Chapter 3

Clark stared unseeing at the table, his hands wrapped around a now-cold mug of tea. He’d written up the apartment fire story as quickly as he could before leaving the Planet.

The apartment fire. Unknowingly, that had been the last nail in Superman’s coffin. The firefighter he’d interviewed at the scene had commented that if Superman had been around, maybe they could’ve gotten the mother and daughter out sooner. Lois had unconsciously echoed the sentiment a few minutes later.

Maybe.

Maybe he made a difference.

It wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth putting himself through the pain; the guilt every time he missed a rescue; the trauma of seeing broken and mangled bodies; the second-guessing himself- what if he’d been a fraction faster, or grabbed that beam at this angle and not that angle. All of that, just to maybe make any bit of difference?

He pushed the stone-cold mug away and stood up.

Superman wasn’t coming back.

He’d fish the old suitcase out of the closet and make sure every piece of the suits- the spare capes, the boots, everything- was put away. When night fell, he’d fly the case out to Kansas and stash it in his parents' barn, amongst the jumble of old farm equipment and discarded household items. Maybe- that word again- he’d pull it out every once in a while and remember the few months when he’d thought one man could change the world.

***

Lois fidgeted as she waited for the traffic to clear enough to make the turn into Clark’s street. She’d spent most of the afternoon deep in thought; trying to figure out what to do with the knowledge that Clark was Superman, and trying to figure out what he was playing at.

The whole city had been looking for Superman, and he’d been sitting at the desk across from hers, doing… nothing.

No rescues. No patrols. Nothing.

He’d put people in jeopardy, and for what? To throw a petulant temper tantrum?

The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. Finding a barely-legal parking space, she got out and stormed up the stairs to Clark’s apartment. Finding the door unlocked, she shoved it open so hard that it slammed against the wall and bounced back, the glass inserts vibrating against their frames. He was standing in front of the open closet; from her vantage point, she could see the edge of what looked like a suitcase.
His lack of response at her entrance only served to fan the flames of her anger. Striding down the few steps into his sunken living area, she let her momentum carry her almost to his side.

“I want the truth and I want it now. Are you Superman?”

His shoulders hunched.

“I was,” he replied curtly without turning.

“Was? What do you mean, was?” She rocked back on her heels, fury rising within her. “You’re not coming back?”

“No.”

“Did that nuclear power plant scramble your brain or something? You can’t just quit! You’re Superman!”

“Not anymore.” He slammed the closet door shut, depositing the old battered suitcase on the floor.

“But- but-“ The sheer magnitude of his decision appalled her, rendering her close to speechless. “I need you. The people of Metropolis need you.”

He spun towards her.

“The people of Metropolis turned on me without a second thought,” he bit out. Hurt and betrayal were etched on his face.

“Clark, I understand-“

“Really? Have you ever been kicked out of your home? No, Lois, you don’t. I spent years- *years*- travelling around this planet, trying to find somewhere to call home. Somewhere I belonged. When I finally found it… they forced me out of my home on the strength of an unproven theory. I have never felt so different… so alien… as I did in that moment.” He paused, swallowing hard. “And now they want Superman to come back like nothing happened.” He trailed off.

The raw pain in his voice hit her hard. When Superman did nothing but fly around and conduct rescues, it was easy to forget that he was a real person with real feelings. She covered the momentary stab of emotion with a sarcastic comment.

“Superman going back on his word? What happened to ‘I have vowed to fight for truth and justice’?”

“You said that. Not me,” he snapped back.

“You know that, and I know that. But the world doesn’t know that, Clark,” she pointed out.

“I can’t do it, Lois. How am I supposed to fight for justice? What justice was shown to me? And don’t even get me started on the truth part.”

“Clark-“

“It was trial by media, and you know it.”

“Not all the media, Clark.” She held his gaze, not backing down. The Planet may have printed the theory that Superman was responsible for the heatwave, but they’d also been the loudest voice of support for him.

His eyes lost their hard, blazing edge. “No, not all of it. You kept digging.” For a moment one corner of his mouth quirked into a half smile. “Thank you, Lois.”

“You’re welcome”, she replied softly. The switch from furious anger to appealingly heartfelt gratitude surprised her, derailing her train of thought for a moment. He’d shed the worst of his anger. And so had she.
“Can you hear them?” she asked abruptly.

“Hear what?”

“People needing help.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“But you haven’t been responding.”

He nodded again, that sad, frustrated look back on his face.

“How can you stand that?” Hesitantly she stepped forward and laid her hand on his forearm, giving it a little shake. “You need to be Superman, Clark. Not because people love you for it, but because it’s the kind of person you are. You help little girls in wheelchairs and invisible men and people trapped in burning buildings. Even if you didn’t have powers, you’d probably still be running into those burning buildings.” She paused, looking for a sign that her words had sunk in. “When you came to Metropolis, you said you were here to help. So help.”

He heaved a sigh and looked down at her.

“It’s not that easy.”

“Yes, it is. Put on the suit. Go be Superman. And tomorrow we’ll write an article explaining where you’ve been.”

***

Lois watched until the primary colours of the suit were no longer visible amongst the lights of Metropolis. He’d changed into the Spandex in a spinning motion that had made her jaw drop in awe and launched himself from the balcony with a smile at her that was both nervous and apologetic. She’d bullied Clark into this, she knew, but he was out there. The article that they’d write tomorrow would incite both admiration and envy amongst the rest of the Metropolis press. And at some point soon, she and Clark needed to have a serious talk. But none of that was important right now.

Superman was back in the sky.


"It means never having to play it cool about how much you like something. It's basically a license to proudly emote on a somewhat childish level rather than behave like a supposed adult. Being a geek is extremely liberating."- Simon Pegg