Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Erased (24/24)

Months passed in a busy, but blissful, whirl for Lois and Clark. Building the case against Lex Luthor took up much of their time. Their regular, assigned stories at work took up the rest. And, when they actually took a day off together, they busied themselves with building their life together. Clark insisted that those days be spent doing normal, newlywed couple things – lunches and dinners out at fine restaurants, trips to parks and zoos and amusement parks, nights spent stargazing on sandy, deserted beaches. Whatever they could think of, Clark was willing and eager to do it all. He’d missed so many years of enjoying simple pleasures and now he wanted to make up for lost time. Having Lois by his side as his wife only made his second chance at life all the more perfect.

But, as much as he immersed himself in experiencing all the things that had once been denied to him, he never lost sight of the important goal of bringing his former jailor to justice.

“Tomorrow’s the day,” Clark announced one August morning as he came into the kitchen, tucking his white button-down shirt into his tan suit pants.

“What’s the day?” Lois asked.

“To make our case against Luthor,” he said grimly.

Lois nodded. They had about as much evidence as they were going to get, connecting the billionaire President to a host of crimes, both before his administration and during it. Everything they had was iron-clad. There was no way that he would be able to weasel his way out of any of it. It was just a matter of bringing the evidence to the right people, to get the ball rolling on formally charging him and getting impeachment proceedings started. But, try as Bruce Wayne had, no concrete evidence had turned up to pin Clark’s imprisonment on Metropolis’ Golden Boy, as Lex Luthor had come to be known during his campaign.

“I just got off the phone with Jimmy,” Clark continued. “We’ve got the go-ahead to take the next couple of weeks, starting today, to head down to D.C. I did a bit of research while you were sleeping last night and, as it turns out, my best friend from high school, Pete Ross, works for the FBI. I sent him an email asking if we could meet up and I guess the FBI never sleeps. He got back to me a couple of hours ago. We’re meeting him for lunch tomorrow.” He flashed a triumphant grin as he fiddled with the cuff of his shirt. “We’ve got him, Lois. He’s already trapped and he has no idea.”

The thought of Luthor being so close to being brought to justice made Clark feel almost weak in the knees. It was such an incredible relief, like he’d spent all those months running a marathon and the finish line was in sight; like a runner at the end of a brutal course, his body felt ready to give out and crash, but he knew he had to give it one final push and then it would be all over and he could finally rest, and that alone kept his spirits up. And yet, somehow, it felt like bringing the evidence to the feds would be just the beginning of an Iron Man competition, though Clark couldn’t put his finger on why.

But, more than anything, he was nervous.

He wasn’t scared of Luthor himself. No. The billionaire had tried to take everything from Clark already. And he’d failed in the long run. But Clark was wary about the things Luthor might do in retribution. Though it would be the FBI bringing the charges against Luthor, unfortunately, the psychopathic President was smart. He would know Lois and Clark were behind things. They would have to tread carefully, lest more would-be assassins might spring up in the future.

“Great!” Lois piped up with a sparkle in her eye as she downed the last sip of her coffee. “When do we leave?”

“This afternoon, at four,” Clark said, coming around the counter to hug her from behind.

She sank into his embrace. “SuperClark Express or….?” she asked, leaving the rest unsaid.

“Commercial flight,” Clark said apologetically. “While I’d love to fly us down in the middle of the night and cut out the plane entirely, we need to have a paper trail on this.”

“Do we though? Maybe it’s smarter if Lex can’t prove we were ever in the area,” Lois said thoughtfully.

Clark smiled at the way she thought. “As much as I agree with you, he’s going to figure out it’s us anyway. It will probably cause less problems in the long run if we don’t have to lie about how we got to D.C.,” Clark said with a heavy heart. “I kind of hate it, but we can’t risk anything not adding up. This isn’t like taking down just any random billionaire crime lord. This is taking down the sitting President of the United States. Besides, we’ll have to cover things when they blow up. And you know they will. Luthor isn’t going to handle things quietly. There’ll be a press conference at the very least.”

Lois sighed. “You’re right, of course. Okay, let’s get packed.”

“Already done, except for your clothing,” Clark said with a shrug. “I got everything else together while I was talking to Jimmy.”

Lois twisted in his arms to look at him. “Show off,” she teasingly accused.

He grinned. “What’s the point of superpowers if you don’t use them?”

The words stopped him dead in his tracks as soon as he uttered them. What good were his powers if he wasn’t actively using them for the betterment of society? Superman still hadn’t been resurrected. He was still worried about how to do so without making the world suspicious about what had really kept the hero away for so long.

Lois seemed to sense his mood and kissed his cheek lightly. “Thanks for doing that for me. Come on, let’s finish up. We’ve still got a few hours before we need to leave for the airport. And I can think of a few ways to spend our time…husband.” She fairly purred the last few words out and Clark instantly melted.

“Mmm,” he wordlessly agreed as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her out of the kitchen.



***



Everything had gone smoothly. Lois and Clark had met with Pete Ross and given him the flash drive with all of their months of research and investigations. They did make it clear to him that they had a backup of the flash drive locked away in a safe location, just in case. They wanted to leave nothing to chance. He listened intently to them and took everything they said seriously. After lunch, he’d invited them back to his office where he popped the drive into his computer and skimmed through the mountain of information stored on it while his eyes grew wider and wider with shock.

“All of this is legitimate,” he said under his breath, half a question and half a statement of fact. It was clear he was absolutely blown away.

“Yes,” Clark had replied, chafing a bit to know that he couldn’t prove that Luthor had stolen two decades of his life. “And that’s probably the tip of the iceberg,” he said.

“Impressive,” Pete had said, letting out a low whistle. Then he gave them a funny look. “What prompted all of this?”

Clark had fidgeted badly under his friend’s gaze. He’d never been able to lie to Pete for as long as he’d known him. “I can’t get into details,” he said quickly. “And I can’t prove anything. So this stays between you and me. But…Luthor is responsible for some…personal grievances. I’ve suspected his criminal dealings for a long time now.”

“Personal grievances?” Pete had asked, arching an eyebrow. “Clark, I know you better than that. What’d he do to you? I mean, you disappeared for twenty years and…” He’d stopped short. “Wait.” He’d given Clark a hard look. “Clark?” he’d half demanded.

Clark had sighed and shaken his head. “Remember how I was found in the Arkham Asylum? He’s the reason I was there…against my will. Please, Pete, don’t ask me for more details. I don’t really want to think about what happened.”

It had taken a long time for his friend to respond. When he did, he did so slowly. “For the sake of our friendship, I won’t press the issue. But, Clark, if he’s responsible for other criminal misdeeds…”

Clark had shaken his head again. “It doesn’t matter. It would be my word against his and I can’t prove anything. Let’s focus on what we can prove. What we gave you should be enough to convict him and sentence him to several lifetimes in jail.”

Reluctantly, Pete had nodded. “For now, I’ll drop the subject. You’re right about one thing. We certainly have enough to get the ball rolling bringing justice.”

“Thanks, Pete. You’re a good man.”



***



The announcement was made a week later that the FBI was formally investigating the sitting President of the United States, Alexander J. Luthor, for crimes too numerous to count. Lois and Clark were right there, front and center, at the press conference held to make the announcement. It was hard not to beam with pride for a job well done, but they both had practice in keeping a neutral face; for Lois, it was years of professionalism, and for Clark, it was his brief, but impressive, stint as Superman. And although it had been more than two decades since Clark had donned the uniform and gone out into the world as his alter ego to help fight crime and protect the helpless, he found it second nature to adopt the neutral mask the hero had always worn, even in the face of the worst tragedies.

Luthor’s response was swift and predictable. He called for his own press conference not two days later, to formally renounce the accusations against him as “false, unsubstantiated, and a personal attack” on him. Victory should have felt so close that Clark should have been able to taste it. Instead, a nagging feeling plagued Clark since the announcement was made that the President would be addressing the nation at 8pm sharp the following evening. It was a sick feeling at the pit of his stomach that just would not fade and Clark had found himself slipping out of the hotel room he and Lois had been living in for the past week just before midnight.

Finding a dark alley, he took off into the sky like a rocket, straight back home to pick up one of his Superman uniforms. Then he made a beeline for Gotham, once more seeking out Bruce Wayne, with whom he’d grown to have the beginnings of a friendship with. He knew Bruce would not be patrolling the city that night – Bruce had mentioned that the Justice League would be meeting. Instead of scanning the rooftops, he zoomed toward the billionaire’s former home – the original Wayne Manor, only half standing after a fire some thirty years before, and well shielded from prying eyes by a dense strand of woods on all sides. Now, the part that hadn’t been destroyed by the fire had been refurbished while the demolished half was being rebuilt. Officially, the billionaire wanted to reconstruct the home his parents had built for nostalgia’s sake. In reality, the old mansion had been repurposed and renamed. Now it was the Hall of Justice, a safe place for the Justice League to hold meetings in or to lay low in if the need ever arose.

Clark landed just as the meeting was coming to a close, so he hurriedly made for what had once been the manor’s expansive living room. Everyone looked up in surprise as he gently rapped his knuckles against the doorframe to announce himself, rather than just barging on in. Bruce stood, a slight smirk on his face.

“Nice to see you. Does this mean you’ve changed your mind about my invitation into the League?” Bruce asked smoothly, indicating with one sweeping gesture of his palm that Clark should enter the room.

Clark shook his head. “Not yet. And maybe that makes it wrong of me to be here. But I need your help.” He took a few steps into the room and looked at everyone, making eye contact and giving them all a barely-there smile. “All of you. Please.”

For a few seconds – each of which felt like a millennium to Clark – no one spoke. Everyone just looked at one another, appearing to be looking for someone else to answer Clark. Then, finally, Wonder Woman spoke up.

“What’s wrong?” she asked gently.

The air rushed out of Clark’s lungs. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath. “Lex Luthor is the problem.”

That got everyone’s attention. Those lounging – Flash and Cyborg – sat up a little straighter. Green Lantern put down his soda. Wonder Woman’s posture changed ever so slightly – sitting forward in her seat to listen more closely. Bruce folded his arms. Aquaman raised his eyebrows over the rim of his can of beer. Martian Manhunter set aside the computer he’d been taking notes on and looked expectantly at Clark.

Quickly, Clark told them of his misgivings and the fears he had of Luthor seeking retribution, even though he could not put his finger on exactly how he expected Luthor to get his revenge. Unsurprisingly, those gathered knew of Clark’s story – he’d met them all over the last few months and had informed them about how Luthor had been behind the kidnapping and imprisonment he’d suffered through. So, none of them seemed particularly shocked at his insistence that something just didn’t feel right. Instead, they listened intently and didn’t judge him, the way he’d been slightly worried they would.

“What can we do to help?” Cyborg asked when Clark finished.

Clark sat down in an empty armchair and shook his head. “I’m not sure yet. I can’t even pay you all back for the work you put into trying to find me, and then again with keeping your eyes and ears open for threats against me after I was found and unable to defend myself.”

“It was our pleasure to help,” Flash said with a casual shrug. “Helping an actual legend? How could we say no?”

Aquaman rolled his eyes at the much younger man. “Dude, you weren’t even born when Clark was doing the hero thing.”

Flash shrugged again. “So? It doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate what he’s done for the world, in both of his identities.”

“Kids, play nice,” Wonder Woman chided gently.

“But, Diana, he…” Flash began to protest before she cut him off.

“Well, as you know, I’m often in the capitol area,” Wonder Woman offered. “I can easily hang around and keep an eye on things from above.”

“I’d appreciate that, yeah,” Clark replied gratefully, nodding in thought.

“I can blend right in with the media,” Manhunter added, shapeshifting to look like a tall, slim, square-jawed, but forgettable looking, man. “It might not hurt to have someone on the ground.”

“Good idea, J’onn,” Clark agreed.

“I’ll hang back with Diana,” Green Lantern offered after a moment. “We can flank the area that way.”

Clark nodded. “Thank you.”

When he left, the League had the beginnings of a plan and Clark felt a pang of longing in his heart to join them as a member of their group. For the first time, he desperately wanted to figure out a way to bring back Superman, and he made it a priority in his mind to talk to the others and Lois once the business with Luthor was through, in order to figure out how they could explain why Superman had disappeared without a word only to return after more than twenty-two years.

His meeting with the League brought him peace of mind. There was nothing Luthor could do to weasel his way out of justice. Not if the group of them had any say about it. His fears mostly assuaged, Clark flew back to the hotel room without bothering to drop off his uniform at home first. For some reason, something was telling him to keep it close by, just in case Superman needed to make an unexpected and unexplained return. A part of him felt compelled to wear it beneath his civilian clothing at the press conference the following evening, though the larger part of him was screaming that it was unnecessary.

The next day took forever to crawl by, until, at last, the members of the media were allowed beyond the gates of the White House and into the area of the lawn where a podium and a stage had been set up for the press conference. As with the FBI’s announcement, Lois and Clark were there to witness and report, though this time, by both design and luck, they found themselves on the leftmost fringe of the area, rather than at the center of things, though they were still up front.

After talking things through with Lois, Clark decided to wear his uniform beneath the sandy brown suit he’d chosen for the conference. It was a risk, he knew that. If Luthor saw him there, any number of things could happen. Clark didn’t want to be exposed for the alien hero he’d once been. But he also knew that, if push came to shove, he would do whatever it would take to ensure that Luthor faced justice.

Now, as he stood waiting for the President to make his entrance, he regretted his decision to wear the suit. He felt like a fraud. He wasn’t Superman anymore – at least, not publicly. But, more importantly, he felt nauseated by the memories that swirled up out of the deepest places of his mind – memories of only being Superman in Luthor’s presence, the way Clark had been beaten out of him, the way the Superman suit had become the only article of clothing Clark had worn for a decade, until it was ripped and frayed and stretched out and hung in tattered strips that barely covered any of his body. He remembered huddling under the half-shredded cape, dripping wet and shivering in the dark, trying to will some heat into his body. He remembered how the vibrant blue material had blackened over the years from grime, the long stretches where Clark went unwashed, and, of course, from the blood that seeped into it and crusted there so deeply that not even the forceful hosing downs Nigel gave him could loosen it from the fibers.

“Clark? Are you okay?” Lois asked, peering concernedly at him. “You’re white as a ghost.”

“I just…this is harder than I thought,” he admitted in a whisper as he bent to speak directly into her ear. “Knowing I’ll be looking at that smug, sneering face again. It’s…stirred up a lot of unpleasant memories. I shouldn’t have worn the suit. It’s…too strongly associated with him.”

Lois hugged him close. “You’re brave for being here,” she told him, a whispered sentence into his own ear.

A pleasant shudder ran down his body. “No, I’m not. I’m only here because I need to see this through. And because I need to make sure he doesn’t try to pull some stunt or another to get out of facing justice.”

“That’s still brave,” she pointed out, stubbornly refusing to admit that Clark might be right. “You’re making a huge, emotional sacrifice to make sure that nothing bad happens. You’re amazing.”

“Why does it feel like I’m a coward?” he wondered. He pulled at the jacket of his suit, as though it was itching him. “I don’t deserve to wear…this,” he said, meaning the suit hidden beneath his professional attire.

“Yes, you do. You are still him, even if you’ve kept that part of you out of view,” Lois assured him.

“I worry that Luthor succeeded in what he set out to do,” he confided in a low tone. “He wanted to erase me and everything I stood for.”

“He failed,” Lois staunchly replied. “You’re back and making a difference in the world again. Clark Kent is someone who writes articles, informs the public, and gets justice for those who have been wronged. You’re one of the most read reporters in the world, Clark.”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t change how much he took from me.” He sighed and motioned vaguely to the empty podium where Luthor was about to make his statement. “I’m not sure I can ever go back to the way things were. A part of me wants to. But he really did erase that other side of me. No one cares anymore that he’s gone. The world has moved on. Probably for the better.”

He paused, sighing once more as he dragged his hand through his hair. After a moment, he shrugged. “Or, at least, not for the worse, what with the scores of new heroes that have cropped up.” He looked around subtly, but the others were not in view. “And, believe me, I’m thrilled to see how many others have stepped up to help. But it feels like…like there’s no room left…for me.”

“Clark, that’s not…” Lois began, but he couldn’t stop himself from interrupting. He needed to get this off his chest.

“I’m not wanted or needed anymore, Lois. Superman’s relevance has been erased.” He stared down at his shoes in embarrassment as his words tumbled swiftly, but barely audible, from his lips.

“Is that really what you think?” Lois asked, looking for all the world like his words had slapped her across the face. “That’s not true at all, Clark. There will always be a need for Superman. Always. Okay, fine, people are stupid and have short memories,” she allowed, her voice a gossamer whisper but intense. She gestured vaguely with one hand. “But I guarantee that, if you brought him back right now, there would be plenty of people who would be thrilled. People you once saved that remember you. Kids who have heard the story about how you appeared on the scene and the deeds you did. People who wish they could have seen just a glimpse of you in person.”

“Maybe for an hour or a day or a week. But, eventually, they would want answers that I can’t give them,” Clark firmly reminded her.

Clark could see her gearing up for a response, but a hush rippled through the crowd, making it impossible for them to talk without being overheard. The press secretary came out, made a quick announcement which Clark barely heard over the rushing of blood in his ears from his racing heart, and then introduced - as if he needed it! – Lex Luthor to the crowd.

Clark’s heart lurched into his throat and his stomach dropped out as Luthor strode confidently to the podium. Seeing the man who’d abducted him, imprisoned him, tortured him, and brainwashed him in person was a vastly different experience than seeing still photos or video images of him. Clark wished he could throw up or fly away and never look back. A cold sweat broke out over his entire body and what was left of his stomach churned. The coppery taste of bile rose up from the knot in his abdomen and he found himself trembling as his mind brought back all the vile things Luthor had said and done for ten years.

What is your name?

Say it!

I have but to say one word and I’ll be flying to a certain pathetic little Kansas farm. Do you understand what I’m saying?

I’ll kill your parents right in front of your eyes. And if that doesn’t break you…Lois Lane’s death just might.

Say it!

We’re going to be together for a long, long time.

Don’t play coy with me. I’ve seen past your flimsy disguise for a while now.

Say it!

Ah, here we are! Our pretty little bird in his gilded cage.

You’ll soon be forgotten.

I’m enjoying chipping away at you, eroding what you used to be, erasing you from memory, just as you tried to do to me. Already, the people have turned on their supposed ‘hero.’

Say it!

You’re rather stupid. All you have to do is give up on the Clark hoax and the pain will stop.

Say it!

Clark Kent never existed. You are Superman. You are not and have never been Clark Kent.

He fought hard not to clamp his hands over his ears in a futile attempt to block out the voice. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself. He couldn’t afford to. Luthor was crazy. If he realized Clark was there, on the fringe of the crowd, there was no telling what might happen.

This was a mistake. I shouldn’t be here, he thought to himself in a sickly voice. I should have asked J’onn to stand in for me.

Every klaxon alarm was ringing in his brain. And yet, he knew he would be a target if he brought attention to himself by trying to leave. There was no way he could escape Luthor’s eye if he did anything at all that might set him apart from the crowd.

“I know you’ve all heard the allegations made against me,” Luthor was saying, and Clark realized with a start that he’d missed the billionaire’s opening remarks. “I want to address them right here and right now.”

Clark took a deep, measured breath through his nose, trying to calm his nerves. He could do this. He had to.

“These allegations are nothing more than the fevered delusions of those who would seek to do me harm and I emphatically deny them all,” Luthor said, just the barest uptick to his voice, which Clark knew signified his annoyance. “It is insane to even entertain the notion that I was, am, or ever will be a criminal. I have done countless good things for this country. Because of my companies, many, many people have been able to get jobs. I have given considerable amounts of money to charities. I have done my best to do what is in this country’s best interest as your President.”

Clark scowled slightly. Of course Luthor was going to pat himself on the back.

“Because of this, I have, unfortunately, made enemies. But I promise you. I will find out who – and I have my suspicions – has planted such false evidence against me and they will be punished,” Luthor went on.

He knows, the panicked voice in Clark’s head screamed.

“In fact, I suspect they are here now, among you,” Luthor hissed and his gaze slithered over to rest on Clark.

The various reporters all exchanged confused looks. There was a general muttering and a lot of shoulder shrugging. Clark refused to lower his head and hide from that reptilian gaze of Luthor’s. He stared back, hard.

Checkmate, Clark thought as he saw a flash of hatred and maybe a little uncertainty flash across Luthor’s features.

“They will regret the day they tried to frame me,” Luthor continued.

“Is that a threat?” Wonder Woman asked, descending from the sky, and, save for Lois, Clark had never been so glad to see any woman before.

“Sounded like one,” Green Lantern agreed, gently alighting on the grass on the opposite side.

“I seem to remember only extending an invitation to the press,” Luthor coolly complained. “Which reminds me. The enemy. He’s right over there. Clark Kent. Otherwise known as your absentee ‘hero,’ Superman.”


Continued Below...

All eyes went to Clark. TV cameras swung in his direction. He set his jaw so hard the muscle ticked and his teeth ached with the effort.

“Don’t believe me?” Luthor asked and the eyes went back to him. “This might convince you.” He plunged his hand into his ash-gray suit pocket and pulled out a small box. He popped the lid before anyone could react and held aloft a jagged, broken piece of Kryptonite about the size of a silver dollar.

Clark couldn’t fight the effect the stone had on him. Before the lidless eyes of dozens of cameras and the millions of viewers watching live at home, his knees buckled and he collapsed, panting and struggling to keep himself from pitching face first in the grass. Lois was instantly at his side, kneeling in the grass, helping support him so that he stayed somewhat upright. But his strength failed quickly, as the Kryptonite worked its savage devastation. He sagged in her arms.

Luthor grinned and his eyes flashed with the thrill of victory. He gestured to the fallen man.

“Security?” he said by way of invitation. “You know what to do to this…threat to national security.”

“No!” Clark yelled, his voice hollow but loud enough for everyone to hear.

His protest fell on deaf ears. Two security guards whipped out their sidearms and trained them on Clark. Just a glance told Clark that if they discharged the weapons, they would tear his skull in half. Even if the Kryptonite hadn’t robbed him of his ability to move, he now could no longer risk any kind of wrong move. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Diana and John frozen in place, also not daring to make a false move, lest it prove fatal to Clark. Where J’onn was in the crowd, Clark wasn’t sure.

“Stand down,” Clark told them anyway, more for Luthor’s benefit than anyone else’s. He knew his friends weren’t foolish enough to attack the guards, but he wanted Luthor to think that he was cooperating in order to buy time for the others to make a plan.

“See?” Luthor gloated. “There is your enemy. An alien who abandoned you. A creature so utterly inhuman that he seeks to undermine the authority of the President.”

“That’s…not…true…” Clark wheezed.

Luthor stepped away from the podium, still holding the piece of radioactive rock aloft like a trophy. He came at Clark with easy, long, confident strides. Lois threw her body half over Clark’s in a desperate attempt to shield him from the poison. Luthor grabbed her by the hair and backhanded her across the face, sending her sprawling on the ground. Instantly, Lenny Rosenthal, from the Central City Chronicles, was kneeling down to help her. Or so it appeared.

“Do you want me to…?” Clark barely heard the man ask Lois.

“If you do, he’ll kill Clark,” Lois replied, shaking her head and holding a hand to her reddened cheek.

“You’ll pay for hurting her,” Clark growled between gritted teeth.

“You see? The alien threatens me!” Luthor cried and Clark wondered through the pain if the rest of the world realized how unhinged he sounded. “Let’s see, hmm? Are you wearing the blue today, alien?”

Luthor squatted down on the grass before Clark and set the Kryptonite down just out of reach. Then he reached out and grabbed Clark’s dress shirt. With a burst of strength, Luthor tore the shirt open, making buttons pop off in all directions. His smile went from merely evil to criminally insane as the stylized S was exposed. He picked the Kryptonite back up and held it before Clark, watching was it beat Clark down without him having to raise a single finger.

“There! You see? Clark Kent is nothing more than a pathetic cover for your so-called ‘hero,’ Superman!”

“You son of a…”

Luthor cut him off. “He’s nothing more than a non-human creature out on a perverse mission to destroy me. And this woman,” he said, spitting out the words venomously and pointing accusingly at Lois, “is a co-conspirator. She is working with him,” he said, jabbing his finger at Clark, “to defraud all of you into branding me a criminal. They have no proof. They seek only to sabotage my chances at reelection. They want to prey on your impressionable minds, filling your heads with falsehoods.”

“Okay, I’ve seen enough,” came a young man’s voice from the crowd. “It’s time for you to shut up.”

Clark blinked and the security guards were standing, dumbfounded, at their empty hands. A heartbeat later, the Flash stood leaning against the podium, the pilfered handguns in hand. He crossed his legs as he leaned, looking very much at ease. Clark wondered when the younger man had arrived. He hadn’t noticed him in the crowd earlier.

“He’s all yours,” the Flash said to Green Lantern and Wonder Woman.

Wonder Woman was already on the move. She shoved aside Luthor’s slack-jawed security detail and ripped the stone out of his fingers, exerting more effort than was absolutely necessary as she placed pressure on his wrist to loosen his grip. She tossed the stone to Green Lantern, who neatly encased the stone in a green energy bubble. It wasn’t enough to help Clark. Lantern quickly made the energy bubble float, then conjured up a huge green baseball bat. He swung the bat, hit the bubble, and sent the Kryptonite hurtling into space.

The vice around Clark’s chest vanished as the stone soared beyond reach. The taut muscles in his neck relaxed and he could breathe again. Shakily, though he could feel his strength returning, he stood. Everyone, even the security guards, looked at him in mute shock. For a few precious moments, it was as though he alone could move in a wax museum of unmoving figures.

He squared his shoulders and faced Luthor, his face hard but emotionless. Clark was nearly boiling with rage for having his identity irrefutably exposed before the world. But he would not let Luthor see that. He wanted the billionaire to fear the calm collectedness he forced onto his face. Because, as Clark was so intimately familiar with, fear of the unknown was worse than knowing exactly what to be afraid of. Besides, the world was watching, and Superman or not, he held himself to a higher standard than the soon-to-be-disgraced President.

Luthor squirmed, trying to back away, but Wonder Woman had a tight grasp on the collar of his imported shirt. He sputtered and growled threats. Clark let each one roll off his back. Instead, he nodded at Diana.

“Thanks for keeping ahold of him,” he said. Then he looked at the others. “I owe you all.”

“Don’t mention it,” John said grimly.

Diana looked at the billionaire with disgust that she did not bother to conceal. “My pleasure.” She hesitated for a few seconds before adding, “I’m just sorry I wasn’t a little quicker to prevent that stunt he just pulled.”

“Yeah, same. I kinda got here about two seconds before I took Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum’s weapons,” Flash said with a casual shrug of apology.

“It’s not your fault,” Clark reassured them both kindly.

“We can’t make it up to you. However, I think I can save the taxpayers a little money,” Wonder Woman said with a twinkle in her eye. With her free hand, she liberated the golden lasso at her hip. Then she looped it around Luthor’s midsection and chest. She tugged at the rope around him and led him back to the podium.

The Flash moved out of the way, barely concealing his delight. “Oh, she’s got the lasso out. Things just got really interesting.” He leaned in to the microphones set there. “Listen up, world. This is going to be pretty eye-opening.”

In the audience, the reporter with Lois was missing, and Clark caught movement out of the corner of his eye. It had to be J’onn, and it looked like he was going for more help.

Clark followed behind Diana. Now that the Kryptonite was gone, he felt back to normal. He grabbed Luthor’s expensive Italian jacket tightly in both fists to free up Diana’s hands, twisting the fabric around his hands, letting Luthor know without speaking that he had no chance of escape.

“Go ahead,” he encouraged Diana. “Use it.”

She hesitated only for a moment, gauging his expression, looking for something only she knew she was looking for. “Are you sure? There’s no telling what he might say…”

Clark gently interrupted, gesturing to his torn attire and blown identity. “There’s nothing else he can say to hurt me.”

She nodded. “All right then, if you insist. Alexander Luthor,” she commanded as the lasso awoke at her voice and began to softly glow. “You will stop struggling.”

Luthor’s body went limp against his will. “You will regret this,” he promised through gritted teeth.

“Enough of that,” Diana said sternly, and his mouth shut with a snap. “Tell the people the truth about the allegations made against you.”

Luthor scowled and gnashed his teeth as he tried to resist the lasso’s power. He failed, though Clark had to admit that Luthor had fought for longer than he would have thought was possible. That idea scared Clark more than he wanted to admit. It only drove home how completely psychotic the billionaire was.

“I…did it. All of it. It’s…true,” Luthor got out from around his clenched teeth. “I did everything I’m accused of. And more.”

“How much more?” Clark demanded, tightening his grip, ignoring how his fingers were tangled in the thin, strong lasso.

“You know very well what I did,” Luthor spat at him. Then he grinned evilly. “Superman.”

“Besides that,” Clark asked evenly, though his heart was hammering in his chest.

“Don’t you want to tell them?” Luthor asked, tossing his head in the direction of the gaping reporters, still dutifully recording the exchange. “About how I nearly erased your presence from the world? About how I destroyed you? Or did until Lois Lane, that traitorous, wretched, vile woman played nursemaid to you and brought you back from oblivion.” Every word was snarled and Clark felt what little privacy he’d retained collapsing around him. “About my sporadic, strategic, though ultimately useless, assassination attempts on you both. Go on. Tell them, Superman.”

Too late, Clark realized that his fingers were trapped in the lasso’s golden threads. A strange sensation came over him and he felt compelled to speak. Diana saw and tried to warn him, but the words were already forming in his throat.

“Clark, no!” she cried.

But she was half a second too slow. The first words of his confession came spilling out from between his unwilling lips.

“It’s true,” he said, his shoulders slumping. A short burst of feedback from the microphone almost blotted out the words, but by the way the media spoke amongst themselves, he’d still be heard clearly enough. “This man captured me, held me prisoner, and tortured me for ten years before having me shipped off to the Arkham Asylum, where I was held in a tiny cell in the basement and subjected to another ten years of torture,” Clark confirmed.

“Clark…” Diana said softly, in dismay.

Clark took a moment a moment to unwind the lasso from between his fingers. Then he squared his shoulders and faced the bank of microphones before him. Free from the lasso’s influence, he knew he didn’t have to say anything else he didn’t want to. But he also knew this opportunity would not present itself again.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly and regretfully. “I know I’ve probably let you all down. Making you believe I was two different people when I first adopted the character of Superman. And I know what it must have looked like, to see Superman everywhere one day and utterly gone the next. It was never my intention to make it seem like I’d abandoned the people of Earth. This is my home and I would do anything to protect it. I also know what some of you are probably thinking right now. I was rescued almost two years ago. So why hasn’t Superman returned?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lois making her way up to where he stood, a bruise already darkening her cheek where Luthor had struck her. She stayed to one side, silently giving him support, but also giving him the space he needed to command the attention of the media and, by extension, the viewers around the world. He nodded at her – just a shallow dip of his head – and gave her a reserved, minuscule smile.

“The truth is…I wasn’t sure how to explain my absence. I never wanted this,” he said, pulling his torn shirt open more to expose the S adorning his chest, “to be made public. Because Superman isn’t who I am. It’s just something I can do to help people. And, since I have nothing else to hide now - thanks to the President - I want to be completely honest with all of you. There have been other factors in my hesitation to resurrect Superman. I wasn’t sure I would be welcomed back after being gone for more than two decades.” He paused and moved his gaze to Lois, and an entire conversation passed between them in that look.

“But now that the cat’s out of the bag, so to speak, I’m looking forward to bringing Superman back…and joining forces with the rest of the Justice League,” he said, giving both Wonder Woman and Green Lantern a nod and a smile. He was struck by how much approval and excitement he saw in the smiles and nods they returned. “If the world will have me.”

“And as for you,” he said, turning to Lex Luthor, making sure his voice was lost to the microphone’s reach, “you lost, Luthor. Badly.” He nodded at the police officers who’d just arrived on the scene, thanks to J’onn. “He’s all yours, Officers,” he told them as one of the men reached the podium and swiftly handcuffed Luthor while Diana uncoiled the lasso from around him.

“I’m sorry, Clark,” Lois said as she came to stand next to him. “I know this isn’t how you wanted today to go.”

Clark sighed, suddenly tired. The media – for the moment – had let him out of their sight while they covered the President’s arrest, each of them clamoring for a statement from either Luthor himself or one of the arresting officers. He knew it wouldn’t last. As soon as Luthor was out of sight, he knew the onslaught of questions would be aimed at him.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” he said, trying to convince her as much as he was trying to convince himself. “No more hiding. No more wondering how I can bring Superman back.”

“It’s dangerous,” Lois pointed out.

He nodded thoughtfully. “We’ll have to be more careful than we otherwise would have needed to be. But we’ve been targeted before, simply because the public saw that we had a connection to Superman. We can handle this.”

“Kent and Kent,” Lois said with a bright grin.

Clark chuckled. “Even stronger than Lane and Kent ever were,” he agreed.



***


One Year Later…



For once, all was peaceful and quiet in Metropolis – especially in the townhouse on Hyperion Avenue. A place that had once been an alien world to Clark after what had felt like a lifetime of imprisonment in the dark. A building that had been nothing more than four walls and a roof over his head. A place that had become a sacred refuge when he’d been no more than a shattered, mindless, skeletal shell of a man, having been freshly rescued from a fate worse than death in the Arkham Asylum. The sanctuary where Clark had slowly recovered from two decades of torture. The house where he’d finally found his way back to his memories and life. The home where he and Lois had solidified their life as husband and wife.

House?

No. It wasn’t just a house.

It was home.

“Are you upset you’re not covering Lex’s sentencing?” Lois asked from the bed as Clark emerged from the shower, already dressed and with his hair neatly combed.

“Not a chance,” Clark replied, giving her his biggest smile and sitting down on the bed next to her. He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ve had more than enough of Luthor to last a lifetime. Besides, Martinez will do a great job covering it for us. He’s been invaluable to us since the trial first began.”

“Still, we worked hard for this moment,” Lois pointed out, reaching for the remote and flipping through the channels until she found one of the news stations. “I thought the trial would never end. We gave the feds everything they needed on a silver platter,” she gently complained, though her voice remained soft and low.

“Honey, you know they had to make sure everything was iron-clad. And Pete found more than we could’ve dreamed of getting on our own. My superpowers notwithstanding,” he added, giving her a tender look.

“I know. I guess I just never really thought about how long the process would take when we flew down to D.C. to give Pete our evidence,” she said. “You know, I have mixed emotions about this whole thing,” she said a few minutes later as Clark watched the muted news anchor talk endlessly, filling the air before the sentencing could begin.

“Really?” he asked, surprised.

Lois shrugged. “We did something amazing, Clark. We took down the President of the United States. That’s a feat that has only been achieved once before. It’s…a whole other level of accomplishment. It makes our Kerth award seem like a participation trophy in a kid’s foot race. I mean, this is Pulitzer stuff here. But even that seems…I don’t know. Insignificant compared to the history in the making that’s been happening ever since we gave Pete our evidence.” She sighed and shrugged, her excitement softening to something that bordered on contemplativeness. “On the other hand, we took down the President. There’s a certain…notoriety associated with that. There will be those…are those…who hate us for what we exposed. They rather live in ignorant bliss than see the corruption right under their noses.” She looked at him questioningly, as though trying to gauge if he understood her conflicted emotions.

He did. “I know. I’ve had the same thought. But, it’s a good notoriety. Okay, sure, select groups of people hate us. Whatever. We’ve dealt with that before. This is no different.”

Lois smiled. “And he’s facing justice for what he did to you too, not just the things he did to erode society.”

Clark frowned slightly. “I’m glad. But a part of me would have preferred if he got off scot-free on that and I’d been able to keep my secret intact.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyway, no point in wishing for the past to change. In a way, he wound up digging a bigger hole for himself by outing me.”

Lois chuckled quietly. “He instantly lost whatever support he might have still had, even with the criminal investigation looming,” she said brightly.

“And he gave me the opportunity to bring Superman back,” Clark mused, a mischievous smile curving his lips ever so slightly. “He thought he was hurting me, but he wound up helping me instead. Weird how that turned out,” he said with the barest hint of sarcasm in his words. “I still can’t believe how incredibly supportive the public has – mostly – been of me.”

“Karma’s a witch and Luthor got exactly what he deserves,” Lois agreed with a grin. “Still, are you really, really sure you wouldn’t rather be at the sentencing?”

“I’m sure,” Clark assured her. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here.”

At that, a tiny cry rang out, breaking the fragile quiet of the room. It was followed by another and Clark got up off the bed.

“Sounds like these little ladies are hungry,” he said with a smile, peering over the side of the pack ‘n play on the opposite side of the bedroom. He reached in and tickled the bellies of his one-month-old daughters, Lara and Samantha. “Hi there. Are you hungry? I’ll bet you are!” he cooed to them. “Let Daddy just give you a quick diaper change, hmm?”

“I’ll get the bottles ready,” Lois offered.

“No need, I got it,” he said, changing the two babies with lightning speed. He picked up first one, then the other and brought them both to Lois. “Here we are. Safe and sound with Mommy. Now, let me just get your brother and we’ll be all set to have some breakfast.”

He returned to pack ‘n play and lifted out the last of the triplets - his son, Jonathan. As he’d done with the girls, he changed the baby’s diaper in the blink of an eye, then brought the boy to Lois. “Be right back,” he said with a wink, before zipping out of the room at super speed. He returned less than half a minute later with three bottles in hand. “I’ll take the girls this time,” he told Lois, handing her a single bottle.

Lois hummed her assent, then let Clark take each of the girls. She settled back into her pillow, cradling Jonathan in her arms. Clark got Lara settled on his lap before gently getting Samantha into position.

“Breakfast is served,” he announced in a sing-song voice as he brought the nipples of the bottles to their hungry and waiting mouths.

For a long time, the only thing that could be heard was the sucking and slurping noises of the triplets as they devoured their bottles. Clark sat entranced as he watched them eat. How had he gotten this lucky? Although he and Lois had both expressed a desire to have a child, they hadn’t really known if it was possible for them. The combination of Earthling and Kryptonian DNA was something that had never happened before. It was possible that the chromosomes were incompatible for recombining into a new life. Their age had been another factor. Both had been in their upper-forties when Lois had gotten pregnant – surely their biological clocks had been working against them.

What neither of them had realized was that, while it had certainly been a possibility that they had missed their peak fertility window, the older a woman was, the higher the chance for hyper-ovulation and the chance for multiples. To say they were shocked when they’d gone for their first ultrasound was an understatement. For almost three months, they’d envisioned their future with their son or daughter and started planning appropriately. To be told that there was not one but three babies on the way blindsided them in the best way possible. In an instant, their entire world and future had been turned upside and pulled inside out. And, while initially worried about the logistics of going from zero children to three, they’d embraced the chaos to come with open hearts and excitement.

The day those three had arrived – remarkably full term – had been the happiest day of Clark’s life. It had been nothing short of a miracle watching as the doctor had gently pulled each one from Lois’ womb, all within seconds of one another while a skilled team of nurses had silently divided the tasks and babies amongst themselves to tend to each squalling newborn’s needs. Just like that, in the blink of an eye, they were a family of five and Clark was a father.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Lois asked in a near-whisper as Jonathan drained the last few drops of milk from his bottle.

“I’m a lucky man,” Clark said, wiping his daughters’ faces with a burp cloth and hoisting Samantha onto his shoulder first. He gently patted her back, helping her to burp. “Look at my life,” he said with a grin, and setting Samantha down to pick up her sister. He repeated the burping process.

“A never-ending sequence of dirty diapers and hungry mouths and barely enough sleep to function?” Lois lovingly joked, burping Jonathan, who spit up a small portion of his breakfast. She quickly wiped it off his chin. “Which I’m grateful for. I never knew I could love being a mom so much.”

Clark chuckled and, after putting Lara down, he crooked his finger and placed it beneath Lois’ chin. “I’ve always thought you were the most beautiful woman on the planet,” he told her sincerely. “But seeing you as a mom? You are absolutely radiant.”

“Smooth-talker,” Lois murmured, leaning in for a kiss that he happily supplied.

When they broke apart, Clark carefully rearranged their yawning daughters so they could lay on his chest as he reclined in the bed.

“What I meant was…I’ve been through a lot, Lois. Lex Luthor tried to destroy me. He swore to erase all traces and memory of me from the world. Locked up in his wine cellar for so long…beaten, starved, tortured…I believed him.” He paused, his breaths coming shakily. “But look what happened. He failed. I have my life back – both Clark’s life and Superman’s. I have you back. And now I have these three perfect children. I have more than I ever thought was possible, even before I got caught in his trap.”

He grinned broadly as his son and daughters yawned one final time before falling asleep one by one. “I’ve gone from being erased to being on top of the world. And all because of the four of you,” he said with a contented sigh. “I haven’t been erased at all. I’ve been cemented as a permanent fixture in this world.”

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply and contentedly, and listened to the four heartbeats that gave his second chance at life meaning.




The End.