The rooftop of Wayne Enterprises' Metropolis branch offered privacy and a spectacular view of the city. Batman stood at the edge, cape billowing in the dawn breeze, when Superman touched down behind him. Both men bore the marks of their battle—Batman's suit showing tears and scorch marks, Superman still moving with the careful precision of someone managing pain.
"You should be resting," Batman said without turning around. "The radiation exposure nearly killed you."
"I will soon," Superman replied, coming to stand beside him. "But I had something important to do first."
"The girl." It wasn't a question. "How is she?"
"Processing," Superman said softly. "She's strong. Stronger than anyone should have to be at her age."
They stood in silence for a moment, the city's lights spread before them like earthbound stars. Finally, Superman turned slightly. "Thank you. For everything you did today. For trying to save me when I fell."
Batman's expression remained impassive behind the cowl. "You would have done the same."
"Yes," Superman agreed simply. "I would have." He extended his hand. "Clark Kent."
Batman stared at the offered hand for a long moment. Then, with a movement that seemed to carry the weight of significant decision, he reached up and removed his cowl. Tired, intelligent eyes met Superman's. "Bruce Wayne."
Clark's surprise was evident. "I... wasn't expecting that level of trust."
"It's not trust," Bruce replied, though his tone lacked its usual edge. "It's pragmatism. You have X-ray vision. If you wanted to know, you'd find out eventually."
"I wouldn't—" Clark started to protest, then recognized the slight quirk at the corner of Bruce's mouth. "That was almost a joke."
"Don't get used to it." Bruce accepted the handshake firmly. "So. A Kryptonian and a reporter."
"And a billionaire vigilante," Clark countered. "Seems we both have our dual identities."
"Some more convincing than others," Bruce remarked dryly. "Those glasses are hardly a disguise."
"Says the man whose mask leaves his perfect jawline exposed," Clark shot back, surprising himself with how easily the banter came.
Bruce almost smiled at that. Almost. "Point taken."
They fell into companionable silence again, two men from vastly different worlds united by a common purpose. Finally, Bruce spoke again. "Corbin was a warning. Of what happens when power goes unchecked, when technology outpaces ethics."
"I know," Clark agreed quietly. "And there will be others. LuthorCorp won't stop experimenting just because one project went rogue."
"No," Bruce confirmed. "They won't. Which is why we need to be prepared. All of us."
As if on cue, Tony's voice cut in through the comm system Bruce still wore. "Speaking of 'all of us,' how's our boy in blue holding up? Because I've got some ideas about radiation shielding that might come in handy next time you decide to hug a walking nuclear reactor."
Clark raised an eyebrow at Bruce, who merely shrugged. "Stark hacked my systems during the battle. He's... persistent."
"I'm also brilliant, charming, and currently enjoying a very expensive scotch after my own near-death experience," Tony added. "By the way, Stane tried to kill me tonight. Took my arc reactor. Long story short – big fight, bigger explosion, Pepper saved the day. So I'm thinking we all had quite the evening."
"Stark—" Bruce began, only to be cut off.
"Tony, please. We've fought together. That's practically a team-building exercise where I come from." There was a pause, then his voice grew more serious. "Look, we all faced different versions of the same problem tonight. People with too much power and too little conscience. And I'm thinking maybe we should, I don't know, exchange numbers? Have coffee? Form a super-secret boy band?"
Despite everything, Clark found himself smiling. "I could use a coffee after today."
"See? Big Blue gets it," Tony sounded triumphant. "What do you say, Dark and Brooding? Coffee and conspiracy theories?"
Bruce's expression remained impassive, but something in his posture had softened slightly. "I don't drink coffee with people who hack my systems."
"Fair enough. How about people who upgraded your systems while they were in there? Because your encryption was, frankly, adorable. Like watching a toddler try to build a sandcastle. I've added some improvements that should keep out anyone who isn't, well, me."
Bruce's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You—"
"Also traced the kryptonite signature to three additional LuthorCorp facilities and flagged them for monitoring," Tony continued smoothly. "You're welcome. Details are in the file I just sent to your server—the secure one, not the one you think is secure."
Clark watched as Bruce visibly wrestled with his annoyance and grudging respect. Finally, the billionaire sighed. "Fine. But I'm bringing my own coffee."
"Naturally. Trust issues are kind of your brand. I respect that." Tony paused, and they could almost hear his grin through the comm. "Well, gentlemen, it's been a pleasure saving the world with you. I've got a company to reclaim and a story to spin for the press. Same time next week?"
"Goodbye, Stark," Bruce said firmly, disconnecting the comm.
The corner of Clark's mouth twitched. "He grows on you, doesn't he?"
"Like a fungus," Bruce agreed, but there was no real malice in his tone. He replaced his cowl, once again becoming the Dark Knight. "Lois Lane knows who you are."
It wasn't a question, but Clark answered anyway. "Yes."
"That's a risk."
"It's a necessity," Clark corrected gently. "She deserves to know the truth."
Bruce studied him for a moment. "I hope your trust is well-placed."
"It is," Clark said with absolute certainty. "She's the most trustworthy person I know."
Bruce nodded once, accepting this. "Keep your comms active. If something like Corbin happens again..."
"I'll call," Clark promised. "And Bruce? Thank you again. For trying to save me. For helping with Amy. For all of it."
Batman inclined his head slightly. "Next time, try not to get blown up in space." With that, he fired his grapple gun and vanished into the night, a shadow among shadows.
Clark stood alone on the rooftop for a moment longer, taking in the city he'd nearly died to protect. Somewhere out there, Lois was waiting for him. And for the first time since revealing his secret to her, he felt something close to peace.
—
Tony sat in the small preparation room adjacent to the Stark Industries press conference hall, morning light filtering through the half-drawn blinds. His bruised face was partially hidden behind the Chronicle he held, eyes fixed on the front-page headline: "CHAOS IN METROPOLIS AND MALIBU: Iron Man, Superman, and the Bat?" The split image showed the smoking ruins of the Stark Industries complex alongside a distant shot of what appeared to be Superman engaged with some chrome-plated figure above the Metropolis skyline. A blurry shape that could only be the Batwing hovered in the background.
Pepper dabbed antiseptic on a cut above his eye, her touch gentle but professional.
"Iron Man," Tony tested the name, wincing slightly as Pepper pressed a little harder than necessary. "That's kind of catchy. It's got a nice ring to it. I mean, it's not technically accurate. The suit's a gold-titanium alloy, but it's kind of evocative, the imagery anyway."
On the TV screen, Rhodey stood at a podium, looking uncomfortable as reporters shouted questions about both the incident at Stark Industries and the "metahuman intervention" in Gulmira.
"Colonel Rhodes, is there any connection between the attack on Stark Industries and the incident in Metropolis?" a reporter called out.
Rhodey's face remained carefully neutral. "You've all received the official statement about what occurred at Stark Industries last night. There have been unconfirmed reports that a robotic prototype malfunctioned and caused damage to the arc reactor. As for the events in Metropolis, that's a separate situation being handled by the appropriate authorities."
Tony snorted, drawing a sharp look from Pepper as she pulled tape from his eyebrow.
"Appropriate authorities," he muttered. "Like Superman and Bats weren't completely winging it."
"Tony," Pepper warned, her voice low.
Coulson approached, handing Tony a set of blue cards. "Here's your alibi."
"Okay?"
"You were on your yacht. We have port papers that put you in Avalon all night, and sworn statements from 50 of your guests."
Tony glanced up with a slight smile. "See, I was thinking maybe we should say it was just Pepper and me alone on the island."
Pepper shot him a withering look while pulling another piece of tape from his neck.
"That's not what happened," Coulson stated flatly.
"All right."
"Just read it, word for word."
Tony flipped through the cards, frowning. "There's nothing about Stane here. Or his connection to what happened in Metropolis. The Chronicle's reporting he'd been working with Lionel Luthor on some kind of weapons program. They're saying Luthor's dead?"
"That's being handled," Coulson replied smoothly. "Stane is on vacation. Small aircraft have such a poor safety record."
"And Luthor?"
"Officially, he was killed by Metallo—LuthorCorp's so-called 'Superman deterrent.' The cybernetic soldier's malfunction is being attributed to unexpected radiation effects that their scientists failed to anticipate."
"But what about the whole cover story that it's a bodyguard?" Tony persisted. "He's my... I mean, is that... That's kind of flimsy, don't you think? Especially with the eyewitness reports from Gulmira connecting me to Superman and Batman."
"This isn't my first rodeo, Mr. Stark," Coulson assured him. "Just stick to the official statement, and soon, this will all be behind you. You've got 90 seconds."
As Coulson turned to leave, Pepper followed him to the door. "Agent Coulson? I just wanted to say thank you very much for all of your help."
"That's what we do. You'll be hearing from us."
"From the Strategic Homeland..."
"Just call us S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Right." Pepper returned to Tony, helping him into his jacket. "Let's get this show on the road."
"You know, it's actually not that bad," Tony remarked, looking down at the cards. "Even I don't think I'm Iron Man."
"You're not Iron Man."
"Am so."
"You're not."
"All right, suit yourself." Tony smoothed his lapels, avoiding her gaze. "You know, if I were Iron Man, I'd have this girlfriend who knew my true identity. She'd be a wreck, 'cause she'd always be worrying that I was going to die, yet so proud of the man I'd become. She'd be wildly conflicted, which would only make her more crazy about me." He caught her eye. "Tell me you never think about that night."
"What night?" Pepper asked with practiced innocence.
"You know."
"Are you talking about the night that we danced and went up on the roof, and then you went downstairs to get me a drink, and you left me there, by myself? Is that the night you're talking about?" She brushed invisible lint from his shoulders. "Thought so. Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"
Tony cleared his throat. "Yes, that will be all, Miss Potts."
The press conference room buzzed with barely contained energy. Cameras flashed as Rhodey stood at the podium, trying to maintain order.
"And now, Mr. Stark has prepared a statement. He will not be taking any questions. Thank you."
Tony approached the podium, cards in hand, as Rhodey stepped aside.
"Thank you. Been a while since I was in front of you. I figure I'll stick to the cards this time." He held up the cards with a rueful smile. "There's been speculation that I was involved in the events that occurred on the freeway and the rooftop..."
Christine Everhart cut in from the front row. "I'm sorry, Mr. Stark, but do you honestly expect us to believe that that was a bodyguard in a suit that conveniently appeared, despite the fact that you've historically maintained no personal security detail? Especially given the timing coincides with similar sightings in Gulmira that multiple sources have connected to Superman and Batman?"
Tony paused, his expression tightening slightly at the mention of Gulmira. "I know that it's confusing. It is one thing to question the official story, and another thing entirely to make wild accusations, or insinuate that I'm a superhero."
"I never said you were a superhero," Christine countered.
"Didn't? Well, good, because that would be outlandish and fantastic."
From the back, another reporter called out, "Mr. Stark, the Chronicle is reporting that Obadiah Stane had established a partnership with LuthorCorp weeks before both men met violent ends on the same night. Can you comment on that?"
Tony glanced at Rhodey, who gave a subtle headshake.
"I'm just not the hero type," Tony continued, deliberately ignoring the question. "Clearly. With this laundry list of character defects, all the mistakes I've made, largely public."
"Just stick to the cards, man," Rhodey muttered beside him.
"Mr. Stark, there are reports connecting Obadiah Stane with Lionel Luthor's weapons division," Christine pressed. "The Chronicle claims they were sharing research before Luthor deployed John Corbin as Metallo to counter Superman. The timing seems suspicious given your escape from captivity, Iron Man's emergence, and now both Stane and Luthor dying on the same night. Can you comment on these connections?"
Tony stared at the cards in his hand, mind racing. The connection between Stane and Luthor had been one of many secrets exposed in the aftermath of last night's chaos. He should deny it, stick to the script, maintain the separation between Iron Man, Tony Stark, and whatever the hell was happening in Metropolis with Superman and Batman.
The smart play was to follow Coulson's advice. Keep things compartmentalized. Simple.
"Does Iron Man work with Superman?" another reporter called out. "Are they part of some kind of team?"
Tony looked out across the sea of reporters, all hungry for the story, for the truth. Or at least a version of it they could sell.
"Yeah, okay." He cleared his throat, looking down at the cards one last time. "The truth is..."
Every camera flash seemed to freeze time as Tony made his decision.
"I am Iron Man."
The room erupted into chaos. Reporters leapt to their feet, shouting questions over one another. Rhodey closed his eyes in quiet resignation. At the back of the room, Pepper's hand covered her mouth in shock.
"Mr. Stark! Does this mean you're working with Superman?"
"Are you forming some kind of superhero team?"
"What can you tell us about Batman's involvement?"
Tony raised his hands, suddenly enjoying himself despite the pandemonium. "One at a time, people. I think we've established I don't exactly play well with others."
"Then how do you explain the coordinated response in Gulmira?" Christine persisted, her voice cutting through the din. "Eyewitnesses reported your armor working alongside Superman and what government sources are now confirming was the vigilante from Gotham."
Tony's smile dimmed slightly. "Let's just say we had a mutual interest in keeping certain weapons out of the wrong hands. As for Superman and his... brooding friend, you'd have to ask them about their side of things."
"And the connection between Stane and Luthor?" someone called out.
"Industrial espionage happens in our business," Tony replied carefully. "Though I think we've seen the unfortunate outcome of what happens when corporation executives dabble in technologies they don't fully understand."
"Does that include you, Mr. Stark?" Christine asked pointedly.
Tony's smile turned sharp. "The difference is, I learn from my mistakes. And unlike some people, I don't outsource my hero work."
"Are you saying Superman outsources?"
"I'm saying Iron Man and Tony Stark are one and the same. No split personalities, no secret identities, no hiding behind masks or glasses or whatever. What you see is what you get." He tapped his chest where the arc reactor glowed beneath his shirt. "And what you get is a man committed to using this technology for protecting people, not profiting from their fear."
—
The morning sunlight streamed through the windows of their new apartment, casting warm patterns across the hardwood floors. Clark balanced three moving boxes in his arms as he maneuvered through the doorway. Lois followed behind with a single box, her face flushed from the effort of climbing five flights of stairs.
"You know," she panted, dropping her burden onto the counter with a thud, "most boyfriends would at least pretend to struggle with the heavy stuff."
Clark grinned, setting his stack down with exaggerated care. "I offered to carry yours too."
"And deny me the authentic moving experience? I think not." She wiped her brow dramatically. "Besides, someone might notice if I kept coming up empty-handed while you did all the work."
It had been three weeks since Metallo, since the revelation, since everything between them had changed. Three weeks of careful conversations, rebuilding trust, and learning to navigate what it meant to love someone who lived two lives. They'd agreed that honesty had to be their foundation moving forward—no more secrets, no more lies by omission.
Which was why, when Lois suggested they find a place together ("Somewhere with better security than my apartment with the Metallo-sized hole in the wall"), Clark had agreed without hesitation. Their separate leases had coincidentally been ending within months of each other anyway.
"That's the last of it," Clark announced, surveying the sea of cardboard boxes that had transformed their empty apartment into a labyrinth. "Though I think our furniture situation is a bit... eclectic."
Lois laughed, looking at the odd mix of their combined possessions. Her sleek, modern sofa sat awkwardly next to his worn farmhouse coffee table. Her chrome and glass dining set clashed spectacularly with the sturdy oak chairs his father had built.
"We'll figure it out," she said, moving to wrap her arms around his waist. "Just like we're figuring out everything else."
Clark kissed the top of her head, still amazed that this was real that she knew everything and was still here, that they were building something together despite the complications his dual identity created.
"Oh!" Lois suddenly pulled away, grabbing the remote to turn on the small TV they'd set up on a stack of boxes. "I want to see if they're showing Stark's press conference again."
The screen flickered to life, showing Tony Stark standing at a podium, reporters shouting questions about his connection to Superman and Batman. Clark shook his head as they watched the replay of the bombshell announcement from three weeks earlier.
"I am Iron Man."
The crowd erupted into chaos as Tony Stark stood there, seemingly enjoying the pandemonium he'd created.
"Can you believe this guy?" Lois gestured at the screen. "You spend your entire life protecting your identity, and he just... announces it to the world. Two days after you finally tell me."
"Different situations," Clark said, though he couldn't hide his own bemusement. "Tony Stark was already a public figure. And he doesn't have family to protect."
"Still," Lois crossed her arms, "it's a bold move. The Chronicle's saying he's changed the superhero paradigm forever."
Clark snorted softly. "I think Batman would disagree about being called a superhero. He made that very clear in Gulmira."
"Speaking of which," Lois turned to him, reporter's instinct clearly activated, "you still owe me the full story about what happened there. All I've got is what little information Faraday shared and whatever Jimmy could pull from satellite imagery."
"After we unpack," Clark promised, already dreading trying to explain how he'd ended up fighting alongside a billionaire vigilante and a genius in powered armor. Some things sounded ridiculous even when they were true.
The TV switched to coverage of Metropolis's recovery efforts after the Metallo incident. Aerial footage showed construction crews working on the LuthorCorp tower, its upper floors still bearing the scars of the battle. The reporter was discussing Lionel Luthor's death and the surprising announcement that his son, Lex, would be taking a leave of absence from the company during the investigation into his father's weapons programs.
"You think he knew?" Lois asked, her voice softening as she watched the footage. "About what his father was doing to Corbin?"
Clark sighed, remembering what he'd glimpsed through the smoke and chaos that night. "I'm not sure. Batman seemed to think he was involved somehow, but the evidence trail went cold after Lionel's death."
"Convenient," Lois murmured.
"Very."
They lapsed into comfortable silence, the TV droning on about corporate restructuring and federal investigations. Clark found himself staring at the Luthor building, remembering the battle that had nearly cost him everything—not just his life, but the chance to finally be honest with Lois.
"Hey," she said softly, as if reading his mind. "No brooding on moving day. That's a rule."
"Is it now?"
"Absolutely. Right up there with 'the person with super strength handles the heavy furniture' and 'no heat vision to speed up coffee brewing before 7 a.m.'"
Clark laughed, the shadow of memory retreating. "That was one time, and you said you were running late."
"And I nearly had a heart attack when my mug started boiling!" She poked his chest playfully. "Normal household appliances only in our kitchen, Kent."
Our kitchen. Our apartment. The simple pronouns still sent a thrill through him. After years of keeping everyone at arm's length, of careful isolation, having someone who knew all of him was both terrifying and liberating.
"Speaking of kitchens," Clark glanced at his watch, "we should probably start unpacking if we want to make it to Smallville for dinner. Mom's expecting us by six."
Lois's eyes widened. "Six? That's barely enough time to get the essentials unpacked and drive there!"
"Drive?" Clark raised an eyebrow.
"Oh." Her expression shifted as understanding dawned. "Right. Sometimes I forget that my boyfriend can fly."
"Convenient for making dinner reservations," he offered with a smile. "Though I should warn you—when Mom says 'casual dinner,' she means at least three courses and probably a pie for each of us."
Lois groaned. "I'm still recovering from the last time. I don't think I've ever eaten that much in my life."
"She likes feeding people. And she's especially fond of feeding you."
"Because I make her son happy?" Lois suggested, batting her eyelashes dramatically.
Clark pulled her close, suddenly serious. "Because you see me. All of me. Not just the glasses or the cape, but everything in between."
Her expression softened as she reached up to touch his face. "That goes both ways, Smallville."
The Kent farm appeared exactly as it always did—timeless and welcoming, the white farmhouse standing proud against the Kansas sky, red barn gleaming in the late afternoon sun. As Clark touched down gently in the back field, Lois smoothed her windblown hair with practiced motions.
"I'm never going to get used to that," she muttered, though her smile betrayed her excitement. "Somehow it's both terrifying and exhilarating."
"That's what my dad said the first time I took him flying," Clark replied, adjusting his glasses out of habit before remembering he didn't need to maintain that particular pretense here.
They'd barely made it halfway to the house when Martha burst through the screen door, wiping her hands on her apron as she hurried to meet them.
"There you are!" she called, arms already opening for hugs. "I was starting to think you'd gotten lost between Metropolis and here."
"Unpacking took longer than expected," Clark explained, bending to embrace his mother. The familiar smell of her perfume mixed with fresh-baked bread wrapped around him like a physical comfort.
"Lois," Martha turned to hug her next, warm and welcoming without hesitation. "You look lovely, dear. Moving agrees with you."
"The move, maybe. The unpacking, not so much," Lois laughed, returning the embrace with genuine affection. "But your son has been a huge help, for obvious reasons."
"Don't let him get away with being lazy just because he can lift the sofa with one hand," Jonathan called from the porch, where he'd appeared with a dish towel slung over his shoulder. "He still needs to learn proper furniture arrangement."
"Dad," Clark greeted, moving to embrace his father with careful strength. Even now, with all his power, there was something about Jonathan Kent that made Clark feel like that small boy they'd found in a field—secure, loved, guided.
"Son." Jonathan's hug was firm, unafraid. "Lois." He released Clark to offer her the same warm welcome. "Good to see you both in one piece after all that business in Metropolis. Your mother's been fretting ever since she saw the footage."
"I have not been fretting," Martha protested, though the lingering worry in her eyes told a different story. "I've been... concerned. Like any mother would be."
"I'm fine," Clark assured her, though the memory of kryptonite burning through his cells made him wince slightly. "The fortress's healing chamber took care of the worst of it."
"And the rest?" Jonathan asked, his gaze searching Clark's face with the perception that had always seen past his son's defenses.
"The rest is getting better," Clark admitted, reaching for Lois's hand. "Having someone to talk to about everything... it helps."
Jonathan nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Good. Now, let's eat before your mother's pot roast dries out from waiting."
Inside, the farmhouse was exactly as Clark remembered—the worn sofa where he'd first told his parents about hearing voices from miles away, the kitchen table where they'd strategized about controlling his emerging powers, the family photos that traced his journey from frightened alien child to confident young man. But something was different now.
New photos had appeared on the mantle. Clark, wearing his glasses, with Lois at the Planet's holiday party. Lois laughing with Martha during her first visit to the farm. And—most surprisingly—a framed copy of their joint byline on the Metallo story.
"I hope you don't mind," Martha said, following his gaze. "We're just so proud of both of you. The way you handled the story, keeping the focus on LuthorCorp's ethical violations rather than just the fight—it was responsible journalism."
"And responsible... the other thing," Jonathan added, his nod conveying what he didn't say aloud. Even now, with Lois knowing everything, his parents maintained careful habits about discussing Superman openly.
"Speaking of the other thing," Lois said as they settled around the dinner table, "I finally got to see the Fortress yesterday. It's..." She trailed off, clearly searching for adequate words.
"Overwhelming?" Martha suggested with a knowing smile.
"Beautiful," Lois corrected. "Alien, but in the best possible way. Like something out of a dream."
Clark felt warmth spread through his chest at her description. He'd been nervous about showing her the Fortress—the most tangible connection to his Kryptonian heritage. But Lois had approached it with the same curiosity and openness she brought to everything, asking questions about the crystals, the technology, the history preserved within its walls.
"Krypto nearly knocked her over with excitement," Clark added, grinning at the memory of the white shepherd's enthusiastic greeting. "Apparently, he approves."
"Smart dog," Jonathan commented, passing the mashed potatoes. "Always been a good judge of character."
Dinner progressed with comfortable ease, conversation flowing between Metropolis news, farm updates, and gentle teasing about Clark's childhood mishaps—the latter drawing delighted laughter from Lois.
"You set the tractor on fire?" she gasped, nearly choking on her water.
"With his eyes," Jonathan confirmed, his own expression caught between amusement and the memory of shock. "Fourteen years old, hormones all over the place, and suddenly—whoosh! Poor thing didn't stand a chance."
"It was an accident," Clark protested, feeling heat rise in his cheeks that had nothing to do with heat vision. "I was trying to control it."
"Which is exactly what we told Mrs. Fordman when you accidentally looked through the girls' locker room wall during gym class," Martha added innocently.
"Mom!"
Lois's laughter grew deeper, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "Oh, this is priceless. The mighty Superman, felled by teenage awkwardness."
"Like you never had embarrassing moments," Clark grumbled good-naturedly.
"None that involved accidental X-ray vision," she countered, wiping her eyes. "Though I did once call my eighth-grade English teacher 'mom' in front of the whole class."
Jonathan chuckled, raising his glass in a mock toast. "To growing up human—or as close as possible."
The phrase caught Clark off-guard. Growing up human. That was what his parents had given him—not just safety or shelter, but humanity. The chance to be Clark Kent before he ever became Superman.
As if sensing his thoughts, Martha reached across to squeeze his hand. "We're so proud of you," she said softly. "Both sides of you."
Later, after dessert (two pies, as predicted) and coffee on the porch, Clark found himself alone with his father. They stood by the fence overlooking fields that stretched toward the horizon, the sky painted in twilight colors that seemed uniquely Kansas.
"So," Jonathan said after a comfortable silence, "you told her."
It wasn't a question, but Clark nodded anyway. "I had to. I couldn't keep lying to her."
"And now you're living together."
"It feels right, Dad." Clark turned to face him, needing his father to understand. "She knows everything—the good, the bad, the alien—and she's still here. Still choosing this life with me."
Jonathan nodded slowly, his weathered face thoughtful in the fading light. "Your mother and I always hoped you'd find someone who could accept all of you. It's why we worried so much about the secret."
"I know."
"But Lois Lane," Jonathan continued, a slow smile spreading across his face, "she's something special. Got that same fire your mother had when I met her—that determination to find the truth, no matter what."
"She's incredible," Clark agreed, glancing toward the house where he could see Lois helping Martha clear the table, both women laughing about something.
"She's also going to be in danger," Jonathan said, his voice dropping. "Not just because of what you do, but because of what she knows. You understand that, don't you?"
Clark's jaw tightened. "I do. And I've tried to tell her—"
"And let me guess, she told you she can handle herself?"
"In slightly more colorful language," Clark admitted with a small smile.
Jonathan laughed, clapping a hand on his son's shoulder. "Like I said—just like your mother." He paused, his expression growing serious again. "What about this Wayne fellow? You said he knows too?"
Clark nodded, thinking about the complicated relationship he'd developed with Gotham's dark knight. "Bruce is... cautious. Professional. He doesn't trust easily, but he respects what I'm trying to do."
"And Stark? Announcing his identity to the world like that?"
"Tony makes his own rules," Clark said with a slight headshake, still bemused by the billionaire's impulsiveness. "But he doesn't have family to protect. Different situation."
Jonathan seemed to consider this, his gaze returning to the horizon where the first stars were becoming visible. "When we found you," he said finally, "we were so afraid. Not of you, but for you. What would happen if people discovered what you could do."
"I remember."
"But your mother, she always said one day you'd have to step into the light. That hiding forever wasn't the answer." Jonathan's eyes found Clark's, pride evident in his gaze. "I think she was right. I think maybe it's all been leading to this—you finding your place, building connections, creating a life that embraces both sides of who you are."
Clark felt his throat tighten with emotion. "I couldn't have done any of it without you and Mom."
"Sure you could've. You'd have found your way eventually." Jonathan smiled, then added with gentle humor, "Though you might have gone through a few more tractors in the process."
Their laughter mingled in the evening air, father and son sharing a moment that bridged human and Kryptonian, past and present, fear and hope.
Inside, Lois watched them through the window, her heart full at the sight of Clark so relaxed, so completely himself. Martha appeared beside her with fresh coffee, following her gaze.
"He was always afraid, you know," Martha said softly. "That if people knew everything, they'd only see the alien, never the man."
"He's the most human person I've ever met," Lois replied without hesitation. "Powers or no powers."
Martha's smile was knowing and warm. "That's exactly what he needed to hear. What he's always needed."