On the ground, Lois watched the explosion paint the sky in impossible colors. Her hands shook as she steadied her phone, recording everything even as tears streaked down her face. Around her, people stood in awed silence as light that shouldn't exist turned night into brief, terrible day.
Then a streak of gold cut through the aurora—Clark falling, his armor trailing fire as he re-entered atmosphere. Bruce was already moving, the Batwing's engines screaming as he pushed them beyond design limits. But they both knew he'd never reach Superman in time.
"The suit's completely compromised," Tony reported through their comms, his voice tight with controlled panic. "No power, no solar absorption, nothing. He's coming in ballistic."
"Trajectory?" Bruce demanded, even though they all knew the answer.
"Metropolis." Tony's fingers flew across keyboards. "Impact in less than two minutes. And in his condition..."
Bruce's hands tightened on the controls as he pushed the Batwing past anything it was designed to handle. The aircraft's frame groaned in protest, but he ignored the warnings flashing across his displays. "I need options. Now."
"The Batwing's grapples won't hold at these speeds," Tony calculated rapidly. "And even if we could catch him, the deceleration would—"
"Then we don't catch him," Bruce cut in, mind racing through possibilities. "We guide him."
The Batwing's engines screamed as Bruce matched Superman's descent vector, positioning himself beneath the falling hero. The golden armor was barely recognizable now, most of its surface burned away during reentry. Through his sensors, Bruce could detect no life signs—but he refused to believe they'd lost him.
"Whatever you're planning," Tony's voice carried rare uncertainty, "do it fast. Impact in forty seconds."
Bruce activated every countermeasure the Batwing possessed, creating a cone of disrupted air beneath Superman's falling form. It wasn't much, but it might be enough to—
The impact when Superman hit the disrupted air pattern nearly tore the Batwing apart. But it worked—his trajectory shifted just enough, angling away from the city's densest areas toward the park where they'd first fought Metallo.
"Twenty seconds!" Tony called out.
Bruce couldn't respond, too focused on maintaining the delicate balance of keeping Superman's fall controlled without actually trying to stop it. The ground rushed up with terrifying speed.
"Ten seconds!"
The Batwing's engines gave one final protest before failing completely. But they'd done enough—Superman's fall had been redirected to the clearest landing zone possible.
The impact crater stretched half a block, black earth torn open like a wound in the city's heart. Military vehicles screamed to a halt around the perimeter, soldiers already moving to establish a containment zone. General Lane barked orders as he emerged from his command vehicle, his professional mask cracking slightly when he caught sight of his daughter among the gathering press.
"Get those barriers up!" he ordered, watching Superman's broken form lying motionless in the crater's center. "No one gets through, not even—Lois!"
She was already moving, shoving past reporters and soldiers alike. Her press pass fell forgotten from her hand as she broke into a run, all pretense of journalistic detachment abandoned.
"Lane!" One of the soldiers tried to grab her arm. "This is a secure zone—"
"Let her through." Batman's voice cut through the chaos as he emerged from the Batwing. His cape billowed in the hot wind rising from the impact zone as he met General Lane's eyes. "She needs to be there."
Sam Lane started to object, but something in Batman's posture made him pause. He watched his daughter half-running, half-sliding down the crater's slope, and for a moment saw not the decorated reporter but his little girl racing toward someone she loved.
"Stand down," he ordered quietly. "Let her pass."
Lois barely registered any of it—not her father's voice, not Batman's intervention, not the soldiers stepping aside. All she could see was Clark lying broken in the earth, his perfect frame somehow small and vulnerable in a way she'd never imagined possible.
"No, no, please..." The words came out raw as she reached him, falling to her knees beside his still form. The golden armor was barely recognizable, most of it burned away during reentry. What remained had partially melted into his suit beneath, creating a terrible fusion of Kryptonian technology and scorched fabric. Blood—his blood, which shouldn't have been possible—stained what was left of the House of El symbol on his chest.
"Clark," she whispered, hands shaking as she reached for him. His skin was too cold, too pale beneath the burns and bruises. She'd seen him hurt before, that morning after Metallo, but this... "You don't get to do this. Not now. Not when I haven't even had time to forgive you properly."
Batman reached them, his sensors already scanning for vital signs. But Lois barely noticed him, all her focus on memorizing Clark's features—features she'd looked at every day across their desks without truly seeing. How many times had she watched him pretend to be clumsy, to be normal, all while carrying the weight of worlds on his shoulders?
"I was going to make you work for it," she continued, tears falling freely now onto his too-still face. "Make you earn back my trust. Take you to that Italian place and let you try to explain everything." Her fingers traced the familiar angles of his jaw, remembering how he'd looked just days ago when he'd finally shown her the truth. "You were so scared I'd hate you. So convinced I'd never understand. And I was angry—God, I was so angry. But not because you're Superman."
She leaned closer, pressing her forehead to his. "I was angry because you didn't trust me with all of you. Because you thought I could ever love just one part of who you are." Her voice broke slightly. "You don't get to die before I can tell you I understand now. That I love you—both sides of you. Every piece of you. Even the parts that terrify me."
Through his cape's sensors, Batman caught General Lane turning away, giving his daughter this private moment with the man none of them had truly known. Soldiers shifted uncomfortably, caught between duty and the raw emotion playing out before them.
For a moment that stretched into eternity, there was no response. Then Batman's sensors picked up something—the faintest flutter of a heartbeat.
Meanwhile, Clark floated in a sea of white light. The pain was gone, replaced by a peculiar weightlessness that should have been frightening but somehow wasn't. Everything felt distant, peaceful in a way he'd never experienced before.
"Where am I?" His voice seemed to echo strangely. "Am I dead?"
"Not quite, my son."
Clark turned—or maybe the light shifted around him—to find himself facing two figures he'd only ever seen in the Fortress's recordings. Jor-El and Lara stood before him, not as holograms but as real as he'd always imagined them.
"This isn't possible," he whispered, even as his heart ached with longing. "You're..."
"Dead?" Lara's smile was gentle as she stepped forward, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek. Her touch felt like sunlight. "Yes. But that doesn't mean we ever truly left you."
"Then I am dead too?" Clark asked, leaning into her touch despite himself. How many times had he wondered what this would feel like?
"No, Kal-El." Jor-El's voice carried that familiar mix of authority and affection. "Your time has not yet come."
"But... John Corbin... The explosion..." Clark's voice caught as the memories flooded back. "He was so scared at the end. Terrified of what waited for him. But underneath all that rage and pain, he just wanted his daughter to be proud of him."
"And you stayed with him," Lara said softly. "Even knowing the cost, even as the radiation tore through you, you showed him compassion."
"That's what makes you the greatest of Krypton, my son," Jor-El added, pride evident in his voice. "Not your powers, not your strength, but your heart. Many would say John Corbin didn't deserve your mercy."
"Everyone deserves mercy," Clark replied, the words coming from deep within. "He was a good man once, before pain and fear twisted him into something else. In those final moments, he found his way back to who he really was."
Tears began falling as Clark finally voiced what had been burning in his heart since learning his true origins. "I never asked for this. Never asked you to die for me. To sacrifice everything just so I could live."
"Oh, my beautiful boy," Lara moved closer, wiping his tears away. "We didn't just die for you. We lived for you. Every choice we made, defying our world's traditions, believing you could forge your own path..."
"You were our revolution," Jor-El continued. "Our chance to break free from the chains of predetermined destiny that had bound our people for generations. And look what you've become – a protector who chooses mercy over vengeance, hope over fear."
"I try," Clark admitted, his voice rough with emotion. "But sometimes the weight of it all... knowing what you sacrificed..."
"Is exactly why you are worthy of that sacrifice," Lara assured him. "You carry within you not just the legacy of Krypton, but the best of humanity. Your compassion, your willingness to see the light in others – these are gifts beyond any power our red sun could have given you."
Clark felt a tugging sensation, like something calling him back. A familiar voice seemed to echo from very far away, pleading with him to return.
"Lois," he whispered. "She must be so scared..."
"She loves you," Lara smiled. "All of you, just as we knew someone would someday. Trust in that love, my son."
"Your journey isn't finished," Jor-El said warmly. "There are still many lives for you to touch, many hearts to inspire. And tell Martha and Jonathan that they gave our son everything we could have hoped for – a home, a family, the strength to be himself."
The tugging grew stronger. Clark tried to memorize their faces, knowing this moment couldn't last. "I love you. Both of you. I hope... I hope I've made you proud."
"More than you could ever know," Lara assured him, even as the light began to fade. "Now go. Someone is waiting for you."
The last thing Clark heard before the white light dissolved completely was his father's voice, carrying that familiar mix of wisdom and humor: "And Kal-El? Don't wait too long to marry that reporter. Some chances shouldn't be missed."
Reality crashed back in a wave of sensation—pain, pressure, the feel of gentle hands on his face. Someone was crying, their tears falling on his cheeks. A voice he'd know anywhere was pleading with him to come back.
Clark's eyes snapped open with a gasping breath. For a moment everything was blurry, then Lois's face came into focus above him. Her eyes were red from crying, her professional mask completely forgotten as relief transformed her features.
"Clark?" Her voice shook slightly. "If you ever scare me like that again..."
"Lois..." His own voice was rough, his throat feeling like he'd swallowed fire. "I'm sorry. For everything. The lies, the disappearing, not trusting you with the truth sooner..."
"Shh." She pressed her forehead to his, her tears falling freely now. "We can fight about all that later. Right now I'm just... I can't lose you. Not when I've just started to understand all of you."
He reached up, his hand trembling slightly as he brushed tears from her cheek. The crater around them felt impossibly large, a testament to how close he'd come to not returning at all. Behind Lois, he could see military vehicles forming a perimeter, hear the murmurs of soldiers and reporters gathering at the edges. General Lane was giving orders to keep people back, though his eyes constantly returned to where his daughter knelt in the debris.
"You were my last thought," Clark admitted softly. "Up there, when everything was ending. Your face when I told you the truth. How much I wished I'd done it differently..."
"You're here now," she whispered, her fingers tracing the remnants of the golden armor still fused with his suit. "That's what matters."
Their lips met in a kiss that felt like coming home. All the pain, all the fear, all the uncertainty of the past few days dissolved in the simple truth of this connection. He could taste the salt of her tears, feel the trembling of her hands as they cradled his face. When they finally parted, Lois's smile was watery but real.
"Besides," she added, her voice carrying a hint of her usual spirit, "you still owe me that pasta from the Italian place. The one by the Planet?"
Clark laughed despite how it made his chest ache. "First date I can actually tell you why I'm late?"
"First of many," she promised. Then her expression grew serious again. "I love you. Both sides of you. All of you. Even the parts that terrify me—especially those parts."
"I love you too," he said softly. "More than I've ever loved anyone. That's why telling you the truth was so scary. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you."
"Well, you're stuck with me now, Smallville." She helped him sit up carefully, mindful of his obvious injuries. "Someone has to keep Superman honest, right?"
Bruce cleared his throat quietly, reminding them they weren't alone. He stood at the edge of the crater, cape billowing in the night breeze. Even through the cowl, Clark could see the exhaustion etched into every line of his face. "We should get him proper medical attention. The radiation exposure..."
"I think I'm going to need a nap on my couch first," Clark managed with a weak smile, letting Lois support his weight as he tried to stand. His legs buckled momentarily, but he caught himself against a chunk of concrete. "I'll probably head to the Fortress in the morning... the healing chambers there can help."
Lois's arms tightened around him. "I'm coming with you."
It wasn't a question, and Clark didn't try to argue. After everything, maybe it was time to share all of himself—not just his secret identity, but the legacy of his birth world too.
"Okay," he said softly. "Together."
"Superman!" The shouts from the growing crowd of reporters grew louder as cameras flashed in the darkness. "Superman, over here! What happened? Did you defeat Metallo?"
Clark's enhanced hearing caught the gentle whir of Tony's systems connecting through Batman's comms. "Press is going to be all over this," Tony said, his voice carrying that particular mix of exhaustion and determination Clark was coming to recognize. "You both need to get clear. Especially you, Mr. Solar-Powered Hero. You look like hell warmed over."
"I'll create a diversion," Batman said quietly, already reaching for something in his utility belt. "Get her out of here while they're distracted."
"Wait," Clark said, his voice growing stronger as determination pushed through the pain. "Those people deserve answers. About John, about what happened."
"You're in no condition—" Bruce started, but Clark was already straightening his posture, letting go of Lois's support though he stayed close to her side.
"I can do this," he said, and it wasn't Superman speaking now, but Clark Kent—the reporter who understood the importance of truth.
With careful movements that belied his weakened state, Clark gathered Lois into his arms. She automatically wrapped her arms around his neck, concern evident in her expression. "Clark, are you sure you can—"
"I'm sure," he said softly, just for her. Then, with a subtle nod to Batman, he rose slowly into the air.
The crowd gasped as Superman hovered above the crater, cradling Lois Lane protectively. Camera flashes intensified, questions shouted from every direction. Clark cleared his throat, and somehow, the crowd fell silent, waiting.
"John Corbin is gone," he said, his voice carrying across the gathering without effort despite his weakened state. "The radiation from his cores became unstable. He chose to let me take him into space rather than risk detonation here in Metropolis."
"Was he a villain or a victim?" Cat Grant's question cut through the momentary silence that followed.
Clark considered this, remembering John's final moments among the stars, the peace he'd found at the end. "Both," he answered honestly. "And neither. He was a soldier who suffered greatly. Who lost his way due to pain and exploitation." He paused, his gaze finding a small figure at the edge of the crowd—Amy Corbin, held protectively in her aunt's arms. "And in his final moments, he remembered the father and hero he once was."
"What about Sarah Corbin?" another reporter called out. "He murdered her in cold blood!"
Clark's expression tightened with genuine sorrow. "Yes. He did terrible things under the influence of the radiation. Things he can never be forgiven for. But in the end, he made the only choice he could to protect his daughter, to protect all of you. That doesn't erase his crimes, but it does remind us that even in our darkest moments, there remains the possibility of redemption."
More questions came, but Clark was already rising higher, the strain evident in the tight lines around his eyes. "I'm sorry, that's all for now."
Before anyone could protest, he accelerated upward, Lois securely in his arms. The crisp night air whipped past them as Metropolis shrank below. Once they were clear of the crowd, his flight path wavered slightly, the effort clearly costing him.
"Clark," Lois said softly, her hand touching his cheek. "You're pushing yourself too hard."
"I know." His smile was tired but genuine. "But I needed to tell them something. And I need to talk to Amy before—" His voice caught. "Before the official story gets written. She deserves to know what her father became at the end."
"We should go to your place," Lois offered, feeling his strength faltering. "My apartment still has that gaping hole in the wall where Metallo burst in. And your building is less likely to have reporters camping outside."
Clark nodded gratefully, adjusting their course. They landed gently on his fire escape, though his legs nearly gave out as they touched down. She caught him, supporting his weight as they made their way inside. The familiar space was modest but neat—a sanctuary from the chaos below.
Once inside, Clark sank onto his couch, his breathing labored. The remnants of the golden armor had mostly fallen away during their flight, leaving his suit in tatters beneath.
"You need to rest," she said firmly, slipping into the kitchen to get him water. When she returned, he was examining the damage to his suit with a bemused expression.
"My mother's going to kill me," he said, attempting a weak joke. "This is the third one this month."
Lois sat beside him, placing her hand over his. "Clark, we need to talk about... everything. About what happens now." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "When you told me who you were, I was so angry. Not because you're Superman, but because you didn't trust me enough to tell me sooner."
"I know," he said quietly. "And you had every right to be angry. I've spent my whole life hiding who I am, keeping people at a distance. Even from—" He swallowed hard. "Even from the people I love most."
"Why?" The question was gentle, not accusatory.
Clark's eyes grew distant, memories washing over him. "When I was thirteen, I saved a school bus that went off a bridge. Pete Ross saw me lift it out of the water." He smiled at the memory. "My dad was so scared for me. Not angry, just... terrified of what would happen if people found out. He made me promise to keep my abilities secret, to protect myself."
He looked down at their joined hands. "I've kept that promise all these years, thinking it was what he wanted. But I think I misunderstood. He wasn't asking me to hide forever—he was buying me time to figure out who I wanted to be."
"And who is that?" Lois asked, her reporter's instinct seeking the core truth. "Clark Kent or Superman?"
"Both," he said simply. "They're not separate people, Lois. Superman is what I can do; Clark is who I am." "And who are you with me?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
His eyes met hers, and the raw honesty in them took her breath away. "With you, I'm just... me. All of me. No masks, no pretending to be less than I am. That's why telling you was so terrifying. You're the first person since my parents who's seen all of me."
Her hand found his cheek, feeling the warmth returning to his skin as his healing began to accelerate. "Thank you for trusting me with that. Even if you waited until a cybernetic madman was threatening the city."
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "My timing could use some work."
"We have time to practice," she promised, then grew serious again. "But Clark, you can't keep disappearing on me. Not just professionally, but personally. I can't be with someone who vanishes without explanation whenever duty calls."
"I know," he agreed. "No more lies, no more excuses. From now on, you know everything. Where I'm going, what I'm doing. Partners in every sense."
"Partners," she repeated, liking how the word felt. Then she leaned forward, kissing him again, this time slower, deeper—a promise for the future they might build together. "Now rest," she said when they parted. "The world's hero needs to recharge."
Clark laughed softly. "Just a few minutes," he agreed, his eyes already growing heavy. "Then I need to find Amy. And talk to Batman..." His voice trailed off as exhaustion finally claimed him, his head resting against her shoulder.
Lois held him as he slept, watching the subtle changes as his Kryptonian physiology began healing the damage from the radiation and impact. She'd seen him vulnerable before, but never like this—never completely unguarded. It was a trust that humbled her, even as it filled her with fierce protectiveness.
"Sleep, Smallville," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I've got you now."
—
Hours later, in the quiet sanctuary of Metropolis Children's Hospital, Amy Corbin sat alone in a private room. Her aunt Maria had stepped out to speak with doctors, leaving the eight-year-old to stare blankly at the cartoons playing on the room's television. She hadn't spoken since watching her father kill her mother, since seeing him taken into the sky by Superman. Her small hands clutched a tattered teddy bear—one her father had given her before his deployment, before everything changed.
A soft knock at the window made her look up. There, hovering outside, was Superman. But not the imposing figure from the news. This Superman looked tired, his suit torn, his expression gentle as he gestured to ask if he could come in. After a moment's hesitation, Amy nodded.
He entered silently, touching down with care, as if afraid his presence might somehow disturb the somber peace of the room. He didn't loom over her, instead kneeling beside her bed so they were eye to eye.
"Hello, Amy," he said softly. "Is it okay if we talk for a few minutes?"
She nodded, her small fingers tightening around the bear's worn fur.
"I wanted to tell you about your dad," Superman continued, his voice gentle but honest. "About what happened up there, among the stars."
"He's gone, isn't he?" Her voice was barely audible, the first words she'd spoken in hours. "Like Mom."
Superman nodded, not sugarcoating the truth. "Yes. He is."
Amy's lower lip trembled, but she didn't cry. Perhaps she'd exhausted her tears, or perhaps she'd known this was coming. "Was he... was he still the monster? At the end?"
"No," Superman said firmly. "No, Amy. At the end, he was your father again. The man who loved you more than anything in this world."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Really?"
"Really." Superman shifted, wincing slightly as healing injuries protested the movement. "Up there, away from the city, away from all the anger and pain... he remembered. He told me about the day you were born, how tiny your fingers were when they wrapped around his thumb. He remembered teaching you to ride a bike, how determined you were even when you fell."
Tears were forming in Amy's eyes now, but they weren't entirely sad. "He remembered me?"
"He never forgot you, Amy. Not really. The radiation, the changes they made to him—they buried the real John Corbin for a while, but they couldn't erase him completely." Superman reached for her hand, waiting for her permission before taking it gently in his. "His last words were about you. He wanted you to know how much he loved you, how sorry he was for everything that happened."
"Did... did it hurt? When he..." She couldn't finish the question.
Superman shook his head. "No. It was peaceful. He was looking at the stars, saying how beautiful they were. I think... I think he's still up there somewhere, watching over you."
Amy's tears fell freely now. "I miss him. The real him, not... not what he became."
"I know." Superman's own eyes glistened with unshed tears. "And it's okay to miss him, to love the father he was. That doesn't mean you have to forget or forgive the things he did. It just means your heart is big enough to hold both truth and love at the same time."
"Like Mom always said," Amy whispered. "She said Dad was a good man who got lost. That his heart was still good, even when his mind wasn't."
"Your mother was very wise," Superman said gently.
Amy looked up at him, suddenly curious despite her grief. "Were you scared? Up there with him?"
The question caught him off guard, but he answered honestly. "Yes. I was. But not of your father. I was scared of failing, of not being able to get him far enough away to keep everyone safe."
"My dad used to say being brave doesn't mean you're not scared," Amy said, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. "It means you do what's right even when you're terrified."
"Your dad was right," Superman agreed, his expression softening. "That sounds like something the real John Corbin would say. The hero he was before all this happened."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Amy spoke again. "Can I tell you a secret, Superman?"
"Of course."
"I think..." She looked down at her teddy bear, then back up. "I think Daddy would be happy you were with him at the end. That he wasn't alone."
Something in Superman's expression broke and healed simultaneously. "Thank you, Amy. That means more than you know."
He stayed a while longer, listening as Amy slowly began to talk about happier memories of her father—camping trips and bedtime stories, the dollhouse he'd built for her sixth birthday. The tension gradually melted from her small shoulders as she shared stories of the father she'd known before everything changed.
The door opened suddenly, and Maria rushed in with two doctors following close behind, their expressions shifting from concern to surprise at finding Superman sitting beside Amy's bed.
"What's going on here?" one of the doctors asked, his clipboard clutched tightly in his hand.
"It's okay," Superman said, rising slowly to his full height, wincing slightly from his still-healing injuries. "Amy and I were just talking."
Maria looked between Superman and her niece, noticing that Amy's eyes seemed clearer than they had been since the incident. "She hasn't spoken to anyone else," she said softly.
"She needed someone who was there," Superman explained. "Someone who could tell her about her father's final moments."
The second doctor stepped forward. "With all due respect, Superman, this child has experienced severe trauma. We have protocols—"
"He can stay," Amy said firmly, her small voice surprising everyone in the room. She reached out and took Superman's hand. "He promised to tell me about the stars where Daddy is now."
Maria's eyes filled with tears as she moved to her niece's side. "If this is helping her..."
The doctors exchanged glances before reluctantly nodding. "Just a few more minutes," the first one conceded.
When they left, Superman sat back down, sharing a small smile with Amy. The girl continued her stories, gradually drawing her aunt into the conversation too—moments Maria had shared with her brother-in-law, the good man he'd been before war and pain changed him.
By the time Superman prepared to leave, the haunted look had faded from Amy's eyes. In its place was something fragile but real—the beginning of healing.
"Will you come back sometimes?" Amy asked, her voice small but steady. "To tell me more about the stars where Daddy is?"
"I promise," Superman said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.