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Chapter Text

Considering the week he had just had; Clark Kent was secretly very relieved that his weekend was shaping up to be unusually quiet on the Superman front. Maybe the regular rota of criminals and intergalactic nuisances were taking a few days to recover from the entire city nearly being split in half, or perhaps even they felt bad for the residents of Metropolis who were facing the daunting prospect of rebuilding and had decided to give them a few days to recover before resuming their illicit activities. Whatever the reason for the brief respite, Clark was grateful for it. Even Superman deserved a lie-in after saving the world; especially considering he hadn’t gotten off duty until the early hours of the morning, anyway.

After making sure that the dimensional rift was closed, Lex Luthor was taken by the proper authorities, and briefly reuniting with Lois, Superman had spent the rest of Friday evening working with the other members of the Justice Gang (despite that not being their official name, Clark had taken to calling them that in his head – although he personally thought Justice Club had a better ring to it) and local first responders to ensure that Metropolis was safe for its residents to return. Mostly, this had entailed shoring up foundations on fallen buildings and cleaning up dangerous debris. By midnight, even the all-powerful Superman was feeling the ache of exhaustion in all of his limbs – just that morning he had barely recovered from the worst case of kryptonite poisoning he’d ever experienced, then nearly been choked to death by the Engineer’s insidious nanites and had his eyes burned by his evil clone’s laser vision; even for a Kryptonian under a yellow sun, that was a lot to just shrug off.

When Clark had staggered under the weight of a concrete pillar he would normally have been able to lift with a pinkie, Michael – better known to the public as Mr Terrific – came to his aid and helped him set the offending material down in a safer location. “Y’know, having closed the rift and all, I think we’ve done more than enough for tonight,” Michael had said, his face impassive as ever behind his mask.

“Yeah, you must be exhausted,” said Clark, watching as Guy created a giant glowing green shovel to clean up some overturned pieces of asphalt. “You and the rest of the gang should go and get some rest. I’m fine, so I’ll keep going here.”

“You know normally, I could not care less what you do but given that you were half dead less than twenty-four hours ago, I think maybe it’s time for you to go and take a super-nap, or whatever it is you do,” Michael replied, somehow managing to look incredibly sardonic without the use of his eyebrows.

“I actually sleep like a normal person, thanks,” said Clark, rolling his eyes. “I’m pretty sure my bed is occupied by Krypto right now though, and he needs the rest more than I do. He sure was helpful today!”

“Man, you are way too soft on that damn dog. You do realize that thing is borderline feral?”

“Yeah, he’s kind of like his owner in that way,” Clark said with a chuckle.

“The flying dog that’s dressed up exactly like you doesn’t belong to you?” The T-mask did nothing to hide the deeply sceptical judgement Michael was aiming Clark’s way.

“It’s kind of a temporary foster situation… he belongs to my cousin. She’s um, not very good with boundaries and discipline. The cape was my idea though,” said Clark, entirely too earnestly.

“That somehow explains everything and nothing, and I don’t think I ever want to meet your cousin. The dog is bad enough. Anyway, insane super dog aside, why don’t you go cuddle up with Lois? All this will still be here tomorrow,” Michael said, gesturing to the disarray around them.

“People will start returning soon, and it’s not safe for them yet – I can do more than any city clean up crew, I’ll rest later,” said Clark with finality.

Almost as if summoned by his words, a single car suddenly appeared on one of the damaged bridges they had been working on earlier. The bridge was structurally sound, but had massive holes in the asphalt and the railings were mostly gone. With his energy at 100%, Clark would have been able to tell the moment that the car got into trouble but as it was, he missed the sound of the tires slipping on the gravel and only realized what was happening as the car began to careen towards the unprotected edge of the bridge. Clark shot into the air and swooped towards the bridge, but he wasn’t quite fast enough – by the time he got there, the car was already falling off the bridge and towards the churning river below.

Clark angled himself downwards and caught up with the car, managing to get underneath it and stop its trajectory before it met the water. He had caught the car by its front and ended up staring into the driver’s face as she screamed. As he slowly lifted the car back towards the bridge, finding it a much more difficult task than usual due to his exhaustion, he caught the moment the driver realized she was safe. She stopped screaming and stared at him in complete shock as he gently placed the car back onto solid ground. Clark let go of the car and made his way around to the driver’s side door, gently knocking on it. The women opened it and climbed out.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” said Clark.

She nodded shakily. “Thank you, Superman. I guess that’s two times you’ve saved my life today, if you count stopping whatever it was that was going to eat the city.”

“I’m just doing what I can,” Clark replied with a small smile.

“Inner city residents aren’t supposed to be coming back yet, but my daughter was in Bakerline at a friend’s place, and I was made to evacuate without her. I was so worried about her, I was stupid and thought I’d be able to get through without anyone noticing. If I’d have gotten hurt, it would have been my own fault,” the woman explained, trembling as she leant against her car.

“I can help you get to your daughter, if you’d like,” Clark offered.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, Superman, not after everything you’ve already done for this city,” replied the woman. “I’m so sorry anyone here ever doubted you.”

“It’s really no trouble, and I’d rather know you were safe,” Clark said, choosing not to respond to her comment about Lex Luthor’s smear campaign against him. Clark still hadn’t had time to process all his feelings on the matter.

The woman agreed with little more prompting, and at Clark’s insistence, climbed back into her car. Clark took hold of the vehicle again, stumbling a little as he took its full weight. Then he quickly took to the sky again, arriving at his destination remarkably quickly despite the heavy load he was carrying. He set the car down gently on an undamaged road and knocked on the window again.

“Drive safe, ma’am,” he said, once the driver had rolled her window down.

“I owe you and so does the entirety of Metropolis. We shunned you for something that wasn’t even your fault, when all you’ve ever done is help us. You didn’t have to come and save us again today, but you did,” she said.

“No one owes me anything, I’m just doing my bit,” said Clark, his tone genuine but unable to completely mask the exhaustion he was feeling.

“Well, I think you might owe it to yourself to make sure you’re looked after as well – you look exhausted Superman. You’ve already saved the city, and I don’t think anyone else will be as stupid as I was and come back right now. Go and get some rest,” said the driver, looking at Clark with a compassion that the people he rescued usually didn’t have time to grace him with.

“You’re the second person to say that to me tonight,” said Clark, as he drifted into the air, ready to return to the Justice Gang and the clean-up work.

“Maybe you should listen!” the driver replied as she got back into her car and began to drive away. Clark rose higher in the air and watched her drive away until he was sure she was safely in the undamaged confines of Bakerline, and then headed back towards the damaged part of the city he had left Michael and the others working in.

Clark landed, stumbling a few paces as he touched the ground just a few feet from where the rest of the Justice Gang had convened, seemingly all ready to throw in the towel for the evening. For once, Clark was ready to join them.

“You got in one last annoyingly heroic act of the day; now will you go and have a nap or do some of that freaky photosynthesis?” said Michael, turning to face Clark.

“Yeah, I think Metropolis is in good hands for now,” said Clark, looking around at the city clean up crew that had assembled where the heroes had left off. “Also, I’m not a plant, I don’t even have plant related powers – stop calling it photosynthesis!”

Before Clark could try to explain how his powers actually worked for the millionth time (his friends never listened properly), the Justice Gang all took to the air and made to return to their headquarters without much more of a goodbye. Clark shook his head, used to his sometimes-teammates attitudes, and began the trek towards Lois’ apartment, where he knew she would be waiting for him – hopefully with another mug of hot cocoa; somehow, it always tasted better when Lois made it.

Chapter Text

Metropolis was the kind of city that knew how to rebuild and recover – it had to be, when things like interdimensional imps were such a common occurrence that no one even batted an eye when one showed up and caused havoc in the night sky over the city centre. Being split in half by Lex Luthor’s pocket universe and almost crumbling into a black hole was a new one, even by Metropolis standards, but even so the locals trickled home in waves in the days that followed the near disaster.

As the people returned, the city quickly came back to life. Immediately following the incident, there had been a massive effort by local authorities and superheroes alike to bring the city back to a safely inhabitable baseline; this had mostly meant cleaning up dangerous debris and ensuring that no buildings were in danger of imminent collapse. It wasn’t perfect and it was unlikely the city would ever quite return to its former state, but considering just how much damage had been done, Metropolis was well on the way to recovery.

Some of the first residents to return to the status quo were the street food vendors; making their living out on the bustling streets of Metropolis come rain or shine, alien invasion or ordinary day, these locals were used to everything that came their way. It was no surprise, then, that on the Monday morning after Lex Luthor’s pocket universe nearly ate the city, Clark Kent walked past the usual assortment of mouth-watering smells and familiar, friendly faces – all but one, that is. There was a noticeable gap in the line-up, where ‘Mali’s Falafel’ cart used to stand.

Having noticed the space, Clark stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. Someone ran straight into his back, stumbling before skirting around him with an irritated comment muttered under their breath. Clark paid them no mind, forgetting to offer his usual awkward apologies, too distracted by the sudden, painful reminder of something he had been trying desperately not to think about.
Clark knew, of course, that Mali’s Falafel would never resume trade because Malik ‘Mali’ Ali was dead – because of him. Mali was not an unfortunate victim of the dimensional rift that nearly consumed the city, or even someone that Superman hadn’t been able to save in time. He had been killed, shot point-blank in the head during a twisted game of Russian roulette, for the crime of being kind.

Mali had once given Superman free food after he had witnessed the hero save a woman’s life, then seemed to make it a point to help where he could whenever he was in Superman’s vicinity; like helping the hero up when he had been injured and knocked down during a battle, just earlier that week. He hadn’t known him well, but Clark had genuinely liked Mali and appreciated the man’s kindness towards him. When you were an almost invincible alien superhero, people tended to assume you were above needing things like help or even basic empathy, and Clark had greatly appreciated the fact that Mali had seen not only his heroism, but his humanity too.

The man’s basic human decency towards Superman was ultimately what got him killed, however. His kindness had been noticed by the evil that was Lex Luthor and was exploited not only to punish Mali for actions that Luthor viewed as unforgivable but to further punish Superman, too. Right up until his very last moment, Mali had been unfailing in his kindness; he had spent his last terrified breaths reassuring Superman that even at this great a price, he didn’t regret his decision to be kind – that it had, in fact, been an honour. He had died trying to help one last time.

Unaware how much time had passed since he stopped walking, Clark snapped back into his body when he realized someone was trying to talk to him.

“Are you okay, mister?” said the small, dark-skinned older man hovering awkwardly at Clark’s elbow.

“Yes, yes, I… I’m fine, I…,” Clark trailed off, sniffling slightly when he realized his nose was running. He had been crying and hadn’t even noticed. He hastily swiped his hand over his face, catching on his glasses and awkwardly readjusting them, trying not to bring attention to his few tears.

“I’ve seen you before, you walk past most days – you work at the newspaper?” asked the man, tactfully not mentioning the still-wet lines under Clark’s glasses.

“At the Daily Planet, yeah,” said Clark, still staring at the break in the line of vendors. He couldn’t bring himself to look away. He had looked away too quickly when Mali died, unable to cope with the horror. He couldn’t do that to him again; he could at least look at the place where Mali should have been.

“Then maybe you have heard what happened to my friend Mali,” the man said, gently, gesturing to the empty space. “It is not being reported on properly, too much other news this week, but surely the newspapers must know by now.”

“His… his body was found in Lex Luthor’s pocket universe, along with all the other hostages,” Clark said, closing his eyes in an effort to stop himself from picturing Mali’s last moments again.

“Mali was a good man, I do not know what he did to get himself mixed up with Lex Luthor’s sort, but I know that he did not deserve to die,” said the man.

“No, he didn’t,” Clark said, his broad shoulders sagging suddenly as though under an extremely heavy burden.

“You knew him, then? I thought you might, you looked as though you had lost a friend, too,” the man said, kindly.

Clark breathed in deeply, sighing before he replied. “I didn’t know him well, but he was kind to me at a time when few others were.”

“That sounds like Mali. How he made a living I will never know – always handing out free food to people who ‘looked like they needed it’,” the man said, a sad expression on his face. “This city has been through a lot this week, but perhaps the loss of a soul like Mali will be felt more deeply than any interdimensional nonsense. That is front page news, I think.”

“You’re absolutely right, Mr…?” Clark trailed off, realizing he hadn’t properly introduced himself to this man who he had now shared a connection with.

“Kumar, but you can call me Himesh,” said the man, holding out a hand.

Clark shook it, carefully. “I’m Clark Kent,” he said, smiling slightly.

“Well met, Mr Kent. Perhaps you will quote me in your story,” said Himesh.

“What story?” Clark replied, tilting his head curiously.

“The story you are going to write about our friend, Mali.”

“I, well, I,” Clark stumbled over his words, unable to deny that the idea to honour Mali and his heroic sacrifice in a news piece himself had just occurred to him.

“You know where to find me if you need another quote,” Himesh said, a twinkle in his eye as he patted Clark on the upper arm, then walked away and returned to his own food cart.

Clark took a moment to breathe and shake himself out of his maudlin thoughts before he took off down the street again, walking at a pace slightly too fast for the average human as he rushed to work. He said hello to the doorman, and got into the elevator, taking advantage of the moment alone to scrub his hands over his face and rid himself of any lasting effects from his morning’s minor breakdown.

By the time he made his way through the bullpen and to his desk, he had his usual charmingly awkward mid-western farm boy smile in place and felt confident that none of his coworkers, except Lois who had the unnerving ability to read him like book, would be none the wiser to his inner turmoil. As difficult as it would be for him, Clark had decided he had to be the one to write about Mali. He deserved to be commemorated properly, and Clark was the only one who knew what had really happened. He would have to be careful about finding sources to corroborate information Clark Kent had no business having, but he was used to that with the Superman articles he regularly wrote.

Lois, who had been busily adding a medically inadvisable amount of sugar to her morning coffee, sat down in her chair and rolled towards Clark, making uncomfortably direct eye contact with him.
“You look like someone kicked your puppy, what’s wrong, Smallville?” she said, rolling to a stop about a foot away from his desk.

“Well first of all, I wouldn’t just be sitting here if someone had kicked my puppy and second of all, this is just my thinking face,” Clark replied, writing some basic notes so he could pitch his story to Perry, not wanting to discuss his feelings yet.

Lois raised a single eyebrow, somehow perfectly conveying her lack of belief in his statement with the minute movement but was prevented from saying anything else by the loud arrival of Jimmy. With Lois distracted by their co-worker, Clark turned back to his writing but was quickly distracted again when his super sensitive ears picked up the sounds of something happening on the street below the office.

“I’ll be right back,” Clark muttered vaguely, then took off down the hall towards the bathroom, changing into his Superman outfit at super-speed once he was alone, then opened and jumped out the window.

Arriving quickly at the location of the disturbance he had heard, Clark realized that he was back where he stopped this morning, right where Mali’s Falafel used to be. A large piece of the roof from one of the buildings across the way had come loose, and was teetering dangerously, threatening to fall and smash into the street below. Small pieces had already rained down and someone had been hit, sitting on the curb opposite, cradling their injured arm.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” Clark asked, floating down beside the injured woman.

“Oh, Superman, thank god, yes I’m okay but please do something about that!” said the woman, pointing with her uninjured arm at the threatening debris that Clark had already identified.
Just as Clark was preparing to fly up and grab the broken roofing, gravity decided it was done playing games, and the heavy piece of concrete began plummeting towards the ground. It was headed straight for the line of food vendors, most of whom had backed away when the first pieces fell and the woman was injured. A few stragglers that were trying to pack up and move their carts were still standing right in the trajectory of the debris, however.

Clark put on a boost of superspeed and shot towards the falling chunk of rock, successfully grabbing it and pulling it upwards with only a second to spare before it would have hit one of the vendors. He carried the chunk a safe distance away from anyone and placed it down in an unoccupied parking space.

It seemed to have been a relatively simply mission, as far as Superman adventures went, and Clark was prepared to quickly check for injuries and then make his way back to work – it was one of those nicely timed Superman outings where no one would have even noticed Clark was gone, yet. Clark liked those, because he never enjoyed having to come up with an excuse to explain his absence – it felt a little too much like lying, sometimes.

“Superman, you saved my life,” said a familiar voice, a figure appearing suddenly behind him.

“Are you injured?” Clark said, as he turned to face Himesh Kumar, his new friend from this morning.

“No, thanks to you,” replied the kindly man. “You have saved this city many times, and I have always been grateful for that, but now I am in your debt.”

“I will always save the people of this city, as long as I am able – no debt owed, ever,” said Clark.

“Please Superman, let me repay you in some way,” Himesh insisted. “Perhaps I can offer you some lunch?”

The offer reminded Clark sharply of Mali again, but this time the pain came with a feeling of warmth, as well. “No, thank you. But you have reminded me of a friend, who offered me similar kindness. Malik Ali, maybe you knew him? He worked nearby.”

“Yes, I knew him. He always spoke of you highly, Superman, but I never quite believed his stories that you were really friends,” Himesh smiled, sadly.

“Malik Ali was more of a hero than I will ever be, and if you want to do me a favour, please carry on his legacy of kindness,” said Clark, his strong Superman voice wavering ever so slightly.

“I will do my best, Superman,” replied Himesh.

Clark inclined his head in gratitude, then took off into the sky, circling upwards and out of sight before he carefully made his way back into the Daily Planet building to resume his normal workday. Luckily, the bathroom he usually made his super-escapes through was empty still and Clark quickly changed back into his ordinary clothes and returned to his desk. Lois caught his eye and smirked at him, very aware of exactly what he had been off doing.

“How many times a day do you piss, man?” said Jimmy, turning around to face Clark across the walkway between their desks. “I swear, every time I turn around, you’re coming back from the bathroom.”

“Hydration is important, Jimmy,” said Clark, not in the mood to engage in their usual banter. Jimmy didn’t seem offended and turned back to his own desk. Clark felt some of the tension leave his shoulders as he sat down and resumed the story he had started before Superman had been needed, ready to write about the brave actions of a true hero.

Chapter Text

Despite being the fastest typist at the Daily Planet (and probably the world, although Clark usually tried not to brag about these sorts of things), the Malik ‘Mali’ Ali piece was taking Clark longer than usual. It wasn’t that he couldn’t get the words out, it was more that every time he began writing, he couldn’t stop himself from relieving the man’s death again. In that moment, Clark had felt more helpless than he ever had in his life – not even because of the kryptonite poisoning that left him unable to stand and barely able to breathe, but because Mali had died with a reassurance to Superman on his lips, and there had been absolutely nothing Clark could do about it.

Perhaps it was something of an unhealthy coping mechanism, but every time that Clark relived that horrible, helpless moment he would stop writing and dash out to the nearest available crisis, no matter how big or small. Anything to remind himself that despite what he saw as one of his greatest failures, he was still able to help people. A few times he even found himself flying around almost aimlessly, just listening for the sounds of something Superman could help with. Clark knew that Lois had caught onto his game when he left the bullpen at the Planet for the second time in an hour, just to help a child get a kite down from a tree.

“Nature calls, huh? Weird, since I haven’t seen you eat or drink anything all day,” Lois remarked from where she was sitting on the edge of Clark’s desk, having clearly been waiting for him.

“I had to… make a phone call. It’s just been a busy day at my side hustle, that’s all,” said Clark, looking around furtively to make sure none of their colleagues were listening in, before sitting down at his desk.

Lois raised an eyebrow. “That’s also weird, since I’ve been watching the incoming news and the only event that could have required your special services was a minor car accident at 9am.”

“Uh…,” Clark quickly ran out excuses. He never liked having to lie about his sudden disappearances anyway, but trying to lie to Lois when she not only knew his secret but knew Clark himself well enough to know exactly what he was up to was a special degree of pointless.

“You don’t always have to be him, you know. Not all heroes wear capes, you know – sometimes they run a falafel cart, sometimes they’re even journalists,” said Lois, surprisingly earnestly. She had leaned in close to Clark and was almost whispering.

“I always think you’re a hero, Lois. You’re the one who saves me, not just last week but every day,” Clark said, softly.

“Okay first of all that’s disgusting, why would you say something so ridiculously sappy in the workplace?” Lois replied, teasingly. “Secondly, I meant you, you big oaf. Sometimes just being Clark the reporter who can tell an important story is enough.”

“You read my draft?” said Clark.

“I did. It’s good – and you know that’s not something I say lightly,” said Lois. “Getting this story out there is the most heroic thing you can do right now.”

“It doesn’t feel like enough,” said Clark, his shoulders dropping heavily.

“Nothing will, but it’s something – it’s a reminder that it’s not always up to gods and monsters, sometimes an ordinary person can be every bit as much of a hero as Superman. That goes for you too, Clark.”

“It’s just hard to sit here and write about the person I failed to save, especially when I know there are other people out there that I could be saving right now,” Clark said, quietly.

“There are other ways to save people, Clark. It doesn’t always have to be physical. Maybe this piece will remind our community that they can save each other, too,” said Lois, patting Clark’s shoulder as she got up from his desk.

As she walked away, Clark opened his laptop and began writing again. Finally, he felt able to get it finished. Mali and the people of Metropolis deserved that much.

Chapter Text

Clark had stayed late at the Planet to finish his piece on Mali. Once Lois had helped him get into the right headspace to write the story, it was like the words just started pouring out. Jimmy and the others had left work hours before, and even Lois had eventually admitted defeat and returned to her own apartment, leaving Clark the last one at the office. Clark knew he just needed to get this piece out there, and if he got it done tonight then it would go through edits and proofing tomorrow and be published as soon as possible.

By the time Clark had added his finishing touches, the clock on the wall read 9:57. Clark didn’t need to sleep the same way humans did, and this was far from the latest night he’d ever had – Superman couldn’t exactly keep regular office hours – but it was the latest he’d ever stayed in the office. Clark wasn’t even totally sure if he was allowed to be in the building this late, but he was glad he had stayed to finish the piece. The moment the last words had been written, Clark had felt a tension drain from his shoulders.

He would probably still have nightmares about what happened to Mali for a long time to come, and he would never fully relieve himself of the guilt he still felt for not being able to save the man who had done nothing but show him kindness, but at least now Clark felt like he had done something. Clark quickly printed a copy of his story, shut his laptop and dropped the fresh pages on Perry’s desk so his boss could read them in the morning. Just as Clark was gathering up all the various items he had strewn around his desk and shoving them into his work satchel, his super-hearing picked up the sound of a familiar voice trying to get his attention from somewhere on the other side of the city.

“Superman! Come and get your god damn dog!” That was the incredibly irate tone of Mr Terrific, the irritability coming across loud and clear even from so far away.

“Ah, jeez,” Clark said to himself, internally cringing. He had gotten so wrapped up in his writing that he had completely forgotten about Krypto, who he had left at the Hall of Justice with Michael – Mr Terrific – earlier that morning. With the Fortress of Solitude in a state of disrepair after everything Lex Luthor (and Krypto himself) had done to it, and the Superman Robots still down, Clark hadn’t felt comfortable leaving the chaotic canine there alone. He had felt it a better idea to temporarily leave Krypto with a capable dog sitter, one that had powers and could control the wily animal if need be. Michael had incredibly begrudgingly agreed to the favour, under the strict conditions that Clark would come and get the dog as soon as his shift was over and that Clark now owed Michael unlimited favours forever, no questions asked. Clark had readily agreed, as he couldn’t think of a single time that he wouldn’t be willing to do a favour for a friend, anyway.

Since he was alone in the office, Clark used his superspeed and changed out of his work clothes and into his Superman suit. He bundled his work clothes into his satchel as well and flew out of an open window. Michael’s voice hadn’t sounded like it was coming from the direction of the Hall of Justice, so Clark listened carefully for a moment, picking out the sound of Michael’s heartbeat amongst the millions of other sounds he could always hear (yes, he knew what all his friend’s heartbeats sounded like – it wasn’t any weirder than Michael putting trackers in his blood) and quickly headed towards it.

Clark landed in the middle of a large park, not very far from his own apartment. Maybe Krypto had escaped, and was just trying to return to the place he had slept for the last few nights? Even though Clark knew that Krypto was unpredictable and thrived on generally being a menace to society, he still liked to think the best of him. He hoped Krypto hadn’t been too much of a nuisance for his friend.

Michael, in full Mr Terrific gear, was standing a few meters away, making strange gestures with his hands in the way that usually indicated he was controlling his T-spheres. Krypto was nowhere to be seen. Clark walked up to Michael, stopping about a foot away. He was hesitant to get too close, lest Michael sic one of the spheres on Clark out of annoyance.

“I’m so sorry I was late picking Krypto up! I started writing this really important piece, and then time kind of got away from me…,” Clark said, voice dripping with apology.

“You think I want to hear your excuses right now?” Michael turned around to face Clark, the black T mask doing absolutely nothing to hide the borderline homicidal look on his face.

“Uh… no, sorry. Where is Krypto, anyway? I hope he wasn’t too much trouble,” said Clark, earnestly. He really hoped the energetic dog was just doing laps around the park, or maybe chasing some squirrels (scratch that, he didn’t want the squirrels getting hurt. Clark hoped Krypto was not near any small animals… or ordinary people, for that matter).

“He was surprisingly good for most of the day; he took a real liking to Hawkgirl and spent most of the day playing aerial chasey with her. But for some reason, after I fed him his dinner, he went mental. He destroyed half the furniture in the Hall, and he pissed on Guy’s bed – although I won’t hold that one against him, that was damn funny. We got him calmed down eventually, but then when you didn’t turn up, he decided to chew through the front door, and escape! I tracked him to this park, but I haven’t found him yet,” Michael said, not looking at Clark as he spoke, his eyes instead tracking some sort of data output from the T-spheres.

“What’d you try to feed him? Did you give him the food I left with you?” asked Clark.

“What the hell does it matter what I fed him? He’s a dog, he’ll eat anything,” replied Michael, rolling his eyes.

“He gets even more chaotic than normal if you feed him sugar,” said Clark, matter of fact. “My cousin, she encourages it – she gives him cupcakes and then plays with him. The damage after is… alarming.”

“I didn’t feed your freaky-ass dog a cupcake, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m not an idiot, Superman. I just gave him some carrots to chew on, after he was done eating.”

“Carrots are actually pretty sugary, that’ll do it,” said Clark, grimacing apologetically.

“Well, it was either that or let him reduce the dining table to kindling and that thing is brand new! We had to replace it after that team board game night; I’m not replacing it again so soon,” said Michael, exasperated.

“You guys have team board game nights? How come I’ve never been invited?” asked Clark, genuinely offended. He loved board games!

“It was only once, and we were playing Cards Against Humanity. For some reason, we just didn’t really think it’d be up your ally,” Michael said, side-eyeing Clark.

“Well, I don’t like the sound of doing anything against humanity, but if it’s just a game then I’m sure I could learn to enjoy it!”

Michael laughed out loud. “You know what, sure, you can come next time. I think I’d like to see you try your hand at it.”

A sudden scream broke the air, immediately putting an end to the conversation. Both heroes took to the air, flying off in the direction that the disturbance had come from. They quickly landed next to the medium sized lake on the opposite side of the park, hidden within a thick copse of trees. The scream had come from a young woman, standing near the edge of the lake.

“My baby! That dog – it stole my baby!” she screamed, gesturing out over the lake.

There, a few feet above the gently rippling water, was Krypto. He was slowly flying in circles, his cape fluttering behind him. It would have seemed unusually well behaved and calm for the superpowered menace, if it weren’t for the toddler attached to his neck. At first glance, it looked as though Krypto had a hold of the child’s arm in his mouth, and the toddler was making a high-pitched noise that could have been crying. The upset mother certainly seemed to think her child was in some kind of great danger.

“Ma’am, I am so sorry,” Clark tried to gently reassure the woman. “Your child will be just fine.” Clark took off over the water, flying towards his (foster) dog.

“Krypto, no! Naughty dog! You can’t just steal random kids,” said Clark. As he got closer, he quickly realized that the situation wasn’t as bad as it had looked. Krypto was flying unusually slowly and carefully, and he wasn’t biting the toddler – the child had his pudgy little arms wrapped tightly around Krypto’s fluffy neck, and the high-pitched noise was delighted giggling. It turned out the crazy canine was good with kids, who would have thought?

Clark hovered in midair, watching the pair playing. He could still hear the mother shouting for his baby back on the shore, and Michael shouted something at him about hurrying the heck up (except Michael didn’t say heck, he said a word that Clark was not comfortable repeating, even inside his own head). Clark almost felt bad for interrupting the sweet moment, it genuinely looked like both the dog and the little boy were having a great time.

“I’m so sorry, kid, but I think your mom wants you back on the ground,” said Clark, aligning himself with the floating dog and reaching out to gently take the child. Rather than letting go and falling into Clark’s arms, however, the kid tightened his grip and growled – actually growled, like a dog – at Clark.

“I flying!” said the child, petulantly. Krypto seemed to concur with the toddler’s statement, because he gave Clark a mischievous side-eye glance before speeding up and flying higher.

“Krypto, no!” said Clark, following.

The game continued in this fashion for several long moments, much to the toddler’s delight before Krypto eventually seemed to tire of the tight grip on his neck. Without warning, he spun in a circle quickly, surprising the toddler into relinquishing his grasp. As soon as the kid let go, Krypto turned, sped up, and flew out of sight; well beyond the treeline that hid the lake.

Luckily, Clark had been prepared for Krypto to pull a move like that, and he caught the toddler before he fell even half a foot. The shock of being made to let go seemed to have broken whatever happy spell the child had been under, however, and his pudgy little face screwed up tightly as he began to wail. Clark quickly made for the shore and deposited the toddler back into his mother’s waiting arms.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am. I don’t think Krypto meant any harm – your son was actually laughing, until he lost his grip,” said Clark, stooping so he could make eye contact with the woman.

“Krypto? You know that menace of a creature?” she asked, obviously angry.

“Uh… he belongs to a friend of mine,” said Clark, sheepishly. “He can be a bit of a handful, but he’s harmless, really.”

Michael, standing off to the side, scoffed audibly. Clark shot him a look that said: “not helping!”. Michael pointedly ignored the look.

“You’re lucky I’m not calling animal control. I expected better from you, Superman,” said the woman, putting her son into his stroller and walking briskly away.

“That went well,” said Michael brightly, clapping Clark on the shoulder.

“Gosh, I’m not sure I’ve been told off like that by someone I was trying to help, before,” said Clark, letting out a big sigh. He knew the woman was just worried about her son, but he really hadn’t been in any danger!

“You can’t win ‘em all, kid,” said Michael. “Where did that flying furball run off to, now?”

“I’m not sure, I’ll try to call him,” Clark said, before whistling loudly.

Nothing happened. Michael turned and looked at Clark, one eyebrow raised. Clark whistled again. Still, nothing. Michael raised both eyebrows. Clark whistled a third time. Finally, a loud crashing proceeded Krypto’s arrival as he knocked over several small trees in his exuberance. The dog sat in front of the two men, wagging his tail expectantly.

“Good dog,” said Clark. He patted Krypto on the head, affectionately.

“I am never dog sitting for you ever again,” said Michael, activating his flight gear and leaving without saying goodbye.

“Alright, Krypto,” Clark said. “Let’s go home.”

At the word home, Krypto tilted his head. Then, without warning, the dog grabbed hold of Clark’s arm and put on a burst of super speed, flying off into the night, dragging a screaming and spluttering Superman behind him.

Chapter Text

Flight was probably Clark’s favourite of his unique Kryptonian abilities. He usually revelled in the feeling of freedom it gave him and could easily spend hours just zipping around in the air, feeling the breeze ruffle through his hair. The feeling of bitingly cold wind whipping past Clark’s face at incredible speed was a significantly less enjoyable feeling when he was not the one in control of his aerial trajectory. Especially when he was being dragged along by one arm, clenched in the teeth of his cousin’s super powered dog, one of the only beings in existence that had the ability to actually injure Clark.

“Krypto! Let go! Ow!” Clark shouted, trying to pull his arm free from the dog’s grip.

Krypto seemed not to hear him (or, more likely, chose to ignore him) and continued doggedly forward, flying across Metropolis at such speed that the city lights were quickly just a small sparkling dot in the distance. Krypto seemed determined to get somewhere and Clark’s struggling and protesting appeared to be of no mind to the dog. Clark could have freed himself from Krypto’s grip if he had really tried, but the dog had his teeth sunk quite firmly into the flesh of his forearm and Clark didn’t want to accidentally injure the canine if he had to use his own super strength in midair like this. Clark resigned himself to his fate, and relaxed into Krypto’s flight pattern, allowing himself to be dragged along like a puppet on a string.

Krypto slowed down and began to drop altitude much quicker than Clark had expected. Given that the dog had grabbed him and taken off at the word home, Clark had figured that Krypto was headed for the Fortress of Solitude – the place that Clark had trained the dog to return to at the command ‘go home’. Only last week, Krypto had dragged Clark to the Fortress in rather a similar fashion, when he had been injured after his fight with the Hammer of Boravia (who had turned out to actually be a slightly stronger clone of himself, a fact that had made his significant injuries from that battle make a lot more sense to Clark when he had learned it).

Clark was therefore surprised to see the familiar shape of his childhood home in Smallville come into view as Krypto dragged him through the cloud cover and towards the ground. Krypto suddenly released his hold on Clark’s arm and Clark, who hadn’t expected to be released so suddenly, plummeted the last several meters. He landed hard, knocking the breath out of him and creating a small crater beside his parents’ old red barn. Clark groaned as he pushed himself up with both arms, realizing that the arm Krypto had been dragging him by was quite sore. Krypto’s furry face appeared at the edge of the crater, tongue lolling as he stared at Clark expectantly.

“What the hey, dude?” said Clark, pulling himself out of the hole in the ground. “I said we should go home, but I meant my apartment in the city.”

Krypto sat and wagged his tail, thumping it against the ground. He looked at Clark and cocked his head to the side, one ear flopping forwards and the other perking up at an awkward angle.

“Home?” Clark repeated, staring at the dog. Krypto wagged his tail harder.

“Is this home now?” At his words, Krypto got up and trotted in a circle around Clark, then sat down again, still wagging his tail.

“What about the Fortress?” This time, Krypto stopped wagging his tail completely.

“Aw, dude. I love it here too, but Kara’s gonna be so pissed when she founds out you’ve decided a human house is home,” said Clark, scratching the dog affectionately behind the ears.

The sound of a door slamming broke the silence of the sleepy Kansas air, followed by the sound of two pairs of feet running across grass.

“Clark? Is that you, sweetheart?” shouted Martha, her voice ringing out from the other side of the barn.

“Yeah, it’s me, Ma,” Clark shouted back, quickly walking around the wooden structure and into his parents’ view.

“Are you alright, son?” asked Jonathon, putting a gentle hand on Clark’s shoulder and looking him over worriedly.

“I’m fine, Pa,” said Clark, clasping his father’s hand in return. “I’m sorry for scaring you guys, I didn’t mean to just drop by like this.”

“You know we’re always glad to see you,” said Martha, coming closer and wrapping Clark up in a warm hug.

Unconsciously, Clark’s face split into a wide grin at the feeling of being near both of his parents. Although Clark had also cared deeply about his Kryptonian parents and found great comfort and purpose in the message they had left him (until he had learned the full contents of the message, that is), nothing had ever made him feel as loved as just being in the presence of his Ma and Pa. His parents had never lied to him about his heritage and Clark had grown up knowing he was adopted, but the lack of blood connection had never made Clark feel less a part of the Kent family.

Here on this farm, in the arms of his parents, Clark knew he would always have a family – and a home. Perhaps that was what Krypto had felt too, during the night that he had spent on the Kent farm while Clark recovered from Kryptonite poisoning last week. It certainly seemed so, because Krypto had clearly tired of letting Clark have his parent’s attention all to himself. The super-powered dog jumped up between Clark and Martha, nearly knocking the older woman over.

“Krypto, down! No!” said Clark, trying to pull the dog back by his cape, but Krypto wasn’t having it, continuing in his efforts to get closer to Martha.

“Sit,” Martha said, in a no-nonsense tone that Clark was familiar with from childhood misadventures. Krypto sat immediately, looking up at Martha adoringly and wagging his tail. “Good boy,” she said, ruffling the fur between Krypto’s ears.

“Dude,” said Clark, staring at the dog in indignation. “Why don’t you ever listen to me like that?”

“Because you’re a pushover, son,” said Jonathon teasingly, clapping Clark on the shoulder again.

“Oh hush, where do you think he got it from, you big ol’ mush?” Martha replied, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “If you’re not hurt, what brings you here?” he asked Clark.

“Krypto. He ran away from my friend who was looking after him today, and when we finally tracked him down, he just grabbed me and flew all the way here without stopping,” said Clark. “I would have called, otherwise.”

“I’ll bet he smelled my shepherd’s pie,” said Martha. Krypto stood up and started wagging his tail so fast it was just a blur to the human eye. “I fed him some leftovers when you were resting up, the other day. He loved them.”

“You had shepherd’s pie that day, and you didn’t give me any? But Ma, that’s my favourite!” Clark’s tone bordered on whinging.

Martha raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “You were unconscious, and Krypto here was getting a little too interested in the chickens. I had to feed him something.”

Clark sighed, churlishly. “I guess that’s fair enough…”

“That Louise of yours, she seemed to like it too,” said Jonathon, smirking.

“Even Lois got some? Is this punishment for worrying you or something?” Clark sounded all of fourteen years old again, being told that no, he couldn’t get an advance on his allowance to go to the mall in Wichita this weekend to buy the new Mighty Crabjoys album.

“C’mon, you big lug. It’s late, but I’ll bet you haven’t even eaten yet. I’ll get you some of that pie,” said Martha, taking Clark’s arm and gently tugging him towards the farmhouse. Unfortunately, she grabbed the arm that Krypto had used as a handle and even her gentle grip was surprisingly painful.

“Ah!” said Clark, involuntarily grimacing.

Martha let go of him quickly, pulling back as if burned. “Sweetheart? You said you were okay, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” said Clark, rubbing the injured limb. “Krypto dragged me here by the arm, and he’s really strong – almost as strong as me. He just bruised me, it’s fine.”

“I’ll get you some ice,” said Jonathon, heading towards the house.

“I’ll be fine once the sun comes up,” replied Clark.

“Yeah, yeah, plant-boy,” his father muttered, walking into the house.

Clark and Martha followed him, Krypto obediently trotting along at Martha’s heels after she clicked her fingers by her side and said “come!”. Clark was going to have to ask his Ma for dog-wrangling lessons, if Kara was going to keep leaving Krypto with him every time that she wanted to go off world to party.

Once they were inside the house, Martha gently shepherded Clark into sitting at the kitchen table and resting his arm on the old laminate surface. Jonathan returned with a bag of frozen peas, wrapped in an old tea towel, that he carefully positioned on the injured limb with a gentle pat. Martha bustled around dishing out and warming the shepherd’s pie, serving small second helpings for herself and Jonathon, a portion for Krypto and then giving the entire other half of the meal that she had been planning to save for lunch and dinner the next day to Clark. Martha loved her boy and had missed him something fierce since he decided to leave Smallville and move to the big city, but she couldn’t deny that the one thing she didn’t miss was having to feed a superpowered appetite every day – especially a superpowered teenage boy appetite.

Once everyone was settled around the table with their food, Krypto eating out of an old mixing bowl on the floor at Martha’s feet, a peaceful quiet descended on the Kent household. It sure was nice, Martha thought, having Clark here without any sort of world-ending or life-threatening problems looming on the horizon. She hoped Clark would start to come visit more often, again. He had visited every weekend the first few months after he made the move to Metropolis, but lately he had been so busy with all his super business it seemed like the Kent’s had hardly seen their son in months. She hoped he’d bring that Lois girl again, too. Martha would like to get to know her better. She seemed fiery, very work focused but also like she cared about Clark a great deal and Martha liked knowing there was someone else out there looking out for her boy.

“What’s all this, Ma?” Clark’s voice broke the quiet, jolting Martha out of her musings. Clark gestured at the boxes of cassette tapes scattered around the table.

“Oh, that’s all our old home videos from when you were little,” said Martha.

“Why were you looking at those?” asked Clark, his brow furrowed.

“Well, you seemed so upset the other day. All that nonsense about what your birth parents might or might not have really meant in that recording. I know that recording was all you had of them, and I know it meant a lot to you,” replied Jonathon, awkwardly making eye contact with his son. “Now, I know it’s not quite the same thing as all that fancy Kryptonian crystal tech, but we thought maybe you’d like to watch these old things again, remind you that all we ever needed you to be was a child, to let us love you. No world domination or… secret harems.”

At the mention of the harem thing, Clark blushed bright red all the way up to his hairline. He knew it had just been mentioned to embarrass him, but the rest of his father’s sentiment was deeply moving, however. “Thank you, Pa. I think I’d really like that,” said Clark.

The Kent family finished their meal in comfortable silence. Even Krypto settled himself down sleepily on the floor.

“You’ll stay here, tonight?” asked Jonathon, standing and beginning to clear the plates.

“I have work in the morning, but the commute’s not much worse from here than my apartment, when it comes to flight time vs foot traffic in Metropolis,” said Clark, taking the dishes out of his father’s hands and moving to do the washing up himself.

“See you in the morning, Clark. We love you, sweetheart,” said Martha, standing on her tiptoes to kiss Clark’s cheek as she walked past on her way to their bedroom.

“Goodnight, son,” said Jonathan, patting the back of Clark’s head gently as he too left the kitchen to prepare for bed.

Clark finished the washing up, then gently picked up the sleeping Krypto and carried him up to his childhood bedroom. Clark changed into an old pair of pyjamas and curled up next to the white dog, who took up half the room in the already too-small bed. It was hardly comfortable for the Kryptonian, but he fell asleep almost immediately, feeling warmer and safer and more loved than he had in weeks.

Chapter Text

The Kent family (Krypto included) rose long before the sun, as farmers often did. Clark easily slipped back into the early morning routine of his childhood, heading outside and feeding various barnyard animals without waiting for his parents. Krypto trotted along at his heels, oddly docile, only stopping to sniff a few cows curiously before moving along without even having to be asked. By the time his Pa joined him outside in the cold air, Clark had nearly finished all the morning farmhand tasks, and Krypto was happily running laps around the barn.

“I guess you can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t ever really take the country out of the boy,” said Jonathan with a smile, easily getting stuck into the few tasks Clark hadn’t finished yet.

Clark just chuckled, pouring out pellets for the chickens.

“Your Ma’s making pancakes,” Jonathan added, moving to lift a bale of hay.

Clark quickly intercepted his father, taking the heavy lifting job for himself. “With chocolate chips?” he asked hopefully, placing the bale in the hayfeeder and dusting off his hands on his pants.

“O’ course,” replied Jonathan, rolling his eyes.

Clark quickly finished his tasks, hurrying his Pa along, and rushed back into the house. Martha was at the stove, a mixing bowl of batter liberally interspersed with chocolate chips beside her, flipping pancakes. Krypto, who had followed Clark inside, sat by Martha’s feet, letting out a soft whine that announced his desire to be fed pancakes, too.

“Don’t give him any of those, Ma,” said Clark, snagging a pancake off the top of the top of the growing pile on the other side of the stove. “The chocolate won’t hurt him any, not like a normal dog, but he goes mental when he gets sugar.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” said Martha, swatting Clark’s hand for his thievery as he passed, accidentally hitting the part of his arm that had been badly bruised by Krypto the night before.

“Ow!” said Clark, pulling the offending limb against his chest.

“I thought you said it would be fine in the morning,” said Martha, turning to give her usually almost invincible son a worried glance.

“The sun’s not up yet, and I think my healing is still slow. I’ve never been exposed to Kryptonite for that long before, I think maybe I need to spend a few hours under the sun magnifier at the Fortress,” said Clark, rubbing his arm as he sat down in one of the creaky old wooden chairs at the kitchen table.

“Honey, it’s been days – why haven’t you been taking care of yourself properly?” Martha said, pouring the last of the pancake batter into the frying pan.

“I’ve been busy, Ma. There was so much for Superman to do just to make the city safe enough to return to, and work’s been hectic – I don’t think we’ve had so many big news event since I started working at Planet,” said Clark, slumping into his seat.

“I know we raised you to be kind and always look out for others, but that doesn’t mean you can’t look out for yourself, too,” Martha said, carrying the plate of pancakes to the table and placing it in the middle. Krypto followed her, standing on his hind legs to peer over the edge of the laminate surface, sniffing hopefully.

“Get down, Krypto,” said Clark, gently shoving the furry feet off the table. Krypto ignored Clark, rounding the table to stand again on the other side, staring intently at the stack of sugary breakfast food.

“Down, boy,” said Martha firmly. Krypto flattened his ears, but did as he was told, moving to sit quietly by the back door.

“Good dog,” Martha praised, causing Krypto to wag his tail, before laying down and placing his head on his paws, now content to watch the goings on of the kitchen.

“I need you to teach me how you do that,” said Clark, shaking his head. “He only ever listens to me when he thinks we’re playing a game!”

“Raise an alien baby, you’ll pick up a thing or two,” said Martha as she sat down.

“I was never as bad as Krypto…,” Clark grumbled, serving himself several pancakes.

“You’ve clearly never had to give a bath to a grumpy toddler that has laser vision,” said Jonathan as he joined his wife and son at the table.

Clark couldn’t think of a good retort to that, because he had grown up staring at the burn marks in the bathroom ceiling whenever he took a shower.

“Anyway, as I was saying – you’ve gotta look after yourself, Clark. I know you’ve got work today, but promise me you’ll go do some photosynthesis in your fortress afterwards?” said Martha, gently, giving Clark a look of motherly concern that she knew he would feel heartless trying to ignore.

Clark tipped his head back, sighing at the ceiling. “It’s not photosynthesis mom, but yes, I’ll try to make time to go to the Fortress after work today.”

The family ate their breakfast in companionable silence after that, then Clark went back upstairs to get dressed for work. He only had the balled-up clothes from yesterday that he had shoved into his briefcase when he changed into his Superman suit to go look for Krypto. Lois would almost certainly make fun of him for his rumpled appearance, but it would have to do. By the time Clark was finished getting ready, the sun was finally starting to rise over the dry Kansas fields. Clark smiled as he felt the first rays of it hit his face, instantly easing some of the pain in his bruised arm.

“You look better already,” said Martha as Clark came back down the stairs.

“Thanks, Ma,” said Clark. “I don’t suppose you’d be able to watch Krypto for me, for a few hours? I can’t take him to work, he’ll just break out of my apartment, and the friend who watched him for me yesterday said he’d never dog sit for me again… I didn’t want to leave him here last week because I thought he’d be too much of a handful, but it seems like you know what you’re doing.”
Krypto, who had been lounging on his back, laying across Martha’s feet as she sat on the couch reading the Smallville Gazette, perked up at the sound of his name.

“Of course, honey. He’ll be a good boy for me, won’t you Krypto?” said Martha, leaning down to rub Krypto’s belly. The white dog immediately flopped over and gave her full access to his entire furry underside, apparently a resounding yes in Kryptonian canine language.

“Thanks, Ma. I’ll be back for him by 5:00, I promise,” said Clark, tying his tie with one hand while he walked into the kitchen. “Bye Pa, I’ll be back this evening,” he said, calling over his shoulder as he walked out the back door.

It was still early enough in the morning that Clark thought he could get away with flying at superspeed to Metropolis in his civilian clothes, and he was careful to land in an empty alley before he began his walk to the Daily Planet, stopping at one of Lois’ favourite cafes so he could pick up coffees for her and Jimmy (and a hot cocoa for himself). He said good morning to the security guard stationed outside the entrance, as usual, and entered the Planet bullpen to be greeted by the usual chaos.

“Kent!” came the booming voice of Perry White, just as Clark walked past his office.

“Yessir,” muttered Clark, avoiding eye contact as he awkwardly entered the room.

“This is good, really good,” said Perry, voice unusually kind, as he waved around the pages Clark had left on his desk the night before – the final draft of his piece on Malik Ali.

“Oh uh, thank you, sir,” said Clark, unused to receiving actual praise from his boss. Perry wasn’t unkind, but he wasn’t the type of boss who went around singing his employees praises – except for Lois, but she was so good that it was understandable; everyone sung her praises.

“Is one of those for me?” said Perry, eyeing the tray of coffees Clark was holding. Mentally apologizing to Jimmy, Clark handed over the drink he had intended for his friend to have.

“I think you’ve earned yourself your second front page,” said Perry.

“Well, the credit really goes to Mr Ali’s bravery, chief,” replied Clark, feeling the same pulse of guilt and grief that he had begun to associate with Mali’s name, but refusing to let it drag him into a spiral the way it had before.

“It’s Perry, kid, don’t call me chief – now get out of here before I change my mind about that front page,” said Perry, turning in his chair and taking a long drink out of the paper coffee cup.

Clark returned to the bullpen and made his way to his desk. Lois was already seated at hers, but Jimmy seemed to be running late – a fact for which Clark was glad, so he didn’t have to explain why he hadn’t brought Jimmy a drink. Clark set Lois’ coffee down next to her hand, smiled in response to her distracted noise of thanks, then sat down in his own rolling chair.

“Perry just said my piece on Malik Ali would be today’s front page,” said Clark, quietly.

Lois turned around, holding her coffee cup with both hands. “Oh, Clark. That’s amazing,” she said, her tone much more genuine than it would have been if Jimmy or one of their other co-workers had been within earshot.

“I’m just glad that Metropolis will know his story, now,” said Clark. “If anyone deserves to be lauded, it’s him.”

“I agree, but I hope you know that Superman deserves the praise he’s been getting too – I know I’ve openly disagreed with his methods before, but I really do think he did the right thing,” said Lois, looking into Clark’s eyes with arresting gentleness.

Clark briefly wondered why she was referring to Superman as a separate entity, but his question was quickly answered by Jimmy Olsen careening into their shared workspace, putting an end to the rather personal discussion.

After that, the workday was completely normal for the Daily Planet. The day’s paper was printed, and Perry slapped a copy down on Clark’s desk, awkwardly clapping him on the shoulder before disappearing back into his office. Lois drank an unhealthy amount of coffee with an ungodly amount of sugar. Jimmy fielded several phone calls from Eve Teschmacher in between goofing off with Clark and pretending to edit photos. Clark took a long lunch so he could deal with a bank robbery, spilled water on himself so he could leave for a few minutes to stop a car crash on one of the main highways, then “interviewed” himself so he could write a piece about it. All in all, a typical day for the Daily Planet crew.

Finally, 5:00pm rolled around and Clark was the first to leave the office. He returned to the alley he had landed in that morning, changed out of his work clothes, and quickly flew back to Smallville. When he landed, he was instantly greeted by a flying ball of white fur that barrelled straight into his chest and knocked him into the ground. Krypto bounced around Clark in circles, barking and wagging his tail.

“Oof, Krypto,” said Clark, laughing with a wheeze as he tried to get his breath back. “I missed you too, buddy,” he said, giving the chaotic canine an affectionate pat.

Clark heard the front door open and a few seconds later his Ma appeared in front of him, carrying the box of home videos that had been on the kitchen table earlier.

“Hi Ma, I hope Krypto wasn’t too much trouble,” said Clark, standing up to greet his mother with a hug.

“Oh, he was good, we went for a walk up in that big old wood by the school and he scared a few squirrels half to death, but other than that he weren’t no trouble,” Martha said, returning the hug tightly. “I brought these, so you can take ‘em to your special fortress, maybe digitize them or whatever it is you kids do these days,” she said, thrusting the box of cassette tapes into Clark’s hands.

“Thanks, Ma,” said Clark.

“Now, you come visit this weekend, okay? It was nice to see you today, but I’d like a proper visit – and bring that Lois of yours,” Martha said, in a tone that brokered no argument.

“Okay Ma, I’ll see if Lois is free. Thank you for looking after Krypto!”

After exchanging another brief hug, Clark took off into the sky, whistling for Krypto to follow him. After a day spent engaged in mostly human activities, the Kryptonian dog seemed only too happy to take the skies, and he happily shot after Clark. The pair flew at super speed to antarctica, dropping lower and landing in a seemingly empty patch of snow. As soon as Clark’s feet made contact with the ground, however, crystal spires began to grow from the ground and suddenly the Fortress of Solitude stood there in all of its crystalline glory. Clark waited for the doors to open, then walked into his second home, Krypto following at his heels.

The last time Clark had set foot in the Fortress, he had found it in an alarming state of disarray – broken pieces of crystal and technology everywhere, his team of Superman Robots decimated and dying, and Krypto nowhere to be found. He had held the hand of Four, his favourite robot, as the mechanical being flickered into what had seemed like death. Clark hadn’t known what to expect when he returned to the Fortress, but he had expected it to still be in the same condition; that was the real reason he had been putting off returning, despite his obvious need for some proper Kryptonian sun healing.

Clark was therefore amazed to find the Fortress in almost perfect condition. Everything had been cleaned up, broken pieces of crystal had been fixed and the large computer at the centre of the main room had been repaired.

“Superman Robots? Are you guys here?” called Clark to the clean but empty room.

A mechanical whirring announced the arrival of one of the robots. It was Four, somehow repaired – where he had only had half a body the last time Clark had seen him, he was now whole again. He even had a shiny new piece of panelling on his head, where Clark knew before there had been a gaping hole.

“Superman!” greeted the robot, sounding almost enthusiastic. “You have returned! And… you have brought the canine back,” he said, sounding distinctly less enthused at the presence of Krypto, even though the dog had simply trotted straight to his bed in the corner and curled up, ready for a nap.

“Yes, I’m sorry it took me so long to get back here – how are you fixed? I thought you were dead,” said Clark.

“I am merely an automaton and therefore cannot die,” said Four, in that strange slightly sing-song way of his. “But to answer your question, after you left Twelve was able to power back on and she slowly fixed the rest of us. Then, we cleaned up and waited for you to return.”

“I am so happy to see you guys,” said Clark, as the rest of the robots swarmed in from another room, probably the charging room, Clark thought.

“We are merely mechanical pieces and circuitry and therefore cannot return the sentiment, but the thought is appreciated,” replied Four.

“Since you guys are okay, would you mind doing me a favour?” asked Clark.

“Of course, Superman,” said Four.

“Can you take these, and turn them into a holographic recording, like the one from my Kryptonian parents?” Clark said, handing the box of home videos to Four.

“Of course,” said Four, handing the box off to Eight, who took them over to the computer and got to work.

“Also, can you change my emotional support protocol? Instead of playing the recording from my Kryptonian parents if I seem distressed, I’d like it if you played these videos instead.”

“Whatever you desire, Superman,” said Four, primly.

“Thanks, Four, you’re the best,” Clark said, walking over to the sun lounger. Really, it was more of a medical bed on a rotating platform, but Clark called it the sun lounger – it sounded a lot less intimidating that way.

“Are you injured, Superman?” asked Four, following Clark and standing at his side.

“Not really, but my arm is still bruised and I’m not healing at my usual rate. Also, Krypto ripped a few holes in my suit; do you think you could patch it up while I get some sun?” asked Clark, hopping up on the sun lounger and dangling his legs over the edge like a little kid.

“Of course, let us put you back to rights,” said Four, beginning to work on the suit.

They chatted while the robot worked, and Four revealed a desire to go by the name Gary; a fact which Clark quickly filed to memory. He would always respect someone’s identity, whether they were human, alien or even robot. The peaceful moment was unceremoniously crashed, of course, by the sudden arrival of Clark’s Kryptonian cousin Kara.