Rather than significantly clog up the newly cleaned boards with lots of old stuff, I am giving a link to Zoomway's boards, which I also use to post part of When the West Wind Moves
The TOC at Zoomway's messageboards:
When the West Wind Moves TOC The TOC for these boards:
When the West Wind Moves TOC I am creating a topic for commentary on Part 1- 5 on these boards. Also, Part 5 is being reposted below.
And if anyone feels the need to send me any of the comments they made about the story (since I lost all of them), that would be supernice.
Welcome back all.
From Part 4:
"You can't see it, but the shirt the boy is wearing? It's from the 1994 World Series, so even if the date isn't one hundred percent accurate ... "
"It's after she disappeared." Perry shook his head, clearing his throat. "I've hoped, Clark, but even I was starting to accept the fact that maybe she was gone. And now, well, I don't quite know what to say. Cat is having you work on this?"
"As of right now, it's my primary investigation."
"Good, good. What have you got so far?"
"Not much. Just trying to find out who the picture belongs to."
"Have you talked to anyone who was part of the original search team for Lois?"
"Didn't even think about it," Clark commented sheepishly. "How would I go about doing that?"
"Talk to Mr. Olson. The last owner of the paper funded the effort, though if I remember correctly, Mr. Olson was given a copy of all the recent expenditures the owners had to deal with, just so he had some idea what he was getting into."
As the morning slowly turned to afternoon, the two men threw ideas back and forth, each using the other as a way of privately sharing his relief. When Clark left before lunch, he had to keep himself from floating. This was going to work.
~
Part 5
Three days later as Clark shut down his computer for the night, he couldn't help but feel the hope swelling inside of him slowly deflating like a balloon with a small hole in it. All of his possible leads and angles were turning out to be fruitless.
Maybe this wasn't meant to be, Clark reflected. Maybe this world was supposed to get by without a Lois Lane. Maybe he had been the Clark Kent chosen to live his life alone, always wondering what could have been.
Uncharacteristically angry, Clark raised a fist to hit it against him desk. Stopping himself before he could cause any damage, he rose and quickly left the bullpen, the place of so many of his frustrations, behind. Moments later, he took to the sky above Metropolis, feeling the need to try and dissipate some of the built up tension within him.
It wasn't fair. Everyone who seemed to be important to her Clark was lost to him here. That Clark probably never felt the overwhelming loneliness of coming back after a particularly gruesome rescue and having nothing but emptiness to greet and comfort him. He had people who he knew would love, care and protect him regardless of his superpowers or secrets. He never had to worry that maybe, one day, he would become nothing more than a full-time superhero, a cartoon character in a brightly-colored suit who was nothing more than one more item for the evening news. He never feared being incapable of having a life because of a gossip-hungry public.
Flying faster, Clark suddenly found his anger directed at an entirely new source: Lois. Never before had he considered blaming her for this new turn his life had taken. It was all her fault. If she had never come here, he never would have seen what his life could have been. He would have gone on hiding his powers and married Lana. Before Lois, he had been happy. No, not happy, but he had at least been content with the life he led. He had no idea what he had been missing and now, all these months later, he desperately wished he could return to that state of ignorance. He didn't want to know that he could have been with someone who understood and accepted all of him. He wanted to forget that somewhere, Clark Kent not only got to be with Lois and his parents but also didn't have to deal with the fact that people knew who he was outside of the suit.
Somewhere over the Atlantic, he finally slowed, feeling the edge of his anger wearing thin. Stopping a few minutes later, he realized he had just taken to the sky and flown for no reason other than to fly. For his entire life, he had never flown except when explicitly necessary, mostly due to fear of discovery. And now, as he floated above the dark ocean, he couldn't help but wonder why he had never done this before. It was freeing in a way he had never previously imagined. He had a type of solitude that had been missing since he had assumed the role of Superman: here he had no public image, no fear of neighbors gossiping to the tabloids and hidden cameras. Here, he was free to rage against fate and mourn the loss of a life that was never his.
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. He couldn't blame Lois. As easy as it would be, he would never be able to point a finger at her and accuse her of showing him this wonderful life that was out of his reach. It wasn't her fault. She couldn't change the car accident or the events in the Congo. She hadn't known that Tempus had lured her here for the sole purpose of exposing Clark Kent in order to further his own thirst for power.
There was no one at whom he could point a finger and force to shoulder responsibility for events. How his life had unraveled was beyond control. Even knowing that there was no one to blame, the hurt inside of Clark's chest did not diminish in the slightest. If anything, the lack of a concrete reason for why he had been so cursed deepened his pain. At least if he could find someone to blame, some reason for how his life had turned out, he could focus his hatred and grief upon it. Instead he was left to mourn for an emptiness created by a series of accidents.
Clark's eyes flew open as his hearing kicked in.
"... repeat: this is the cruise liner Bangladesh. We are dead in the water. All of our instruments are down ... "
Taking a deep breath to try and center himself, Clark flew in the direction of the ship.
~
"Nice job, Clark."
Clark glanced up to see Mr. Olson walking towards his desk. "Hmm?"
"The cruise liner. The 700 lives you saved last night."
"Oh." Clark felt himself unsure of how to respond to Mr. Olson's comment. It was rare for the paper's owner to mention Clark's superhero persona without attaching it to the Daily Planet.
"My question is this: how did you hear their distress call?"
"What?" Clark should have known better. Mr. Olson rarely just wanted to chat.
"Clark, they were stranded in the middle of the Atlantic. Authorities hadn't even heard anything from them. They had been out there for two days, so I know it wasn't that your hearing picked them up here in Metropolis. And usually for disasters like that, you rely on the media to tell you where you need to be. So, how did you know they needed your help?"
Clark opened his mouth and closed it again. For someone who claimed his only interest in the news was as an investment, the young millionaire certainly did have a nose for stories. Clark wasn't quite up to telling the owner of the Daily Planet that he had been hovering over the Atlantic out of despair. "I just decided to go for a flight last night, and after I got up in the air, thought that maybe I'd run to Paris or Rome to get some takeout. Of course, I heard the distress call, so I ended up eating a microwaveable meal instead."
Mr. Olson shook her head. "You make it sound so easy. Flying all over the world. Tell you what, the next time you get a craving for real Italian food, let me know so I can give you some money for myself?"
Clark smiled. "Of course."
Mr. Olson continued. "Anyway, the real reason I stopped by was that I understand you're a big sports fan."
"Yes."
"I own a box for the Metropolis Hawks and for tomorrow night's game against the Yankees, I'm not having my usual business dealings. I just want to go and watch the game. Would you be interested in joining me?"
Clark smiled. "That would be great. Thank you, Mr. Olson."
"Don't worry about it. Now, get back to keeping this the best paper in the world," he said and turned to walk away. He had taken two steps when he turned again. "Clark, it will work out. Don't beat yourself up over this. If she's out there, you're going to find her. It may just take some time."
With that, Mr. James Olson left a very contemplative Clark Kent at his desk.
~
Eight hours, fifty e-mails, twenty-two phone calls and four rescues later, Clark was ready to call it a day and head over to the ballpark. Jim Smith had called to let him know he had gotten in touch with all but one person. None of the people Clark had finally contacted from the bus were missing any photographs. Clark couldn't help but wonder if perhaps the one person who could help him was the one person who had so far eluded Jim.
It wasn't much, Clark knew, but he was feeling much better than at this point yesterday. He had managed only baby steps, but he at least felt like he was moving, even if it was at a snail's pace.
As he finished sending his finalized copy for the newest in his string of CostMart stories to Cat, Clark began to straighten his desk. Putting the last file back into his drawer, he allowed his gaze to fall upon the picture propped up against his nameplate.
Clark wondered if this Lois babbled in the same way as her alternate or got that determined look when she had an idea. Perry had already said she was stubborn as hell and was probably still alive just because she didn't agree with dying. Perry had also offered a word of caution.
"Clark, that Lois, she was, boy, she was something else. Lois was a daughter to me, and boy was she ever driven. The gal you met was just like that only she knew that she could have life outside of work. I don't know what changed her, but you just need to make sure you remember she's not the same woman. Aw shucks, it's been four years since I saw her, so that's probably a lesson to me."
Clark's reverie ended as his hearing picked up sirens in the distance. Glancing at his desk one last time, he hurried out of the newsroom and up the stairs.
"Clark!"
Anxious to help, he nervously fidgeted with his tie as he turned to see Mr. Olson. "The game, I just - "
"Go save lives, Clark. But know that standing me up is good for an extra exclusive in the Planet."
Clark nodded. "I'll try and come."
"I know you will."
With that, Clark supersped up the stairwell.
Mr. Olson, who rarely saw Clark perform his abilities in anything other than the suit, said the first thing that came to his mind. "Cool."
~
"Go home, Clark."
He glanced up to see Cat in the doorframe of her office.
"I just - "
"Need to go home. All of this will be here for you tomorrow. She's not going to appear out of thin air, which is all that you have right now. It's been two days since you've talked to the guy over at the bus station, and at this point, you're chasing empty leads." Cat walked over to his desk and sat on the corner. "You know what Perry told me when I took over for him? To know that you would be the one reporter I could always trust. You would be the one guy who would always pull through, always get a story if there was one there for you to find. None of that's changed. Perry's absolutely right. Despite being Superman, despite my concerns about you being able to do two very demanding jobs, you've been the one person I have always been able to count on."
Cat took a deep breath as she looked around the near empty newsroom.
"I need that person right now, Clark. I don't need some guy who is so wrapped up in a what-if that he loses the big picture. You cannot let this investigation control you."
Clark was silent for a long moment. Staring at his desk, he softly said, "I have to find her, Cat."
"And you will. If Lois Lane is out there, you of all people will be able to figure out where she is and what she's been doing. But you have to give it time."
Clark nodded. It was moments like this he loved working with Cat. More than anyone else he had ever worked for, she knew how to make him take that step back and put everything into perspective. As irritating as she could be at times, every reporter in the newsroom had relied on her at least once to give him that gentle nudge needed back into the right direction. "Thanks."
"You're welcome. But only if you leave right now."
As Clark gathered his things, he glanced up at Cat's back. "Don't you need to get home?"
Cat glanced towards him. "I'm the editor, Clark. I'm not allowed to distance myself."
~
Clark took to the sky and raced back to the newsroom once he knew the police had everything under control. His duties as Superman had kept him unusually busy since his talk with Cat - he had left the Planet no fewer than 10 times daily for the past five days. As a result, Clark had found himself somewhat neglecting his job at the Planet.
Not that there was much to do there. Finding information on Lois continued to be a stop and start affair, though it seemed to be more the former than the latter. To make it worse, Cat, knowing how busy Superman had been and wanting to relieve some of Clark's stress, had started giving him small follow-ups and straightforward articles that were usually assigned to the junior staff members. While Clark appreciated Cat's efforts, when coupled with his lack of information on Lois, he was becoming continually disillusioned with his work at the Planet.
No matter how much he tried, every lead, no matter how minor or insignificant, continued to raise his hopes that this would be the thing that would bring Lois to him. His entire mood had become dependent upon what he knew about Lois at any given moment. He had given up trying to fight it, as he found he only wasted unnecessary energy trying to ignore his feelings.
Jim Smith had contacted Clark two days ago with the name of the final passenger. Clark had quickly called and left a message with her, foolishly assuming this person had to be the "missing link." However, the woman had called Clark the next day and informed him that, no, she hadn't lost any photos on the bus.
Clark was down to two passengers with whom he had yet to speak. He had attempted to call them again without luck. As a result of this standstill, Clark found himself going over and over what little information he had in hopes of gleaning anything he could out of it before finally admitting that he was stuck for the time being.
Landing on the roof of the Planet, Clark spun into his business suit and made his way back to the newsroom. Once at his desk, he found five messages had been left for him.
The first two could wait, he mused, as they both dealt with a follow-up on the continued reductions of armed private citizens in Metropolis. They could especially wait once he saw what the next two were in regards to. Both were potential leads in his CostMart investigation. Maybe these would be the links he needed to finally break the story open. Quickly, he picked up the phone and dialed the first number. After seven rings, he hung up, deciding to try again later.
Putting the message in a place where he would notice it later, he dialed the number on the fourth piece of paper. After a moment, a man picked up the phone.
"'Ello?"
"This is Clark Kent from the Daily Planet. I was left with instructions to call this number."
"Oh yeah, the reporter. One minute."
Clark could hear the transfer of the receiver before a gruff voice spoke. "Kent?"
"Yes. Who is this?"
"No concern to you. And just so you know, you try to trace this number, you won't figure me out either."
"Why?"
"A guy's gotta protect himself in this day and age. Not all of us are supermen that can have bullets bouncin' off our chests. A bullet aimed for me goes through."
"Of course. Why do you think someone may try and shoot you?"
"I'm talking to a reporter on my own free will. Why wouldn't someone want to try and shoot me?"
Clark made a mental note of the apparent distrust the man had for reporters. "Why are you talking to a reporter then?"
"If you expect me to say because it's my civic duty, you got the wrong guy."
"Then why?"
"What does it matter? I'm giving you the information. You want it?"
"Yes," Clark replied quickly as he rubbed the back of his neck in frustration.
"CostMart knows what you're trying to do but it's taking them a little too long to cover their tracks. But if you're not fast all the proof you need to write your pretty little piece is going to be a paper shredded memory."
"What should I do?"
"That's not my job, that's yours. I'm just telling you that if you want to get this done, you need to get it done now."
"Just answer one question: is CostMart up to illegal activity?"
"Would I be calling you if they was setting up charities?" Clark heard the man clear his throat. "You look hard enough, you'll find it."
With that, Clark heard the click of the receiver. Knowing that was probably all he was going to get out of that source, he jotted down a couple of notes. If nothing else, the call did remind him of the timeliness of this project. The problem was, once again, a lack of information to push forward an investigation.
Though not surprised, he was still not happy to know he had lost the advantage. It was difficult, if not impossible, to do any sort of undercover work or late night stakeouts without being recognized by at least one person. Cat had even suggested switching him over to a different section early in his days as the blue spandexed wonder, as she referred to him. She had jokingly suggested travel, given that the Planet could save a bundle on airfare. Even now, though, Clark wasn't entirely sure she was kidding.
And it wasn't as if he hadn't thought about it as well. His biggest fear was that his other identity would one day cost the Planet an exclusive scoop. The bottom line, though, was that investigating was what he wanted to do.
"Superman! Help!"
Phone messages forgotten, Clark sped as fast as humanly possible to the stairwell.
As he did so, the fifth message, asking him to call bus passenger Angela Martin about a missing photo, fell from his desk to the floor below.
End Part 5
