Responsibility

"Son, is something wrong?"

It wasn't like Clark to actually be home by three in the afternoon.  His adoptive father, Jonathan Kent, had found him sitting in the kitchen, staring out the front window with that same "gazing out into the world, searching for answers" look that he always seemed to have.

Clark turned around.  "Dad.  No, everything's fine.  I just... I've got a lot on my mind."

Jonathan smiled.  As impressed as he was by Clark's abilities, he took pride in the fact that he was still able to teach his son a thing or two.
"Well, what is it?"

Clark sighed and frowned a little.  "I went to Metropolis because I felt like I should be using my abilities to help people there, but so far I haven't been doing much of that.  I've been focusing on protecting my friends, but... I think I've been ignoring everyone else."

Jonathan frowned.  "Why?"
"Because," Clark slowly explained, "...if I actually pay attention to everyone... if I listen to everything... I don't know that I can handle it.  I can hear every scream in the city, dad.  Every gunshot, every time a little girl cries.  If I don't focus my hearing right, I can hear every time anyone's in pain.  And there's millions of people in Metropolis."
Jonathan put a firm hand on Clark's shoulder.  "Son, I've known you your whole life.  Even when you were just a boy, you cared about everyone, even people you'd never even met before.  I know how much it hurts you to see people in pain.  But hiding from your responsibility isn't the right thing to do."
"I know, dad... it's just that...  I don't know if it matters if I do anything or not! Even if I try, there's no way I can actually fix it all.  Even with all my powers, I'm just... me.  I can't save Metropolis from itself."
"You don't need to fix it all."
Of all the things Clark had expected to hear come out of his dad's mouth, that was definitely not one of them.  He looked at Jonathan quizzically.
"You remember what I always told you about farmwork?" Jonathan asked.
Clark slightly nodded. "Don't let others do your work for you when you can do it yourself."
"That's right. The people of the world can't have you helping them every time they're in trouble; at some point, they'll need to help themselves.  You don't need to help everyone, Clark, what you need to do is be an example."
Clark was beginning to understand.
"Of all your gifts, Clark, the most important one isn't flying, or lifting cars above your head, or stopping bullets.  Your real gift, son, is that you can inspire others.  One day, when you finally show yourself to the world, people will see you and what you do, and they'll have hope."
Clark smiled.  No matter how old he got, he was sure that his dad would always be smarter than he was.  And he didn't mind in the slightest.
There was one thing that bothered him, however...
"...How am I supposed to inspire people if I can't let them know who I am?"

"Well now, I don't think they need to know that you're Clark Kent, now do they?" Jonathan suggested.
"What do you mean?" Clark asked.
"Maybe there's a way for you to be the symbol people need, without letting them know who you really are."
Clark almost rolled his eyes. "What, like Zorro?  I can't wear a mask, dad.  I'll look like a criminal.  Not terribly inspiring."
"Well, hold on now, maybe you don't need to wear a mask when you're doing your job."
This time, Clark really did roll his eyes.  "Oh, so I'm supposed to wear a mask when I'm Clark Kent?  Yeah, that'll work..."
Jonathan was slightly amused at his son's youthful exasperation.  "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it.  For now, you just get back to Metropolis, and you do your job."
Clark smiled.  "I think I can do that."

With a sharp-sounding SWOOSH, Clark super-sped out the front door, leaving Jonathan smiling proudly out the window.