#superhombre

After a long while, there was a knock at the door.

You walked toward it and opened it, ready to say something to Clark, but he lunged at you before you could get a single word out. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, so tightly that you felt his body press against yours. Your heart nearly stopped for a second, and heat rushed to your cheeks, a blush you couldn't control. For one instant, you forgot all the anger, all the distrust, and only felt the weight of his arms around you.

"I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention," Clark said, pulling back just enough to cup your cheeks in his hands, checking you with a gaze that searched every inch of your face for injuries.

"Clark, don't be paranoid," you said, moving away and brushing off your clothes as though you could shake away the warmth of his closeness. "Don't forget, I'm strong, for my damn misfortune," you reminded him, your voice coming out harsher than you intended.

"Still, that thing seemed as strong as us. And if he had done something to you, you were angry with me. Your last memory would've been..." Clark said, his voice cracking slightly at the end, as though the thought of losing you was too much for him.

"But I didn't die, because we're worse than cats with nine lives," you said, trying to lighten the moment. "Just come in. I need to talk to you."

You walked toward the kitchen, feeling like you needed space.

"Hurry up," you said, and he nodded, closing the door behind him.

You looked at him, and for a moment, you wondered if telling him what you had seen was a good idea. At the end of the day, this could become work, and if Clark had given away your secrets to Lois so easily, what was stopping him from doing the same with this?

But you also knew you needed information, and he was the only person who could help you get it.

The problem was that Ultraman wanted to kill Superman.

And that put Clark in direct danger.

"Do you know anything about who attacked? I assume you talked about it with Lane," you said, looking at him with your arms crossed.

Your tone was cold, calculated, as though you were measuring every word.

"I have no idea where they came from. I think it only happened because the event was going to be streamed online and there were important people there," Clark said, his worried gaze settling on you. "Are you really okay? He didn't hurt you?"

His voice carried a tone that almost sounded sincere.

"I'm fine," you said.

Then you added, "Do you remember what your girlfriend was investigating? About Luthor? About creating powers in people? Do you have all that research? From what I know, Perry stopped her from continuing it."

Clark looked at you with suspicion, as though he knew you were planning something.

"I'm not going to do anything," you assured him, but he didn't look convinced.

"I don't believe you," Clark said, his voice carrying that knowing tone only someone who knew you well could have.

He knew you could be as curious as any journalist.

He knew you didn't stop until you found answers.

"No, Clark. I'll report anything I find. I just have a few questions," you said, and even though your words sounded steady, inside you felt like you were walking over thin ice.

"Then let's talk to Lois," Clark said.

You scoffed, feeling your patience wear thin.

"I am not talking to her. I don't hate her, Clark, before you accuse me of that. I can't stand people who try to act like they're my friend when they don't know me. She doesn't know me. If she knows anything about me, it's because of you. So I don't want a friend. I want her to remain the colleague I speak to professionally."

The complaint slipped out with an edge you couldn't soften.

Clark nodded, his expression caught somewhere between guilt and understanding.

"I'm sorry. I'll bring you the research," Clark said, his voice gentler now. "I..."

He tried to say something else, but you interrupted him.

"Good. That's all. You can go, Clark," you said with a brief smile, turning away to grab a glass and fill it with water so he wouldn't see your face harden.

Clark looked at you and nodded, turning around to leave.

But as he walked toward the door, his mind wouldn't stop spinning.

How was he going to get the truth out of you?

And not the truth about what had happened that afternoon.

He couldn't stop thinking about what Cat had told him earlier, when he returned to the building after Superman had "rescued" you.

He had reached his apartment, changed quickly, and gone back to being Clark Kent just as Cat spotted him in the middle of the chaos. She ran toward him, tears filling her eyes.

"They took her," Cat said, her voice trembling. "Kent, God, she... she'd already had a terrible week, and it was because of you."

She pointed at him with an accusing finger, and he stared at her in confusion, feeling as though the ground had shifted beneath his feet.

"I..." Clark stopped, not knowing what to say.

Did Cat know something he didn't?

"Yes. How could it not be? How would you feel if the guy you've liked for a long time kissed another woman?" Cat asked, her words falling over Clark like a bucket of ice water. "And now I don't even know if she's okay."

Her tears began rolling down her cheeks.

"Superman took her home. I know because she texted me," Clark said, feeling the words catch in his throat.

Cat looked at him, and for a moment, it seemed as though she was going to say something else.

Instead, she reached for her phone.

"Really? God, I need to call her," Cat said, walking away to call you and completely forgetting the revelation she had just made.

Clark stayed there, standing in the middle of the hallway, feeling Cat's words echo inside his head.

He had disappointed your trust.

He already knew that.

But now, knowing you were in love with him, that you had been in love with him all this time, made everything feel even crueler.

Without meaning to, he had hurt you.

He hadn't had the courage to tell you, to face the truth.

And now, as he thought about everything that had happened, about every moment the two of you had shared, he realized that maybe he had always known.

Maybe he had always seen the way your eyes lit up whenever you looked at him.

But he had chosen to ignore it.

He chose silence.

Even if that didn't stop his thoughts from getting trapped in your words and in every memory he had made with you since the day he met you.

And that’s exactly what you did. Once you’d managed to get Clark to give you the information Lois had gathered on Luthor, the one Perry had told her to drop because it was no longer relevant, you spent weeks reading through the documents. You drank coffee at night, even though it was only a habit you had picked up from humans, and reviewed the lost files Lois had marked as important. Employees who had reported mistreatment. Cases no one seemed to know much about after the lawsuit. Then, among the notes, there was an employee's statement, a copy of what he had declared. He had sent it to Lois, and she had marked it as an important witness.

You read the following:

I saw it. I know what I saw. Everyone knows it. They experiment on human bodies. They're insane. They inject them. Some have died, others are hidden, their bodies altered to survive and fight. A woman with her entire body made of nanobots, the most loyal to Luthor. Her. She's always watching, always training. They want to create life. Perfect alien clones. They have failed. I only know of one who survived. They hide him because he has certain flaws, but he's a danger to everyone. To Superman. They cloned him. Lex Luthor cloned him.

You read aloud under your breath as you frowned, "perfect alien clones."

Alien.

That was how they had started with Clark. You fell into that category too, even if they still didn't know you existed.

You sighed, lowering the papers, and looked toward the sun. It was daytime. You got dressed, fixed yourself as best as you could, and left your apartment for the Daily Planet. Your gaze remained fixed on the metal doors of the elevator while you thought.

How could you see him again?

Your doubts leapt from one thought to another.

What if he was the clone with flaws the statement had mentioned?

Your mind was so lost that you didn't even notice Clark looking at you, or the way he stood up and watched you sit down, as though deciding whether it was right to approach you. You stayed silent. Maybe the only time you paid attention to him was when he went to get another cup of coffee and Lois walked over, touching his arm with a smile.

You lowered your gaze.

In fact, you forced yourself to ignore his voice.

Your hearing no longer activated whenever he was near.

Of course, you wouldn't forget him from one day to the next. His unrequited love still hurt. So did the broken friendship, the one that, at the very least, had still been safe.

Or so you had believed.

You looked out the window.

Then an idea crossed your mind.

You analyzed his behavior, comparing it to the memory you had of the man who called himself Ultraman. He didn't seem able to formulate questions properly. Maybe he even struggled to form a full sentence. He didn't seem to have basic human knowledge or the ability to truly feel, but maybe he could remember. If he had the same powers you and Clark had, even though you still didn't know how they had achieved that, he would feel your pulse, your presence, in the place where you had last seen each other.

You sent the article Cat had asked you to focus on, copied both her and Perry, then turned off your computer and packed your things in a hurry.

"Leaving so soon?"

Clark's voice made you turn, but you didn't stop shoving your notebooks into your bag.

"Yes," you said simply.

He didn't move.

"Where are you going?" Clark asked, and you looked at him. "We always leave together. Well, we haven't for the last two weeks, but we used to go back to the apartment together."

You smiled.

"Go in the middle of you and Lois? I don't want to make myself uncomfortable, Clark," you said, grabbing your phone. "I have to check something. Bye."

You walked toward the elevator with quick steps, feeling Clark's gaze still heavy on your back. You knew you had to calm every part of yourself. Every heartbeat, every thought, every tiny signal that could reveal what you were doing. Clark had seemed more focused on you for the past week, and that made you feel like he was only doing it because he knew you were investigating something related to Luthor.

You couldn't let him suspect more than he already did.

So you went up to the eighth floor, walked through the empty hallway with firm steps, then took the stairs that led to the rooftop. Fresh air struck your face when you opened the door, and you looked around to make sure no one else was there. You sighed, releasing all the tension you had been holding, then flew toward the highest part of the sky.

You rose so quickly that the wind whistled in your ears, and within seconds, you vanished among the clouds. The sun hit you directly, wrapping you in its familiar warmth and recharging every cell in your body with that energy only Kryptonians could feel.

But you didn't stop there.

You headed toward the same wooded area where you had fallen with that man, the place you now engraved into your memory as though it were a secret meeting point. You remained floating among the clouds, looking down at the dense green of the trees below, and then you said it out loud, normally, without shouting, as if you were speaking to someone you knew would hear you.

"Let me see you one more time."

And you waited.

Silence stretched all around you, broken only by the whisper of the wind through the leaves. The minutes passed, slow and heavy, and the sky began to darken, staining itself in shades of orange and purple as the sun sank into the horizon. You descended into the forest, feeling the damp earth beneath your feet, and pulled out your phone to search for a signal.

There was nothing.

Only an emptiness that reflected your frustration.

Maybe you would only see him again if he faced Clark, you thought, and the idea filled you with unease. You didn't want that to happen, but you didn't know how else to find him.

You looked toward the sky, about to fly back home, when you began rising slowly toward the top of one of the pine trees.

That was when a broken, strange voice made you turn in the air.

"Why you... want... see me?" he asked.

You looked at him in surprise.

He was there, floating a few meters away from you, without his mask, his face completely uncovered. His eyes watched you with a mixture of curiosity and confusion, as though he couldn't understand why you were there.

"You came," you said, your voice softer than you expected, as if his presence had taken you by surprise.

"You... call... me. I... wait... only... no... anyone?" he said, pointing at himself with a clumsy movement, as though he wanted to make sure you understood what he was saying.

You looked at his chest and noticed he wasn't wearing the monitor the voices had come from, the device that had seemed to give him orders. You thought maybe he wanted to make sure no one had followed him, that the two of you were alone.

He tilted his head, his face serious and empty, and looked at you as he waited for your answer.

"Who created you?" you asked, your voice steadier this time, as though you were searching for confirmation you already knew you were going to get.

"Lex Luthor... my... creator," he said.

You nodded slowly.

Then you had been right.

Everything you had read in Lois's documents, everything the witness had declared, was true. Ultraman was a clone, a creation of Lex Luthor.

You moved closer to him, but he retreated, floating backward as if your approach had frightened him. His eyes seemed to watch you with something you could almost mistake for fear.

"I come from where Superman comes from," you said.

He blinked, a gesture so human it caught you off guard.

"If you kill him, you'll have to kill me too, won't you?" you asked, and this time your voice was more serious, as though you were testing his limits.

"I obey orders. You... not order," Ultraman said.

You nodded, feeling his words confirm what you already suspected.

"And if, after killing Superman, they ask you to kill me, will that be an order?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly, though you tried to hide it.

"I... obey order," he said.

You looked at him nervously.

But then he added, "But I... protect you."

He looked at you in a way you hadn't expected.

"No reason," he said, and his voice sounded almost confused, as though he didn't understand why he was saying it either.

You watched him, analyzing his words.

Was it possible that a clone who seemed to follow orders, who had literally been created for that purpose, could disobey them? Or maybe this was another flaw in what Luthor wanted.

Your thoughts spun in your head, trying to find an answer that wouldn't come.

"You don't have a story," you said, not fully understanding what you meant. "He couldn't have raised you and let you grow, so you were simply created like this."

You tried to understand, but he didn't seem to understand anything you were saying. His eyes stayed fixed on you, as if he were waiting for you to give him an explanation he couldn't find on his own.

"I not choose, only obey," he said, as though those words were the only truth he knew.

"You can choose, even if you're a clone. You're practically a life," you said, carefully analyzing the situation. "Maybe Superman can help you. Superman is good."

"I kill him," he said.

You understood then that you wouldn't be able to remove that from his mind. It was as though he had been programmed for that one mission, as though his existence revolved around that single purpose.

"If you try to kill him, I will interfere," you said, looking at him seriously. "It is my duty to protect Kal-El."

The words left your mouth with a firmness you didn't know you had.

Because despite everything, despite the unrequited love and the broken friendship, your mission was to take care of Clark. Maybe you had also lied a little when you met him. Maybe your duty on Earth had been to observe him and protect him, and the closeness you had built with him had won you over, making you forget what you truly were and what you were meant to do.

But now, standing in front of this lost clone, all of it rose back to the surface.

Ultraman looked at you without saying anything.

And you moved away, leaving him floating in the middle of the forest, alone and confused.

You flew back to your apartment with your heart beating fast, feeling that every passing minute brought you closer to a truth you weren't sure you were ready to face.

When you arrived, you left your purse by the entrance and grabbed the notes and the recorder with everything you had recorded from Ultraman. You needed to tell someone. You needed someone to know what you had discovered.

You opened the door to your apartment and looked down the hallway, where Clark was standing with Jimmy and Lois. Lois was touching Clark's arm with a familiarity that hurt to see, and when Clark noticed you, he fell silent, making the other two look at you as well.

"Good evening," you said, feeling your voice sound more awkward than you wanted it to.

"Oh, yeah, you were in your apartment," Jimmy said with a smile.

You nodded without much enthusiasm.

"Come on, Jimmy, she was probably on a date," Lois said with a smile that seemed far too confident to you.

You shook your head, hiding the notes and recorder behind your back, and then, when you turned around, you saw Ultraman floating outside your window.

You went pale, feeling the blood freeze in your veins. You looked at everyone, hoping they hadn't seen anything, then turned back to them with a forced smile.

"Yes," you said.

Clark looked at you with curiosity.

"I... I'm on a date," you said, swallowing hard.

"Really? Then why were you about to leave?" Clark asked, as though the question had slipped out before he could stop it.

"I heard a noise. I thought my order had arrived. Food," you said, offering a smile that almost never appeared on your face, one you hoped sounded convincing.

"Who are you with?" Clark asked, his tone almost insistent, as though he couldn't stand not knowing.

"Clark, don't be nosy. She'll tell you eventually. Good luck," Lois said.

She and Jimmy raised their thumbs in a supportive gesture that only made you feel even more uncomfortable.

You smiled, and as soon as the door locked behind you, you flew toward the window at full speed and pulled Ultraman into your apartment, seating him on the couch in a movement so fast that it felt strange he didn't attack in response. Once he was sitting, you moved closer to him, feeling as though Clark might be looking through the walls with his vision, and positioned yourself in front of Ultraman. Both of you were on the couch, your breathing uneven.

You would not let Clark see him.

Then you heard the door to Clark's apartment close, and you sighed in relief. You heard Lois, Jimmy, and Clark walking out of the building, and only then did you realize you were still there, looking at Ultraman from far too close.

Your cheeks warmed when you noticed the distance between you, and you quickly pulled away.

"Sorry," you said, removing your hand from his chest, where you had been leaning without even realizing it.

But he stopped you with a strong pull that brought you close to his face again.

You looked at him, swallowing hard.

His face, so similar to Clark's but marked by that harshness that made him different, was so close that you could see every detail of his features.

"That..." he said, looking down at your hand on his chest. "With you... I feel... everything," he whispered.

You looked into his eyes.

In them, you saw questions, confusion, the absence of answers.

"I... not be... programmed for that," he said, looking at you.

Then you looked down at his hand as it touched your cheek, the hand covered by his black suit. His palm pressed against your cheek, and in that instant, you felt it.

You felt his heartbeat.

Fast.

Wild.

The complete opposite of his calm, empty face.

It was strange.

There were similarities to Clark, physically, perhaps, but he was different.

He was not Clark.

He was a man lost inside thoughts even he didn't understand, and he looked for you as if you were the only person who could help him find answers.

And somehow, that made you feel a little closer to him, a little more connected to his confusion, as though the two of you shared something neither of you fully understood.

Your eyes lingered on your coffee, the steaming cup you held between your hands as though it were an anchor keeping you grounded in the present.

But your mind was somewhere else.

It drifted back to those words you couldn't get out of your head.

Once again, you remembered the racing heartbeat.

Your cheeks burned with the memory.

You couldn't forget what he'd said.

"With you... I feel... everything."

The words had been simple.

So simple.

Like a child searching for answers in a world he didn't understand.

As though he had been looking for something only you could give him, and that left you feeling a strange mixture of confusion and tenderness you didn't know how to process.

You sighed, shaking your head.

It was impossible, you told yourself.

It couldn't be.

You massaged your temples with your fingertips, feeling the tension gathering at the back of your neck.

After that night in your apartment, he had left, disappearing between the buildings like a shadow that refused to be caught.

But he'd returned a week later, appearing outside your window without warning, staring at you with eyes that looked so much like Clark's and yet were completely different at the same time.

When you first saw him, you didn't even think it was him.

Maybe it was Kara, who always lingered outside your window with that mischievous smile of hers, begging you to let her in with Krypto tucked under one arm.

You loved Krypto, of course.

That troublesome dog always found a new way to get himself into trouble.

Cleaning up after his disasters, though, was exhausting.

Chewed-up furniture.

Knocked-over plants.

Even so, you always let him in.

Because seeing Kara and Krypto felt like holding onto a small piece of Krypton here on Earth, a reminder that you weren't alone in this strange world.

But it wasn't Kara.

It was him.

"They don't know?" you asked, looking at him without moving any closer, keeping your distance as though it were a shield.

"I hide... for... you," he said before stopping.

He was thinking.

You could see it in his eyes.

In the slight furrow of his brow.

It was as though he had decided to have thoughts of his own, as though he were learning to become something more than a collection of commands.

"Protect you from them," he finished.

His words sounded almost gentle, even though his face remained the same wall of seriousness that never seemed to crack.

"Why?" you asked again.

You needed to hear it.

You needed to understand.

"Because... I like... being... near... you," he answered.

You let out a slow breath, feeling it catch in your throat.

Those words.

So simple.

So direct.

They reached much deeper than you'd expected.

Then he stepped closer.

You remembered how he no longer wore the gloves that had been part of his suit.

His hands looked so human.

So vulnerable without that layer of protection.

He touched your cheek with a gentleness that completely contrasted with his rough appearance, and warmth spread across your skin wherever his fingers brushed against you.

"You soft like..." he said, tilting his head while he searched for the right word, as though flipping through a dictionary he'd barely begun to learn.

"...a donut."

You looked at him before bursting into laughter, your smile wide enough to show your teeth.

It was genuine.

Natural.

It escaped before you could stop it.

He watched you curiously, as though he'd never seen someone react that way before.

"You... angry?" he asked, unable to connect your expression to anything he understood.

You smiled and shook your head.

"No. It's laughter. It means something makes me happy."

You explained it patiently, as though teaching a child the meaning of a new word.

He nodded slowly, as if carefully storing that information somewhere inside his mind.

You had allowed him to visit you often, even though doing so exposed you to Lex Luthor.

You knew every visit was a risk.

But you also knew that if you could change his desire to kill Superman, then someday you could finally tell Clark the truth.

And that way...

They wouldn't hurt Ultraman.

Because if you were honest with yourself, Ultraman was more than a clone.

He was a life.

Someone with likes and dislikes.

Someone with things that made him unique.

You had discovered that yourself.

When you gave him strawberry ice cream, Clark's favorite flavor, he hated it.

But mint chocolate chip...

He loved it.

Which was strange because Clark couldn't stand it.

That tiny difference, something so insignificant, had made you realize he wasn't simply a copy.

He was someone else.

You sighed and wrote down your observations in a notebook, trying to make sense of everything.

"You study me... like them," he said one day.

You looked up at him, feeling his words prick you like a needle.

"I... not want."

There was something in his voice you could almost mistake for sadness.

You smiled.

Because by then, you had already made your decision.

You walked toward him, closing the distance you always kept between the two of you.

"I'm not studying you," you said.

"I'm trying to understand you."

He didn't seem to understand.

His brow furrowed once again.

"You're not an object. I'm trying to understand you as a person. What you like. What you don't. Those things are what make you more human."

Your words lingered between the two of you like a promise.

"Not human."

"Weapon."

Ultraman's voice remained so flat it sounded more like a fact than an opinion.

"Human. Because if you weren't, you wouldn't feel this."

You placed your hand against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

He looked away uneasily, as though he didn't know what to do with that feeling.

But he didn't pull away.

He stayed exactly where he was, allowing your hand to rest over his heart as though he were learning how to trust that kind of contact.

There was still one question you couldn't answer.

One that kept circling through your mind like a song you couldn't stop hearing.

Why did he keep coming back to you?

Why did he seek you out as though you were the only person in the world capable of making him feel something beyond the basics?

You couldn't understand why a clone created only to obey had chosen to approach you.

Why he had decided to hide his existence from his creators simply to protect you.

That question remained suspended between the two of you like a fragile bubble neither of you wanted to burst.

You were still thinking, your eyes unfocused on a random spot along the wall, when a wrapped Hawaiian empanada landed on your desk.

The sweet and savory aroma reached your nose, and you looked up in surprise.

It was Clark.

He wore that smile of his, the one that always seemed to brighten his face.

Now you saw it differently.

You looked at the empanada, feeling how familiar the gesture was.

Almost painfully familiar.

"What's the occasion?" you asked.

He shook his head before sitting down in the chair beside your desk as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Long day," Clark said.

Then he looked at you with that intensity that had always managed to undo you.

"How have you been?"

You looked at him, confused.

"We haven't really talked much for the past month and a half," he reminded you.

You nodded, realizing time had passed much faster than you'd thought.

"You never told me how your date went," he said casually, as though he were simply making conversation.

"My date?" you repeated.

Then you remembered the excuse you'd made that night.

"Oh... right. Umm... it went well."

You avoided looking at him as you picked up the empanada, feeling the warmth of the paper against your fingers.

"I bought the chocolate one," Clark said, holding it up with a smile.

You smiled back and nodded.

The moment felt so ordinary that, for a second, you could almost pretend nothing had changed.

"So... was it someone from work?" he asked.

There was genuine curiosity in his voice.

You looked at him.

Curiosity was normal for Clark.

You never suspected there were deeper intentions behind the question.

You didn't know he and Lois were already struggling after only a few months together.

You didn't know you had become the main subject occupying his thoughts.

To you...

He was simply Clark.

The friend who always wanted to know everything.

"No," you answered, meeting his gaze.

"It's... someone else."

You nodded but offered nothing more.

"Oh..."

"Then I guess it's something serious."

He smiled.

You smiled back without saying another word, feeling the lie stretch between you like a shadow.

"Does he treat you well?" he asked.

You looked at him, surprised by the question.

"You don't have to worry, Clark. If he treated me badly, I'd get rid of him."

He gave you a look you couldn't quite read.

"I don't mean... God... not like that. I wouldn't hurt him. I'd just walk away."

Clark smiled, visibly relieved.

"I know."

You nodded, feeling the moment linger longer than you wanted it to.

"How are things with Lane?" you asked, changing the subject without hesitation.

You needed to know.

Even if it hurt.

"I think... they're okay. Well... it's..."

He stumbled over his words.

"...strange."

You smiled faintly.

The irony wasn't lost on you.

"I can imagine."

You took another bite of your empanada, letting the sweet and savory flavors blend together.

"The day of the convention," Clark began, his voice growing more serious, "Cat was really shaken up about the man who took you away, and she said something about..."

"We've got work. They're expecting us downstairs in five minutes," Cat interrupted, forcing a smile that never quite reached her eyes.

"Oh... Kent. It's strange seeing you two together."

"We were just talking, Cat," you said, looking at her, silently asking her not to make things difficult with Clark.

You didn't want her getting herself into trouble.

You didn't want him asking questions you couldn't answer.

So you gave her a subtle nod to let her know everything was fine.

"See you later," you told Clark as you gathered your things, feeling the weight of his gaze following you.

"Thanks for the empanada."

With your bag over your shoulder and your coat in hand, you walked away beside Cat.

Clark watched you leave, hesitating.

Was this really the right thing?

He looked at your empty chair, feeling that something between the two of you had broken beyond his understanding.

Were you really with someone?

The thought settled heavily in his chest.

Someone else was making you smile now.

Someone else occupied your time.

Had it really come to this?

Did it take seeing you with someone else for him to realize that his eyes still followed you whenever you walked away?

That despite everything you were still important to him.

But you didn't know any of that.

You had simply made a decision.

To distance yourself from him.

To let time pass.

To let your wounds heal.

And when you were certain Clark no longer had any effect on you, when you could finally forgive him for breaking your trust and your friendship, maybe the two of you could go back to the way things used to be.

Although, if you were being honest with yourself, nothing ever truly went back to the way it was before.

You knew that.

Things changed.

People changed.

And broken trust wasn't repaired simply by wishing it could be.

That night, you came home late from work.

You had spent the evening interviewing the cast of a recently released film alongside Cat, and exhaustion had settled into your bones like a weight you couldn't shake off. The city lights reflected across the taxi windows on your way home while your thoughts drifted between the interview questions and the echo of a voice you couldn't forget.

The next day, you still had to transcribe the final minutes of the recording.

For now, though, all you wanted was to disconnect.

To let silence wrap around you.

To forget, even for a moment, everything weighing on your mind.

You left your bag by the entrance, locked the door behind you, and sank onto the couch, feeling your body melt into the cushions.

You stared at the ceiling, letting the darkness of the apartment embrace you.

An entire week had passed without seeing him.

A whole week since he'd last appeared outside your window.

Was he alright?

Was he safe?

Had he gone back to those dark places he always talked about without fully understanding them himself?

You closed your eyes, letting exhaustion slowly pull you toward sleep.

"Are you awake?"

The low, broken voice made you smile without opening your eyes.

It was him.

It was always him.

"You took your time coming back," you said, feeling an unfamiliar sense of calm settle over you. "I'm tired."

"You... hurt?" he asked.

You heard his footsteps approaching, his presence falling over you like a shadow.

"No. I was working. But why don't you do the same? Get some rest, like I do."

You still hadn't opened your eyes.

Your words came out slowly, reflecting just how exhausted you were.

"Okay," he replied.

You smiled, imagining his serious face nodding in agreement with your suggestion.

There was no need to open your eyes.

You had taught him that he could rest.

That he didn't always have to stay alert.

What you hadn't imagined...

Was how he would choose to do it.

You felt the couch sink beside you.

Then you felt his weight shift over your body.

Your eyes flew open.

He was above you.

That face that looked so much like Clark's, yet so completely different, hovered only inches away.

You didn't say anything.

You didn't move.

Then he settled against your chest, resting his head on you as though it were the most natural place in the world.

You remained perfectly still, feeling the weight of his body against yours and the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing.

"Your heartbeat... relaxing for me," he whispered.

He had learned how to whisper.

He no longer spoke with the harshness that had defined him in the beginning.

His words were softer now.

More human.

A shiver ran through you at the gesture.

Your hand hesitated.

Then, slowly, it found its way into his dark, untidy hair, gently stroking it.

You sighed.

He sighed too.

Copying you.

Like a mirror learning how to reflect.

He copied everything.

Absolutely everything.

That trust...

That pure, unquestioning surrender...

Made you smile.

That night, you finally dared to ask him questions.

To dig deeper into his thoughts.

He seemed to be learning the difference between right and wrong.

Like the day you'd accidentally cut yourself.

Even though you'd assured him it didn't hurt.

That it would heal quickly.

He had immediately stepped closer, reaching toward the wound.

You'd seen panic in his eyes.

You told him hurting someone like that...

Making them bleed...

Was wrong.

He understood.

He nodded with that familiar seriousness, as though carving the lesson into the deepest part of his mind.

"My friend can help us," you said softly, still running your fingers through his hair.

"My friend," he repeated.

His voice sounded almost dreamy.

"Yes."

He nodded against your chest.

An hour passed.

Maybe more.

Time disappeared inside the quiet little world the two of you had unknowingly created.

Eventually, he stood.

So did you.

The warmth of his body disappeared, replaced by the cool air of the apartment.

You smiled at him with a tenderness you hadn't realized you were still capable of feeling.

"I know he'll help us," you whispered.

Your words lingered in the room like a promise.

"Do you trust him?" Ultraman asked.

You looked at him, feeling the weight of the question.

"Yes."

You didn't hesitate.

"I trust you."

"No one else has my trust," he clarified.

You lowered your eyes, feeling his words settle somewhere much deeper than you expected.

"If you trust... I trust."

"Ultraman..."

You looked at him before stopping yourself.

"Luthor doesn't know anything, does he?"

He met your eyes with that same intensity that always left you defenseless.

"No."

He answered without hesitation.

"I give all of me... to protect you."

He tilted his head thoughtfully.

"My heart... beat strange... with you."

"...but I like it."

You looked at him, feeling the air leave your lungs.

Ultraman stepped closer.

Your eyes instinctively fell to the way he was looking at your slightly parted lips.

Your heart began racing.

Beating so loudly you were certain he could hear it.

Then...

He kissed you.

It was awkward at first.

Rigid.

He barely moved, as though he didn't know what he was supposed to do.

Then something changed.

He moved instinctively.

As though his body understood what his mind still couldn't.

You responded, gently guiding him.

His hands settled carefully against your waist while yours rested against his chest.

Little by little, your movements found the same rhythm.

When they finally did, his hand tightened against your back.

You wrapped your arms around his neck.

When the kiss ended, both of you were breathing harder.

Then you saw it.

A tiny smile.

Barely visible.

Just one corner of his lips lifting ever so slightly.

But it was real.

You reached up and gently brushed your fingertips across that smile, feeling as though the world had stopped for a single moment.

"I want... be human... for you," he whispered.

His words settled inside your heart like a wound that had finally begun to heal.

The front door opened without warning.

Clark stepped inside using the key you'd given him months ago, the one you had never found the courage to ask him to return.

The door opened with a soft click.

His blue eyes swept across the room.

Confusion crossed his face.

Then something darker followed.

He saw you.

Your hair was messy.

Your cheeks were still flushed.

Then he saw Ultraman.

His face uncovered.

So impossibly similar to his own.

Yet unmistakably different.

One of Ultraman's hands still rested against your waist as though it belonged there.

For a single heartbeat...

Everything froze.

Then your eyes met Clark's.

In an instant, everything you had managed to build over the past few weeks, every silent night, every ounce of distance you had fought to create, shattered like a mirror striking the floor.

You pulled away from Ultraman immediately, still feeling the warmth of his body clinging to yours.

But it was already too late.

Clark had seen him.

He had seen everything.

Clark looked at you in confusion.

Of course he was confused.

His gaze moved from you to the man standing behind you, the man who looked identical to him and yet so different at the same time.

His clone.

Unkempt.

Strange.

With that hardness in his features that Clark had never had.

Ultraman's expression hardened from where he stood behind you, like an animal preparing to attack if necessary. Clark's gaze shifted from him back to you, and the first thing he thought was that you were in danger. You could see it in his eyes, in the way his fists clenched at his sides, in the tension that moved through his body.

"Clark," you said.

He looked at you, his blue eyes searching for an explanation you still didn't have.

"It's not... I mean, it is what it looks like, actually, but there's context behind it," you said, feeling the words stumble over each other in your throat.

But Clark wasn't listening.

He couldn't.

His gaze was fixed on Ultraman, on that face that was his own but twisted somehow, something that didn't quite fit. Confusion mixed with anger in his eyes, and he took a step forward, as though he were ready to face his own reflection.

"What is he doing here?" Clark asked, his voice harder than you expected. "Who is he? What does he want from you?"

Ultraman answered with a low, almost animalistic growl, and his hand settled on your waist, pulling you back as though he wanted to protect you from Clark.

The gesture was quick.

Possessive.

And Clark saw it.

He saw everything.

The way Ultraman's fingers curled around your waist.

The way he held you as though you were his.

Something changed in Clark's eyes.

His anger turned into something else, something you had never seen in him before.

Jealousy.

Raw, unmistakable jealousy.

"Take your hand off her," Clark said, his voice a cold whisper, sharp as ice.

He took another step forward, and this time, he floated a few inches above the floor, as though he were ready to attack.

"Right now."

Ultraman didn't move.

His hand remained on your waist, and his gaze locked onto Clark in silent challenge. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tightened, ready for a fight. You knew that if Clark took one more step, Ultraman wouldn't hesitate to attack.

And you couldn't allow that.

You placed your hand against Ultraman's chest, feeling his heart beating fast beneath your fingers.

"No," you said, your voice firm, like an order that allowed no argument. "Don't."

Ultraman looked at you, and for a moment, his gaze softened.

Though his face remained that same wall of seriousness, his body relaxed slightly, and the hand at your waist loosened, even if it didn't move away. With caution, he stayed where he was, waiting.

Then you turned toward Clark, floating too so you could place yourself between them. Your body became a shield between the two of them, and you looked directly into Clark's eyes.

"If you attack him, you'll be attacking me too, Clark," you said, your voice steady even though you were trembling inside. "And I don't think you want to do that."

Clark stared at you, unable to understand.

His eyes searched your face, looking for an explanation, trying to understand why you were defending him.

Why you would put yourself between him and a clone who was clearly a threat.

"You were right," you said, your voice softening. "Luthor was behind this."

You nodded toward Ultraman, and Clark followed your gaze.

"He made a clone to kill you. But I'm sure he won't do it," you said, and your tone was so convincing that Clark hesitated for a moment.

"How can you be so sure?" Clark asked, his voice carrying disbelief and pain. "How do you know he isn't a threat? How do you know he isn't here to hurt you?"

"Because he won't," you said, meeting Clark's gaze. "Because I've seen him, Clark. I've spoken to him. He isn't just a clone. He's a person. A life. And he doesn't want to hurt you. Not if I ask him not to."

Clark stared at you in silence, processing your words.

His gaze traveled from you to Ultraman, then back to you. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the internal struggle between what he was seeing and what you were telling him.

Finally, both of them touched the floor again, no longer floating.

The sound of their feet settling against the wood broke the tense silence that had taken over the room. You asked Clark to sit, gesturing toward the armchair with a nod, then made Ultraman sit a little away from him, beside you, as if you were a bridge between two worlds that didn't know how to meet.

Clark watched that interaction.

The way Ultraman obeyed your directions without hesitation.

The way his eyes followed you as though you were his only guide in a world he didn't understand.

Something in Clark's expression hardened, though he said nothing.

You sat between them, feeling the weight of both their gazes on you.

You exhaled deeply and began to explain everything.

Lois's investigations, the ones you had asked Clark for.

The documents he had given you because you had doubts about Lex Luthor's laboratories.

You told him how you had followed the clues, how you had found the witness statement, how everything had finally made sense when you found Ultraman in the forest.

You looked at Ultraman, and your voice softened.

"Can I tell Clark what they do to you at LexCorp?" you asked.

He looked at you and slowly nodded.

That simple gesture, so human, was enough for Clark to understand something.

That was the trust he had broken.

That was the connection you had built with this clone while he, Clark, had been left outside it.

You stayed silent for a moment.

Then you spoke.

You didn't go into detail, because only Ultraman and you knew what he had endured in those laboratories. You didn't want to expose him more than necessary, didn't want Clark to hear things Ultraman might not be ready for him to understand.

But you gave him what mattered.

"They make him fight so he can become better than you," you said, looking directly at Clark. "They control him through devices they place on his chest. They guide him from computers during combat, measuring his movements because Luthor has studied you. Every step. Every punch. Every reaction. They want him to be a perfect version of you, a weapon capable of defeating you."

Clark looked at you, his face hardening.

You could see the pieces beginning to fall into place in his mind, how the threat he had always felt from Luthor had now materialized inside this room, in the man sitting beside you.

"But Ultraman is more than an object or a weapon," you said firmly, your words sounding like a truth that allowed no argument. "He's a life, Clark. He has likes. He has fears. He has feelings."

You looked at Ultraman, and for a moment, your eyes met his.

"He isn't what Luthor wants him to be. He is what he's choosing to become."

Ultraman looked at you, and in his eyes, you saw something you hadn't expected.

Gratitude.

As though your words were the only echo of humanity he had ever heard in his entire existence.

Clark, meanwhile, remained silent, processing everything you had said. His gaze shifted from you to Ultraman, then back to you, as if trying to find the answer to a question he still didn't know how to ask.

"And you?" Clark finally asked, his voice soft, almost unsteady. "What are you to him?"

The question hung in the air, and your heart sped up.

You hadn't expected it.

Not so directly.

You looked at Ultraman, and he looked back at you, waiting for your answer as much as Clark was.

"I..."

The words got stuck in your throat.

You didn't know what you were to him.

You didn't know how to define what had grown between the two of you through weeks of secret encounters, broken conversations, and shared silences.

"I think I'm the only person who has seen him as someone, not something," you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ultraman nodded slowly, and something in his face softened, as though your words had confirmed what he already felt but couldn't express.

Then Clark stood and walked toward the window.

His back became a wall that refused to turn around, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands opened and closed at his sides as though he were fighting himself. You stood to follow him, but Ultraman stopped you with a hand on your arm. His fingers closed gently, without force, only to get your attention.

You looked at him, and he held your gaze with that serious expression that defined him.

He said nothing, but you understood.

He knew you would be alright, that this was something you had to do alone.

Maybe he had detected something you couldn't see, something in the way Clark had pulled away.

Maybe he knew Clark's anger wasn't only anger, but something else Ultraman, in his broken way of understanding the world, had identified as jealousy.

But he didn't stop you again.

He let you go, though his eyes never left you, watching every movement, every word.

You walked toward Clark, feeling each step grow heavier than the last.

You stopped beside him, looking out at the city stretching beyond the glass, the lights flickering like fallen stars on the earth.

"I know I should've told you sooner," you said, your voice apologetic, small in the silence of the room.

Clark looked at you, and for a moment, his face softened.

He shook his head, and his blue eyes met yours.

"You did the right thing," he said, his voice calmer than you expected. "You knew I would tell Lois and Jimmy. That's what you didn't want, wasn't it?"

You looked at him, feeling his words reach you like an echo of everything that had happened.

"I didn't want more people looking at him like a threat," you admitted, referring to Ultraman. "I wanted someone to see him for what he is, not for what Luthor wants him to be."

Clark nodded slowly, and for a moment, his gaze drifted toward the horizon.

Then he looked at you again, and there was something in his eyes you couldn't decipher.

"It's because of me, isn't it?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper. "What you're doing with the clone. It's because of me."

You frowned, confused.

"What are you talking about, Clark?"

"Cat confessed something during the chaos at the convention," Clark said, and his words fell like stones into still water. "She said you were in love with me."

He paused, his gaze growing more intense.

"And now, with him, maybe your feelings are confused. Because he's my clone. Because he reminds you of me. Maybe that makes you think you feel something when really, it's only the resemblance."

His words struck you like a slap, and you felt the air leave your lungs.

Then something inside you ignited.

It wasn't sadness.

It wasn't pain.

It was indignation.

A cold, clear fury spread through your chest like a fire you couldn't put out.

"I don't see you in Ultraman," you said, your voice firm, firmer than you expected.

Clark looked surprised, as though he hadn't expected that answer.

"I'm not stupid, Clark. I know the difference. Yes, I was in love with you. I was in love with you for a long time. But it isn't because Ultraman looks like you that my feelings for him are only a reflection of what I felt for you."

You took one step closer, your voice growing more intense, more certain.

"Ultraman isn't a copy of you. He's someone completely different. He has his own fears, his own way of seeing the world. He doesn't copy everything you do. He's learning to be himself. And I don't see him as your replacement. I see him as him."

Clark opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off, feeling the words pour out of you like a river you couldn't stop.

"If I'm starting to feel something for him, it isn't because he looks like you. It's because he, in his broken and clumsy way, has been more loyal to me in a few weeks than you were. He hasn't betrayed me. He hasn't told my secrets to someone in a second and then regretted it later."

You stopped, feeling your voice break slightly.

"Ultraman can begin to have my heart, Clark. And it isn't because he's your clone. It's because he's him."

The silence that followed was heavy and dense, like a blanket covering everything.

Clark looked at you, and in his eyes, you saw something you hadn't expected.

Not anger.

Not jealousy.

It was as though he was only now seeing something that had always been right in front of him, something he had never wanted to acknowledge.

Clark nodded slowly, his eyes still fixed on you as he processed every word. There was something in his gaze you hadn't seen before, a mixture of understanding and something deeper, something that looked like pain.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and almost resigned.

"I'll face Lex Luthor," Clark said, and his words carried a weight you didn't expect. "You can save him."

He nodded toward Ultraman, who was still sitting on the couch, watching both of you with his serious, empty gaze.

"You're the one he listens to. Not me. If anyone can pull him away from all of this, it's you."

You stared at him, unable to understand.

His words didn't quite fit inside your mind.

You were about to argue, to tell him he couldn't simply decide that without consulting you, that you weren't going to let him face Luthor alone.

But before you could open your mouth, a sharp whistle cut through the air.

An arrow burst through your window with the crash of shattering glass, and the impact caught you completely by surprise. Pain came one second later, hot and sharp, spreading from your abdomen like a fire you couldn't put out. You looked down and saw the arrow embedded in your body, but that wasn't what made you gasp.

It was the color.

That bright, cursed green you would recognize anywhere.

"It's Kryptoni..." you said, your voice breaking into a gasp of pain. "Kryptonite."

You felt the liquid from the arrow begin to flood your body, a poisonous mixture spreading through your veins like liquid ice. Your legs trembled, and you had to brace yourself against the wall to keep from falling. You coughed, and a metallic taste filled your mouth.

Clark rushed toward you, panic filling his eyes, but you lifted one hand to stop him.

"Go with him," you said, pointing toward Ultraman with a trembling movement. "Go with..."

Pain cut you off, and you felt tears threatening to spill. It wasn't only the physical pain. It was the desperation of knowing they had found you, that they knew you existed. And that Ultraman, your Ultraman, was now a traitor in their eyes.

"I'm not leaving you," Clark said, his voice firm, though you could already see the nearby kryptonite beginning to affect him. His skin had grown slightly pale, and his breathing had become heavier.

"They want you," you said, the words leaving you in gasps. "They won't do anything to me. But you... they want you."

You looked at Ultraman, who had risen from the couch, his face tense and his hands clenched into fists.

"They probably already know he betrayed them."

You drew in a breath, feeling the poison spread through your chest.

"Clark, don't let them manipulate him. Don't let them use him. He isn't a tool."

Clark looked at you, and in his eyes you saw the struggle inside him. He wanted to stay. He wanted to protect you. But he also knew that if he stayed, the kryptonite would weaken him too much. And if Lex Luthor was out there waiting, Clark needed to be at his strongest.

Before you could say anything else, you felt yourself being targeted again.

With an effort that cost every fiber of your being, you shoved Clark aside, and the second arrow struck you in the shoulder. The pain was so intense that, for a moment, everything went white. You fell to your knees, feeling the green liquid spread through your body, weakening your cells, extinguishing the energy that had always flowed through you.

Ultraman shot toward the window, toward the place the attacks had come from. His furious scream echoed through the room, a sound both bestial and human that made you tremble.

"No!" he shouted, and his voice was no longer broken, no longer clumsy.

It was pure rage.

A fury you hadn't known he was capable of feeling.

Clark knelt beside you, but the kryptonite in the air was already affecting him. His breathing was uneven, and his face had gone pale.

"I can't leave you alone," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"The sun," you said, the words coming out between gasps. "The sun is rising, Clark."

You nodded toward the window, where the first rays of light were beginning to slip through the clouds.

"Go. The sun will give you strength. I can..."

You couldn't finish the sentence.

The pain was too much, and the world began to fade around you.

Then Clark lifted you with a strength you could barely feel, because every cell in your body burned with kryptonite poison. He flew upward, breaking through the ceiling of your apartment in a crash of debris, and carried you toward the sun.

The first rays of morning wrapped around you like a warm embrace, and you felt the energy begin to return to your body, slowly at first, then stronger. The poison pulled back, the wounds began to close, and your breathing became deeper, steadier. Clark stabilized too, color returning to his face as the sun strengthened him.

When both of you were flying, floating in the open sky, you looked at him with a mixture of worry and determination.

"They know about me," you said, your voice no longer trembling. "And if they know about me, they know about Superman. And they have kryptonite."

You looked toward the horizon, trying to sense any sign of Ultraman, any hint of where he might be.

Clark noticed your gaze, the way you searched for his clone among the clouds.

"We need to dodge the arrows and expose Luthor," Clark said, his voice firm, the voice of the hero he had always been.

You nodded, feeling determination settle in your chest.

"He'll be okay," Clark said, his tone almost a promise. "Ultraman. He'll be okay."

You nodded again, wanting to believe him, needing to believe him.

"Call Lane," you said, your voice steadier now. "Tell her to publish what I have on Luthor. Now. It's in my files."

You looked at him, and your eyes met his.

"The password is the day we joined the Planet."

Clark nodded and took out his phone, dialing Lois's number with quick movements. While he spoke quietly, you remained floating, feeling the sun on your skin, letting it give you the strength you needed.

When he hung up, he looked at you, his voice soft, almost a whisper.

"Your suit is still waiting for you," he said.

You looked at him, feeling the hatred you had always held toward that suit mix with necessity.

"You need it now," he added.

You nodded, knowing he was right.

You needed to go after Ultraman.

And for that, you needed to be who you truly were.

Together, you flew toward the Fortress of Solitude, the ice shining beneath the morning sun. Clark led you to a chamber you had never seen before, where a suit rested on a crystal pedestal. It wasn't like Kara's, with her skirt and traditional style.

This one was different.

It was yours.

The base was a glossy black, with an almost metallic finish that reflected the light in soft flashes. From the high collar to the arms, the design remained clean and streamlined, emphasizing a strong silhouette without looking overloaded. A white breastplate rested over the chest, extending across the shoulders like a small rigid cape. At the center, a red emblem stood out in sharp angular lines, similar to the S shield but with its own unique design. The black gloves reached the wrists and were decorated with fine white stripes along the forearms. At the waist, a discreet belt with a circular silver buckle broke the continuity of the suit without drawing too much attention. The legs were covered in the same black material, while the tall, fully white boots ended in stylized points that reinforced the elegant aesthetic of the ensemble.

The most striking detail was the enormous white cape that fell from the shoulders to far below the feet, waving like a cloud whenever you moved. You took it carefully, feeling the weight of the fabric between your fingers, and put it on quickly. The fabric adjusted to your body as though it had been waiting for this moment its entire life.

When you turned around, Clark looked at you with an expression you couldn't decipher.

But there was no time to ask.

In that moment, you felt a vibration in the air, something you recognized instantly.

Ultraman was being attacked.

You could feel it in your bones, in the beat of your heart as it began racing out of control.

You looked at Clark, and he nodded, as though he already knew what you were going to say.

"Go to Ultraman," Clark said, his voice calm and certain. "I'll go after Luthor."

Without waiting any longer, the two of you shot off in opposite directions, each toward your own battle, toward your own destiny.

You flew at full speed toward the place where you could feel Ultraman, the wind whistling in your ears while the white cape streamed behind you like a storm cloud. The city blurred beneath your feet, and your heart pounded hard, not only from the effort, but from the fear building in your chest. You didn't know what you would find, but you knew you couldn't be late.

When you arrived, you saw him.

Ultraman was on the ground, surrounded by debris and dust, his face bloodied and his breathing uneven. Above him floated the nanobot woman, the one they called the Engineer. Her body shone with a silver glow, her eyes cold and calculating as she prepared to attack again.

Without thinking, you fired heat vision from your eyes, two red beams that struck her with force. The Engineer turned, her nanobots quickly reconfiguring themselves to absorb the impact, and looked at you with a mocking smile. She left Ultraman on the ground, abandoning her attack on him to focus on you.

"Ah, the little hidden Kryptonian," she said, her voice like metal scraping against metal. "You've been playing human for too long. Do you think you can stop me?"

You didn't answer.

You launched yourself at her with every bit of speed you could gather, feeling the sun's energy still flowing through your veins. Your strength was enormous, more than she expected. You had hidden it for too long, and your movements were unpredictable, unrecorded in any of Luthor's files. They didn't know your steps. They didn't know your next attacks.

You punched her hard enough to send her flying backward, her nanobots scattering for a moment before coming back together.

But she was fast.

Faster than you expected.

As you recovered from the impact, a sharp pain cut through your leg. You looked down and saw an arrow, green and glowing, embedded in your thigh. The kryptonite began spreading again, and you gasped as you felt the energy drain from you.

The Engineer laughed, floating above you with a smug smile.

"The next one goes through your heart," she said, her voice a poisonous whisper. "Do you think you can humanize Ultraman? Do you think he's more than a weapon? You're so naive. He's only a tool, just like you will be."

She grabbed you by the throat, her metallic fingers tightening while the kryptonite in your leg weakened you. You gasped, feeling the air leave you, darkness beginning to cloud your vision. The Engineer lifted another arrow, aiming it directly at your heart, and smiled.

"Goodbye, little hero."

But before she could release it, a force struck her from behind.

Ultraman had risen, his face twisted with rage, and he seized her with both hands, tearing her away from you with a blow that sent her nanobots flying in every direction. The Engineer screamed, but he didn't stop. He struck her again and again with a fury you had never seen in him, until she fell to the ground, motionless.

You collapsed to the ground, gasping as the kryptonite poison spread through your body.

But when Ultraman finished with her, he turned toward you, and his eyes met yours. He ran to you, kneeling at your side, and his trembling hands touched your face with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the brutality of his blows.

You smiled, your lips trembling from the pain.

"You recognized me," you whispered, your voice barely a thread.

Despite everything, despite the pain, the kryptonite, the battle, he had recognized you.

He had come for you.

Ultraman said nothing, but his eyes spoke for him.

In them, you saw something you had never seen before.

Fear.

Fear of losing you.

He flew with you toward the sun, holding you carefully as he lifted you into the light that had always given you strength. The rays wrapped around you, and you felt the energy returning to your body, the kryptonite fading from your blood, the wounds closing with the speed only Kryptonians knew. You took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin, and for a moment, all the pain disappeared.

When both of you were ready, you flew to where Clark was.

You found him in an abandoned warehouse, with Lex Luthor kneeling in front of him, his hands tied with ropes Clark had somehow found. Lois had already published everything. The experiments, the abuse, the documents you had guarded so carefully. The truth was there, exposed for the world to see.

Clark looked at you when you arrived, and for a moment, his eyes traveled over your suit, the white cape waving behind you.

Then he approached you, and his words were low, almost a whisper.

"They had files on you as Clark Kent's friend," Clark said, his voice gentle. "I deleted them. You can keep living your normal life."

He paused before adding, "I also deleted Ultraman's files."

You nodded, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders.

You smiled, and for the first time in a long while, the smile was genuine.

When everything ended, when Luthor was arrested and the chaos finally settled, you approached Clark. He smiled at you, and that smile was warm, just like the ones from before.

"The suit looks good on you," Clark said.

You nodded, feeling that his words were a compliment you hadn't expected.

"I don't think this is really my area," you said.

He smiled and shook his head.

"It'll be waiting for you," Clark said. "When the world needs you."

You smiled, and for a moment, the silence between you was comfortable, like the old times.

Then he spoke again, his voice almost shy.

"Are you leaving with him?" Clark asked.

You looked at him, knowing exactly who he meant.

"Well... he'll decide," you said, and your eyes searched for Ultraman, who stood a few meters away, watching the city. "But I think I can stay by his side while he learns."

Clark nodded, and there was no anger or jealousy in his eyes.

Only quiet acceptance.

He watched you walk away, and when you flew toward Ultraman, Ultraman received you with an embrace that was clumsy but sincere. Neither of you said anything, but you didn't need to.

From a distance, Clark smiled as he watched you together.

He knew he might recover your friendship with time, but he also knew that what could have been, what he had let pass him by, was no longer there.

Now he was the one watching the woman he could have been happy with leave with someone else.

And that smile, that small smile, was enough to tell you he wouldn't interfere.

You, meanwhile, returned to your apartment with Ultraman. You looked at the broken window, the glass scattered across the floor, and gestured toward the damage with resignation.

"This is why I don't like being a hero," you said.

Ultraman looked at you, his face serious but his eyes shining with something that looked almost like amusement.

"Will this be your new life?" you asked, smiling at him. "If you want to live it with me."

Ultraman nodded, and a faint smile, barely visible, formed on his lips.

"Living my life day by day with you is what I have wanted since my creation," he said.

His words, clumsy and sincere, reached your heart.

And so it was.

Soon, he chose a real name.

Damian.

It was his decision, his choice, his first step toward becoming who he wanted to be.

You moved to the south of Metropolis, where no one knew Clark Kent and no one would grow suspicious. There, far from the noise and chaos, you built a relationship that was more human, more normal. Damian learned how to fix furniture, how to work with wood, and found a job in a small carpentry shop, blending in while you continued working at the Daily Planet.

Months passed, and little by little, Damian changed.

Not only in the way he spoke, but in the way he moved, in the way he looked at the world. You had taught him so much, with patience, with tenderness, and he absorbed every word, every gesture, like a child learning how to walk. His voice, once broken and awkward, now flowed with more confidence. Sometimes he still hesitated, searching for the right word among his thoughts, but he was no longer the same man who had entered your life with an empty gaze and a heart programmed to obey.

He had let his hair grow to medium length, down to his ears, in layers that fell with a carefully disordered style. He was tidy, of course, but he had developed his own tastes, his own style. He was no longer the unkempt clone they had created inside Luthor's laboratories.

Damian had become affectionate too.

At first, he was awkward. He didn't know how to show what he felt.

But he learned.

First came the small gestures.

Brushing his hand against yours whenever he passed close by.

Fixing a strand of your hair with a softness that contrasted with his large, strong hands.

Then came hugs that lasted longer than necessary, stretching into the silence of the night while the distant hum of the city murmured around you.

And eventually, once he trusted completely, he would hold your face between his hands and kiss you as though every time were the first, as though he still couldn't believe you were there with him.

One night, while the two of you were having dinner at the small table in your apartment in South Metropolis, he set down his silverware and looked at you with that seriousness that still accompanied him sometimes.

"You... have always known what you feel for me," Damian said.

His voice was no longer as broken as before.

The words flowed more easily, though he still stopped from time to time, searching for the right way to express himself.

"But I... need to ask you something. Something that keeps turning in my head."

You set down your cup of coffee and looked at him, hearing the curiosity in his tone.

"Tell me," you said softly, encouraging him to continue.

"Did you ever see me as him?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "As Clark."

He paused, his fingers playing with the edge of the tablecloth.

"I know you... were in love with him. But I don't want to be his shadow. I want it to be me you see. Only me."

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest.

You knew that question had been there, waiting for its moment, and now that he had asked it, you could answer him with the full truth.

"Damian," you said.

Your name on his lips always sounded like a song.

"I saw you from the very beginning. I don't care what you look like or who you resemble. What matters is that you are you, that you learned to become who you are because you wanted to. Not because you were forced to, not because someone told you to. Because you decided."

You stood from your chair and walked toward him, taking his face between your hands. His eyes, those eyes that had once been empty and now shone with a light of their own, looked at you with a mixture of hope and doubt.

"I fell in love with you, Damian," you said, your voice firm and full of certainty. "With you. With the way you try so hard to do things right, with the way you ask me if the coffee tastes good every morning, with the way you laugh when things go wrong. With the way you hold me as if you want time to stop. There was no one else. There is no one else."

He blinked, processing your words, and then a slow, sincere smile formed on his lips.

It was his smile.

The one you had learned to love.

The one that made everything worth it.

"Then... I made you fall in love?" he asked, his voice almost childlike, as though he needed to hear it one more time.

"You made me fall in love," you confirmed, your thumbs caressing his cheeks. "And it wasn't because of anything or anyone else. It was because you are you. Because every day I spend with you, I feel more alive, more complete. Because with you, I don't need to be a hero or hide who I am. With you, I only need to be myself."

Damian stayed silent for a moment.

Then, with a tenderness that made you forget everything else, he embraced you. His arms were warm and safe, like a home that had always been waiting for you.

"I feel good with you too," he said against your ear, his words trembling slightly. "More than good. With you... everything makes sense. And I want to keep learning. I want to keep improving, so every day you know you chose well."

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, and in them you saw a silent promise.

In that instant, you knew there was nothing you would change about your life.

Damian was your place.

Your peace.

Everything you needed.

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