared to the threat of death? Becca's heart was beating steadily and so were the two other heartbeats. One of them sounded strangely familiar, but Clark didn't know exactly where he had heard it before. A rush of adrenaline worked its way through his system, and he knew that he had to find them fast. He was on the right track. At least he assumed as much. He couldn't actually be sure of it. The two persons had been on the third floor. But in which direction should he turn? The smoke was preventing him from seeing anything, but he could still hear. He followed one of the heartbeats, the one that didn't seem so steady. This person had to be in a more urgent danger. It took him only a few glimpses to locate the first victim. He destroyed the door of the apartment and saw a man lying on the floor. He had lost consciousness. Clark breathed a sigh of relief and immediately felt guilty for it. He quickly grabbed the man and rushed out of the building. After he had placed the man on the ground, Clark rushed back into the house and searched for the second person, the one with the strangely familiar heartbeat. He quickly checked on Becca and then returned his concentration on the second victim. This time he knew where to turn. He again followed the heartbeat, rushed through the closed door and found the small figure of a young woman on the floor. He lifted her up. She was unconscious as well. When he touched her, it was electrifying. It affected his whole body, something which had never happened before when he had touched anyone. But this was not the time to wonder about his strange sensations. He rushed out of the burning house and returned to the streets to gently place her body on the ground. Now flames were coming out of the windows. The building was abandoned after he had rescued the man and the woman. Clark heard sirens, and Becca came around the corner. She looked at him with blank eyes. The owners of the laundromat were following her and hurried up when they saw the two limp bodies lying on the street. They rushed past his little whirlwind and approached him. "We called 911," The female owner shouted. "Is everything all right?" "They're alive. I just came around when I saw the two of them walking past a window and trying to get out of that building. They lost consciousness somewhere in the staircase. I guess it was too much for them." Clark gave a weak explanation. But the two people watching him seemed to buy it. Clark shot Becca a glance; she seemed more relaxed now. The two hadn't asked too many question. Their secret was safe with them for now. After having seen Becca's relief, Clark studied the faces of the two victims. They weren't hurt. They were black with smoke, but they didn't seem to have any burns. Clark's heart wrenched when he recognized the woman. It was Lois Lane. * * * An hour later Clark and Becca continued their way home. The ambulance had brought Ms. Lane and the man to the hospital. They had said that both were going to be all right. The police had asked Clark some questions, which he had answered as vaguely as possible. Both the policemen and the firefighters had shaken his hands to thank him for saving Lois Lane and the man. They told him that neither of them would be alive if it hadn't been for him saving them. An officer promised him that his face would surely appear under a newspaper headline tomorrow. Right at that moment Clark had felt the cold grip of anxiety. He dreaded curious people. For this time he had managed to explain the events, but he couldn't afford to be the center of interest. And he sure as hell didn't want Lois Lane to know who had saved her. Maybe she wouldn't remember that she had still been in her apartment. An average human would have died before he could have dragged two people out of the flames. Clark had told another story. He claimed to have found the two of them lying in the stairs on the second floor. In case Ms. Lane remembered that she had been in her apartment, the police would surely believe him rather than her. He hadn't been intoxicated with the smoke. But who would stop the great Ms. Lane from investigating her rescue? No, Clark had pleaded with the police to keep his name a secret from anyone. They could call him if they needed more information, but he didn't want to see his name in a newspaper. And he had managed to convince the police. Clark had taken Becca's hand, and the two of them had left the area. Becca was still shivering and hadn't said a word. She remained silent the whole way home, and Clark found his heart beating rapidly. It was the third time this day that he had become rather nervous. The silence of the little girl next to him affected him even more than the interview had hours ago. "What is it, honey?" he asked gently. "What's upsetting you?" Becca shook her head. "Nothing, Daddy," she replied. Clark wasn't convinced, but he decided to find out what bothered her when they were in private. It didn't take long before they reached their apartment, and Becca breathed a sigh of relief when they entered the warm room. Clark took off his coat and went over to the kitchen to prepare hot chocolate and supper for Becca. The little whirlwind followed him and looked a whole lot happier when she noticed that he was keeping his promise. His conscience started nagging when he saw that beautiful smile on her face. He needed to explain to her that he wouldn't be there on Monday, at least not for a long time. But what was the point in destroying her weekend? He really couldn't do this to her. "I still need to thank you for being so brave, pumpkin. You did a great job in the laundromat!" Clark stated. Why was he saying this? Well, of course he was proud of Becca, but he knew that she wasn't happy about his saving people. "Thanks, Daddy," she mumbled. She sounded so sad. It cut in Clark's heart like a knife. He lifted her up and sat Becca on the counter next to the sink. "Hey, what's the matter, honey?" he asked concerned and watched her nervously. "You know you can tell me anything." Tears appeared in her eyes and broke their way down her cheeks. Becca sobbed. "Shh, honey...it's okay, just tell me," he whispered soothingly and wiped away the tears with his thumb. He tried to be calm, but who was he fooling? He was scared to death. Had something happened to Becca, while he had been in the burning house? His heartbeat was thundering in his ears. "I was so afraid to lose you, Daddy," Becca was crying openly now. "Why would you lose me, Becky?" Clark asked, a little bit calmer now. Becca's state of distress hadn't been caused by anything that had happened to her. "I...I was...scared that...that they would see you doing these things," she sobbed. "Gran...Grandpa said that if anyone found out about you they...they..."she didn't finish the sentence, but that wasn't necessary. He knew the rest. They would dissect him like a frog. He had heard that a thousand times in his life. But it took him by surprise that Becca had heard these words as well. His father couldn't...No, Clark couldn't think this. "Oh, honey, where did you hear this?" he asked gently. He had to prevent himself from being controlled by pure anger. "I...I didn't eavesdrop; it happened accidentally," Becca hurried to explain. Clark breathed a sigh of relief. His father hadn't told her on purpose, but why did he discuss this when Becca was around and likely to hear it? Clark's anger receded and was replaced by sympathy. "Becky, darling," Clark said helplessly and pulled her into an embrace. She was still crying, and her tears dampened his shirt. He stroked her back and she laid her small arms around his neck. "That's not going to happen, honey. That's not going to happen." Clark held her tightly and fetched the cup of hot chocolate and her supper. Then he carried her into the living room and sat down on the sofa. "Here, drink this, Becky." She loosened her grip on him and took the cup in her hands. "I'm careful, Becca. The worst thing that could ever happen to me is losing you. Whatever I do, I'm not jeopardizing this." Again, he wiped away her tears and kissed her hair. "You don't need to be afraid to lose me. I'm always there for you. I love you, Becky." "I love you, too, Daddy." Becca whispered and took a sip of her hot chocolate. Clark held her in his arms, still trying to soothe her. He had to talk with his parents about this. They really shouldn't mention things like this when Becca was around. That she wasn't in the room didn't mean that she wasn't listening. Children knew how to play hide and seek. They could approach you without letting you hear it. They were curious about what grown-ups told each other when they were alone. Clark knew that. He also had heard things that he wasn't supposed to hear. And with his abilities it had been even worse. He clearly remembered the time when his hearing became better than average. He had been about ten years old and he was stronger than any other boy, stronger than even his dad. It had already scared the hell out of him. But one day he had accidentally heard that his parents were worried as well. He still had had problems controlling his superhuman strength. His parents had been afraid that he would hurt someone accidentally. His father had been worried that Clark might hurt his mother some day. They knew that he was mild-mannered and that he would never do such a thing on purpose. But they had been afraid of him. Clark had been devastated and had spent the rest of the day and most of the night in his fortress of solitude. No one had been able to find him. He had hidden there perfectly. Only Lily wasn't so easy to fool. She had come to him and convinced him to leave his exile. Lily hadn't known about his special abilities that night. But she had always been able to make him smile no matter how bad the situation was. Somehow she guessed that he had heard something that had upset him. And Lily told him her own story of accidental and painful eavesdropping. Later, Clark had learnt that he had missed a vital part of his parent's conversation. The part in which they had dismissed their fears and reminded each other that Clark would never hurt anyone. He could understand Becca's feelings and he desperately wanted to soothe her. The cup of hot chocolate seemed to help. Becca wasn't crying anymore. She leaned into his embrace and drank her beverage. But he needed to do something about their present situation. Clark couldn't expose Becca to a life of fear. He had to give up rescuing people for her sake. It hurt him and it felt so very wrong, but Clark had to admit that he was responsible for Becca. He couldn't do this to her, and he couldn't think of a possible way out. It was late in the evening, and Becca started yawning. Clark patted her shoulder. "Time to go to bed, honey," he said gently. "Go and brush your teeth." Becca muttered that she wasn't tired and tried to stifle a yawn, but failed. Clark took the cup and stood up. She had been sitting on his lap, and so he set her back on her feet now. He gave her a soft prod towards the bathroom and went over to the kitchen. He heard Becca turning on the water and gripping her toothbrush. Clark smiled. Becca was too weary to discuss the time for bed with him. He was glad that she wasn't weeping anymore. He could hardly stand seeing her sad. About ten minutes later Becca was ready for bed, and she was wearing her pajamas. Becca was standing at the top of the staircase, waiting for him to kiss her goodnight. That was one of the moments that Clark loved most about being a father. And he drank in every second of it because he knew that this time would be over soon. Becca was seven now and very eager to hear stories. But would she be equally keen on them when she was ten? Or twelve? Clark knew that the day would come when she didn't want him to take her to bed anymore. Their little rituals would end someday. Clark hoped that this day wouldn't come too soon. He climbed up the stairs, and she jumped into her bed. Clark reached her room and sat down on her bed. He pulled up the covers and stroked her soft cheek. "So which story do you want to hear tonight, pumpkin?" "It's up to you, Daddy," Becca replied. It was always the answer when she wanted to hear her favorite story. Clark pretended trying to remember the story. Of course he knew it by heart. He had told it a thousand times, since Becca wanted to hear it almost every other night. "Okay, once upon a time there lived a woman in a small village. She had two daughters, who were both called Mary. One of them was friendly and charming; the other was nasty, lazy and often offended people. But the mother loved the nasty daughter more, because she was really her daughter; whereas the other girl was only her stepdaughter. While she spoiled her own girl, she made the always friendly Mary do all the work." Clark told Becca how the nice Mary had to sit at the well and spin wool until her hands were covered in blood. Becca listened, fascinated, as if she were hearing the story for the first time. Clark went on with the story and told Becca of how the poor Mary lost her spindle in the well as she was trying to wash away the blood. Full of fear that she would get into trouble with her stepmother, she jumped after the spindle down into the well. She lost consciousness, and when Mary came to again, she was in a totally different place, covered with flowers and big trees full of apples. "When Mary saw the trees, she heard a faint whisper within their leaves. 'Please shake us, shake us, our apples are all ripe.'" Clark noticed that Becca had closed her eyes. She was breathing evenly, and when he stopped speaking, she did not protest. He got up cautiously and blew a soft kiss on her face. "Good night, honey." He mumbled under his breath and tiptoed down the staircase. Clark was just as tired as Becca had been and so he prepared himself for bed. Just when his head touched the pillows, Clark heard the first siren of the night. He listened carefully and was relieved when the sounds told him that the police had everything under control. But it wasn't the last emergency for that night. Clark knew that he couldn't leave his bed. What if Becca woke up and found herself alone in the apartment? And he couldn't go because he would raise suspicion if he was seen close to several crimes in just one night. Clark didn't drift off to sleep. Seemingly thousands of sirens kept him awake. And every howl appeared to be louder and more accusatory than the previous one. Why had he come to Metropolis? Other cities were more peaceful and had allowed him to sleep. If it hadn't been for Becca he would have been able to help. Clark didn't really care where he lived, since he had never called a place home. But with Becca it was different. The responsibility was weighing heavily on his shoulders. Though it caused a guilty feeling in his gut, Clark struggled with Lily's decision. Why had she chosen him? Clark had asked her this long ago. <<<<>>>> Six years ago... Clark was sitting in a room rather than a flat. He was working on an article and hoped that he would find an editor who would print it. Actually he hoped that he would stay at this place long enough to type the whole article. He had been busy with saving people as unobtrusively as possible. So far he hadn't been observed by anyone. But it was hard to say if that was really true. Most of his things were packed so he could leave on a moments notice if necessary. A knock at the door caused Clark to jump. Who would want to visit him? He barely knew people around him. Clark checked with his x-ray vision and gasped in surprise. He hurried to the door and wore a broad smile on his face as he opened it. Lily had come. She carried a small child on her arm. "May I introduce you, Clark? This is Rebecca, your daughter," Lily greeted him. Clark gasped again, this time in shock. "My what?" "Your daughter, Clark." Lily repeated and went past him. "May I come in?" she asked. "You already did," Clark said hoarsely. "But Lily, we never..." He sounded foolish and he knew it. She knew what they had or hadn't done. "No, Clark, you never slept with me, which I really don't understand, to be honest. Why is that, anyway?" Lily inquired. "Because you are my cousin, for one thing," Clark replied helplessly. They had had that discussion once or twice. A million times, to be precise. "I'm the niece of your adoptive mother, Clark. We're not even related," she disagreed. Clark decided to end this before Lily started enjoying the argument. "What happened, Lily? What is this with my daughter? I knew you were pregnant, but where is the father?" "He ran away as fast as he could as soon as I told him that I was going to have his baby," Lily answered sadly, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. "Oh, Lily," Clark whispered sympathetically. "Why didn't you tell me?" "I thought that I could do this on my own. I felt strong enough, but that was an error. I didn't know where to go. Then I remembered that you had offered me help in one of your letters." She sobbed. Clark pulled her in a light embrace and carefully avoided hurting the little girl in her arms. "Oh, Lily, I was speaking more of babysitting, if you needed me." What was she up to? "Clark, please help...me. Please be her fa...father, I can't imagine any...one who would be be...better than you," Lily begged between sobs. "Lily, you don't know what you are asking for! Why don't you return home or ask my parents for help? I'm sure they will understand." Clark didn't know what he could do for her. How was he supposed to support a family? He was on a constant run; there was nothing stable to his life. "No, Clark. My parents won't understand. They kept telling me that the man was a waste of time. And your parents, they are about the nicest people I can think of, but Clark, I want you. You are Becca's father, maybe not biologically, but that doesn't count. And her birth certificate says that you're her dad. I told them your name when they asked me for it." Lily clutched Clark, and tears streamed down her cheeks. "You did what?" he asked hoarsely. Maybe he should have felt anger for being betrayed by Lily. But her face looked so sad and so very innocent. The world had hurt her, and Clark had protected her their whole childhood through. No matter what Lily did, Clark had never been able to be angry with her. Right now the world seemed to tighten around him; it was reduced to this room, and Clark felt utterly lost. How was he going to cope with this? What had Lily done to him? "Why me?" he whispered. "Because you are you, Clark," she replied, casting the spell that was able to make him do just about anything. <<<<>>>> Clark still hadn't drifted off to sleep. The night drained him, both emotionally and physically. Being helpless always made him feel weak. He regretted having chosen Metropolis as their new home, and he regretted the promise he had made. How could Clark go on living with that constant feeling of guilt? He had to find a solution for his problems, and he had to find it fast. He wanted to be the father Becca deserved. He had tried to resist both Becca and Lily. Clark had been the voice of reason. But he had failed, and the young woman and the little girl had won over him. He loved Becca so much, regardless how difficult life had become because of her. Soft taps on the floor interrupted his thoughts. "Daddy?" Becca's voice broke the silence. "Yes, pumpkin?" he replied. "Daddy, I had a nightmare," she whispered and Clark could hear that she had been crying. Why hadn't he heard her sobs? "Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" She sounded shyer than usual, and Clark could tell that the nightmare had to have been really bad. "Of course, honey." He reached out to take Becca's hand and guided her towards his bed. Then he lifted the blanket, and she slipped under it. "Do you want to tell me about it?" Clark asked as he stroked her gently. He could feel that she shook her head. Becca cuddled in the pillows, and her body relaxed. Clark laid his arm around her and closed his eyes. As Becca's breathing became more and more even, he finally drifted off to sleep himself. * * * Hours later, Clark woke up and opened his eyes. Dancing spots of sunlight covered the room. The city had become peaceful, at least a bit more silent than the night before. Becca turned around, and her arm landed in Clark's face. That reminded him of her nightly visit. A nightmare had caused her to beg for shelter in his bed. What had that dream been about? Clark assumed that she was still suffering from having overheard his parent's conversation. His stomach wrenched. He should have been prepared for something like this, but he hadn't been. He was so lost in his own problems that he tended to forget Becca's needs. He still didn't have the faintest idea how life was supposed to go on. Perhaps he would find a way to close his ears to cries for help, because after last night that was about the only way for him to lead a life without constantly feeling guilty. Tying himself to the apartment would be rather difficult. He had managed to do that last night, but he sure as hell couldn't take that for several years. And how could Becca possibly benefit from a father who was on the verge of a nervous breakdown? And what kind of idol was he when he didn't help when he could? His inner debate was interrupted by a pair of brown eyes that blinked into the morning. The drowsy glance Becca gave him made Clark's heart melt. Whenever he looked into those eyes, he forgot about all the disadvantages of being a father. This was worth any price he had to pay. He owed it to Becca and Lily to do his very best at being the father this little girl needed. "Good morning, Daddy." "Good morning, pumpkin," he replied. "Hey, I think you broke my nose, last night." "That's impossible, Daddy," Becca defended herself. She examined his nose closely and placed a wet kiss on his forehead. "Healed," Becca stated, convinced. "Are you sure, doctor? Because I'm not going to pay you if it isn't," Clark said, carefully touching his nose. "Pay me? Pay me with what?" Becca wanted to know. "Mmhh, how about going to the ice-rink?" Clark suggested. Becca didn't answer; she just became a one-girl-embrace-force. Clark couldn't actually tell if she was brimming over with enthusiasm or trying to kill him. Whatever it was, he enjoyed it. A couple of minutes later, Becca solved the mystery and kissed him on his cheek. He could hardly mistake that with an attempt to murder. When Becca released her grip, Clark got up to prepare breakfast for the two of them. Becca used the spare time to take a shower and got dressed. When she returned Clark and Becca had breakfast together. Becca wore her most incredible smile. She knew that it could get her about anything from Clark. He watched her closely, waiting for her to take the first step. It took a whole bowl of corn flakes and three bites of toast until she obviously felt ready for it. "Daddy?" she asked, particularly sweetly. "Do I really have to go to school on Monday?" "Becca!" he groaned. "We have already had this discussion. There's no other way, especially since I've gotten the job at the Planet." "But I don't want to go!" she disagreed. "I want to be with you!" "Becky, it's not a boarding school; we'll see each other every day," Clark replied as calmly as possible. She had already cried because she didn't want to go to school. He had hoped that this trouble was over, but Becca had only given it a short rest. "That's not the same," she insisted stubbornly. "Becca, honey. I'm sure you'll like school. There will be lots of other children around, and you'll make friends." Clark tried to convince her. "Was it the same with you? Did you have a lot of friends in school?" she asked. "Things were a little different with me; I was a freak, and you're not," Clark stated. Who was he trying to kid? Maybe Becca had no strange powers that she had to hide, but there were other things that children could explore and use against her. Her mother was dead, and she had very little memory of Lily. Her father was just a birth certificate father, but at least she didn't look completely different from him. Of course no one was allowed to know that he was not her biological father. Even the Vital Records Office thought that he was. And her father was a freak, which she couldn't tell anyone either. Those were just perfect conditions for Becca to have a normal life in school. But he was sure that she would make it nonetheless. "Anyhow, despite my being a freak I had some friends in school. So why would you have a problem, pumpkin?" Becca didn't reply. Clark knew that she could hardly be satisfied with his explanation. But what was he supposed to do? Should he just stop their argument because he was the almighty adult? That's all there is to say, period? Of course this had been necessary at times, because it was no use discussing everything that occurred with his daughter. But the older she had grown the less often he had had to use this imperative way of education. And he had never actually felt good with it, because Becca had a right to know why some things had to be done as he wished. "You know that I'm there for you, honey, don't you? I need to go to work and earn money. You want to find a home as much as I do. I chose Metropolis because it's easier for me to hide among so many people. But Metropolis is an expensive place, and I need a permanent job. I can't take you with me and teach you at work. I am not sending you to school because I don't like to be with you, but because I think that going to school will offer you the possibility of making friends. I'm sure you'll like it. And we still have the evenings and the weekends together." Clark tousled her hair softly. "I'm sure you're right, Daddy," Becca gave in, but her former irresistible smile had faded as it had failed to work. * * * After breakfast, Clark got dressed and Becca fetched her scarf, gloves and a cap. Her face was glowing with expectation. She absolutely loved ice-skating and was considerably better at it than Clark. When she was ready, Becca was pacing up and down, impatiently waiting for him to come. Minutes later they left the apartment and headed for Centennial Park. Clark had heard that the city built an ice rink there every winter. It was snowing again, like it had the day before, and Clark wondered if they would have a white Christmas this year. But the weather in Metropolis wasn't important since they would spend the holidays with his parents in Smallville. And after all, it was still three weeks till Christmas, so the weather could change a lot until then. On their way to the Park, Clark told Becca about the old woman he had met in the theatre. She listened to him eagerly as he mentioned how she had said good-bye to the old stage. "Do you believe in eternal love apart from the stage and fairy-tales?" she asked him, when he had finished the story. "I really hope it exists, honey," Clark replied and his thoughts wandered to Lois Lane again. How was she doing right now, and was she still in the hospital? She might take a day off on Monday and Clark suddenly noticed that this possibility made him sad. But he didn't actually know her; he had seen her only twice, and she might not have seen him at all. This was really strange, and Clark couldn't understand it. "Was it eternal love between you and Mommy?" Becca dug further. "In some respect, yes, Becky. But you shouldn't mistake the love you feel for a relative with the way you love someone you want to marry. Even though we use the same word for it, it's completely different," Clark explained. "Different in what way?" "I can't explain, honey. It's something you have to find out on your own. When you fall in love for the first time, you'll know the difference." Clark saw Becca glancing at him, frowning. She obviously wasn't pleased with the answer she had gotten. But Clark couldn't help her with that question. It was really not easy to answer, and moreover, he lacked experience concerning love. Reaching the ice-rink distracted Becca enough to make her forget about the problem. They borrowed ice-skates at a kiosk that had opened near by. A moment later Becca had put on the skates and was on the ice. It seemed like she had grown wings. Becca became even more the whirlwind she already was on firm ground. She had a natural elegance that very much resembled Lily's when she had been skating on ice. It was astonishing since they had never had the opportunity to do it together. But obviously the ability was in Becca's blood. Clark had taught her only the first steps on the slippery ground, but Becca knew how to dance. Clark sat down on a bench to change his shoes as well and followed Becca on the ice rink. He was mostly skating in large circles around the rink. Becca appeared in front of him or vanished in the crowds that were on the ice as well. Clark liked watching her, and she rarely had the chance to really get out of sight. And even if she tried, he still had his special abilities to find her quickly. It was hard to tire Becca out. She didn't get cold because she was moving so much, but Clark interrupted her from time to time with a hot cup of chocolate. They stayed in Centennial Park for hours, and Clark was relieved that the day had been so peaceful. The best thing about the day was that Becca looked so happy. Seeing her as devastated as she had been the evening before had been horrible. Time passed quickly, and when the afternoon came, Clark told Becca that she had to leave the ice. She had to be hungry, but Becca tended to forget about those things when she was really enjoying herself. But as soon as he mentioned food, Becca noticed that she was indeed starving. She gave Clark a brief disappointed glance, but then left the rink quicker than he had thought possible. That only confirmed his assumption that the little whirlwind was indeed hungry. Clark and Becca returned home. It was already too late for lunch, so Clark prepared sandwiches and promised a real meal for the evening. After they had eaten, Becca went upstairs because she still had the big brown box waiting for her. She needed to unpack her things, and Clark could be very stubborn concerning her duties. While she was doing that, Clark examined the flat to see if something needed to be cleaned or anything. But since they had moved in the day before yesterday, everything was as tidy as possible. He decided that he was allowed to read a book and went over to the bookshelf. Just at that moment he heard a knock at the door. He didn't even need to x-ray it, since he knew the shades of the two people in front of it by heart. Clark hurried to open the door for his parents. Martha greeted him with a kiss on his cheek, and Jonathan hugged his son. "How was the opera?" Clark asked his parents. "Wonderful!" Martha stated enthusiastically. Jonathan, who stood behind her, remained silent, but the expression on his face told Clark that it surely wasn't his favorite thing to attend. "So tell me about that interview, honey." "Mr. White hired me," Clark replied. "That's great, honey. I know how much you wanted to work at the Daily Planet." Martha watched her son with the glance of a wise mother. "Am I wrong or are you trying to hide a "but"?" she asked. Clark opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by Becca who rushed into the living room to say hello to her grandparents. "Hi, Grandma; hi, Grandpa!" she shouted excitedly as if she hadn't seen the two for half a year and jumped into Jonathan's arms. Clark's father lifted Becca up easily. "Hello, sunshine," he said and hugged his granddaughter. "How was your day?" "Great!" She smiled broadly and started to tell Jonathan about the rink. Right at this moment, Clark heard sirens and cries. He focused on the noise and was able to listen to the police radio. Policemen and firefighters informed each other about a burning building in the suburbs of Metropolis. The fire was difficult to control and apparently there were still people trapped by the fire. Clark's stomach felt burning as well. He glanced at Becca and his parents who had an interesting conversation with each other. They hadn't noticed his distracted air. Clark felt the urge to help those people, but what was he going to tell Becca? She wouldn't understand that he would risk exposing himself. And to be honest he couldn't really justify it himself. But there were people trapped, and they were going to die if it wasn't for him to save them. What would they say if they could hear his doubts right now? A quick shot of laser vision destroyed the light in the living room. Clark had made his decision. "I've forgotten to buy light bulbs," Clark muttered, grabbed his coat and left the apartment. * * * It was almost dark, but the last bits of sunlight sufficed as a threat for Clark. He had to use his powers carefully. How would he get to the suburbs? He couldn't run because the wind he would create couldn't be explained by a strange weather phenomenon. Flying was the appropriate alternative, but that had its downsides as well. Clark hurried over to the alley behind his apartment building and looked around. No one seemed to be watching him, not even Becca or his parents. He took off to the skies as fast as possible. The clothing wasn't the best he could have chosen, and Clark hoped that it wouldn't be damaged afterwards. From below, people would only notice a grey shadow flying across the sky if they happened to look up. Seconds later, Clark had reached the suburbs and saw the burning hotel. Firefighters were all around the building and some of them were trying to get inside, but unfortunately there was fire in the foyer. Some windows were broken because of the heat and Clark used one of them to get inside. Again he faced the darkness of the thick, black, suffocating smoke. He felt helpless against the force of this fire since it blocked his vision completely. Clark hadn't been in a lot of burning buildings, but he noticed that it wasn't something he could get accustomed to. It was hot, even for him. He tried to forget about his own fear, and he focused on the people. He had used heartbeats once to find victims, and he could do it again. On his way through the fire Clark extinguished smaller fire sources. Whenever he found people who were coughing and trying to get out, Clark cleared a way for them into rooms that hadn't yet caught fire. He had to be careful because he couldn't afford to be seen by anyone and therefore his progress was awfully slow. Some people managed to escape through the windows of the first floor, and the firefighters probably did the most to save them. Despite Clark's efforts to get the people out, he couldn't save two of them. When he found them he didn't hear their heartbeats anymore, and Clark knew that even more would die if he didn't walk on. But it got more difficult to continue, and Clark felt absolutely useless. If he had only had the courage to show up openly, he would have saved all people and a lot quicker. Clark asked himself why he had come to help in the first place. He had failed in saving those two people as much as he had failed years ago when Lily had died. The firefighters considered it a miracle that so many people had escaped the flames. It made them sad that they hadn't managed to save all, but they were glad that so few people had died this evening. They lacked any explanation and so thanked the Lord for this miracle. But Clark didn't notice anything of this, and even if he had, he wouldn't have agreed. He was completely devastated when he returned home. * * * "Where have you been, Clark?" his mother asked when he entered the apartment. She didn't even need to look at him to see that he hadn't brought light bulbs. But from the moment he had said it, she had known that it hadn't been the reason for his departure. "Clark Jerome Kent, who told you that lying was okay?" She sounded rather angry. Clark didn't even try to look guilty; his expression was just blank or maybe showed sheer despair. It was hard to tell, and Martha forgot about admonishing her son. "I'm sorry, Mom," Clark muttered and went over to the sofa. He sank down and sighed heavily. "I'm starting to think that coming to Metropolis was a mistake. I can't go on this way. I hear so many cries, and there is almost nothing I can do about it. It kills me to be able to help but be unable to go and do it." Clark buried his face in his hands. A small hand was touching him, stroking him lightly. Rebecca didn't say anything; she just stroked his hands and back. Clark felt her climb onto the sofa. He pulled her into an embrace and held her tightly. Her presence was enough to soothe him a bit. He wondered what he would do without her. "I wouldn't mind if we had to move once again," she said softly. "Oh, Becca, honey," Clark whispered, emotionally. "I promised you to stay here, and I will find a way. I don't know how, but I will." "I understand that you want to help people, Daddy, I really do," Becca answered. "I'm sorry that I lied to you, Becca, honey. That was stupid, really stupid," Clark murmured into her hair. Clark only had eyes for the little girl in his arms. He didn't see his parents glancing at each other, not sure what to say. They had been about to argue with him, to call him irresponsible. And they would have been right. Clark knew that. It would have been the worst argument they had ever had, and Clark could hardly imagine how angry his mother had been. He hadn't left Becca alone, but he had once again put his secret at stage. Martha had spent years hoping to have a child, but in vain. To her, children were the most precious gift in the whole world, and she would never allow anyone to hurt a child. But she did not only consider Becca as the child in this relationship, she was just as protective of Clark as he was of her, and it killed her to see how much he suffered from hiding. "We will find a way," Martha stated and sat down next to Clark and Becca. "We will find a way to make both of you happy." Martha kissed Becca and then Clark. "But how, Martha?" Jonathan asked. "How do you think could Clark use his powers to help people? They would never leave him alone if the world found out about him." * * * Martha and Jonathan had stayed for dinner and had left afterwards. Clark had brought Becca to bed and had told her another fairy tale. After having kissed her goodnight, he had gone to bed himself, just like the day before. And again, the night wasn't peaceful, and Clark heard sirens all over Metropolis. Maybe there weren't actually many emergencies, but Clark got the impression that the whole city consisted of victims tonight: victims of robbery, murder, accidents and all kinds of violence. His bad conscience caused him to count each police car as if it were several of them. He had drifted in and out of sleep dreaming of horrible things. He didn't remember them afterwards, but they left him emotionally drained. The night seemed endless, but after hours of exhausting nightmares, Clark was spent and managed to sleep deeper. It wasn't enough to allow him regaining strength, and so this would be another night of useless sleep. Clark awoke from a loud knock. First, he didn't know what it was, but then he realized that someone had to be at his door. The knocking continued and a female voice was shouting his name. "Mr. Kent?...Mr. Kent? Come on, it's Sunday morning. I know you're there." The woman sounded very impatient. It was silent for a moment. "Where can a hack from Nowheresville actually be at this time of day? It's too early for church. Ahh, why did Perry do this to me?" The woman in front of his door muttered, annoyed. He surely wasn't supposed to hear the last part. Nowheresville... Clark was annoyed as well. Smallville wasn't "nowhere" and he really liked the little town. He emerged from his bed, dressed himself quickly and grabbed his glasses. Obviously the day wasn't going to be any better than the night had been. He went to open the door. Just as he opened, Lois Lane had been about to start knocking again. She stopped the movement as she saw Clark's face. Clark opened his mouth to say hello, but it was to no avail. Lois Lane interrupted his attempt at politeness. "I knew you were there, Mr. Kent. Don't think this was my idea, but Perry assigned you and me on this article. He should know that I usually work alone. I don't need a partner, but he's the boss." "Good morning, Ms. Lane. It's nice to meet you, too," Clark stated wryly. He glanced at the woman who looked still quite fascinating. But he wasn't so sure anymore if he really wanted to get acquainted with her. "Yeah, nice to meet you." Lois snorted. "Kent, I've really not enough time to be nice. I didn't expect to be responsible for a greenhorn, so please get ready quickly." "Come in, you can wait in the living room while I get ready," Clark offered as patiently as possible. *The day is going to be long*, he thought. *Don't upset her even more than she already is. She has been through a lot,* Clark reminded himself. Lois Lane entered his apartment, but she didn't wait in the living room. She followed Clark, who went into his bedroom to get his suit. "Perry assigned me on an article about the series of arson in the last couple of days. I hope you heard about that," she said. It didn't sound as if she really expected him to know what was going on in the city. After all he was from Nowheresville, wasn't he? "The fires, yes. I heard about them, but I didn't know they were arson," Clark replied. "Well, that's no wonder; the police only announced it this morning." There was still this annoyance in her voice as if she had to deal with a dumb child. She was still the most beautiful woman on earth, but right now she did her best to scare him off. Why was she behaving like this? It wasn't his fault that Mr. White had sent her to him. "Perry wants me to dig out everything I can find. And he advised me to take you with me for whatever reason he has." Right at that moment Clark's covers moved and a sigh escaped the pillows. Lois groaned and Clark gasped in surprise. He hadn't even noticed that Becca had again slipped into his bed tonight. Her brown curls were visible under the covers, and she looked so peaceful. Clark wondered what had made her come to him again. "Oh, my God, I really don't want to know..." Lois muttered and stared at the dark brown curls. "Kent, say good-bye to your girlfriend and get ready. A kiss will do. I have no time for long endearments." She left the bedroom quickly. At that moment Becca lifted her head and stared at Clark in disbelief. "It's Sunday!" she squealed accusingly. "I know, honey. It looks like I have no choice but to go with her," Clark replied. Had he ever felt so helpless? He saw the hurt in Becca's eyes. Had he really thought that things couldn't get worse? What a mess! "My new boss wants us to work on an article." "You can't go! You promised to spend the weekend with me!" In Becca's voice was all the despair of a child knowing that she wouldn't have the last word in the discussion. "Don't leave me alone!" She begged. "Honey, I'll be back in a few hours. And you won't be alone..." Clark tried to soothe his daughter who was on the verge of crying. He lifted her on his lap and kissed her hair. "Kent, come on; leave the crybaby. She's old enough to stay alone," Lois shouted angrily. "We've gotta go!" This was too much! Clark stood up, Becca still in his arms, and rushed into the living room. "She's seven, Ms. Lane! She has every right to cry! What would you say if your father was leaving you when he had promised to spend the whole day with you? I'm afraid, but you'll have to wait until she has had breakfast. I've got a phone. Call me the next time, and I'll be ready when it suits you," he growled. Lois Lane had turned pale. "I'm sorry," she mumbled weakly and fell silent. She looked as if lightning had struck her. Clark noticed it with fierce satisfaction and then returned his attention to Becca. "I'm taking you to your grandparents, pumpkin. And I will be back as soon as possible," he explained. "I didn't know that I would have to work today. I'll make it up to you this evening, I promise, Becky." He set her back on the floor and wiped away the tears that were rolling down her cheeks. "I'm so very sorry, Becca." Becca nodded, still upset. On the other hand, she liked being with her grandparents. Anger and anticipation competed. But she knew that her father would have to go. Though she was still young, she had noticed that adults couldn't always do the things they wanted to do. Obediently, she followed Clark into the kitchen. He prepared breakfast, and Becca sat down at the table. "How can you go with this nasty woman?" Becca complained. "Rebecca!" Clark admonished her through clenched teeth. Unfortunately Becca had hit the nail on the head. Lois Lane was either a bitch or she was having a really bad day. He hoped it was the latter; he really did. Otherwise, he would have to reconsider working for the Planet. Clark's heart wrenched as he saw the picture of misery that was sitting at his kitchen table. He very much wanted to tell Ms. Lane to leave his apartment and to never come back again. He felt like quitting the job, but he knew that would be childish and inappropriate. As unreasonable as it sounded right at this moment, he had to stand this whole thing for Becca's sake. Clark placed a glass of orange juice and a plate of pancakes in front of his little girl. Then he sat down beside her. "You know that I love you, don't you, honey?" Clark whispered in her ear. "I dreamt that I had lost you, Daddy. When I woke up you were mumbling and crying in your sleep. I was so scared. Please don't go," she begged again, this time sobbing. Clark pulled Becca into an embrace. "Shh, it's okay. You won't loose me, pumpkin. You don't need to be afraid," he said in the most soothing tone of voice he was capable of. Lois Lane entered the kitchen. She looked still a little pale. "I'm sorry, Kent. I was rude to you and your daughter. That was needless. It's just... it has been a rough week." Her apology sounded a whole lot friendlier. Clark looked up and studied her face. The fierce determination in it had receded and was almost gone now. The change in her expression had turned her into an incredibly vulnerable woman. Clark could tell from the look in her eyes that she had been hurt before. He realized that his impression of her had been right: she was tough but not as hardened as she claimed to be. She was watching Becca and himself, but he didn't know what she was thinking. But one thing he knew: she wasn't just a bitch and there had to be more to it than just having a bad day. He had an urge to find out more about this woman. "I guess we had a bad start, Ms. Lane." Clark released Becca and got up to offer Lois his hand. "Hello, I'm Clark Kent." She shook it and replied with a weak smile. "I'm Lois Lane. It's nice to meet you, Kent." Lois went over to the table and approached Becca. "And it's nice to meet you, Rebecca." She put her hand forth. Becca looked up, but she didn't take the hand. "It's not nice to meet you," she said angrily and looked daggers at Lois. "Rebecca!" Clark used her full name for the second time this morning. "That's not how I told you to talk to other people." He was admonishing her though he was inwardly grateful that Becca had spoken her mind. A child could be honest to an extent that was downright impossible for adults. And there were a lot of things he would have liked to say to Lois Lane earlier; Becca was doing it for him. Becca winced as she looked into Clark's earnest face. "Sorry, Ms. Lane," she muttered half-heartedly. Clark didn't really expect Becca to say and mean it, so he left it at that. Becca continued eating her pancakes silently, and Lois Lane shifted her position uncomfortably. She had become a lot shier and didn't act like he was her personal lackey anymore. She was definitely more likable this way, and Clark's interest in her increased even more. About half an hour later, Becca had had a shower and was dressed. Clark had phoned his parents and asked them if they would look after her. They had agreed, and Clark had promised to take Becca to them. During this entire time, Lois had sat on the couch and hadn't said anything. Although Clark didn't actually know her, she seemed quite distracted and lost in thought. He decided not to question her behavior until he knew Becca was safe with his parents. * * * An hour after Lois Lane had stormed into his apartment, they were both sitting in her car. She drove. They were headed for the fire department in a suburb of Metropolis, and Clark was glad that it wasn't the one that had been called to extinguish the fire at Lois' place. They might recognize him. Clark was rather glad that he didn't need to concentrate on traffic. He wasn't sure that he would have been able to do it. Lois Lane was really intoxicating. She messed up his mind and turned him into a drooling fool. Well, this might have been a little exaggerated; he could keep his mouth shut and his lips and chin dry. Her legs, under that skirt, were just incredible. And so was the rest of her. She was speaking again and telling him what she knew about the two fires. It wasn't anything he didn't already know, but then he had been as close to the fire as possible. Throughout her monologue, Clark noticed that rumors were right, and Lois Lane was really a brilliant reporter. She really knew how to get information. The physicians at the hospital had certainly made her stay there for at least twenty-four hours, so she might have left the hospital the previous evening. She hadn't had much time, but nonetheless, Lois was aware of most facts concerning the fire. What she didn't mention was how close she had been to one of the fires. Clark thought briefly about what might have happened if he had found a payphone and called 911. Were the fire fighters right, and she would have died if he hadn't been there? Clark dismissed the thought. He was just grateful, for the first time in weeks, that he had these powers. They had given him a second chance to get to know Lois. He looked over to her, and his heart started beating rapidly. He studied her face, the straight line of her nose and her adorable lips. She was concentrating on the traffic and continued her monologue. He liked the warm tone of her voice when she wasn't angry. The air was filled with the faint scent of her shampoo, mixed with her own unique scent. It was sweet and tantalizingly attractive. Clark blinked. He shouldn't fall for a woman that he had first met only two days ago. What he had seen of Lois Lane so far had been more scary than it was lovable. She had been impossibly rude and offending, and moreover, Becca didn't seem to like her. Maybe he should listen to his little whirlwind in this current state of temporary insanity. While Clark was staring adoringly at Lois Lane, he got so lost in thought that he had not heard a single of her words. He realized too late that this was a mistake. "Earth to Clark Kent!" Lois said with a hint of annoyance. "Eh, what?" he asked, confused. "I was asking if you were listening, but no answer is an answer as well," Lois replied angrily. "Let's get something straight, Kent. I'm the best reporter in this city, and you are the most inexperienced. You'd better listen to me when I'm telling you something. I'm not known for my patience, and to be honest, being partnered with you for this story was absolutely not my idea. So if you don't want to do this, just go. I certainly won't hold you back." She parked the car at the side of the street. "Okay, here we are. When we get inside, I'll ask the questions. Your job is to listen and learn. Don't do anything stupid to keep the fire fighters from answering my questions." "Are you finished, Ms. Lane?" Clark felt anger well up inside him. His self-imposed avoidance of Lois' attractiveness was much easier to stick to now that she had turned into her bitchy self again. "There is such a thing as being too self-assured, you know?" He didn't plan on becoming Lois Lane's personal lap dog. "Kent, I'm top banana. Take it or leave it. That's not my problem," she shot back. She was right; it wasn't her problem but his. He needed the job. Clark swallowed his pride and crossed the street a few steps behind her. They went over to a red brick building that had two entrances - a big one for fire trucks and a smaller one for the people. Lois had an air of certainty as she walked directly over to the smaller entrance and opened the door as if nothing on earth would be able to stop her. Clark followed her more self-consciously. "Hey, is anybody there?" Lois shouted as soon as they had entered the building. She looked around and turned to the big fire truck. Three men were working around it. They looked up as they heard her. "We're here," one of them replied, needlessly, since Lois had already seen them. "Who are you and what do you want?" he asked, his brows furrowed. "Lois Lane, Daily Planet, I'm..." Lois hesitated briefly, remembering that someone was with her. "This is Clark Kent," she then added. "We'd like to ask a few questions about the fire at the hotel yesterday evening." "The police have all the information. Ask their spokesperson!" said another fire fighter, turning them down. "I know what the police know," Lois said impatiently. "What I want is your side of the story!" The fire fighter shook his head. "Ask our spokesperson... that's as much of our story as you will get!" Clark remembered the fire, his own fear and despair. It had to be a million times worse for those poor men. They had chosen the job, granted, but it had to be hard, really hard. What had left him completely devastated in just one night was their lot in life. How did they deal with it, Clark wondered? Despite Lois' interdiction, he opened his mouth. "We want to write about how it feels to be a fire fighter," he said softly. "How it feels?" the third man frowned. "You don't wanna know how it feels. You can't express how it feels," he said, annoyed. Lois shot Clark a very angry glance. If looks could kill, he would have been dead by now. It meant *Keep your mouth shut!* Clark returned that look with an indifferent expression on his face. Only one of his eyebrows was raised a little, silently telling Lois not to be too quick to judge. "But you can," Clark replied simply. "No, we can't." The words sounded a whole lot gentler, despite the rejection. Lois was obviously irritated. She didn't say anything, and her mouth was slightly open. "All I can tell you about that fire is that a miracle happened." "A miracle?" Clark asked, skeptically. "You call two people dying a miracle?" "I call eighteen people surviving a miracle!" the man stated. "Why was it a miracle?" Lois asked, pronouncing the word miracle as if she very much doubted the existence of such things. "Because in my opinion there was no chance for these people to get out of the burning hotel," the fire fighter replied. "The entire hotel was ablaze by the time we arrived at the site of the fire. The hall was a sea of flames. We didn't get inside as hard as we tried. The smoke must have been thick and suffocating. I have walked through many rooms, dark with smoke, and I can't imagine how they got outside." "So you mean they must have had help?" Lois asked. "Only God could have helped them." They asked the three men a few more questions, but they got more and more unwilling to reply. So after about a quarter of an hour, Lois and Clark left the fire department. "Miracle!" Lois said indignantly. "There is an explanation for everything. You only have to find it." She sounded rather annoyed that their interview hadn't led them anywhere. Clark was silent. He hadn't seen the people he had saved. Had there really been eighteen of them? It hadn't seemed like that, but his troubled mind had only counted the dead people and ignored the living. So had his rescue really been efficient? Clark could hardly believe, after a self-reproachful night, that the fire fighters considered his appearance a miracle. It was pretty much the first time that Clark had really heard such words. Most people he had saved didn't even know he existed. Some had thanked him, but no one had ever been so eloquent. "What do you, think, Kent?" Clark looked at her, unsure how to reply. He knew the truth, and there was nothing miraculous about it- maybe out of this world, but not a miracle. But he could hardly tell her that. *Ms. Lane, actually it was me who saved the people. I just flew straight into the house.*Yeah, right. He wouldn't end up dissected like a frog but immediately taken away by men in white coats, instead. "Don't you think that some things that happen to us are just a miracle?" he replied cautiously. "Kent, this is not about belief, this is about knowledge. I think you've chosen the wrong job. Why don't you study to be a minister?" It was a rhetorical question, or at least Lois Lane wasn't interested in his answer. "Okay, so you want to investigate further. Any ideas where we should start investigating a *miracle*?" Clark shot back with anger in his voice. "Easy, Kent. I bet that the guy who set fire to this building got a bad conscience and saved the people," Lois said self-assuredly. "Yeah, right, Ms. Lane. He walked directly through the flames in the hall without being seen by the fire fighters and then saved these people. Of course he doesn't need to breathe, and he can surely see through thick black smoke," Clark replied dryly. He bit his lip. He was about to say too much, just because this woman made him angry. How could she have such an effect on him? He had met selfish people before, and he had always been able to cope with them. Clark realized why he was feeling like this. Because he liked the woman so much and underneath her bitchy surface she was certainly the most incredible person he had ever met. Well, she was the most incredible person he had ever met, apart from his daughter. Lois looked at him now, and her mouth gaped open. Obviously, she wasn't used to people disagreeing with her. "So what's your idea, then?" She asked. This was getting Clark nowhere he liked to be. "I don't know," he said defensively. "Brilliant idea, Kent!" Lois snorted and quickly paced over to her car. Clark watched her with an uneasy expression on his face, unsure if she was taking him with her. "Come on, Kent. I don't have time to waste staring into space." Clark sighed and followed her. This was going to be a long day. He was worried that Lois' hunt for news on the fire would finally lead them to the policemen who had interviewed him on Friday evening. He should have known that someone from the Daily Planet would be assigned to the fire. But even in his worst nightmares he had not imagined that it would be him. Of course he was grateful for being able to supervise what others might find out about him, but this was dangerous. "Where are we headed to?" Clark wanted to know. Better be safe than sorry. "A source, Kent. I hope you're not hungry!" Lois replied mysteriously. Clark groaned inwardly and opened the passenger door of the car. Somewhere between breakfast and this moment he had made a huge mistake, and he was paying for it now. "You could be a bit more explicit, Ms. Lane," he complained. "And you could stick to your promise of listening and learning, Kent." "I never promised anything of the sort! I might not be as experienced as you are, Ms. Lane. But I'm not a fool, and I sure as hell won't let you treat me like one," Clark stated firmly. Lois looked at him, surprised. "Like I said, Kent, it was a rough week," she said with a somewhat guilty look on her face. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean that you have the right to do anything. It's not like my week has been especially wonderful. I moved, got everything in my apartment into place and will need to send Becca to school on Monday. She doesn't want to go, and I won't be able to attend her first day in school. It was a rough week for me as well. But I'm not running around and taking my frustrations out on the people around me," Clark shot back. "Don't bother me with those tiny little problems of yours, Kent. It's not like you were in a burning apartment on Friday," Lois disagreed. "My problems are way out of your league." Clark stopped himself just in time from replying that he had indeed been in a burning apartment. In two burning buildings to be precise. And whereas Lois had spent her Saturday in the caring hands of nurses, he had practically watched two people die. Their weekends were not comparable; in this respect Lois Lane was right. If he had been a normal man, he wouldn't have stopped arguing now. He would have told Ms. Lane what he thought of her. But Clark knew that being controlled by anger was out of the question for him. He only shot her a glance telling Lois that she could think whatever she wanted. Lois obviously chose to abstain from any further argument and started the car. She still hadn't told Clark who or where her source was. Clark very much wanted to punish Ms. Lane with stubborn silence. But there was this other, irrational part of him that was still interested in her. The friendly, caring Clark wanted to know how she felt right now. And he didn't want to argue with this impressive woman. He wanted to make her notice him and like him. This Clark couldn't remain silent after she had just told him about her terrible weekend. "So tell me about your weekend," this Clark asked gently, having completely forgotten about their previous argument. "How come you were in a burning apartment?" "*My* burning apartment!" Lois corrected. "That must have been rough. I'm glad that you're okay," Clark said sympathetically. "It was. I was scared to death, and I thought that I wouldn't get out of the room. It was hot and there was smoke. I don't even remember how I finally got out. The police said that I was found on the second floor. I don't recall getting down there," Lois mumbled thoughtfully. "This story is important to me, Kent. Now you know why." "Yes, now I know," Clark repeated. It wasn't exactly true; he had known from the very beginning. "I'm sorry, Kent, I guess I'm behaving pretty badly." Her sudden apology surprised Clark. "First with you and your daughter and now yet again." She sighed. "How about you call me Clark instead of Kent as a sign of reconciliation," Clark offered. He held out his hand and Lois shook it. "I'm Lois," she said softly. "It was impressive how you made the fire fighter talk," Lois added and glanced only briefly at him before she looked away. Her concentration was focused on the street again. "Thanks," Clark replied simply. They were approaching downtown Metropolis. The traffic became denser, and the streets were busy. Both Lois and Clark had fallen silent. Clark watched his surroundings, trying to broaden his mental map of the city. But there were still many places he hadn't seen yet, not even on his previous visits to the city without Becca when he had searched for an apartment. And he was thinking about Lois' comment on being hungry. Why should meeting a source have something to do with hunger? Maybe this mystery would be solved soon. They had reached a Chinese take-out when Lois parked the car again. "I'll be back in a flash, Ke...Clark," She corrected herself. "What...?" Clark wanted to ask, but she was already gone. He watched her leaving, startled. It took a couple of minutes for her to return. Lois had a big paper bag, filled with Chinese take-out. Clark wondered what she was going to do with such an amount of food. She grabbed in the bag and handed him an egg roll and a fortune cookie. "Watch these, but *don't* you dare eat them," she said threateningly. Then she placed the paper bag on his lap, covering the two things she had given him previously. "Same with that." She started the car again and pulled out of the parking lot. They followed the street and continued their way to a yet unknown destination. They passed a couple of blocks and most of the buildings on the side of the street contained restaurants. There was Indian food, French Cuisine, some Bars and Pubs and about any other type of restaurant. Cheap ones and really expensive ones, all accurately lined up like pearls on a string. Clark had no clue as to who this mysterious source could be. When he or she already lived in this El Dorado of food, why had Lois bought so much that he and Becca would need about a week to eat it all? After an endless row of restaurants, Lois left the street and parked the car in an alley behind a restaurant. She shot a longing glance towards the paper bag, but turned her head again and watched the street. Obviously she was waiting for someone to appear. After a couple of minutes, her gaze wandered back to the paper bag. Clark could hear her stomach growling and realized with astonishment that noon was long gone. "Why don't you eat something, Lois?" Clark offered. She shot him a glance as if he had made a downright impossible suggestion. "Don't you dare!" a voice from the back of the car answered instead of Lois. Clark turned around and gasped in surprise. He hadn't heard anyone entering the car, but there was a man sitting on the backseat. He had light brown curls and wasn't really shaved. His once white shirt was spotted with remnants of various meals, and the man looked as if he needed a shower. He grabbed the paper bag from Clark's lap and opened it, his eyes gleaming with pleasure. "What did you bring me, Lois?" It was a rhetorical question. Clark assumed that Lois had brought every available item from the takeout. The man started eating. "Who is that friend of yours, Lois?" he asked between two bites. Clark could hardly believe that this man was able to swallow his food. It was amazing and somewhat disgusting to watch him eat. "This is Clark Kent. Clark, this is Bobby Bigmouth. Bobby, what do you know about these fires?" Lois inquired. Bobby Bigmouth chewed a couple of egg rolls while he was thinking. Clark considered Bigmouth as the only suitable name for the man on the backseat. He waited patiently for Bobby to answer, but like Lois had said, she wasn't patient. "Come on, Bobby. I know that you know something about the fires," she repeated. Bobby shook his head. "Not without that last egg roll, and I bet there was a fortune cookie as well." Lois denied their existence and shot Clark a pleading glance. Bobby Bigmouth called Lois a liar and insisted on the two last bits of food that hadn't yet found their way into his seemingly giant stomach. Clark handed him the objects of desire and observed, fascinated, how quickly they vanished as well. "All I know is that someone set fire on your building in an attempt to kill your neighbor. By the way, I'm glad you survived. I have no idea why the hotel burned as well. Oh, and there are rumors that a mysterious man stormed into your building and rescued you and your neighbor." Bobby fumbled with the packages of his meal. "Find your disguise for Halloween," he read out loud and added an address. "Lois, please, where did you get that? Am I going to find advertising for the first journey of the Titanic on the bag next time? Remember, only fresh food means fresh news." With these words he left a very startled Lois and Clark. Clark noticed that Lois' expression had turned blank, and he could virtually see her mind wrapping around the news she had gotten. He waited for her to come to terms with what she had heard. Clark was a little worried that his rescue hadn't remained a secret. Of course, Bobby Bigmouth hadn't said that Clark Kent had saved Lois. But rumors could be bad enough, especially when they caused Lois to dig further in her rescue. She hadn't been aware of the circumstances in which she had escaped the apartment building. Clark wished that it would still be like that. In the meantime, Lois had obviously come to a conclusion. "He was there, Clark, both times. These arsons are connected." "He? Lois, who are you talking about?" Clark asked, confused. "The arsonist, Clark. He was there. Don't you remember what the fire fighter said? There was someone who rescued people. And Bobby Bigmouth just told us that there was a mysterious man who saved my neighbor and me," Lois explained. Clark shook his head. "No, Lois. Why should anyone burn down houses and run into them to save the victims?" "I don't know, Clark, but this is Metropolis. Stranger things have happened here. If he was a hero, why would he hide, then?" Clark didn't reply. He could hardly tell Lois the truth. And as it was, he couldn't come up with a good argument that would instantly prove her theory wrong. How could she know that she hadn't been on the second floor but the third? That no living being on earth but him could have gotten her outside? And that even the smartest arsonist couldn't have escaped the fire in the hotel? She hadn't been there or had been unconscious and therefore hadn't seen the entire extend of the fire. He wasn't going to tell her; he wasn't going to tell anyone. All of a sudden two sentences that had been used previously jumped back into Clark's mind and established themselves there, not willing to leave. One of them was the advertising that Bobby Bigmouth had read out; the other was Lois' last sentence. He tried to get them out of his head, but to no avail. All he managed was to reduce them to two words that kept circulating in his mind. * Disguise* *Hide* *Disguise* *Hide* Clark almost didn't notice that Lois was speaking again. She had obviously assumed that he had accepted having lost the argument, which was certainly true. "Where shall I drop, you, Clark? We are finished now; there is nothing else that we'll find today. The press conference is tomorrow. I think that your daughter wants you back. I almost forgot...Perry told me that you could have a day off on Monday, if you like." The jumble of thoughts in Clark's head stopped for a moment and was replaced by sheer felicity. His mouth got dry and dark clouds were vanishing. Suddenly sunshine was able to touch the ground. "I...I'd be glad if I could come in a few hours later on Monday," he managed to say. "Sure, Clark," Lois replied and for the first time since she was with him, a bright smile appeared on her face. Clark was directly transported to paradise as he saw her beautiful face. "You know what? Despite your being so inexperienced you came into your own. Maybe it's not that bad being partnered with you on this story. But don't think that we'll make that a habit." * * * When Clark returned home it was afternoon and freezing cold outside, but one of his problems had just vanished into nothingness. He could attend Becca's first day in school. It could as well have been a bright and fresh morning in the warm summer air. That reflected how Clark felt much better. After all, it hadn't been that bad a day, though some moments of it had been quite rough. Clark opened the door to his apartment and noticed that Becca and his parents had already returned. The little girl had obviously forgiven him his early departure and ran across the room towards him. He caught her in mid air, when she jumped up, and held her tightly. "Hi, pumpkin, nice to see you," he greeted her and she laid her arms around his neck and placed a kiss on his mouth. "What a welcome," he mumbled. Clark walked with the little whirlwind on his arms into the living room. "Hi, Mom and Dad." "Hi, Clark," his father said, grinning at his son. Martha's smile was slightly smaller, but she didn't say anything. "How was the first day of work?" Jonathan inquired. "Difficult at times, but mostly okay," Clark replied. "She's a witch!" Becca stated. "No, she isn't, honey. She had a bad day. Remember? She's the woman that I saved from the fire in the apartment building." "Bad day, pah." Becca rolled her eyes. She could win contests at that. Clark couldn't help but smile at the sight. "Why don't you get dressed, pumpkin? Really warm clothes!" Clark said. Becca's face started to gleam with expectation. Her cheeks grew red, and her eyes turned into sparkling stars. As soon as Clark had released her to the floor, she started running upstairs. She didn't notice how Martha was shaking her head. *Clark!* she mouthed in her son's direction. She knew exactly what he was up to. *Don't you dare!* "Yes, Mom, I will take her out on a flight. She deserves that after I left her this morning," he whispered. "That's another point, Clark. How do you think this is going to work when we return to Smallville? You can't possibly bring Becca to us on a moment's notice," Martha returned in a low voice. "I don't know yet, Mom. But I'll find a way. Becca is my responsibility. I'd never let her down," Clark stated firmly. "We trust you, son," Jonathan said and rested his hand on Clark's shoulder in affirmation. Martha nodded, not completely convinced yet, but knowing that Becca's happiness strictly depended on her being with Clark. As soon as Becca came down again, Clark lifted her up into his arms and said good-bye to his parents. Then he stepped out on his balcony. It was already dark outside. "Ready?" he asked his daughter. "Ready!" she replied happily. Clark took off and flew high up into the sky. The clear air of the night and the joy of flying washed away all his sorrows. One last time, the two words that had accompanied him since he had said good-bye to Lois suddenly reappeared. First there was *Hide* and then came *Disguise*. As strange as it was, they made sense to him now. Becca's cheers of joy only confirmed it as brilliant. Right at this moment, Clark had the feeling that he had just solved another one of his problems. ***Seeking Heroes*** Cozy was the word that described it best. There was a bunch of smooth pillows around him and underneath his fingers he found velvet skin. Heaven couldn't be better. Soft lips touched his and trailed across his face. Above these incredible lips there were a beautiful nose and eyes like dark honey. Looking into them was amazingly sweet, but even better was the glance they returned. They were admiring and loving. They virtually caressed every inch of him without having to touch. Dark strands of hair were tickling his chest. For the first time, the face of the woman he encountered in his dreams belonged to a real person. If he hadn't been dreaming, Clark would have denied that he wished Lois would be so nice to him in real life. The sweet dream was interrupted by the ear-shattering tone of his alarm-clock. Clark groaned and involuntarily stretched his arm into the direction of that annoying sound. The alarm was immediately gone but replaced by the sound of breaking plastic. He groaned again. It was the third alarm-clock in the last four weeks. Unwillingly, he opened one eye and then the other. It was still pitch dark. Clark sighed and rose from bed. He stepped out of his bedroom and over to the kitchen. As silently as possible, he started preparing breakfast in order to grant Becca a few more minutes of sleep. When he was finished, Clark climbed up the stairs. He heard Becca's steady breathing and followed the sound. She was cuddled up in her covers and looked so peaceful that Clark sincerely regretted having to wake her up. He sat down beside her and bent down to place a kiss on her forehead. "Only five more minutes, Daddy," she muttered drowsily. Clark lit the lamp on her nightstand. "Come on, sleepyhead, get out of bed. It's not going to be easier in five minutes," he said softly. "And just to remind you: don't call me Daddy, Rebecca." He started their game to cheer her up. "Okay, Daddy," she replied lamely and sat up. Clark wrapped his arms around her. "What's the matter, honey? Did you have a bad dream?" he asked gently, trying to distract her. "Can't remember," she said and leaned in his embrace. "Are you afraid of your first day?" Clark wanted to know as he heard her heart beating rapidly. Becca nodded and pressed herself even tighter against Clark. "It's going to be okay, honey." His soothing tone seemed to calm her down a bit. "I was afraid as well when I went to school for the first time." "You were?" she asked, surprised. "I never saw you being afraid, Daddy." Becca looked up to him with dark brown eyes. "Oh, pumpkin!" Clark chuckled. "Your grandpa often advised me to be careful not to tell others about myself. When I first went to school, I didn't exactly have many of my powers, but I was stronger than average. Considerably stronger! Who else was able to lift a fridge? Not even my dad. So there was something strange about me. I was scared to death that I might possibly hurt someone by accident. Or that I'd lift something that I wasn't supposed to be able to lift. I didn't have much experience with what a six year old boy should be able to do. And your mommy couldn't help me either, because she wasn't allowed to know. My parents were afraid that she would tell someone." "So you were afraid then. But there isn't anything you fear now, is there?" Becca dug further. "Becky, honey, of course there is. I'm afraid of disappointing you, of making mistakes. I'm afraid of someone finding out about me. The list is endless. Being a grown-up doesn't mean that nothing is able to scare you anymore." Clark placed a kiss on Becca's dark curly hair. "So, you're just a big coward, huh?" "Be careful, little lady. Else I might be too afraid to come along with you to school," he teased her. "Come out of that bed, now. Breakfast is ready." Clark got up from the bed, allowing Becca to get out of it. Clark looked around her room. Becca had stored all her things, but it still looked awfully bare. He would have to do something about that. It was the first room of her own she ever had, and since it wasn't really huge, he wanted it to be comfortable at least. He would think about that problem as soon as possible. There were still three weeks to Christmas and hopefully he would get a paycheck before that. Clark walked down the stairs with Becca behind him. She yawned accusingly, indicating that she wasn't happy about having to get up so early. Clark ignored that comment. It wouldn't get him anywhere to try to comfort Becca now. She was far too talented at starting arguments. She would distract him completely. Becca could even make him forget about wanting to send her to school. Clark didn't want to risk that. He didn't envy the guys that would fall for her in a couple of years. She had powers like a strong drug and was irrevocably addictive from the moment you met her. Ever since Lily had placed the tiny body of the sweetest baby on earth in his arms, Clark had been committed to Becca and would remain until the end of days. He hadn't been able to say no as Lily had asked him to confirm his parenthood to the authorities. His struggle had been weak, and the battle had been lost before it had even started. As soon as they came into the kitchen, Becca sat down at the table, and Clark placed her breakfast in front of her. Becca winced for some reason, and Clark watched her worriedly. But she started eating as if nothing had happened. She didn't speak much and Clark blamed it on her nervousness. "I'm sure you're gonna meet a lot of nice kids," he said. "Am I allowed to bring them home with me?" Becca asked. "Why not, honey? You could invite them on weekends," Clark replied and waited a couple of seconds to continue. "I'll pick you up at day care this afternoon. We will fly over to Smallville this evening. Your grandparents are leaving Metropolis shortly after we all accompany you to school." "Smallville?" Becca was surprised. "Yeah. I think I found a way to be able to help and to lead a normal life with you at the same time. I need a disguise so that no one will recognize me as Clark Kent," Clark explained. "Just like Halloween!" Becca said excitedly. Her cheeks blushed. "But you're not going to wear an ugly monster mask, are you?" she mumbled. "Sure!" Clark grinned at her. "A dark green one - with *large* yellow teeth. The eyes will be bright red, and the expression is going to freeze your blood in your veins the instant you look at it. I always dreamt of something like this." "Daddy, you're making fun of me," Becca complained. "Guilty, your honor!" Clark laughed. "Are you finished?" he asked and removed the dishes from the table as she nodded. "Go and get dressed, then." After he had cleaned up, Clark spun into a dark grey suit and searched for the school stuff he had bought for Becca a few weeks ago. * * * Half an hour later they were on their way to Becca's new school. Dawn had already broken and so Metropolis was light grey with the first weak attempts of the sun to fight the darkness of the night. Clark had found an elementary school that was only a few blocks away from their apartment. It wasn't that far away to walk, and Clark could easily take her to school before he had to go to work. At least he would do that until she was older. It broke his heart that he would leave her alone with people she didn't know. But at least he was able to walk this way with her this morning. As soon as the school came in sight, Becca laid her hand in his and together they approached the building. Both were nervous, and though he pretended to feel completely at ease, Clark's heart was beating more rapidly than Becca's. He smiled at Becca affirmatively but was really trying to assure himself that everything was going to be all right. The school's secretary had told him he should come to the principal's office first. Suddenly Becca loosened her grip on his hand and started running. Clark looked up, surprised, and saw his parents standing in front of the school. They had promised to come, but only had time for a few minutes of saying goodbye since their plane was taking off in a couple of hours. Martha and Jonathan welcomed Becca with a huge smile and embraced her as she got close to them. "Have fun on your first day, sweetie," Martha said and kissed her granddaughter. "You're gonna make it, Becky. Tell us all about your day this evening. Promise?" Jonathan added and lifted the little girl up. Becca nodded and smiled broadly. She had completely forgotten about her fear and only had eyes for her grandparents. "See you this evening," she whispered and winked at Martha. Clark watched the scene from a distance and gave Becca enough time to be comforted by his parents. He liked looking at the three of them. It reminded him of his own childhood with these wonderful people. Every time he saw them, he prayed silently that Becca was just as happy with him as he had been with his parents. Sometimes Clark had doubts about this. His home had been so stable. He had woken up in the same room, in the same little town each morning. Becca didn't know this kind of stability. He hadn't been able yet to grant her this life and neither had Lily when Becca had been with her. Lily had never been very stable. She hadn't even been reliable, not in the "being on time at a date" kind of way. But she had always been there for him. "You didn't even know what you'd do with her, Lily." Clark whispered into the wind. "I only hope that I can be a good father for your little princess." "Mr. Kent?" a woman asked from behind him. Clark turned around. It had to be the secretary Clark had spoken to on the phone. He recognized her voice. She was smiling at him and motioning for him to come. "Mrs. Hughes, the principal, is waiting for you." Clark nodded and shouted for Becca. The little whirlwind kissed his parents one last time and hurried to him. Together, they followed the secretary inside the school. She led Clark and Becca into a bright office where the principal waited. A young, smiling teacher stood next to her. They greeted each other. The younger woman approached Clark and Becca and shook the hand of the little girl. "Hi, Rebecca, I'm Ms. Anderson. I'm your new teacher," she said and nodded in Clark's direction. Clark returned the gesture silently. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Anderson," Becca replied and smiled as well. Clark noticed with relief that she was relaxing. "Why don't you come with me, Rebecca? I'm going to introduce you to your class," Ms. Anderson suggested and opened the door to get out of the office again. Becca nodded and glanced at her father. Clark kneeled down in front of her. He handed Becca the school bag that he had carried the whole way and Becca hugged him. "Have a nice day, honey. And find lots of friends!" Clark mumbled as he laid his arms around the little girl. She was still so young. He felt the urge to protect her, but he knew that he had to let her go. "See you this afternoon." "See you later, Daddy," Becca replied and then she turned around to follow the teacher. Clark watched her leave the room as the principal addressed him. "Mr. Kent?" she said and waited for Clark to look at her. She had an air of severity that Clark found a little intimidating. She wasn't smiling at him, and Clark couldn't help the thought that she didn't like him. "I think your daughter will feel comfortable at our school. It's the *first time* she's going to school, isn't it?" Something about the way she was saying *first time* sounded rather accusing. "Yes, it is" Clark replied matter-of-factly. "She might have problems getting accustomed to going to school, Mr. Kent. I don't have to mention that we are helpless without parental support. I hope that you've got time to help your daughter if necessary. As far as I understood, you are a single parent, aren't you?" Her tone of voice was friendly, but nonetheless she sounded offending. Clark felt very annoyed by the way she called him a single parent. It wasn't as if he had volunteered. "Rebecca is a very clever little girl," Clark replied, almost grimly. "I'm sure she won't have problems keeping up with her schoolmates. But whenever she needs help, I'll be there for her, Mrs. Hughes," he stated firmly and as politely as possible. "Excuse me now; I've got to go to work. If anything happens, your s