Superman Returns fic---And Jason Makes Four
Wow. Fourteen drafts together with thesis-wrangling, and a month later, I can finally post this thing.
Title: And Jason Makes Four
Rating: PG
Summary: When Superman came back, things changed for Jason and his family.
Disclaimer: I hereby acknowledge that Superman/Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Richard and Jason White, belong to Warner Brothers and DC. Furthermore, I solemnly swear I’m not getting any money out of this. Please don’t sue me.
Many, many thanks to hilaryscribbles, _bounce_ and becs1024 for beta-ing this fic, and for their feedback.
'Sometimes, you’ll feel like an outcast. But you’ll never be alone'
---Superman Returns
Jason knew he was different. “Special,” said his parents, his teachers, and the grown-ups at the Planet, but it meant the same thing to Jason and his friends. For one thing, Maggie was allergic to nuts and couldn’t have peanut butter sandwiches, or Mars bars. Peter had something called haemophilia, took injections, and had to be careful about getting scratched. Charlotte couldn’t have anything with milk in it, and had to be careful about what she ate (people, unfortunately, put milk into a lot of things).
Jason though, was odd. He wasn’t the only one in his grade who had asthma, or had to take eye drops and vitamins, but no one else he knew was so allergic to so many things. Like Maggie, he couldn’t eat Mars Bars or anything with nuts. But she could eat any chocolate that didn’t have nuts in it, and he couldn’t have any, period. Like Charlotte, he had to have the special food set aside for them at Peter’s birthday, and couldn’t eat what everyone else was eating, or even share Peter’s cake. And no one except Superman, he knew, could pick up a piano and throw it if they wanted to.
So Jason had stopped humming “Heart and Soul,” the jazz and Burt Bacharach songs his parents liked to play, and wouldn’t go near the keyboard he got for his birthday. His parents noticed.
“Jason? Shouldn’t you practice that piece you were working on?” His Mom asked. In the evenings before dinner, she would sit with him as he played, and tapped her fingers on the table to help him keep in tune. But Jason was on the floor of their living room, playing with Aqualad. They were busy trying to rescue Aquaman and Mera from Devil Ray, because if they didn’t, they would drown in the air where they couldn’t breathe.
“Jason?” His Dad said, and came to stand beside her.
“He was going to hurt Mom,” was all Jason said. For the first time in days, it got difficult to breathe and he got out his inhaler.
“Hey, hey,” said his Dad. After Jason’s breathing eased, he threw his arms around his Mom’s neck and buried his face on her shoulder, his Dad’s arms around them both. They both said that it was okay, that Mommy was fine, and the man on the boat couldn’t come back to hurt her, Jason, or anyone else. “It’s okay, kiddo. It’s going to be okay.”
But Jason wasn’t sure how. His parents were afraid, though they wouldn’t tell him that. Superman and the police hadn’t caught Luthor, and no one knew where he was. They started reminding him again about what to do with strangers: don’t talk to them, don’t give them your name, don’t let them give you sweets, don’t go with them even if they say they know Mom and Dad.
If they try to grab you, run.
At the Daily Planet, Jason had to stay with his parents, or another grown-up, and Superman-Clark, in his glasses and coats that were a little too big-was added to the list. Jason could hear the skip of Clark’s heartbeat when he went up to say hello, when he sat down to chat with Clark as he typed, when Jason’s Mom came to borrow something from his desk and then, when his Dad sometimes dropped by Clark’s desk to chat and say hello to them both.
He could also hear it get faster whenever someone mentioned Lex Luthor. Which was a lot.
“Jason,” Clark said one day, when Jason was colouring at his desk. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
Jason looked up at him. On the television nearest Clark’s desk, the mayor of Metropolis was talking to a group of reporters, and on another monitor, they showed pictures so people could recognize Luthor and tell the police: without hair, with hair, curly and straight, dark and fair, and pictures of the lady with the pretty dog.
“I just uhm-” Clark pushed his glasses up with his two big fingers, and stammered out: “I just want you to be safe. That’s all.” And that was so odd, Jason thought, because even though Superman saved him, his family and the world, he was the one who had ended up in the hospital.
“You too,” was all Jason said, finally. “Don’t almost die again.”
***
There were other things that changed for Jason, like the fact he heard and saw things he knew he wasn’t supposed to. Sometimes, this was a good thing: he liked it, when he looked down in the murky river and could see the fish swimming beneath. When he walked out into the garden, he could hear the snails curled up inside the spare pots, squelching as they slid out of their shells, to eat the grass in their lawn. But there still were some things that he couldn’t catch: sometimes, asleep, he thought could feel a hand brushing against his face, yet his room would be empty when he opened his eyes. All he saw when he looked out the window was the night sky, and city lights shining across the river.
Other times, Jason wished he didn’t hear or see the things he did. He could see that his Dad was sadder, but he didn’t know why, or know how to fix it. His Mom just said they had to let Dad know that they loved him more often, and he hugged his Dad and told him “I love you” as much as he could, because that was all he knew how to do.
He could also hear grown-ups talk about things he knew he shouldn’t hear, especially when he was supposed to be asleep.
“I’ve tried,” said Superman, one night when Jason was in his room, and the grown-ups were downstairs. “But six billion voices… it’s like listening for a snowflake in a storm.”
“It’s not your fault,” said Jason’s Dad. “We can’t dig up anything either.”
“He could be dead,” said Jason’s Mom
“In an ideal world,” said Superman.
“What if―” Jason’s Mom said, then stopped.
“It won’t happen,” said Superman. And all three adults became quiet, so Jason slipped into the bathroom to get a glass of water and went back to sleep.
Other times, he thought he heard his parents fighting.
We both love you. You know that.
But I can’t protect you.
Richard―
Jason tried to go back to sleep, but couldn’t. So one night, he simply got up, walked to their room, and knocked.
“What’s the matter?” Jason asked right away, when his Dad opened it.
“Nothing,” said his Dad, but Jason could hear the beat of his heart. “Nothing’s wrong, kiddo.”
“Sweetie, it’s late,” said Mom. “Why don’t you try to back to sleep?”
“I can’t,” Jason said. “I can hear you fighting.” And he walked back to his room.
But he woke up again, to feel a warm hand against his cheek, and then a soft breeze. He got up and ran to his open window. “You could come talk to us, you know!” he yelled aloud, and slammed the window shut.
***
Eventually, Superman did come to talk to Jason. And not when Jason was asleep: he knocked on their window, he came into their house like any other visitor, and he asked if he would like to fly.
“But I have homework,” Jason said unhappily, and looked down at his half-finished question-and-answer on his textbook.
“This is more important,” said Jason’s Dad.
“I promise not to keep you up too late,” said Superman.
“Meh, homework,” said Jason’s Mom. “I’m going to call the school tomorrow and say you’re sick. You can stay with us at the Planet all day tomorrow, do your homework there, and skip gym. What do you think about that, kiddo?”
“That it won’t be fair to the other kids?”
“Don’t argue with your Mom,” said Superman and Jason’s Dad. And that was that.
They took Jason’s inhaler, a sweater and scarf so Jason wouldn’t catch cold and Superman took him flying. Flying for fun, and not away from danger. Up and down the Metropolis river, far above the glittering houses and boats, above the clouds, then down so Jason could touch the cloud mist and see his own reflection. And when they came back, Superman and Jason’s parents sat down together to talk to him. Jason could see that it was a very serious grown-up talk, and he sat back to listen.
Jason was different, they told him, and this was why: he was one those kids who had two dads, and the only one in the world who had Superman as one of them. When he grew older, he would be able to things his classmates couldn’t, they all would need be careful so people wouldn’t know, and Superman would help.
“Is our family going to change?” Jason asked. He remembered Maggie, whose parents divorced last year, who now had two dads, and was still upset her Daddy didn’t live in her house anymore.
“Yes,” said Jason’s Dad.
“No,” said Superman at the same time, and they both looked at each other and Jason’s Mom looked up at heaven.
“A bit of both, munchkin,” she said. “Superman will come visit sometimes, and we’ll spend some time together. But that’s about it.”
“So I have two Dads but I won’t have to choose?”
Everyone shook their heads. “No sweetheart,” said Jason’s Mom. “You have all three of us. You don’t have to choose.”
“Oh, good,” was all he said.
“Jason,” said Superman, before he left “Will you let me listen to you play when I come back?”
“Yeah,” Jason said. Then he bit his lip. “I need to practice.”
Superman looked sad, but he nodded. “Take all the time you need. I’ll always be here.” He bent down, his knuckles brushing against Jason’s cheek, and stayed there for a while.
“Goodnight, Jason,” he said finally, and then flew up and away.
***
The next day, Jason’s parents brought out the keyboard again. Jason didn’t play, but he sat tucked up against his Mom as she played-not “Heart and Soul,” but something else-bright and happy, and a little sad, like bubbles popping up in the air. “I’m out of practice,” she said, but smacked Jason’s Dad when he said he couldn’t tell, with Jason squished between them.
It would be a long time, a year, before Jason would touch the keyboard again, when Superman would be able to come to Jason’s house, and listen to him play. But Jason did, and if he sometimes thought of the man on the boat, and if his parents thought of Luthor, there were other things now that crowded them out. He would think of flying with Superman instead, of his Mom and Dad holding hands and calling each other names in the office and at home, of talking to Clark as he drew on his desk.
Jason knew he was different. But that didn’t mean he was alone.
Author’s notes:
1) Many thanks to blonde_heroine, pure_trance, andliberateourtime for answering my questions regarding asthma and allergies. Any mistakes in their depiction are mine, and please feel free to point them out to me.
2) I’ve-taken some liberties in interpreting the scenes where young!Clark discovers he can fly―and that he doesn’t need his glasses anymore. Jason’s moment of sudden strength on the boat was meant to parallel that scene, but if we’re going by Superman I and II as “vague history” to Superman Returns, then Clark had superstrength as a toddler but still had bad eyesight in his teenage years. Likewise, I’m going by the idea Jason will have a similar pattern of development. For the moment, he still has asthma and his allergies.
3) Yes, the title is partly inspired by the children’s book “And Tango Makes Three.” *g* It seemed to fit: Jason is dealing with the addition of one more adult as another parent, and it’s for his sake that all Clark, Lois and Richard are able to band together.
Title: And Jason Makes Four
Rating: PG
Summary: When Superman came back, things changed for Jason and his family.
Disclaimer: I hereby acknowledge that Superman/Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Richard and Jason White, belong to Warner Brothers and DC. Furthermore, I solemnly swear I’m not getting any money out of this. Please don’t sue me.
Many, many thanks to hilaryscribbles, _bounce_ and becs1024 for beta-ing this fic, and for their feedback.
'Sometimes, you’ll feel like an outcast. But you’ll never be alone'
---Superman Returns
Jason knew he was different. “Special,” said his parents, his teachers, and the grown-ups at the Planet, but it meant the same thing to Jason and his friends. For one thing, Maggie was allergic to nuts and couldn’t have peanut butter sandwiches, or Mars bars. Peter had something called haemophilia, took injections, and had to be careful about getting scratched. Charlotte couldn’t have anything with milk in it, and had to be careful about what she ate (people, unfortunately, put milk into a lot of things).
Jason though, was odd. He wasn’t the only one in his grade who had asthma, or had to take eye drops and vitamins, but no one else he knew was so allergic to so many things. Like Maggie, he couldn’t eat Mars Bars or anything with nuts. But she could eat any chocolate that didn’t have nuts in it, and he couldn’t have any, period. Like Charlotte, he had to have the special food set aside for them at Peter’s birthday, and couldn’t eat what everyone else was eating, or even share Peter’s cake. And no one except Superman, he knew, could pick up a piano and throw it if they wanted to.
So Jason had stopped humming “Heart and Soul,” the jazz and Burt Bacharach songs his parents liked to play, and wouldn’t go near the keyboard he got for his birthday. His parents noticed.
“Jason? Shouldn’t you practice that piece you were working on?” His Mom asked. In the evenings before dinner, she would sit with him as he played, and tapped her fingers on the table to help him keep in tune. But Jason was on the floor of their living room, playing with Aqualad. They were busy trying to rescue Aquaman and Mera from Devil Ray, because if they didn’t, they would drown in the air where they couldn’t breathe.
“Jason?” His Dad said, and came to stand beside her.
“He was going to hurt Mom,” was all Jason said. For the first time in days, it got difficult to breathe and he got out his inhaler.
“Hey, hey,” said his Dad. After Jason’s breathing eased, he threw his arms around his Mom’s neck and buried his face on her shoulder, his Dad’s arms around them both. They both said that it was okay, that Mommy was fine, and the man on the boat couldn’t come back to hurt her, Jason, or anyone else. “It’s okay, kiddo. It’s going to be okay.”
But Jason wasn’t sure how. His parents were afraid, though they wouldn’t tell him that. Superman and the police hadn’t caught Luthor, and no one knew where he was. They started reminding him again about what to do with strangers: don’t talk to them, don’t give them your name, don’t let them give you sweets, don’t go with them even if they say they know Mom and Dad.
If they try to grab you, run.
At the Daily Planet, Jason had to stay with his parents, or another grown-up, and Superman-Clark, in his glasses and coats that were a little too big-was added to the list. Jason could hear the skip of Clark’s heartbeat when he went up to say hello, when he sat down to chat with Clark as he typed, when Jason’s Mom came to borrow something from his desk and then, when his Dad sometimes dropped by Clark’s desk to chat and say hello to them both.
He could also hear it get faster whenever someone mentioned Lex Luthor. Which was a lot.
“Jason,” Clark said one day, when Jason was colouring at his desk. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
Jason looked up at him. On the television nearest Clark’s desk, the mayor of Metropolis was talking to a group of reporters, and on another monitor, they showed pictures so people could recognize Luthor and tell the police: without hair, with hair, curly and straight, dark and fair, and pictures of the lady with the pretty dog.
“I just uhm-” Clark pushed his glasses up with his two big fingers, and stammered out: “I just want you to be safe. That’s all.” And that was so odd, Jason thought, because even though Superman saved him, his family and the world, he was the one who had ended up in the hospital.
“You too,” was all Jason said, finally. “Don’t almost die again.”
***
There were other things that changed for Jason, like the fact he heard and saw things he knew he wasn’t supposed to. Sometimes, this was a good thing: he liked it, when he looked down in the murky river and could see the fish swimming beneath. When he walked out into the garden, he could hear the snails curled up inside the spare pots, squelching as they slid out of their shells, to eat the grass in their lawn. But there still were some things that he couldn’t catch: sometimes, asleep, he thought could feel a hand brushing against his face, yet his room would be empty when he opened his eyes. All he saw when he looked out the window was the night sky, and city lights shining across the river.
Other times, Jason wished he didn’t hear or see the things he did. He could see that his Dad was sadder, but he didn’t know why, or know how to fix it. His Mom just said they had to let Dad know that they loved him more often, and he hugged his Dad and told him “I love you” as much as he could, because that was all he knew how to do.
He could also hear grown-ups talk about things he knew he shouldn’t hear, especially when he was supposed to be asleep.
“I’ve tried,” said Superman, one night when Jason was in his room, and the grown-ups were downstairs. “But six billion voices… it’s like listening for a snowflake in a storm.”
“It’s not your fault,” said Jason’s Dad. “We can’t dig up anything either.”
“He could be dead,” said Jason’s Mom
“In an ideal world,” said Superman.
“What if―” Jason’s Mom said, then stopped.
“It won’t happen,” said Superman. And all three adults became quiet, so Jason slipped into the bathroom to get a glass of water and went back to sleep.
Other times, he thought he heard his parents fighting.
We both love you. You know that.
But I can’t protect you.
Richard―
Jason tried to go back to sleep, but couldn’t. So one night, he simply got up, walked to their room, and knocked.
“What’s the matter?” Jason asked right away, when his Dad opened it.
“Nothing,” said his Dad, but Jason could hear the beat of his heart. “Nothing’s wrong, kiddo.”
“Sweetie, it’s late,” said Mom. “Why don’t you try to back to sleep?”
“I can’t,” Jason said. “I can hear you fighting.” And he walked back to his room.
But he woke up again, to feel a warm hand against his cheek, and then a soft breeze. He got up and ran to his open window. “You could come talk to us, you know!” he yelled aloud, and slammed the window shut.
***
Eventually, Superman did come to talk to Jason. And not when Jason was asleep: he knocked on their window, he came into their house like any other visitor, and he asked if he would like to fly.
“But I have homework,” Jason said unhappily, and looked down at his half-finished question-and-answer on his textbook.
“This is more important,” said Jason’s Dad.
“I promise not to keep you up too late,” said Superman.
“Meh, homework,” said Jason’s Mom. “I’m going to call the school tomorrow and say you’re sick. You can stay with us at the Planet all day tomorrow, do your homework there, and skip gym. What do you think about that, kiddo?”
“That it won’t be fair to the other kids?”
“Don’t argue with your Mom,” said Superman and Jason’s Dad. And that was that.
They took Jason’s inhaler, a sweater and scarf so Jason wouldn’t catch cold and Superman took him flying. Flying for fun, and not away from danger. Up and down the Metropolis river, far above the glittering houses and boats, above the clouds, then down so Jason could touch the cloud mist and see his own reflection. And when they came back, Superman and Jason’s parents sat down together to talk to him. Jason could see that it was a very serious grown-up talk, and he sat back to listen.
Jason was different, they told him, and this was why: he was one those kids who had two dads, and the only one in the world who had Superman as one of them. When he grew older, he would be able to things his classmates couldn’t, they all would need be careful so people wouldn’t know, and Superman would help.
“Is our family going to change?” Jason asked. He remembered Maggie, whose parents divorced last year, who now had two dads, and was still upset her Daddy didn’t live in her house anymore.
“Yes,” said Jason’s Dad.
“No,” said Superman at the same time, and they both looked at each other and Jason’s Mom looked up at heaven.
“A bit of both, munchkin,” she said. “Superman will come visit sometimes, and we’ll spend some time together. But that’s about it.”
“So I have two Dads but I won’t have to choose?”
Everyone shook their heads. “No sweetheart,” said Jason’s Mom. “You have all three of us. You don’t have to choose.”
“Oh, good,” was all he said.
“Jason,” said Superman, before he left “Will you let me listen to you play when I come back?”
“Yeah,” Jason said. Then he bit his lip. “I need to practice.”
Superman looked sad, but he nodded. “Take all the time you need. I’ll always be here.” He bent down, his knuckles brushing against Jason’s cheek, and stayed there for a while.
“Goodnight, Jason,” he said finally, and then flew up and away.
***
The next day, Jason’s parents brought out the keyboard again. Jason didn’t play, but he sat tucked up against his Mom as she played-not “Heart and Soul,” but something else-bright and happy, and a little sad, like bubbles popping up in the air. “I’m out of practice,” she said, but smacked Jason’s Dad when he said he couldn’t tell, with Jason squished between them.
It would be a long time, a year, before Jason would touch the keyboard again, when Superman would be able to come to Jason’s house, and listen to him play. But Jason did, and if he sometimes thought of the man on the boat, and if his parents thought of Luthor, there were other things now that crowded them out. He would think of flying with Superman instead, of his Mom and Dad holding hands and calling each other names in the office and at home, of talking to Clark as he drew on his desk.
Jason knew he was different. But that didn’t mean he was alone.
Author’s notes:
1) Many thanks to blonde_heroine, pure_trance, andliberateourtime for answering my questions regarding asthma and allergies. Any mistakes in their depiction are mine, and please feel free to point them out to me.
2) I’ve-taken some liberties in interpreting the scenes where young!Clark discovers he can fly―and that he doesn’t need his glasses anymore. Jason’s moment of sudden strength on the boat was meant to parallel that scene, but if we’re going by Superman I and II as “vague history” to Superman Returns, then Clark had superstrength as a toddler but still had bad eyesight in his teenage years. Likewise, I’m going by the idea Jason will have a similar pattern of development. For the moment, he still has asthma and his allergies.
3) Yes, the title is partly inspired by the children’s book “And Tango Makes Three.” *g* It seemed to fit: Jason is dealing with the addition of one more adult as another parent, and it’s for his sake that all Clark, Lois and Richard are able to band together.