Rain poured as if the heavens themselves were expressing their grief. The Hall of Justice still remained in ruins, a memorial atop the steps for all those that lost their lives on that fateful day. Thousands were gathered in candles and flowers, the steps littered with a tribute to the fallen. In among the crowd there stood a man, chiseled and rough. His hair was both immaculate and unruly at the same time, and callous' on his hands betrayed the labor of his work.
Clark took a deep breath as he tried to compose himself. He looked down at the small child holding onto his hand. He saw much of Lois in Jon these days. It both made him proud and scared all at the same time. He still blamed himself for Jon being there that day, had Jon not been there Lois wouldn't have been there and if she hadn't been there then his entire life would be different right now. he let out another deep breath, controlling his thoughts before they ran away from him, something he was trying to work on. The temperature in the local area dropped. A couple of people turned to look at him, a brief sparkle of recognition on their faces before they realized how silly a notion that was, and turned back, working their way slowly toward the memorial.
Clark lurched forward as Jon pulled him onward toward the memorial, as they got closer his feet got heavier. His breath came harder, and his vision blurred. This was the first year that they had come to the memorial, Jon had wanted to pay his respects to his mother. Jon had such blurred memories of that day, even now in his therapy sessions he still struggled to explain what happened in anything resembling linear events.
They continued their way through the crowd, moving closer and closer to the steps.
You can't hope to defeat my master.The first step was like climbing a mountain, he swore he had leaped buildings smaller.
Get Jon out of here!His eyes were firmly affixed to a single name on the memorial now, dead ahead. He cast his eyes down to his son to see he too was locked in.
I'm so sorry Clark.They stopped as they stood before the plinth. About halfway down the lane, in bold letters.
LOIS LANE-KENT. Time seemed to slow, his mouth opened and closed and yet no words came out. Pulitzer prize-winning Journalist and he was lost for words.
There was a clap of thunder overhead, Jon flinched momentarily and then spoke in barely a whisper.
"I miss you Mom."
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