TOC The Metropolis Neuroscience Center was housed what appeared to be a formerly upscale resort hotel overlooking the Hob’s River in the borough of Hamstead, across the river from Metropolis CBD. The multi-story brick building was surrounded by a tall iron fence, manicured lawns, and gardens. Casually dressed men and women of all ages were out enjoying the good weather under the watchful eyes of white uniformed employees.
At least it didn’t look too much like a hospital from the outside. The inside looked a little more institutional with note boards covered with notices and white uniformed nurses and orderlies.
“Worried?” Lois asked as she and Clark followed one of the orderlies to one of the examination rooms.
“A little,” Clark said. His hands were in his pockets and he looked for all the world as if he would bolt at the slightest startle. “I’ve never liked doctors much. I’m not sure if it’s due to some hidden childhood trauma, or something else.”
“It’ll be okay,” Lois assured him. “I promise. Besides, you did get knocked down by a car a couple days ago. Dr. McCorkle said that might have had something to do with this.”
“Maybe.”
Doctor Coundar was an efficient older woman with an Indian accent. Lois waited outside as Coundar checked Clark over, although Lois did manage to get a peek at Clark in the little paper gown doctors’ offices seemed to favor. She wished she’d brought a camera.
Finally the door to the examination room opened and Clark came out, fixing his tie. He looked worried and a little embarrassed. “I knew there was a reason I didn’t like doctors,” he groused.
“Everything okay?” Lois asked. He nodded.
“She said I’m healthy as a horse, aside from my hand and some bruises,” he said. “But there are some tests she’s going to run.”
“What sort of tests?”
“Urinalysis, blood tests. I guess they need to rule out drugs and other things as a cause for my memory issues since there’s no evidence of head trauma, despite the fact that I supposedly hit my head..”
Deter’s office was poshly functional with bookshelves lining one wall and wide windows looking out over the grounds and the river beyond. A heavy mahogany desk dominated the room. Maxwell Deter himself was a thirty-something man with Paul Newman good looks.
“Your employer gave me a brief overview of the situation when he arranged for this appointment,” Deter began. “Apparently the police found you in a bad part of town not long after Superman saved the world, and you had total retrograde amnesia…?”
“Things are coming back,” Clark said. “It’s frustrating, that’s all.”
Deter nodded, but Lois wasn’t sure he believed Clark’s story. There was something a little ‘off’ in Deter’s reaction. “I’m going to ask Miss Lane to leave while we talk,” he told Clark.
“I don’t mind if she stays,” Clark told him.
“I think it would be better if the first interview were private, that’s all,” Deter said. He smiled at Lois but there was something a little predatory in the smile – something that reminded her of Luthor.
“Sometimes having a third party present inhibits the interview process,” he added.
“It’s okay, Clark,” Lois assured her partner. “I’ll go grab a cup of coffee and check back in a bit.”
She felt Clark watching her as she left him in the office and she repeated to herself that he would be fine. Memory issues or not, Clark was a big boy.
Lois found the cafeteria and got a cup of coffee. Then she checked into the office. Jimmy answered.
“Hey, how’s CK doing?” he asked almost before she identified herself.
“He’s taking to Doctor Deter right now,” she told him. “What did you find out about this place?” It wasn't that she didn’t trust Perry’s judgment, but one of the hallmarks of a journalist was overwhelming curiosity – besides, she could well get a story out of it, assuming Clark cooperated.
“Its one of the top rated facilities in the country for treating memory issues,” Jimmy said. “It was founded ten years ago by Doctor Elias Mendenhall. His specialty is traumatic brain injury and he’s made some major breakthroughs in the field of brain repatterning and memory.”
“Doctor Amunati Coundar?”
“Neurologist. Works closely with Mendenhall. Not much else. Graduated top in her class at Harvard. Married, two kids.”
“And what about this Deter?” Lois asked.
“Mendenhall has a reputation for only hiring the best. Maxwell Deter is considered one of the best around concerning memory loss and recovery. Some of his theories and treatments are a little controversial, but he’s known for getting results.”
“Any thing else?”
“He’s been married twice,” Jimmy related. “First one ended in divorce. The second one, his wife died in an accident and left him with enough money so that he doesn’t have to work if he doesn’t want to… but there were suspicions. It seems his wife was a former patient of his and her family claimed he brainwashed her into marrying him and then killed her for the money but nothing could be proven. Then he moved to Metropolis. His patient list is confidential…”
“And since when has that ever stopped us?” Lois asked with a chuckle.
“Uh, yeah… Mendenhall takes older patients with neurological issues, dementia, that sort of thing,” Jimmy told her. “Deter seems to prefer them young, female, and connected. He has a reputation as a ladies man, but so far no one’s been able to prove he’s overstepped the boundaries with his patients. Although a couple of patients’ wives have made complaints that he seemed a little too interested in them.”
“Interesting,” Lois commented, mostly to herself. “Has Vincent Winninger returned my call?”
“The mad scientist?”
“He’s not ‘mad’. He’s eccentric,” Lois corrected. “Only poor people are crazy. Rich people are eccentric. Remember that.”
“Gotcha,” Jimmy said with a laugh. “Haven’t heard from him. I’ll let the chief know you checked in.”
“Thanks, Jimmy.” She hung up the phone she had borrowed and looked around the cafeteria. It was nicer than most hospital cafeterias and smelled much better. There were tablecloths on the tables, fresh flowers. It really did feel more like a resort hotel than a medical institution.
She got a refill on her coffee and strolled outside to the back gardens. From here she didn’t see a fence, but a walk toward the river confirmed it was there, hidden in a dip in the landscaping, almost like the cage walls in the Metropolis zoo. Look straight across and you only saw a glass partition, but look down and there was a dry moat and a steep wall. Here, the glass partition was missing.
On the sides of the property the fence was hidden by tall boxwood hedges interspersed with a plant with red flowers and seed pods. The pods stuck to Lois’s jacket and she had to pick them off. She noted security cameras overlooking the perimeter and the grounds. Were they there to keep the inmates in or everyone else out?
Lois had an idea and reached into her purse with her left hand, into an inner pocket. She slipped on one of the rings she kept hidden there – a simple engagement ring she had picked up for a song at a pawnshop for disguise when she and Clark went undercover as newlyweds. The matching wedding band was in the pocket as well, but it was probably better for Clark’s peace of mind if she didn’t wear the wedding band.
Besides, a fiancée had certain privileges that a mere partner didn’t have. And Lois had the feeling that Clark needed all the help he could get right now. The thought crossed her mind that maybe leaving him alone with Deter hadn’t been such a good idea.
She checked the time. Assuming Clark wasn't wandering the grounds looking for her, he’d been with Deter for more than an hour. At the rates the Center charged, this visit was going to cost the Planet a fortune.
Moments later she knocked on the door to Deter’s office. A man’s voice said “Come in.”
Lois walked in. Clark was hunched over in his chair, looking for all the world like a frightened puppy. Deter didn’t look much happier, although in his case there seemed to be a touch of anger as well.
“That will be all, Clark,” Deter said, dismissing him. “I’d like to speak with Miss Lane now.”
Clark stood and headed for the door. She saw a flicker of confusion cross his face as he noticed the ring on her finger. “We’ll talk later,” she promised, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before he closed the door behind him.
She turned to Deter. “I have a feeling that didn’t go as well as hoped.”
“Mister Kent is promising to be a difficult case,” Deter told her. “He refused the normal treatment for cases such as his.”
“And the normal treatment is?”
“Drug therapy to unblock the psychological barriers he has put up to keep himself from facing whatever it is that has literally scared him out of his mind,” Deter told her. “He has what we call disassociative amnesia. It’s purely psychological.”
“You mean, it’s not related to a bump on the head?” Lois asked.
“That’s where writers always get it wrong,” Deter said. “Brain damage can lead to memory loss because the places where the memories are stored have been damaged, but the brain is pliable, and sometimes, when the injured area recovers - if it does - so does past memory. One of the key symptoms, however, is anterograde amnesia. The patient can’t lay down new memories.”
“But Clark doesn’t have that.”
“No, Clark has what’s called global retrograde amnesia. He’s wiped out his past, but his brain is fully intact. It’s a weak personality’s defense against something that did, or maybe will, happen that was so traumatic to him that he’d rather lock away his own identity than deal with it outright. The one interesting aspect in his case is that most people who choose this escape usually take off, literally. They get in their car, or board a bus or plane and go as far away as they can from the place the trauma occurred. They frequently adopt an entirely new personality to help them cope.”
“And Clark hasn’t done those things?”
“Oddly enough, no,” Deter admitted. “That in itself is enough to make me want to admit him here for treatment.”
“Did you suggest this to him?” Lois asked.
“He said he wanted to discuss it with you and his parents,” Deter said. “If you have any influence on him at all, it would be a good idea if he were admitted here, even if only for a short time.” Deter smiled charmingly at her. “He needs support, and a calm, non-threatening environment. I don’t think he’ll get that where he works. I understand he’s been involved in several life-threatening incidents while working at the Daily Planet.”
“Being an investigative journalist sometimes leads to visiting unsavory places,” Lois admitted. “And Clark and I are among the best. But I’ll talk to him.”
“Miss Lane, Lois, he needs to be away from stress, from threats. He has chosen to lock away himself to avoid facing something he considers too terrifying to deal with. We've had a lot of success with cases similar to his.”
“So, you think he’ll recover fully?”
Deter shrugged. “You have to understand it's not an exact science. Mister Kent’s memory could pop back in tomorrow, or it could be lost forever.”
“But there's a good chance that Clark will fully recover?” Lois insisted.
“There are no guarantees,” Deter said. “But I think his best chance for complete recovery is here with us in a strictly controlled environment.”
“I said I’d talk to him,” Lois told him. “Doctor McCorkle mentioned that Clark has something she called ‘Superman Complex’. She said a setback like this could be very frustrating for him.”
“McCorkle works with the police, right?” Deter gave her condescending smile. “‘Superman Complex’ isn’t exactly a DSM diagnosis. Although Clark does seem to be type for it. Optimistic, naïve…”
“Clark’s a real boy scout,” Lois said.
Deter chuckled. “Lois, I see that you’re wearing an engagement ring…? He said you were very close, but he didn’t mention anything about that. Is he your fiancé?”
She nodded. It was a white lie and she was sure Clark would understand once she had a chance to explain it to him.
“You might want to consider that you may be what he’s running away from.”
-o-o-o-
Clark was waiting for her just outside the office door. He seemed a little less miserable.
“Well?” he asked.
“Doctor Deter would like you to be admitted here as a patient,” Lois told him, taking his arm as they headed for the entrance.
Clark shook his head. “No,” he said with a firmness she hadn’t heard in his voice since before this all started. “I know he’s supposed to be one of the best, but I don’t trust him. And I don’t like him. He…” Clark’s lips pressed thin, almost as though by locking his mouth he could keep from talking.
“What is it, Clark? What did he do?”
“My blood tests and everything else came back clean,” Clark told her. “Well, the blood test wasn't quite normal. Apparently I’m seriously anemic, even though I don’t look it and I don’t feel it. But he kept asking about drugs…”
“Clark, of all the people I know, you are the least likely person to get into drugs,” Lois told him. “You don’t smoke, the aspirin in your desk is mine - in case I run out and forget to buy more - and you don’t drink all that much. Wine with dinner is about your limit. In fact, I’ve never seen you drunk. Ever. And we’ve been to some pretty serious after-office parties over at Dooley’s… So if drugs are involved in this problem, it wasn’t self-inflicted.”
“You’re positive?”
“Absolutely,” she assured him. They had arrived at her car and she unlocked the door for him. He didn’t move for a long moment and she realized he was studying the ring on her left hand. “It’s not… I figured it would be easier to get information out of Deter if he thought we were engaged.”
“But we’re…?”
“No, we’re not engaged, even though we have gone undercover as newlyweds and half the newsroom thinks we’re more than just partners,” she told him. “Cat and Ralph, especially.” She tried to gauge his reaction to her statement. He seemed to roll it over in his mind. Then he smiled.
“I’m glad I have you as a friend,” Clark said. “And I bet you’re already smelling a story here.”
“See, things are coming back.” Lois grinned at him and climbed into the driver’s seat. Clark slid in beside her. “So, what did Deter tell you was wrong?”
“‘Atypical disassociative global retrograde amnesia unaccompanied by fugue’,” Clark quoted. “Once he decided I wasn’t going to tell him about some new designer drug out on the street, and I wasn’t faking the whole thing for sympathy, he started asking me about you. Whether I recalled if we’d been intimate, that sort of thing. He seemed more interested in finding out more about you than helping me.”
“That jives with what Jimmy came up with on him,” Lois said. “Deter is a ladies man and doesn’t seem to care if the lady in question is the wife of a patient.”
“And you want to expose this little foible of his?”
“I think Lane and Kent are on the story,” Lois said. “Where there’s smoke, there’s usually a fire.”
“Is there a ‘Lane and Kent’ right now?” he asked. He watched her, expression solemn, worried.
“Clark, you’ve lost your memory, not your mind,” Lois told him. “Although I wonder how much of what Deter told me about your condition was right.”
“And what did he tell you?”
She took a deep breath and blew it out her nose. “I know you are sometimes a little flaky, running off for no apparent reason on some of the flimsiest excuses I’ve ever heard and only you and God know why. And there have been times you’ve run off to get help and let people think it was because you were afraid. But I know better. I know you were doing whatever it was you did to contact Superman.”
“I don’t remember that,” he said. “I don’t remember Superman and I figure a man who flies should be easy to remember. I know I was supposed to be friends with him, but I’m still drawing a blank there.”
“I understand,” Lois said. “But, what I’m trying to say is, I know you’re not a coward. I was there when Antoinette Baines had us tied up in that warehouse. I was there when Jason Trask threatened to kill you and your parents, when he shot at you and Sheriff Barnes took him out. According to Deter, memory loss like you have is a result of a ‘weak personality’ that runs into something it can’t cope with. But I don’t believe that either, not in your case.”
“So, if I’m not a coward running away from the end of the world, what happened?”
“I don’t know, but I have an idea,” Lois admitted. “Your nightmare, the one with Luthor and the sword…? That was a memory. What if the other part was also a memory? Maybe a recent one?”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Hear me out, Clark,” Lois said. “I know I’ve poo-pooed your concerns about Luthor. But until recently I hadn’t seen anything that indicated you weren’t reacting to him out of some weird anti-rich-man bias.”
“And now?”
“The day before Nightfall was expected to hit the Earth, I had lunch with Lex and he showed me his ‘ark’,” she said. Telling Clark about Luthor was harder than she had anticipated. It was unnerving to admit how wrong she had been about the multi-billionaire. How she had been blinded by wealth and good manners. Or that Clark had been right all along.
She continued. “He has an underground bunker fully supplied to keep two hundred hand-picked vassals alive until it’s safe to come out again. He had an exact replica of my apartment built down there, including some books I’d just bought. That was a little scary. So I had my apartment checked for bugs. And guess what?”
“You found some?”
“Made by Luthor Electronics,” she told him. “I haven’t told Perry and I’ve been trying very hard not to go ballistic because I can’t prove anything. And we both know how Perry is about things like proof. But if you are right, then Luthor’s been involved in a lot more questionable things than just stalking me and he’s gotten away with them because he has money and power.”
“You don’t do things by half measure, do you?” Clark observed. “You want to take on Luthor and the Neuroscience Center?”
“I’m not going to get that Pulitzer by avoiding the hard stuff or hiding from the powerful,” Lois said. “Clark, there isn’t anything in this city that Luthor doesn’t have his hands in. If he doesn’t own it, he’s on the board. If he isn’t on the board, he controls their suppliers or he employs their kids.”
“You’re a cynic,” Clark said.
“I’m a realist,” Lois corrected.
-o-o-o-
“EPRAD made it official,” Perry announced as soon as they walked into the newsroom. “They’ve called off the search for Superman and the assumption is that he’s dead.”
Lois was a little surprised to find she wasn’t grief stricken, although she knew Perry and some of the others in the newsroom were waiting for her reaction. She knew the reality would hit her later. That everyone had given up on Superman, and he was gone. But for now everyone seemed to be waiting for her to say something.
“It’s not like it’s a surprise, is it?” she asked. “If he could have checked in, he would have.” She looked around at the faces watching her. She wasn’t going to give them a show. She wasn’t going the let them know how much she had hoped Superman would be found, safe and alive.
“In the meantime, we have a newspaper to put out, don’t we?” Lois watched as surprised co-workers headed back to their desks.
“Lois, hon, you were the one closest to him…” Perry began. “Are you up to…?”
“Writing his obituary?” Lois asked, guessing that was what he was asking. “I think so. In fact, I think Clark was working on one before all this started.”
Perry gave Clark a surprised look. Obviously Clark hadn’t told Perry about it.
“You know, be prepared,” Clark said with a faint smile. He turned on his computer and found the document in question. Perry looked the article over.
“When did you finish this?” Perry asked.
“The file date says just before Superman took off to take care of Nightfall,” Clark told him. “I remember writing it, actually.”
Perry gave him an inquiring look. “How did your appointment with Doctor Deter go?”
Clark shrugged. “He wants me to check into the clinic. I’m not sure I want to do that. Lois is thinking we may get a story out of it, though.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think she may be right,” Clark said. “She told Deter we were engaged.”
“And when I told Doctor Deter that, he told me that I could be the reason Clark chose to lose his memory,” Lois told Perry and Clark. Perry eyebrows went up at her statement and her tone.
“‘Atypical disassociative global retrograde amnesia unaccompanied by fugue’ is the official diagnosis,” Clark said. “According to Deter, I ran into something that literally scared me out of my right mind. His recommended treatment was drug therapy and a total isolation from stressors.”
“But Doctor McCorkle recommended being around familiar places and people,” Lois said. “She didn’t say anything about him staying away from stress. She just recommended patience.”
“You don’t agree with Deter?” Perry asked.
Lois looked to Clark. He answered Perry’s question. “I don’t trust him. And I didn’t like the questions he was asking me about Lois.”
Perry nodded. “That’s good enough for me. You two finish up that obituary. Then Clark, you take the rest of the afternoon off. I know your parents are in town. Spend some time with them.”
“Thanks, Perry.”
-o-o-o-
Martha and Jonathan were waiting at Clark’s apartment when Lois and Clark arrived. Perry had been feeling magnanimous and gave Lois the afternoon off as well, considering both of them would be working well into the evening with the Luthor interview.
“Honey, how was your appointment with the doctor?” Martha asked as soon as they walked in.
“Deter wants me to check into the center,” Clark told her. Martha and Jonathan shared a worried look.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea, son,” Jonathan said. His tone was very solemn.
“I told him I’d run it past you first,” Clark told them. “But Lois thinks there’s a story there, and I think she’s right. Deter… well it’s hard to explain but I don’t think he was listening to me. And his reaction to Lois kind of confirmed his less than sterling reputation.”
“But, was he able to help?” Martha asked.
Clark sighed. “I have a diagnosis for what it’s worth. But things are coming back, little by little. I went through everything I’ve written for the Planet and I actually remember writing them and the earlier ones in my portfolio. But I’m still drawing a blank on this Superman person. Lois and Perry both tell me I was a friend of his, but I can’t… I can’t see his face, I can’t remember his voice. But I interviewed him, I wrote about him. He gave me exclusives… It’s just so frustrating,” Clark told them. “Some things are right there and other things just aren’t.”
Another undecipherable look was shared between Martha and Jonathan. Jonathan sighed again.
“Don’t fret about it, Clark,” Jonathan told him. “You’ll remember when you’re ready.”
“I’ll come by about six and pick you up for dinner,” Lois told Clark. She turned to Martha and Jonathan. “We’re having dinner with Lex Luthor. He wants to brief us on his plans for a Superman memorial, things like that.”
“Is that a good idea, with Clark the way he is?” Martha asked. “I mean, I know Superman wasn’t fond of Luthor and I can’t imagine he’d approve of that man putting together a memorial for him.” Lois noted that Martha’s statement concerning Superman and Luthor seemed to be aimed at Clark, not her.
Lois ignored the puzzled look Clark gave his mother. “Clark, why didn’t you tell me what Superman told you about Luthor?” she asked him.
“I honestly don’t remember anything about that,” Clark said. There was a tremor in his voice.
“Patient, I can be patient…” Lois muttered to herself. “What do you remember about Luthor?” she asked him.
“What I told you this morning,” he said. “I remember him threatening me, and I have this feeling that he’s far more dangerous than anyone realizes. But I don’t remember Superman saying anything to me about Luthor. I don’t remember Superman at all. It’s like I run into a wall.”
“Maybe it was something about Superman that made you need to walk away,” Lois suggested.
“But what?” Clark asked. His frustration was evident in his face, his slumped posture.
One horrifying possibility came to her. “You were found in Suicide Slum and radar tracked something that would have hit there if it had hit at all – what if it was Superman, and he was dead, and you witnessed it.”
“Lois, people have been scouring the city for signs that he came back to Earth,” Clark reminded her. “There’s been no sign that happened. No burned up bodies, no uniform, nothing.”
“Maybe somebody took the body away and you witnessed that?” she suggested.
He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Clark, you look tired,” Martha said, effectively ending their speculations. “It sounds like you and Lois are planning a pretty intense night and I bet you haven’t had lunch. How about eating a little something, then taking a nap. Things look much better when you’re well fed and rested.” She turned to Lois. “You’re welcome to join us for lunch. We have plenty.”
Lois was ready to say no, to leave Clark alone with his parents so they could talk when her stomach overrode her good intentions by growling.
“That settles it,” Martha declared with a chuckle. “Jonathan, put on another place setting.”
Clark picked up his jacket from where he’d dropped it on the back of the sofa and headed to his bedroom area to hang it up. “Mom, Dad, where’s the globe?” Lois heard him ask his parents moments after he disappeared around the corner. There was a note of near panic in his voice.
Another glance between Martha and Jonathan. “Considering the circumstances, your mom and I felt it should be put away for safe-keeping.”
Clark came around the corner to look at them. Lois watched as an odd mixture of confusion, fear and comprehension crossed his face.
“It’s Superman’s, isn’t it?” he asked.
Jonathan nodded.
“I picked it up at the Bureau 39 warehouse,” Clark added.
“Bureau 39? My Bureau 39? I was right there, and you didn't tell me?” Lois was too surprised to temper her reaction. “You just picked it up, put it in your pocket, took it home, and kept it?”
“Yes,” Clark replied. “At least I think that’s what happened. I remember the warehouse. The globe was with a weird capsule with that ‘S’ logo on it.”
“Superman’s symbol,” Lois concluded. “You took it, knowing full well that it probably had some connection to Superman, and that I, your partner, would kill to know about it.”
“We weren't partners then,” he reminded her.
“‘Then,’ Clark? Try ‘never again.’” She started ticking items off on her fingers. “You lied. You stole. You...”
“Betrayed?” Clark chimed in a little too cheerfully.
“Don't edit my tantrums, Clark,” she warned. “I won't be responsible.”
“And you’ve never lied to me?” Clark asked her.
“
You grew up on a farm in Kansas,” Lois stated. She was actively ignoring the fact that his parents were standing watching them. “
I grew up in Metropolis.”
“So?”
“So... there are different standards,” she insisted.
“That's ridiculous and you know it, Lois.” Martha said. “You’re just upset that Clark didn’t tell you something he was asked to keep in confidence.”
“So this globe of Superman’s…” Lois said. “Your parents knew, but not me?”
“Who would suspect a couple of middle-aged Kansas farmers of knowing anything about Superman?” Jonathan asked.
“So, where is this globe?” Lois asked.
Martha smiled. “Somewhere Superman can find it when he needs to.”
“You don’t think Superman’s dead, do you,” Lois told the older woman.
It was several moments before Martha answered. “No, I don’t think he’s dead. I do think he’s hurt and confused and scared. And as soon as he’s recovered from whatever it was that happened to him, I think you and Clark will be the first to know.”
“You really think so?” Lois asked. It was too much to hope that Martha was right, that Superman was out there somewhere, recovering from his ordeal.
“I hope so,” Martha said. “I certainly hope so.”
