Jordan was a mistake. His father had known it the moment he had done it, and his profuse apologies had broken Lana's heart again when he had rushed from the bed - and back to the bedside of Lois to beg for her forgiveness. When Lois woke up a few months later she was not too pleased to find her husband ready to plead for her forgiveness once more - something that he had seemingly done every day in her absence - and it was clear that Clark was unsure whether he was glad or not - to know that she had been aware during her coma and had learned all this, been angry about it and worked through it all while immobile. Enough so to forgive the oaf... enough so to tell him that she would not care whether the boy was only half Clark - and she would love him all the same.

Clark knew that to be a mistake as well. He never corrected her though.

And so Jordan spent his early years growing up with his strange family, spending days with his mother and sleeping over at aunt Lane while his father was out every so often to save the world. He had the hair - but the sheer disappointment on the farmboy's face when Jordan actually showed traits of a Kryptonian was palpable to the boy even back then - later on he would learn that the superman had been secretly hoping that he had not been his - and that Lana had been lying to him - yet had been too nice to ever ask her for a test.

Yet Jordan could fly by the age of six and spoke fluently the many languages of his households by the age of eight, Mandarin Chinese and Dutch with Lana, and all the various languages Lois seemed to pick up with her job when visiting. He was homeschooled of course, and was taught to fish on the family farm that all parties in his upbringing seemed to want him to consider with some nostalgia - yet even now in his later years he found distressing - every memory bordering on joy suddenly interrupted with a young boy looking around for the approval of his father, only to find cold and unfeeling blue eyes matched with a smile that seemed threatening and confusing at the same time.

He was trained of course - those long years where he was in the cold north - where he would learn the limits of what he could do - when his father would punch a little too hard for him, or fly a little too fast for him, or speak a share too loudly for him to feel comfortable in asking questions. And when he asked the man seemed to insist that the answers he provided were good enough - even if they seemed to fill only enough to cover the basic and the mundane. It took a long time for Jordan to make peace with this - all of this. It was not that he could not understand it. The man was a god to many. A hero to all. A champion of his idyllic little charade - husband, wife and child... It was what Clark's mother and father had wanted for him since they found him. Raised him with those southern style morals that had him turn out to be a good boy. A good man.

But the son was not of his wife. And as nice a man as Clark could be - his fears were clear on his face. What would his now absent mother and father have thought of him? How much shame would they feel every time they saw Jordan? It seemed that both Clark and Jordan came to the same conclusion - and it made understanding the man who wanted to save the world and do good for all - so much easier for his only heir - who learned to be quiet around the man, to stay in the corner - to visit Lois only when he was away - and to not speak with him on matters anymore. He would figure it out himself.

And then heroing became a thing. And suddenly Superman was concerned with him. About what he would do. When he would do it. What he would wear. How he would fight. Who he would fight. Who he would fight with. Because it seemed that if there was one shame in a bastard son - there was another in a son that would not follow in the footsteps of not only a hero - but THE hero. He was made a part of the team of course - a name chosen that would not give away too readily his origins even if his powers were somewhat of a giveaway. And of course to those in the know he was the next big thing. And they treated him as if he was ready because of course he was - he was the SUPER BOY... despite hating the name. And he would win at everything. Excel at everything. And when the Superman shook his hand and it was a little bit too firm a grip - then he would not flinch. He would smile. He would be a hero.

After all... it was the only thing he was good for. It seemed.