Jonathan grinned and held out his finger for the boy to grab. The kid latched on instantly—and Jonathan's smile evaporated.
"A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a! Ow!"
The baby blinked, startled, and immediately let go.
Tears welled in his eyes, but he didn't cry—not with Martha already rocking him gently, whispering soothing nonsense like it was second nature.
"Jonathan, what happened?" she asked, eyes darting between her husband and the bundle in her arms.
"Oh, hell…" Jonathan winced, pressing his finger to his chest and breathing through it.
After a beat, he forced on a strained smile for both wife and child.
"It's fine, it's fine. Just—wow. Kid's got a grip like a vise. Nearly broke my finger. No—scratch that—he did break my finger."
Martha's eyes went wide.
She glanced down at the boy, fear flickering at the edges of her thoughts.
But then the baby looked up at her, those impossibly blue eyes locking with hers, and the fear simply… dissolved.
His tiny hand lifted, brushing her cheek with a touch so soft it drew a smile from her lips.
The boy giggled, a small, bright sound in the dark.
"Where in heaven's name did you come from?" Jonathan muttered, glancing up toward the stars, then down at the half-buried silver pod.
"It doesn't matter," Martha said softly, cupping the boy's face like it was the most natural thing in the world. "He's a miracle. Our miracle."
"Martha, we can't keep him." Jonathan's tone was gentle but edged with realism.
"What if someone comes looking?"
Martha just arched a brow at him before flicking her gaze to the metal container sitting in the dirt.
The implication was loud enough to make Jonathan hesitate.
"Okay, that… sounded bad, but come on—babies don't just fall out of the sky," he insisted, pointing upward.
"Why not?" Martha shot back. "We live in a world where superheroes exist—literal gifts from God, Jonathan. Divine powers. Miracles in human form."
He had no rebuttal. Everyone knew the story: America was the chosen land, blessed as the only country where people with powers lived.
Powers were God-given, pure and simple.
So, yes…
Martha had a point.
A child falling from the sky shouldn't be impossible.
Still… it felt absurd.
"Is it really such a stretch," Martha pressed, "that God sent us this little miracle? Right when we were talking about adopting? What are the chances we'd be right here, at this moment, to find him?"
Jonathan opened his mouth to argue—he was a God-fearing man, but deep down, something told him there was more to this than divine timing.
But then Martha's eyes met his, and the little boy reached for him again, hand outstretched in a gesture of pure trust.
Jonathan held out his finger—carefully this time—and the boy took it with surprising gentleness.
The baby giggled, his tiny face alight with joy, like Jonathan was the most important person in the universe.
And just like that, the fight was over.
"Okay, okay." Jonathan sighed in defeat.
"We'll take him home. But if anyone comes looking, we give him up. Agreed?"
Martha didn't answer—unless you counted the radiant smile she broke into.
She bounced the baby, drawing another burst of giggles, and started back toward the truck.
"Did you hear that?" she cooed to the boy.
"You're coming home with us. Yes, you are."
She tapped his little nose, making him laugh again.
Jonathan stood there, staring at the retreating pair. "What the hell did I just agree to?"
His gaze shifted to the pod.
He sighed.
"Well… can't just leave you here, either."
Rolling up his sleeves, he trudged back to the truck in search of rope or chain.
Martha had already slid into the passenger seat, smiling down at the baby now fast asleep in her arms.
"I think I'll name you… Clark," she whispered, lips curling in a soft smile. "Yes. My little miracle—Clark Kent."
Unbeknownst to the couple, the baby in their arms was lost in his own thoughts—ones he couldn't voice aloud because of his infant body.
'Clark Kent? So I really am Superman. That old geezer wasn't lying after all… What kind of mess have I gotten myself into?'
But then, as Martha's gentle voice and soothing touch reached him, a different thought settled in.
'Maybe this won't be so bad.'
Relaxing into her embrace, Clark let himself enjoy the warmth and comfort of being carried, the weight of his worries temporarily vanishing.