From part 2:
The breeze picked up, causing an unexpected chill to run down her spine. She stared out over the horizon. Something felt different, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. In some strange, eerie way, it felt like there was change looming on the horizon.
She found herself wondering fleetingly if the strange sensations she felt had anything to do with this strange newcomer she was about to travel across the country to investigate. Maybe the change she felt coming had something to do with him.
'Of course it has something to do with him,' the little voice in the back of her head said. 'This man is going to change your life by giving you the means to earning that Pulitzer Prize you've been working for all these years. That's why you're feeling what you are.'
Lois knew the voice in her head was probably right. That's all she was feeling. But even as the argument resounded in her mind, she couldn't help wondering if there was more to it than that.
She shivered at the sudden breeze and wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill. It was getting late. She needed to get to bed.
With one last, lingering look at the twinkling stars overhead, she found herself wondering if this mysterious man was off flying somewhere in that darkness of a night sky, the sky she'd long since emotionally reserved as her own.
**********
And now, on to part 3...
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Clark hovered in the darkness of the night sky high above Metropolis, looking down over the millions of lights of the city and its surroundings areas. Flying at night, cloaked by darkness and concealed from prying eyes, used to be the one comfort he could rely on to make himself feel better. But not tonight.
It had been a long day, longer than any he'd ever had in his life. He had finally managed to use his powers openly to help others by intervening at the launch site. He had averted disaster, had helped put the shuttle into orbit and then docked it at Space Station Prometheus. He was exhausted, more mentally than physically, yet he felt exhilarated at the same time.
Everything had gone even better than he'd expected. His mother's costume had worked perfectly, and no one had suspected a thing. So why did he feel so...down?
He knew he shouldn't feel that way. It didn't make any sense. He should be celebrating; he should be flying loops and performing amazing feats of flying acrobatics. It was the first time he'd been able to perform a rescue without worrying about people seeing the source of the help. He'd been in plain sight for the world to see. All his life he'd been hiding who he was, what incredible things he could do. He always managed to find a way to use his powers to help others, but always made sure to make the help appear to come about by luck, or by some mysterious force of nature. This time, he hadn't hidden or rushed off in fear of being discovered.
He had loved being able to talk a few minutes with the colonists on board the transport vehicle. He'd been terrified, at first, at the thought of interacting with people while in his disguise, for fear of being recognized--or worse, of scaring people. It wasn't every day that people met a man who could fly and do things that no other person alive could do. But the people on board had been so grateful, and they were much more welcoming than even he could have hoped for. It was a moment, he knew, that he would cherish for the rest of his life.
Finally, he felt like he was making a difference, *could* make a difference. It gave him a sense of hope--about what his future might hold, about what he might have been put here on Earth to do. To finally muster up the courage to help people openly, to show the world what he could do--it felt liberating.
And terrifying.
A whole new chapter in his life was upon him, and the fear of the unknown almost overwhelmed him. Was he going to be able to keep up this dual identity indefinitely? The task seemed daunting. He had a normal life, one that he very much enjoyed. He'd spent his college years and the years since working to further his career as an investigative reporter. He had traveled the world over, freelancing and working for newspapers around the globe. He'd been able to choose where he wanted to work, but from the start, he'd only been interested in working for one newspaper--the Daily Planet in Metropolis. They strived for the same kind of excellence in reporting that he expected from himself, and were renowned the world over.
When he finally applied and was offered a job, he had been thrilled. Finally he could settle down somewhere, and stop hopping around the globe from job to job, opportunity to opportunity. And something about Metropolis just felt right. He couldn't put his finger on it, exactly, but this felt like where he was supposed to be.
Clark sighed. Even though he felt right about his decision to settle in Metropolis and had finally found a way to be open with his powers so he could help, tonight he just felt...empty.
Empty and alone.
His future loomed bright and was clearly within his reach, yet with everything that had happened in the last twelve hours, he was terrified to go into it alone. The feeling was more than a little unsettling, and definitely not what he had expected after making such a successful debut.
With one last look at the twinkling city lights below, Clark turned and flew toward his apartment. Hovering outside his loft window, Clark slid the window open, suddenly realizing how lucky he had been that he hadn't locked it. There was certainly no place to put a key in the tight costume he was wearing, and he wasn't thrilled about having to replace a doorknob on his front door, had he had to yank it off to gain access to his own apartment. As he flew in through the window, he made a mental note to leave it open from now on. It was two stories up and without a fire escape, so he wasn't concerned about someone trying to enter his apartment through it.
He smiled as he touched down in his hall. He could tell there were aspects of this new identity he would have to consider. He supposed in time it would become second nature.
Going into his bedroom, he struggled to change out of the costume. Man, it was tight. He sucked in his breath in an attempt to strip the material from his torso. He was grateful his mother had thought to install a zipper in the back beneath his cape--and even more grateful that, with a few minor contortions, he was able to undo it himself. He chuckled to himself when he thought of the repercussions of being stuck in the suit and having to ask somebody for help unzipping it.
Once Clark managed to strip the suit off, he stared at it for a long moment, wondering what to do with it. He glanced around the room. When he had approached his mother only a few days ago about making him some kind of outfit, something he could wear when he wanted to perform a major rescue, yet still keep his real identity concealed, she had been skeptical but supportive. They had talked about what kind of disguise he had in mind, and had spent the next two days working on various outfits before finally settling on the one he now held in his hands. It seemed like fate that his mother had just finished the costume minutes before the news was broadcast on TV that the space shuttle was in trouble. Clark smiled. The costume's maiden flight had been successful. He hoped he had made his mom and dad proud.
Clark turned his thoughts back to the costume in his hand. He had known going in there were going to be many aspects of having a secret identity he would have to deal with. This was obviously one of them.
Clark considered his options as he studied his bedroom. The dresser was out. The costume could be too easily stumbled upon there. His closet wouldn't work, either, for the same reasons. What he needed was a place where it couldn't be innocently discovered, hence arousing curiosity and suspicion. Maybe a box under his bed or up on a shelf in the hall closet?
He shook his head. No, he didn't feel comfortable storing it in popular hiding places. Suddenly it hit him. The secret closet off his living room!
When he had rented the apartment, he'd had no idea the place contained a hidden closet. He discovered it shortly after moving in and remembered thinking it was cool, but then promptly forgot about it. Now, though, it seemed like fate. It was the perfect place to store his costume, to keep it hidden from potentially prying eyes.
Feeling rather satisfied with himself, Clark changed into a T-shirt and boxers, then hung the costume in the hidden closet, making sure to shut the secret door securely.
That done, Clark relaxed a bit. He thought again of his parents and wondered if he should call them to let them know he was all right. Knowing his mom, she was worrying about him.
He walked over to his phone and caught sight of the blinking light on his answering machine. He pushed the 'play' button, expecting to hear his parents' voices. Instead, a gruff, no-nonsense voice boomed out from the speakers. He immediately recognized the voice of Perry White, his editor in chief at the Planet.
"Clark! Where are you? I hope you're out covering this story of this mysterious man who just saved Space Station Promethesus' future! This could be the biggest thing since...well, ever! You're a great reporter, Clark, and I know you have your sources. Get to the bottom of this, you hear me? I want the exclusive...or else!" There was a click, then the machine fell silent.
Clark stood frozen in place for a long moment, staring at the phone in wide-eyed realization. He'd been so busy thinking about the rescue--and even feeling inexplicably sorry for himself--as he lingered in the darkness over the city, then trying to find a place for his costume and wondering about his parents that it hadn't occurred to him what other repercussions his outing might involve. Perry's message brought him back to earth with a bump.
He was still Clark Kent, reporter for the Daily Planet. He was supposed to investigate, get to the bottom of things and then write them up. Not once had he ever connected the two. He was going to have to report on himself.
A momentary panic seized his heart. How was he supposed to be two people? He'd thought about in briefly, naively thinking he could just change into the hero when his powers were needed, then change back and go about his life. He hadn't considered what would happen when those two "lives" overlapped.
'I guess I always figured there would be a media storm,' he thought, his spirits drooping a bit. 'But I guess I never thought about having to be the focus of it *and* report on it!'
Clark reached for the back of the couch and lowered himself onto it a bit shakily. There was much he hadn't considered, things that were now glaringly apparent. And for the second time that night, he felt terrified.
'I can't do this alone.'
The thought appeared fleetingly in his mind, bringing on a momentary bout of depression. He had his parents, of course; they were always there for him, to offer him the love and support he needed. But tonight, right that moment, that didn't seem like enough. He was still sitting by himself, staring around at a resoundingly empty apartment. Never had he felt more alone.
Clark forced himself to take a long, deep breath to collect himself. It was going to be okay. This was what he had decided to do with his powers; he would find a way to make this work.
His thoughts turned back to Perry's message. His jaw tightened. So much for remaining inconspicuous. But he knew Perry wasn't going to be the only one who wanted the story. The entire world would have seen the footage by now, and the media was surely in a full-force frenzy. He didn't dare turn on the TV. He almost felt afraid to hear what they were saying about him.
Clark was tempted to ignore his editor-in-chief's request--no, demand--for the story, but then realized that this might be a really good opportunity. He could tell the world a little about himself without indulging too much, or letting things slip that he didn't want shared, and put himself in a favorable light. There was no guarantee that he would get good media if he were to let the news report on what little they knew about him. They might even propose such things as he being a threat to national security, or try to turn the public against him or make them afraid of him before he even stood a chance to prove what good and honorable things he hoped to do for everyone. No, the best thing to do was write the article about Metropolis's new mysterious man himself.
Taking a few minutes before he got started on the article, he phoned his parents to let them know he was okay. Their concern for him was obvious even over the phone line, and he spent several minutes reassuring them he was fine. They had noticed the media storm and voiced their concerns over what would happen next. Clark managed to calm them down by filling them in on his plans to write the story himself, hopefully dispelling fears and answering questions as to his purpose and plans. They promised to watch for it the next day, then, before they said their goodbyes, they told him how proud they were of him.
Clark felt a warmth start in his heart and move out from there. He smiled as he hung up the phone. Somehow his parents always seemed to know what he needed to hear.
Feeling more ready to handle things, Clark next phone Perry. He dialed the Planet's number, hoping his boss would still be there. He was. The second he heard Clark's voice on the other end of the line, he demanded to know what he had. Clark told Perry he had managed to talk with the mysterious man and had gotten the exclusive for the Planet, all the while hoping it wasn't technically considered a lie.
To say his editor-in-chief was ecstatic was an understatement. Perry told him if they hurried, they could bump the morning's front-page story and replace it with his before the paper went to print. Clark promised to email it to him within the hour, then hung up and decided to get to work. With the phone calls behind him, Clark sat down at his desk in front of his computer.
Perry wanted an exclusive. Well, he'd just have to give him one.
With a favorable slant, of course. Writing an article not only proving the existence of alien life, but explaining that this "alien" had super powers that he wanted to use to help the world was definitely Pulitzer material.
At the thought, Clark balked. He had always wanted a Pulitzer, but this really wasn't the way he wanted to go about getting one. It felt like cheating. He would be interviewing himself to get the scoop of the century. Clark sighed. There was nothing he could do about that now, he supposed. It was more important to tell the world who he was and what he was doing there. Then the chips could fall where they may.
Staring at his computer screen for several long minutes, he tried to decide what to write. How much of who he was and what he was hoping to do did he want to share? After long minutes of contemplation, Clark decided to simply share the basics. He gave himself a mental interview, working his "responses" into the story as he would for anyone else he interviewed. He struggled to come up with something to call himself, but in the end, feeling rather unoriginal, settled with calling himself "a friend."
He stated that he was there to help, shared that he was from another planet without going into any further detail, and declared Metropolis now his home. He knew he couldn't give any specifics regarding where he had come from or what he had been doing since his appearance at the Prometheus lab launch, so he left those references out. He told of his special abilities--his ability to fly, his super human strength, his speed, his enhanced vision, and his invulnerability.
He worked to make the story intriguing and reassuring for those who might feel threatened by the fact he mentioned he was from another planet, and when he was done, he felt satisfied with the results. Clark Kent's exclusive "interview" with Metropolis's new hero didn't exactly answer all the questions he was sure were on everybody's minds, but he was confident people would read what he had to say, and accept him for who he was and why he was there. But the thing he knew Perry would love the most is that the Daily Planet would be the only paper in the world with an exclusive interview with the new hero.
Sitting back in his chair, Clark read the interview twice more, making sure it was perfect. Then he emailed it to Perry with plenty of time to spare. That was one of the things Clark loved about his special powers. Writing an article quickly was not a problem.
Clark smiled as he thought about what Perry's response to his article would be. He could just see his editor, grinning like the cat who'd just swallowed the canary, and rushing around, ordering the nearest copy boy to rush it down to the printer immediately. The story was guaranteed to send the Daily Planet's sales numbers soaring, being the only newspaper in the world with an exclusive on the new hero.
It was going to be a good day tomorrow. Perry would undoubtedly treat him like gold.
With the story finished and sent, Clark shut off his computer and stood up from his desk, stretching. It had been a long day. He was tired. It wasn't often he felt tired; his powers enabled him to keep going longer than anybody else. Tonight, however, the excitement and exertion of the day were catching up with him.
Clark turned out the lights in his apartment, then climbed into bed. As hard as he tried, though, he couldn't go to sleep. Finally he gave up.
Clark got out of bed and wandered around his apartment feeling restless. He wondered if getting back into the costume and going for a fly might do the trick; it often helped clear his mind. But as quickly as the thought came, he dismissed it. It hadn't helped earlier; it had only made him feel more empty than rejuvenated, flying up above the city, staring down at the lights of a town where he wasn't sure he even belonged.
It wasn't Metropolis that made him feel that way, necessarily. In fact, he felt more comfortable here than anywhere else he'd been. Well, except for Smallville, of course. Smallville would always feel like home.
Home, though, was an elusive term, he'd discovered. Growing up, it was easy to feel like he was home. His parents were kind, supportive, and always there for him when things got tough. And tough was exactly what it had been, growing up. He'd had to reconcile the fact that he was different from his friends. Nobody else could fly, burn and cool things with his vision, see through walls, run faster than a moving vehicle, and bend steel pipes with his bare hands or rip doors from their hinges. The trials of pre-adolescence had been compounded by his having to learn to temper and control his powers, as well as try to learn where he fit in the universe.
His parents had taken him aside in junior high when more of his powers started to develop. They told him how they'd found him in a spaceship in a neighbor's field, and how they suspected he was from another planet. They told him they had once wondered about him being some kind of government experiment, but had quickly ruled that out. If he had been, then why the space ship? Why the strange writings along the craft, and technologies they had never seen before?
When Clark had doubted their truthfulness, his father had taken him out to the northeast corner of their field, telling him that's where they had buried the spaceship. His dad had stood back while Clark used the shovel to dig, and in only a few seconds, there was a large hole--but no space ship. His dad had been angry and worried at the fact that somebody had apparently dug it up and stolen it.
Clark remembered sitting in the dark field that night, staring at the empty hole, thinking of what might have been. Would seeing the spaceship in which he had traveled to earth given him any answers? He couldn't *not* believe that his parents had spoken the truth about him being from another planet. It was the only explanation. Something in his heart told him it was true. But what planet? And who had sent him away in this capsule? Had there been a reason for him being sent away? And what about his birth parents? What had come of them?
His earth parents hadn't been able to give him any answers. It frustrated Clark, knowing there were so many unanswered questions--about who he was, what he was doing there, and why he'd been given the powers and abilities he had. An even bigger question, though--with more immediate consequences--was what he was supposed to do with his powers.
He had found himself over the years using his powers to help out here and there as opportunities presented himself: stopping a ladder from school from falling when the electrician leaned out too far from it to reach a faulty wire; dashing out into the road only slightly faster than a normal person in order to save a young girl from being hit by a car; and physically diverting a train traveling along the tracks at the back of his family's property when the track switching mechanism had failed to work properly.
The times that he had been able to help had filled him with a sense of purpose. He didn't know why exactly he was here on earth, but he did know one thing. His powers could help people. And that, he decided, was what he wanted to do with them.
How to do so without exposure, though, had been a completely different subject. He'd often talked about it with his parents, but they had had little to offer by way of suggestions. His father often worried about his son being discovered as the super human being that he was, and the consequences that could come from that. But Clark didn't share his father's preference to keep his powers secret from the world. He wanted to help, and he was tired of trying to come up with ways to help without being discovered.
It all finally came to a head one evening in Metropolis when he had rescued two men from a collapsing mine north of Metropolis. In the darkness of the mine, the men hadn't been able to see who had held up the framework of the mine's ceiling until they could scramble from the site, then flew them to safety just before the mine collapsed behind them. Clark's clothes, however, would easily have told the tale, had he hung around. He was filthy from the coal dust, and suspected his clothes were ruined.
That night, as he had scrubbed his clothes with every substance he could think of, he found himself talking to his mom on the phone.
"It's just not coming out, Mom. I think they're ruined."
"They may be, honey," she agreed. "You might just have to cut them up and use them as rags."
Clark dropped the clothes onto his washing machine in resignation. "I can't help thinking this wouldn't have happened if I'd had something to change into before making that rescue; some kind of outfit."
"What do you mean, Clark? Like old jeans and a T-shirt? You had to get there fast. You didn't have time to go home and change."
"I know, but what if I wore something under my clothes that I could change into during rescues like that?"
His mom sounded skeptical. "I don't know, honey. Wearing clothes under your work suit would be awfully bulky."
"Not if it were something clingy, like spandex or something."
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then, "Spandex? Like a leotard or something? Clark, you can't run around in public in nothing but a leotard. People would think you'd come from ballet rehearsal or something."
Clark laughed. "Not a leotard, mom, but you're not far off." He paused. "Are you busy tonight, Mom? I was thinking of picking your brains some more about this."
She told him she'd love to have him come by, and Clark was there in minutes. Together they'd rummaged through his mother's extensive supply of fabrics and costumes she used for Smallville's small performing theater group. Jonathan had looked on skeptically as his wife and son put their heads together, trying to come up with some kind of outfit Clark could wear. The leotard suggestion had quickly evolved into a unitard, then came the question of colors, designs, and accessories such as a mask, gloves, boots, and belts.
Nothing had been decided that night, but Clark had flown home feeling more hopeful than he had been in months. His parents still weren't sold on the idea of a costume being all he needed to disguise himself for rescues, but they were at least supportive.
Over the next week, Clark had flown to Smallville in the evenings to work out the details of his costume and try on several samples. Some were outlandish and off the wall; others became possibilities. Martha continued the painstaking process of putting together the ideas they both liked, and finally came up with a costume they agreed was the best so far. The red and blue looked noble and vibrant, the cape classy, the matching boots sharp.
By the evening of the Messenger launch, the costume was finished. Clark moved from side to side in front of the full-length mirror, taking in his appearance from different angles. He liked what he saw. It was a little daring, with the tight spandex bodysuit and flamboyant cape. He liked that about it, though. The more flamboyant, the better, in his opinion, since that narrowed the odds of anyone thinking that mild-mannered Clark Kent was the man under the suit. After all, who would expect Clark Kent, the genteel and somewhat awkward-looking reporter to be the city's new mysterious flying here dressed in a tight, flashy, red and blue spandex costume?
"What do you think?" his mother asked, looking anxiously over his shoulder.
Clark smiled. "I think it's great. It seems to be missing something, though."
Martha looked thoughtful for moment, then her eyes lit up. "I know just the thing."
Clark followed her as she retrieved a trunk from under her bed, then opened it and pulled out a folded blanket. She held it to her face nostalgically for a moment, then opened it to show Clark.
"It's the baby blanket you were wrapped in when we found you."
Clark's jaw dropped open slightly and an air of reverence filled the room. Clark had never seen the blanket before. It was perfectly preserved, obviously unused. For a moment, Clark felt a connection with his unknown heritage in a way he never had before.
With tears pooling in his eyes, he took a step forward, reaching out to finger the soft blue fabric of the blanket his mom held. Is this what he was possibly sent here to earth to do? To use his powers to help others? Was this what his birth parents would have wanted of him? For a moment, he was overcome by his emotions. Then he noticed the red and yellow emblem sewn into the fabric. It was a red shield bordering a large yellow letter "S." He wondered what it meant.
"Mom, why didn't you tell me you had this?" Clark asked reverently, looking up at his mom only to see that she had tears in her eyes, too.
She smiled tearfully and shrugged. "To tell you the truth, I'd forgotten about it until just now. I always meant to show you, but I knew it wouldn't mean as much to you when you were young, so I waited." She touched the "S" shield lovingly. "I think this would be perfect on your costume. A way of respecting your heritage, don't you think?"
Clark nodded silently. Then he cleared his throat, thick with emotion. "I do."
So Martha went to work, carefully removing the emblem from the blanket and sewing it onto the chest of his costume. When it was done, Clark once again tried on the suit. It was perfect. Clark reached up to touch the "S," wondering again what it meant. Maybe it symbolized his name, or that of his parents. Maybe it was where he was from, or possibly even a line of lineage. He didn't know, but it made him feel closer to his heritage. He felt proud to wear it on his chest as a reminder that both sets of his parents would want him to do great things for his fellow man.
It was not even an hour later when the Messenger had run into trouble. It seemed like destiny. His costume was done, and there was nothing stopping him from being drawn out into the public eye. And this time, he felt ready to do so.
A sudden gust of wind brought Clark back to the present. He turned to see his loft's window shutters bang open, caught in the breeze. He went up to the loft to close the window more tightly, then turned to look out over his apartment from his high position.
Yes, strangely enough, this felt like home. Maybe not as much as Smallville did, but more so than anywhere else he'd lived. He had traveled the world over in search of something...something he'd never seemed to find. But there was just something about Metropolis that felt right. He wasn't exactly sure what that was, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something here he was supposed to do.
He glanced back at the closet where he'd hung the suit. Maybe being Superman was the reason.
'But why Metropolis?' he couldn't help wondering. 'I could be Superman anywhere. Why do I feel so strongly that whatever I'm looking for is here in Metropolis?'
He didn't know. All he knew was that he could sense there was something for him in Metropolis, something that his life was about to change drastically.
'Of course your life is about to change drastically,' the voice in the back of his head mocked him. 'You just showed the world what you could do, revealed your superhuman abilities. Did you think that wouldn't change your life drastically, even if people don't realize it's really Clark Kent behind those powers?'
Clark's more rational side supposed that was true. But even as the argument continued to weigh heavily in his mind, Clark didn't think that was it. There was more to it than that, something that touched the very depths of his soul. Something in the air spoke to him that his life was about to change, and not just because of his new identity.
Something was different. Something huge was about to happen.
What that was, though, he had no idea. The future would tell him when the time was right, he guessed.
Resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to be getting any answers tonight, he went back into his bedroom and slipped beneath the sheets. Maybe tomorrow those answers would come.
