drabble again

This is probably longer than a drabble is, technically. And yet I hesitate to call it a short story, because it doesn't stand alone, nor is it an episode in a cohesive timeline. It's a chunk nicked out of a larger story that will probably never be written in its entirety.... And so whether the label fits or not, I'm calling it a drabble. ^_^;;

Clark-centric, with some Jason. Mention of Richard. Tied in with my previous drabble. Pre-slash, though you'll have to take my word for that. ^.^

Enjoy! I ought to have been writing something else, but this bug bit me and so I had to type it up. (Sorry, Tay~!!!)



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The Daily Planet Building was never really quiet, never completely dark. But as the hours ticked away from ten-thirty toward eleven at night, it was certainly a lot less busy than usual.

Clark was in the Bullpen, waiting for Lois to return from meeting a contact. Every five minutes that passed raised the desire to reach for the phone and call her cell, but it was so easy to envision the chewing out that this would engender -- once on the phone and again in person -- and so he held off.

He wasn't worried about Lois. If he had been, Superman's attentive eyes would already be on her. No, the reason for his concern, the reason that his gaze flickered to the clock so often that it was nearly fixed there, was currently riding one of his large thighs, warm and softly breathing and scented with mint and playground soil.

Jason was still wide awake, despite the late hour, and firmly refused every time Clark suggested that he nap in the break room while waiting for his mother to return. Clark loved spending time with the boy who was his son, and it secretly thrilled him every time Lois asked him to "babysit" -- which she did more and more often now that Richard was gone -- but he was never quite sure what to do with the child.

Fortunately for him, Jason made his own fun. He'd had plenty of practice, hanging around the Planet, waiting for one or both of his parents most of his young life. Of course, now there was only one parent for him to wait for.

Right now he was drawing, using some colored pencils Jimmy had left on his desk. Clark hoped that this was all right, because it was far too late to ask the younger man now. Jimmy had left promptly at five, with a jaunty wave and a crooked grin. Clark hoped that he was off to have some fun... but not too much fun on a weeknight.

"Clark, look."

He loved the way Jason said his name. There was some sort of strange twist around his tongue, causing the "l" to roll in a way that he would probably outgrow. He wondered if he'd be happier if Jason knew to call him "father", but that was something that was impossible. Even if Lois saw fit to tell the boy that he wasn't Richard's son, that he was the son of Superman, he still wouldn't regard Clark Kent as anything other than a tolerant, sort of fun babysitter. And that was the way it had to be. A secret identity had to remain secret; otherwise it was pointless.

Clark peered over Jason's shoulder as instructed. The boy's hair smelled of hypoallergenic shampoo and Lois, and it made his heart ache a little. There was no longer any trace of Richard on the boy. He'd been gone from Jason's life for too long.

"It's Daddy," Jason clarified when Clark hesitated. The colors were bold, the strokes confident, the proportions almost perfect. Clark felt a pang at the wide smile the primitive figure was sporting. Richard White had been "missing" for almost two weeks now, and he wouldn't let Clark tell anyone where he was. Not even his uncle, Perry. Jason had to wonder where his Daddy was. How could he not? But with a child's confidence in his parents, Jason was certain that his father would return someday. Lois hadn't told him that she had -- in essence -- forced the man to leave. That wasn't the sort of thing you told your child.

"That's great, Jason," Clark said, placing a fond hand on Jason's head. His hair was soft and badly needed a trim, but it wasn't Clark's place to say so. It never would be.

"Now you draw," Jason commanded, grabbing the pad and flipping it to a fresh sheet. He thrust it into Clark's hands, and since he couldn't deny the boy anything, Clark took a sepia colored pencil and threw down a quick sketch.

He'd never really wondered whether he'd be good at art. It figured that, as Superman, he was excellent at everything.

What really startled him, though, was the subject of his drawing. It wasn't until he was shading the sharp cheekbones, darkening the line of the jaw, that he realized whose face he had captured.

"That's Daddy," Jason commented, watching avidly from where he was still perched on Clark's lap.

"So it is," Clark replied, sounding as surprised as he felt. And not a bad likeness, either, if he did say so. Not that he would.

Jason traced a finger along the edge of the sketch, careful not to smudge any of the lines. His long lashes flickered as he examined the image. "Daddy looks sad here."

Clark couldn't argue. "He does, doesn't he," he responded, feeling his jaw tighten with tension. He hadn't meant to draw Richard, to bring up a painful subject for Jason....

Jason looked up, those incredibly blue eyes meeting his. He looked pensive, almost pouty. "I want him to come home!"

Clark set the sketchbook on the desk and collected Jason into a one-armed hug, holding the boy close. He might not be able to be Jason's father as Clark Kent, but he could be there for Jason, the way he was always there for Lois.

"I'm sure he wants to come home too, Jason. I'm sure he misses you." The words were easy to speak, because he knew that they were true.

Jason sighed, resting his weight against Clark's chest. His head moved restlessly, and after a moment he asked a new question. "Do you think he cries?"

Unbidden, but impossible to banish, the image rose in Clark's mind. Stolen with Superman's x-ray vision, something he shouldn't have seen. Richard curled on his bed behind a closed door, face pressed into a pillow, shoulders heaving with violent sobs. He hadn't been home, had never been meant to witness this breakdown. But he had, and now he couldn't forget, couldn't forget the hurt.

Hurt that he had, completely inadvertently, unknowingly, caused. His abrupt departure for Krypton hadn't just affected himself. It hadn't just affected his mother. It hadn't just affected Lois and his relationship with her. It had also changed the lives of Jason and Richard. What would have happened if he hadn't left five years ago?

But there was no way to change the past, no way to take it back, and no way of knowing what "might have been". They could only move forward; all three of them... four of them. Superman, Lois, Richard, and Jason. Clark Kent was just a friend of the court. He could do things that Superman could not do, and yet he could do nothing at all.

Clark ran his fingers through Jason's hair, wondering whether he was attempting to soothe the boy... or himself. "Yes, I'm sure he cries, Jason," he answered softly. The clock read ten-fifty and the building was so quiet. "Even grown-ups cry when they're sad."

Jason didn't seem disconcerted by this declaration. He was nodding. "I cry too," he confided in a carrying whisper, even though they were alone. "But only when Mommy won't hear me."

Clark had no reply to this. He didn't know what to say. His instincts as Superman, as Martha Kent's son, made him want to fix everything, to make it better. And he couldn't. Things were all tangled, and he couldn't make things right for Jason.

"I wish that I were Superman!" Jason was saying fiercely, sitting up straight on Clark's thigh. His little fists were clenched, his blue-blue eyes flashing. "Then I would fly and bring Daddy home and make him stay!"

He felt as though there was something in his throat, choking him. Maybe the collar of Superman's suit, underneath Clark Kent's suit. Layers of identity, and sometimes he wasn't quite sure who he really was, when he wasn't at home on his mother's farm.

His voice, when he brought the words out, however, was even enough. "Well... Jason...." Pushing his glasses up, a nervous gesture. Superman was never nervous. Maybe he really was Clark Kent after all. "You know, sometimes there are just some things that even Superman can't do."

Jason looked at him, unbelieving. A child's faith was a powerful thing. But it couldn't change the truth that Clark had just spoken.

"Where's my boy?!"

Clark started, more surprised by the fact that Lois had been able to reach the Bullpen undetected by his super senses than he was by her sudden call.

"Mommy!" Jason slid down off Clark's lap and ran to the slim figure who rounded the corner.

"Hey, baby," she welcomed, swinging him up into her arms. Soon he would be too big for that. "Sorry I'm late." She transferred her attention to Clark, who had half risen from his chair. "Thanks for watching him, Clark."

"Oh, I was-- it was my-- it was no trouble, Lois," he babbled, standing and fidgeting slightly. He didn't really have to play up his nerves; her sharp, intelligent eyes always made him anxious, even though she never really saw him. Besides which, he had a feeling she wouldn't have approved of the conversation he'd been having with Jason.

"Well, good. 'Cause you may need to do it again tomorrow," Lois laughed, her face angular in the dim lighting. Clark just hoped there weren't any natural disasters that Superman would need to deal with. Maybe he should try to rope Jimmy into helping with the babysitting.

"No... no problem. I like watching Jason."

"Well, I hope that you both found something to do."

"Oh y-yeah!"

Lois was already turning away. Clark grabbed the sketchbook quickly, sliding it under a stack of papers on the desk. He met her quick, automatically suspicious glance with a placid look and a small smile. She was, after all, an investigative reporter. Fortunately, he was Clark Kent, and so he never said or did anything interesting. She would let it slide. Jason was already falling asleep on her shoulder, and the clock read eleven-fifteen on the dot.

"Good-night, Clark." Lois offered him a short nod. "See you in the morning."

"Good-night, Lois," Clark replied softly, but she was already striding away, her heels clicking briskly all the way to the elevator.

After a moment's hesitation, Clark retrieved the sketchbook and carefully removed both the drawings. Maybe Richard would like to see Jason's portrait. And there was no way Clark was going to risk Lois seeing the sketch that he had done.

As Lois and her son took the long elevator ride to the ground floor, Clark was headed for another, less obvious exit. He was in a hurry to get home, and Superman could travel faster than Clark Kent.

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