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Being Superman came with unexpected responsibilities, Clark had learned over the years. He had rescued cats, dogs, and even the occasional pet snake from trees. He had to fly with all sorts of beings, fight even more of them, and help almost every type of person, even those he despised.
Yet, life could still surprise him. It was proved by the fact he was now babysitting an eleven-year-old vigilante.
Dick Grayson was a whirlwind of color as he moved from one corner of the Wayne Manor’s library to the other. If Clark didn’t possess superspeed himself, he’d have been convinced Dick did.
With Alfred sick and out of commission, Bruce had no choice but to call Clark in to take care of Dick while he made a mandatory appearance at Wayne Enterprises. Apparently, Dick was banned from the place since Bruce caught him practicing somersaults on the edge of the building’s rooftop.
So that left Clark in charge—whatever charge one could have over a child who was capable of too great things for their small age.
They had been at the library for just 15 minutes when Dick turned to him and said. “You’re like me. An orphan.”
Clark put the book he had been holding down and tried not to wince at the kid’s bluntness.
“Huh... Yes,” he replied, trying not to stutter.
Dick tilted his head, considering his answer. He then stated, “I miss my parents a lot.”
Clark gulped. Was that how his parents felt raising a child who was unlike any other, asking questions they had no answers to? Because now he understood them better than ever.
He settled for saying, “There’s nothing wrong with that, kid.”
“Won’t I make Bruce sad? If I miss them?” Dick asked too casually, looking away.
Clark softened his expression, understanding seeping through his mind. “I don’t think so. Bruce misses his parents too. I’m sure Alfred never blamed him for it.”
Dick tapped his fingers against his knee. He didn’t look too convinced.
For some reason, Clark felt like he was being interviewed by this kid. In fact, it felt like he wasn’t getting off the hook unless he told the truth.
Dick turned his eyes back to him and questioned, “Do you ever miss your parents?”
Clark blinked. It wasn’t an unusual question. In fact, every time he told someone he was adopted, it would come up. It was different now. It felt like Dick needed someone who understood him, someone beyond Bruce who would always be a dad to him first and a son to his own parents second.
“Sometimes,” Clark admitted. “I love the family I have now, but I still wish my first parents could have been here with me.”
Dick frowned, confused. “But if you had them, you wouldn’t be a Kent, would you?”
Clark blinked, taken aback. What was Bruce teaching this kid that he could point out paradoxical situations that quickly?
He still answered, “No, I wouldn’t, but I guess love is complicated like that. Ma says it’s what makes me human.”
Dick did a somersault to get off the couch and then walked on his hands until he was standing in front of Clark. He wasn’t tall enough to look him in the eye, even when he stood up straight again.
“Is that why you’re Superman?” Dick asked, leaning forward until he could stare at Clark’s eyes. “Because of your Ma.”
Clark thought that an eleven-year-old had no business being so emotionally intelligent, but he still replied. “She’s definitely one of the main reasons. Both of my parents are.”
Martha Kent was one of a kind, and, due to a mixture of tragedy and good luck, Clark had ended up with her as a mom.
He couldn’t pinpoint the second he became the man who wore the cape and the symbol. Quite the opposite: becoming Superman had felt like a path he was walking since the day he was born. It felt inevitable. So powerful it could not be stopped once it was set in motion.
But it wasn’t always like that in all worlds. He wouldn’t try to explain the multiverse to a sixth grader, so he couldn’t tell Dick he had actually met other versions of himself before. Versions that never had the Kents as family and were worse off for it.
A Kal-El whose ship had fallen near a government division, not the Kents’ farm. An orphan boy turned into an experiment, raised in isolation and weaponized to the point of madness.
A very different Clark Kent who lost everything, including the humanity his Ma always believed to be his biggest strength.
A Kal-El who never reached Earth. One who thrived in Krypton and grew up to become a world conqueror, spreading horror and pain throughout many galaxies.
As his mind wandered through endless universes and possibilities, Dick waited impatiently for him to elaborate more on his answer.
Clark smiled shyly and added, “I think you’re right. My parents made me who I am. If it weren’t for my Ma and Pa, I would be a lot sadder and angrier. I would never have become Superman if it weren’t for them.”
Dick appeared to be in deep thought. He finally nodded, seeming satisfied by Clark’s answer this time around.
“Nice,” he eloquently said, deeming the conversation over, as if he hadn’t just poked at the very core of who Clark was.
Dick climbed next to him on the sofa, completely unaware of the emotional rollercoaster he had just taken Clark on.
Dick grabbed his arms, blinking in a pleading motion. “Will you fly me to the third floor? I want to show you a book!”
Clark smiled, trying to wrap his mind around the thoughtful version of Dick he just saw and the childlike wonder now on the kid’s face.
“Sure, buddy,” he agreed, “let’s do it.”
Dick yelled excitedly, already standing up again with the brightest grin.
Clark decided he wouldn’t mind babysitting again if it meant he could keep that smile on his face.