Here you all are. Sorry I didn't post earlier--I had a bunch of stuff to do for the preparation for the end of the semester today and have hardly had time to breathe until just barely. I literally just walked in the door and sat right down to post.
Hope you enjoy. Please remember to review
Chapter 6: Superman and Clark Kent After Superman had drifted off to sleep once again, Lois slipped her hand from his and stood, looking around the room. She had already gone over every inch of it twice, searching for a vent, a weapon…anything. She had even pulled at the porcelain toilet seat in hopes that it might come off, but it was tightly secured. The bowls and cups were weak Tupperware plastic, the utensils cheap plastic. Even the trays were made out of a soft, light material that probably wouldn’t leave a bruise no matter how hard you hit someone with it. The best weapon she had was her notepad that they had let her keep (They had taken the pen, claiming that even it could be made into a weapon. Lois had barely been able to keep from attacking them then and there when they said that.), so the only thing she could hope for was if one of them stood still long enough so she might be able to paper-cut him to death.
The card-key doorknob eliminated the chance of picking the lock, and Lois she didn’t have any credit cards to try anything else. There was only one option left open that she saw, and it was a small one. She needed to get a card-key.
She had waited just inside the door for the lunch tray to be brought, hoping to perhaps catch the guard by surprise. But the guard had simply called in that he could see her with the camera, and wasn’t opening the door until she stepped away. She had complied, seeing as there was nothing else left to do.
Indeed, there really was nothing left to do, so she went around the room, telling herself she was looking yet again for something she might have missed, though knowing it was simply because she was growing restless and there was nothing else to do but pace. She cast a baleful glare at the still, beady-eyed camera and flipped her hair away from her face. It was an awful situation. There was nothing she could do until the doctors returned, but she knew that when they did it would not mean anything but bad things for her and Superman’s situation.
She paced for a full hour—trying, perhaps, to leave a mark on that too-white floor from her bare feet (Her heels and socks had been abandoned at the foot of the bed along with Superman’s boots.), before growing bored of that and going to sit on the floor so she could watch Superman sleep.
Superman woke up once more that day—around 10 o’clock at night, according to Lois’s watch. He woke up screaming so terribly that Lois had thought her ears were threatening to burst, before she manage to wake him fully, whereupon he had managed to stagger to the toilet and lose the remnants of the lunch he had eaten some hours before. He was too weak to get back to the bed alone, and Lois practically had to carry him there.
He looked miserable as he collapsed back to sit against the wall. Lois managed to get him to drink a bit, and after a while even coaxed a bit of supper into him. Afterwards Superman was broodingly silent, but with some general ranting and teasing Lois pulled him out of the shadows again. She pried him into a conversation about inane things—favorite colors, places, animals, books, and many other things (Lois had been surprised to find that Superman had a favorite movie:
The Scarlet Pimpernel-the tale of the first superhero, he had explained, an almost-smile appearing on his bleak face). Superman liked chocolate ice cream better than rocky road and wouldn’t have given up his ability to fly for invisibility no matter what Lois had to say on the subject. But even so, by the end of the day they seemed to have run out of things to say. Superman fell asleep with a small smile on his face in the middle of Lois’s rant as she wondered
how he could possibly like
raspberries , of all things, best out of all the fruit in the world that he had tried (and he had tried many, he claimed).
He woke up twice during the night from nightmares, but they were brief and fell back to sleep fitfully as Lois woke from where she lay on the floor beside the bed and murmured soft comforts. She herself woke up sweating and shaking from a nightmare of her own more than once, but she had been able to keep from screaming even in her sleep, afraid of waking Superman from his much-needed rest. She got up around eight in the morning—cursing the unheeding white lights that hadn’t dimmed in the slightest throughout the night. Her eyes were starting to hurt from the glare, and they had only been locked in there for a little over a full day. She stood, stalked around the room muttering, then washed her face and combed her hair out as best as she could with her fingers—which was not very well. Finally, feeling quite grumpy, she turned back to the man on the bed.
She looked at Superman to find him sleeping peacefully yet. She hesitated, then reached forward to wake him. It would be good, she thought, for him to wake up without having to jump from the arms of a nightmare.
“Superman? Superman? It’s time to get up.” Despite her mood, her tone was gentle. She brushed her hand over his brow.
Clark’s brow furrowed slightly, but his eyes didn’t open. He took a deep, sleepy breath. “’Kay. Jus’ five more minutes,” he murmured, before turning his head away slightly and promptly falling back to sleep.
If Lois had been a morning person, she might have laughed. But since she wasn’t a morning person and she was not in the best of moods even considering that, she poked him in the shoulder, less gently this time.
“I’m not an alarm clock with a snooze button, Superman. Get up or I’ll drag you from that bed, injuries or no.”
He shifted slightly, groaning slightly as he came to the land of the wakeful again. He rolled over and opened his eyes, blinking at her blurrily. Suddenly he seemed to realize where he was and he stiffened and sat up quickly.
“Lois?” he asked, his voice business-like in trademark Superman tone even while it was thick from sleep. “What’s wrong?”
“Just that you are as bad to wake up as my sister.” He blinked at her with some confusion, then shook his head slightly as if to try to banish the last remnants of sleep. It didn’t work very well. “How are you feeling?”
Clark took a deep breath, taking inventory. He winced as his attention snapped to his throbbing arm and his still-sore head, but other than that… “Better,” he said honestly. He saw the question in her eyes. “But still not super.”
Lois looked disappointed despite herself. Superman still looked pale and hardly a shadow compared to his normal self, but she had still hoped. “How long do you think it will be?”
Clark looked grim, shifting his injured arm over still-sore ribs tenderly. “Last time it took a little over 24 hours, but that was only after a minute or so of exposure,” he admitted somberly. “With so long and…everything else…I—I don’t know.”
“Last time?” Lois demanded.
Clark shrugged, hoping she wouldn’t press the issue. Lois looked at him through narrowed eyes, but she let him be—this time, probably because just then breakfast arrived. Clark knew the subject was not being ignored or forgotten.
They ate in silence—the same, bland mush as the day before. There had been a bowl of raspberries on the side, but as Clark had reached for them he had remembered his and Lois’s conversation the day before. He glanced up at the camera, paling slightly further, and then avoided the fruit entirely. It was yet another reminder that they were watching him. While he and Lois were together now, there was only a matter of time. He shuddered.
They had said he needed to recover his strength. What did they plan with him? His expression became increasingly grim and bleak as he stared at the mush in his bowl, his appetite lost. Lois was too busy squint-glaring at the lights and attacking her breakfast as if she were imagining that she was mashing their captors rather than the bowl’s actual contents to notice.
They finished up and put their bowls aside. Lois noticed how little he had eaten and questioned him immediately.
“I’m…just not feeling too great right now,” he said softly. Not a lie at all.
Lois didn’t look satisfied, but again she didn’t press him. “You’ll be eating extra for lunch, then,” she stated firmly. She leaned back, closing her eyes for a moment and rubbing her forehead. Superman glanced up at her through his hair, then looked away.
“I’m sorry about this, Lois,” Clark whispered.
Lois opened her eyes to look at him, and almost swore when she saw the transformation that had overtaken him. He was hunched, his skin pale, and his hands were shaking again as he hugged his bandaged arm close to him.
“Superman, if you apologize one more time, those men out there are going to be the least of your problems,” Lois threatened. “What are you even sorry for? For me being an idiot and walking right into these peoples’ hands? For trying to rescue me?”
“You know that’s not it. You couldn’t have known,” Superman said, his voice toneless. “You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me.”
Lois bristled. Oh, this man had a way of calling up the mad dog in her. “I chose to come here, Superman. And if you think it’s a bad idea just come out and call me an idiot to my face rather than trying to apologize for my actions!”
She stood up sharply from where she had been sitting on the bed beside him and stepped agitatedly away from him before stopping abruptly, staring at the white wall in front of her. She stood there for a moment, her bare toes curling and uncurling as she rocked on her heels in irritation.
After a long moment of loud silence she seemed to get a hold of herself and she turned around. “Come on. We need to walk around,” she said, her voice clipped
“Why?” Superman asked softly, hardly looking up at her.
“My father is a doctor,” Lois explained, all business. “I remember something about patients who are bedridden developing pneumonia or something from the lack of aerobic exertion. If you feel up to it, we should start trying to help you on your way to recovery. Just a couple times around the room.”
She looked down at him and found him looking into her eyes with a strange intensity. Lois never ceased to surprise Clark. He had known somewhat of her strength, but now he realized just how strong that cord of steel that wound around her tender soul was. He held her gaze for a moment before realizing what he was doing, and looked away quickly. He cleared his throat and slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, stubbornly trying to ignore the sharp twangs and aches as he moved.
Lois was irritated further by how hard it was to resist the urge to help him, even while she was angry at him. But she understood that he needed to do this alone—some instinctive man thing that was true for males of all species, not matter what corner of the galaxy they were from, she supposed. Still, she hovered close by, just in case.
Superman paused to catch his breath, closing his eyes until the blood stopped rushing from his head and he felt that the floor was at least somewhat stable. He began to stand, and this time Lois came forward to support his good side. Man may need his pride, but she wasn’t going risk him falling even for that. Together they began a slow, almost shuffling walk around the room.
“I’ve decided I hate the color white,” Lois muttered, supporting a fair portion of Superman’s strength as they limped forward. “What are they trying to do? Turn the whole tradition of mankind on its head? They should be feeding us gruel and bitter-tasting water, and the walls should be black. Dark black. It just shows how confused they really are.” She paused, and couldn’t resist a jab. “Kind of like you, but you’re more frustrating about it.”
Superman looked at her, but she was busy glaring at the walls and lights again. He shook his head ruefully. He didn’t ever know what to think of the woman. Despite himself, he felt his spirits lifting again.
He surprised himself when his agreement of the color manifested itself in a weak chuckle, but the burning in his ribs and shortness of his breath kept him from making further comment. Encouraged, Lois determined that she could come back to her anger later. Right now the lines of pain around his eyes and mouth were enough to drive some instinct in her to help distract him from his injuries.
Lois continued, “I think when I get out of here I’m going to paint my apartment. You can help, of course. I’ve noticed you have a wonderful sense of color and what goes together best,” she finished with a pointed glance at his primary-colored suit. Her eyes threatened to linger on the patches of dark red where blood had splattered on his shoulder and torso and dried there, but she forcefully pulled them away.
Clark’s chuckle was slightly louder this time, but breathless. “Please, Lois,” he managed between breaths. “Your…opinion of me is clearly…quite skewed and out of proportion. Your…flattery is just…too much.”
They walked around the small room two times before Clark’s legs gave out. He almost fell, but caught himself with Lois’s help and they were able to make it back to the bed and lie him down.
Superman was dismayed by his continued weakness, and Lois recognized that as he struggled to catch his breath. She took is good hand and squeezed it.
“That’s just fine,” Lois said with forced cheer. “We’ll do it again after lunch, if you feel up to it. No pneumonia for you while you’re under my care.”
“You know,” Superman said with weak humor. “I don’t even know if I can get pneumonia.” He saw Lois’s sideways look and continued. “Pneumonia is excess fluid in the lungs, right? Well, truthfully, I don’t even know if I
have lungs.” He had started out with a wry tone, but by the end his tone was surprisingly bitter, which was almost even worse than the despair that had crept into his voice and expression now and again.
“What do you mean?” Lois asked. “Didn’t you learn anything about Kryptonian physiology before coming to Earth?”
Clark blinked at her owlishly. He had forgotten himself, for a moment. He shook his head slightly, but then stopped the action when it caused his head to start throbbing out a beat on the bruise there like an over-enthusiastic and not-very skilled drummer. Lois was watching him. “Uh…well, you see…I was young when I left Krypton, and I…uh…hadn’t really learned, really. It was a long trip here, as you can imagine, but…I don’t remember much of it. And outwardly, you know…I’m just like a…like a human.” He hesitated. Lois watched him with wide eyes, her mouth slightly parted as she listened, her whole body intent on his words. That’s what he loved about her—she was so, completely intense, even while her eyes were deep within his, telling him more than words that she was listening, and that she cared. And here and now, more than ever, that was what was important. He took a deep breath, squeezing her hand gently. He didn’t even remember when she had slipped her hand inside his. “I…uh. I landed on Earth some years ago. That’s when I…uh…met Clark. He showed me what it meant to be human—helped me understand this world and love it. I know this world better than I ever knew Krypton, and I settled down in hope of belonging. I didn’t know I had powers, and when they appeared…well, it was as much of a surprise for me as for anyone else. I thought I was just like everyone else, at first.”
“You landed in
Kansas?” Lois said, sounding as if she had stuck her hand into a bowl of slimy, cold pasta with her eyes closed. Clark looked at her, trying to figure what Lois’s strange emphasis meant, but she shook her head. “Never mind. But that ship that Bureau 39 found from 1964…It was so small…”
“Uh…that was before,” Clark said quickly. “It was…kind of a test to make sure this world was…one that Kryptonians could survive on.”
Lois sat down by him. “A week ago I would have killed for this exclusive,” she commented. At Superman’s somewhat caged expression, she shook her head. “Of course I won’t write anything you don’t want, Superman.” She paused, but then looked at him keenly.
“So that’s how you know Clark. The super hero and the farmboy, hm? Why’d you pick him, of all people?”
Superman shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “Well…Clark headed out to travel the world, and I figured I’d go with him,” he fumbled. “I could fly by then, and so I saved him some flight miles and he helped me…fit in.”
“Which explains the Chinese,” Lois said, looking somehow both annoyed and satisfied. “You must have helped him. I knew it.”
Superman was uneasy with the conversation so much among himself and…well, his other self, so he didn’t ask what exactly Lois had known.
“So why didn’t we hear of you before?” Lois prodded after a moment. “I mean, no offense, but that Suit of yours is not exactly one that could go unnoticed, even in the more…colorful places in the world.” She gave him a sideways look. “The Suit…it
does come off, doesn’t it?” she added, hesitantly.
Clark chuckled, and his cheeks colored. “Uh, well, of course, Lois.” He cleared his throat, embarrassed. He floundered for a moment. “But…uh…even I was careful not to be seen…doing ‘super’ things, I mean,” he said. “I—we had to keep moving, anyway, since people started to suspect the little miracles that started to happen.”
“And some not-so-little miracles as well, I’m sure,” Lois said with a knowing look in her eye.
“Well, you know…since we came to Metropolis Clark and I have kind of…grown apart.”
“I can see why,” Lois said. “Working around the schedules of an investigative news reporter and a world-serving superhero has got to be next to impossible.”
“Yes,” Superman said slowly. “But…I think it was more…something else.”
Lois waited.
“It’s…not safe to be my friend, Lois. You understand that now. Clark…he didn’t really want me to go public. He knew the risk that could come to his parents and associates if we grew to be friends. So…we kept distant, even when we traveled together, and when I went public…that was it.” He shrugged.
Lois looked furious. “Why that…that…that
coward,” she quivered angrily. Clark jumped at the venom in her tone. He had been so caught up in balancing truth and…uh…not-quite-lies that he hadn’t seen the growing doom billowing in the stormy sky of Lois’s face. “That spineless little…Superman, I’m sorry! When I get my hands on him…”
“Actually, it was my idea,” he said, somewhat hurriedly, not wanting to hear the terrible possible fate that Lois was brewing inside of her for one Clark Kent.
Lois’s expression closed tightly. “I should have known,” she muttered. “Mr. Nobility himself. Don’t you have
any idea of self-protection? Some sort of pleasure or gratification to look forward to after a good day’s work of juggling boulders and saving the world in general?”
Clark looked at her blankly, not sure what to say to that, and Lois sighed. “No, I should have known not.”
