Happy Tuesday! Here is the next installment of Stuck in the Dark. The feedback I've received identified some gaping plot holes so I have made edits to several of the early chapters. Hopefully, this has fixed the issues or at least made them less obvious. Thanks for helping make this story the best it can be. I truly appreciate it!
Chapter 13
They’d been working for a couple hours now, the hotel room transformed into a controlled chaos of raised-line maps, labeled files, and Kal’s digital recorder tracking every thread. He kept his system neat, efficient. Every movement had purpose.
But every so often, a wrinkle formed.
Lois paused mid-sentence when Kal stilled, fingertips hovering above the braille label on a file.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I thought this one was Southside,” he murmured. “But I must’ve misfiled it. Either that, or I just lost track of the layout again.”
She didn’t move to help—not immediately. Kal wasn’t asking for it, and she’d learned better than to rush in.
Still, the quiet lingered too long.
“You okay?” she asked, softer now.
He exhaled. “I’m fine. Just…” His jaw flexed slightly. “Some days, it’s harder than others. Doesn’t mean I can’t do the work. But it wears on me. It’s not the work. It’s the second-guessing. Every step, every system—I build it, and then I have to trust it’ll hold.” There was no self-pity in his tone. Just fatigue. Honesty.
He sat back, shoulders tense. Then, without reaching for the map, he angled his head and pointed toward the far edge of the desk.
“No—wait. That one’s Southside.” He tapped the corner of a folder with near-perfect accuracy.
Lois blinked. “How did you—?”
“Lucky guess?” he offered meekly.
She didn’t press. Just watched him for a moment longer, then nodded and picked up the thread of the work again—filing it away, like she always did.
A few minutes later, Kal started searching for another folder of information. When she realized he was having trouble locating it, Lois nudged one of the folders an inch closer to his hand. She meant it to be subtle—gentle, even—but Kal’s fingers stilled.
He didn’t say anything, not at first. Just let the silence stretch, his jaw tense. Then he reached out—slowly, deliberately—and moved the folder back to its original place.
“I had it,” he said, obviously irritated by her action. Then he shook his head, trying to push the sharpness out. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped.”
Lois didn’t flinch. “You didn’t,” she said softly. “Not really.”
Kal exhaled through his nose, the tightness in his shoulders slow to ease. “It’s just… when people assume I need help, it gets in my head. Even when I know they mean well.”
“I wasn’t assuming,” she said. “I just—” She caught herself. Rewound. “I didn't want you to be frustrated when you picked up the wrong one. I don't know when to help."
He nodded, but didn’t look up. “I know.” A beat passed. “I just… need to know I can still figure it out, that I can pull my weight here. I haven't worked with a partner at the Oklahoman. I don't know how to do this."
Lois's voice was gentler now. “Don’t cut yourself short. You know enough to realize we needed all these records. We’ll figure it out together.”
Kal didn’t respond right away. His hand hovered for a moment above the folder, then withdrew entirely.
“I’m just trying to do what I saw you doing at the Planet,” he said, shrugging. “I know how to work alone. I’ve had to. It’s cleaner. Simpler.”
“Safer,” Lois added quietly.
He gave a small nod. “Yeah. That too.”
She didn’t argue. Didn’t press.
Instead, she reached for a different folder, opening it without a word and laying it between them like a fresh start.
Kal tilted his head slightly, listening to the shift of paper, the way she didn’t nudge it toward him this time.
And he reached for it on his own.
They worked in silence for a while after that, the kind that wasn’t heavy—just focused. Intent.
But Lois kept glancing over, not because he needed her to, but because she wanted to. Because every so often, he’d pause—just slightly—before labeling a file, or tapping a folder’s corner to orient himself.
She waited until one of those pauses stretched a little longer than usual.
“Kal,” she said, keeping her tone light but careful. “Have you ever considered talking to someone about this?”
He didn’t look up. “I’m not exactly eager to sit down with a therapist and unpack my feelings about tactile file systems.”
She gave a small huff of breath—close to a laugh, but not quite. “That’s not what I meant.”
He tilted his head slightly toward her, curious. “Then who?”
“Dr. Klein,” she said, and the name landed quietly between them. “You could go as Superman. He’d keep your confidence.”
Kal didn’t answer. Not right away.
Lois let the silence hang. She didn’t fill it. Didn’t backtrack. Just let it settle.
“I don’t know what he could even do,” Kal said eventually. “I’ve already learned how to work like this. Mostly.”
“I’m not saying he’d fix it,” Lois said. “I don’t think this is about fixing. But maybe he could help you understand it. Help you figure out what’s really going on under the surface.”
Still, Kal didn’t respond. But his jaw shifted—like he was grinding down a thought too heavy to name.
Lois folded her arms on the table, voice soft but sure. “I’ve seen the way you know where something is before you touch it. That wasn’t a lucky guess earlier.”
Kal’s brow furrowed.
“I’m not saying it to put you on the spot,” she added quickly. “I’m saying… maybe there’s more going on than you realize. And if anyone could help you figure out what that more is, it’s Dr. Klein.”
That finally drew a flicker of reaction—a small tilt of his head, the kind he gave when he didn’t want to admit something out loud but had already conceded it internally.
Lois didn’t push further.
Instead, she said, “Just think about it.”
And then she turned the page of the report between them, as if that was all she’d needed to say.
They continued working for several more hours until Lois had to admit that she was beyond tired and left for home.
The room had gone quiet after that, save for the hum of the mini-fridge and the occasional car slipping past on the street below. Kal sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, cane resting against the nightstand.
He’d gone over the files twice. Rechecked his recorder. Everything was in order.
So why couldn’t he sleep?
He lay back eventually, muscles tight against the mattress. The dark didn’t matter—it never did anymore—but something about the silence felt heavier than usual. Louder.
He was about to turn over when a sound pricked the edge of his hearing. A voice—faint, far off. A sharp inhale. Someone muttering under their breath.
Then: the unmistakable sound of impact. A trash can tipping? A scuffle?
Kal froze, listening hard. The street outside wasn’t especially rough, but it wasn’t spotless either. Could be nothing. Probably was nothing.
Still, his heart picked up its pace.
Another sound: hurried footsteps. A sharp expletive. Something metal scraping pavement.
He sat up.
He could check. Could throw on a coat and head outside. But what then?
He hadn’t flown in years. Hadn’t intervened. Not since—
His hand found the edge of the nightstand again, steadying himself against the weight in his chest.
What if he misread the situation?
What if he got it wrong?
His jaw clenched.
By the time he made it to the window and cracked it open an inch, the sounds had faded. The voices moved on. The tension dissolved into ordinary city noise.
And Kal stood there, hands braced on the windowsill, a ghost of himself staring out at a world he used to be able to navigate without thinking.
He wasn’t afraid of helping.
He was afraid of how.
Of whether he still could.
Lois arrived late the next morning, coffee in one hand and a half-eaten protein bar in the other. Kal was already at the table, hands moving slowly across one of the raised-line maps. He didn’t look up when she entered—but he didn’t need to.
“You okay?” she asked, setting the coffee down beside him.
He nodded. “Yeah. Just started early.” But there was a heaviness in his voice. Something slightly off rhythm.
She didn’t press. Instead, she pulled out a chair and slid into it, mirroring his posture without drawing attention to it.
They worked like that for a while—quiet, steady. Neither of them rushing to fill the silence.
Eventually, Kal set the map aside. “I heard something last night,” he said. Lois looked up. “Outside the hotel. Maybe a fight. Maybe not. By the time I got to the window, it was over.”
“You think someone was hurt?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t do anything.”
“You couldn’t have known for sure.”
“That’s the part that bothers me,” he said quietly. “I used to just know. My hearing, my instincts—they worked together. Now…” His mouth pressed into a thin line. “Now I second-guess everything.”
Lois leaned forward. “What did it feel like? The moment you heard it.”
“Like the air shifted. Like I could almost feel the shape of it—but I couldn’t follow through. Like the map I used to rely was just out of reach.”
There was silence between them again—but this time, it wasn’t heavy. It was careful. Waiting.
Lois studied his expression, the way his brows pinched—not in pain, but in calculation. As if he were still trying to chart a course through something he hadn’t fully named yet.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said.
“I didn’t do anything at all,” he answered, almost under his breath.
She didn’t argue. She just let it land.
Kal reached for the coffee she’d brought, his fingers wrapping around the cup like it was grounding him. He didn’t drink it right away—just held it, the warmth bleeding into his skin.
“I think I need to know,” he said finally. “If there’s a way I can help, if I can still matter”
Lois didn’t breathe until he looked up—just a flicker, but enough.
“How can I help?”
“I think,” he started reluctantly, “I think I want to go see Dr. Klein.” Then he went back to the map.
Lois held her gaze on him, trying to decide if she should say anything. Taking her cue from his return to the map, she decided to let it go for now. His willingness to talk to Dr. Klein is progress and there was no need to risk him changing his mind by pushing him too far too fast. They would focus on the investigation for today and discuss scheduling his appointment tomorrow.
A few quiet moments passed before Kal spoke again. “Check this out.” He said as he held a document out to Lois. Lois took the page from his hand, scanning the text quickly. Her eyes narrowed halfway through, then widened in recognition.
“This name—” she pointed, forgetting again for a moment that he couldn’t see. “It’s the same consultant that appeared in one of my Southside files. I flagged it but hadn’t found a connection yet.”
Kal’s brow furrowed. “So we’ve got duplicate phrasing, mirrored zoning, and now a shared consultant.”
“Which means,” Lois said slowly, “this isn’t just a pattern. It’s coordinated. Someone’s steering this.”
Kal nodded. “Then we need to find out who’s holding the wheel.”
They locked eyes—or rather, Kal tilted his head just slightly toward her, catching the weight of her silence.
Lois stood and started pacing, her energy shifting into high gear. “If this person’s involved in both cities, odds are they’re not acting alone. Could be a front for something bigger—maybe even Intergang itself.”
Kal reached for his recorder. “We’ll need to trace their professional history. Board memberships, shell corporations, past legal affiliations.”
“I can handle Metropolis,” Lois said. “And you’ve already got the threads in Norman.”
They both nodded—two reporters chasing the same truth from different directions.
As she gathered the files and moved toward the door, Kal said quietly, “Thanks for the coffee. And thanks again for… trusting me with this.”
Lois paused, hand on the knob. “It’s not trust,” she said, glancing back at him. “It’s belief. And you’ve earned it.”
Then she was gone.
Kal sat for a moment in the silence that followed, his fingers brushing lightly over the map again. He hadn’t meant for the conversation about Dr. Klein to slip out—but maybe it was time. Time for him to do more than exist. Time to stop pretending life hadn’t kept moving while he had stayed stuck in what had become comfortable. No one had expectations of him in his life as Kal Ellis which meant he didn’t have to worry about disappointing anyone when he couldn’t live up to who he once was.
He reached for his phone and started to dial. It wasn’t STAR Labs number his fingers started to enter. Instead, it was the one for the Kansas farmhouse he’d once called home, the people who he used to talk to about everything, especially about a decision as big as this. But before he made it to the final digit, he stopped. It wasn’t time yet. He wasn’t ready to talk to them. He needed to know what Dr. Klein thought, that was his rationalization, anyway.
Tomorrow, he’d call Dr. Klein. Tomorrow, he would start trying to find answers to the questions he’d been afraid to ask.
