From the last part:
“No?” he asked. His face was very close to hers and it caused her to swallow involuntarily.
“I mean, it might not come true if you see what I’ve written. You know how they always say that a wish won’t come true if you tell someone what you wished for.”
Clark’s eyes seemed to darken a little, all of the sudden, and it made her stomach do a long, slow slide. “Is that what they say?”
She nodded at him.
“What else do they say?” he murmured softly, moving a little closer to her.
Her mind whirled. “They say that opportunity often knocks but if you’re not listening then it’s really just noise.”
“Really,” he said, his voice growing huskier. “I haven’t heard that one before.”
Sue’s mouth felt suddenly dry. Clark’s lips were just inches away from hers. Oh god. Maybe that pen really was magic. “That’s because I just made it up,” she said softly.
She watched his hand as it reached up to clutch her face tenderly. She felt the softness of his skin against hers, the warmth of his breath as he drew her in closer. She closed her eyes.
**********
FINAL PART
**********
It seemed like an eternity passed in the span of time that it took his lips to find hers. When the warmth of his mouth encompassed her own, Sue felt a weakness slide through her. She swayed just slightly and his arm came around behind her to steady her while his other hand moved behind her head to deepen the kiss.
She had written about his lips, his tongue, the softness of his mouth, the gentleness of his exploration, and the pleasure of his passion. But every word she had ever written paled in comparison to what she was experiencing in this moment.
The rest of her life flashed in front of her eyes like a dream.
She could write him here. She could keep him here with her. All she had to do was put her pen to paper and she could make Clark Kent fall in love with her. It seemed that power had been gifted to her for some unfathomable reason. All she had to do was write it down and it would become reality.
But she couldn’t... she wouldn’t.
As much as part of her screamed that she was a fool to let this opportunity slip away, she couldn’t live her life that way. She couldn’t live her life as a lie. How would she explain things to her son? To the rest of her family? She couldn’t just run away with Clark – live out the rest of her life in secret.
And she didn’t want Clark if that was the only way she could have him. Oh, she wanted him. What woman wouldn’t? Especially if they had him within their grasp like this. But Sue would always know the truth. Deep down, she would always know that his heart really belonged to another... to Lois. She would always know that she had forced him into this.
It reminded her in a creepy way of Lex Luthor. How Lex had always tried to force Lois to love him. Nuh-uh, not her, no way. This whole situation was beyond bizarre, and strange, and utterly impossible. But certain values remained the same, no matter what situation she found herself in.
She couldn’t do this. And she had to stop it now, while she still could...
“Wait,” the anguished whisper escaped from her lips.
She opened her eyes when Clark pulled away from her - his eyes were watching her anxiously. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t let you do this.”
“But I want this, Sue. Something deep inside me...”
“No you don’t, Clark. I *made* you want this.” She reached out and turned over her notebook, showing it to him.
He abruptly jerked away from her, his eyes flashing angrily.
“I’m sorry,” she said, before he could say anything. “I shouldn’t have written that. I really didn’t think the pen had that kind of power. Once I realized what was actually happening, I couldn’t go through with it. I knew it wasn’t fair... to anyone.”
His eyes softened and he smiled gently at her, looking grateful. “Thank you, Sue. You seem like a very smart, very special woman who...”
“Smart... hmm, that’s just what every woman wants to be told,” Sue said, interrupting him.
“...looks great in a towel.” His smile broadened. “You didn’t let me finish.”
Sue felt herself flush and then she tried to remember again exactly why she couldn’t keep him... She looked away from him, back down at the pen. “Well, I guess we know now that the pen is what’s responsible for your arrival here.”
“The pen may have been the writing instrument, but I think the power came from you, Sue.” He reached out and lifted her chin up so she was forced to look at him. “Will you help me? Help me find my way back?”
“Now? You want to go back right now?” Sue felt panicky. She knew he didn’t belong here but she didn’t want to let him go, not just yet. “Don’t you want to find out who is behind this? Where this pen came from? Why this happened?”
Clark shook his head. “No. I just want to go back. I need to see Lois. I have so much that I need to tell her. Please?”
Oh... he was begging. That attorney, Constance Hunter, was right. He did look pathetic when he begged - pathetic and absolutely irresistible. Sue took a deep breath and then nodded at him. “Yeah. I think I can help you out.” She got up from the bed and started to walk towards her bedroom door but then she turned back to look at him.
“Can I ask for one favor before I send you back?”
“What?” he asked, his voice a little wary.
“I never did get to see the suit. Which reminds me - are your powers still... gone?”
“Yeah. I don’t really understand that, unless you’ve got some Kryptonite hidden in your house.” He grinned.
“No,” she held up her fingers in the Girl Scout sign. “No Kryptonite, I promise.”
He chuckled. “Maybe it has something to do with this world not working the same way mine does or... maybe your world has its own special kind of magic.” He gave her a knowing look. “But I think I can indulge your request anyway.”
He reached up, moving his tie to the side, and gripped his shirt in his hands. He gave the shirt a sharp tug and the buttons popped, revealing a familiar blue suit adorned with a bright red and yellow S.
Sue approached him and tentatively reached out with one hand as if to touch him. “Can I...?
He nodded and she ran one hand along the slick fabric of the spandex. She used her index finger to trace the S crest.
“Wow,” she said softly. She lowered her hand and reluctantly began to turn away.
Clark put a hand on her shoulder and turned her around to face him. Sue’s breath caught in her chest as he drew her into a gentle embrace.
“Thank you,” he whispered in her ear.
“For what?” she asked, surprised that her voice was still working.
“For reminding me how wonderful my life is, and how important Lois is to me. Thank you.”
“Uh,” she stammered. “You’re welcome.” He released her and she gave him a quick smile. “Okay, well... let’s get you back to your world. Just let me go make a little more room in that closet for you and I’ll be right back.”
**********
Sue woke up and looked around her bedroom. How long had she been asleep? She looked over at her alarm clock. Her son would be getting home from school in another hour or so.
What had happened? How could she have fallen asleep? Well, she was sick and the day’s events had been pretty stressful.
But had she dreamed it all? Had any of it been real?
Sue got out of bed and walked down her hallway, stopping in front of the closet door. With a shaky hand, she reached out to open the door. She flung the door open, closing her eyes tightly.
When she didn’t hear any response from the open closet in front of her, she cracked one eye open.
He was gone.
It had worked and he was gone. She wasn’t sure why, but part of her wanted to just sit down and have a good cry.
But that wouldn’t do any good. Maybe she should try to work out her frustration on a story. She hadn’t had the energy or the motivation to work on anything earlier, but she couldn’t use that as an excuse now.
Sue was headed back towards her bedroom when the doorbell rang.
She hesitated for just a moment, a little unnerved by the sound. The last time she’d heard that sound, she had received that *package*. Maybe she just wouldn’t answer it this time. Maybe she’d just ignore it and go...
Ding Dong! DING DONG!
Or maybe not.
With a sigh and a grumble, she made her way to the front door and peeked out.
It was John, one of her co-workers.
What was he doing here? Sue smiled. Maybe he was here to check on her. At least she’d had a shower and had put on make-up and clean clothes – she felt presentable enough to receive a visitor.
She put on a pleasant smile and opened the door. “Hi, John. What brings you by?”
John smiled warmly at her. “Hi, Sue. Just came to check on you,” he paused and gave her a sly grin. “You don’t look that sick to me – you had everyone worried for nothing. I bet you’re playing hooky.”
“Who me? Never. If you could see all the Kleenex and the empty bottle of Nyquil in my bedroom, you’d change your tune.” The mention of him seeing her bedroom seemed to bring a little color to his face. Sue hid a grin. “Thanks for checking on me though, that was sweet.”
He nodded. “Did you get a delivery today?”
The room seemed to spin just a little bit and Sue grabbed a hold of the doorframe to steady herself. Delivery? “Uh, yeah, one package came. Why?”
“What was it?” he asked hesitantly.
This wasn’t like John. He wasn’t usually nosy like this. What had gotten into him? “Just a pen.”
His face fell a little bit. “So you did get it.”
Sue was glad she was holding on to something, otherwise she might have lost her balance. *He* was the one who had sent the pen? “That was from you?” she asked incredulously.
“Yeah, who’d you think? You know how I love fountain pens and, well,” he stammered, “I see you doodling in that notebook you carry around with you. I thought you might like to have a nice pen to write with. As sick as you’d been I thought it might make a good ‘get well’ gift.”
Sue’s mind reeled. The pen had been from John. It was just an ordinary ballpoint pen. It wasn’t something magical at all. Her heart sank at the realization. She *had* dreamed it all.
Too much Nyquil.
Next time she was going to take some good old Robitussin and a couple of aspirin and call it a day.
Sue shook herself out of her thoughts when she realized that John had a somewhat disappointed look on his face.
Get a grip, she thought to herself. He probably thinks you don’t like it. Who wouldn’t after the way she had acted and the scowl she could feel plastered on her face? She lifted the corners of her mouth into a genuine smile. “Thank you, John. It’s a lovely pen, really. I told myself when I opened it that it just might become my new favorite. That was very thoughtful of you.”
He smiled at her, the relief evident on his face. “I’m glad you like it. I’m sure you’ll get some good use out of it.”
He had no idea. The dream that pen had given her would be fodder enough for all her future stories.
But what about that card? She still thought that card had been strange. “I have to ask you, though, what did the card mean?”
“Card?”
“Yeah, the note-card you put in the box, with the pen.”
John shook his head. “There wasn’t a card in the box. In fact, that’s the other reason I came over. I realized after I mailed the package that I had forgotten to put the card in with it.” He handed her a small white envelope. “Weirdest thing. I swore I put the card in there, but I found it sitting on my kitchen counter.”
Sue took it from him, trying to keep her fingers from shaking. She pulled out the card and read it to herself –
‘To a great friend. Just wanted you to know you were missed. – John’
Had she dreamed up the other card, too? Wait a minute...
“John, I’ve only been gone from work for a few days.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “You couldn’t have missed me already.”
“I always miss you when you’re gone,” he admittedly softly.
Oh...
After a few seconds of awkward silence, John took a step back from her door. “I’d probably better be getting back. I told the boss I just had a quick errand to run and I’d be right back. Feel better, Sue. And call me if there’s anything you need, okay?”
She nodded at him and then smiled. “Thanks, John.”
He smiled back and then turned around and walked away.
Wow. She had no idea...
She looked back down at the card in her hand and smiled. What a day it had been. But what about that other card? Where had it come from?
She ran back upstairs to her bedroom and over to her bed. It was gone. The card wasn’t anywhere to be seen. She threw the covers back, searched the floor, the bathroom, the closet, every last place she could think of, but it simply wasn’t there.
It had just been another part of her dream.
Feeling confused and slightly melancholy, Sue sat down on her bed and picked up her notebook. She needed a little escape, an emotional release. She grabbed her new pen and shuffled through a few pages of her notebook to her current work in progress.
She had been having a little trouble with Clark’s point of view in this story. It was, after all, a little difficult to follow his line of reasoning that he and Lois couldn’t be together for her own good - to protect her. Sue wished she had thought to ask Clark about that in her dream, maybe he could have helped her write a few lines of dialogue for him. They say that sometimes you can work out problems in your dreams...
Oh well, that dream was over and wasn’t likely to come back – the good ones never did.
She turned a couple of more pages to get to the brick wall she had stopped at – and then she froze, too shocked to move.
There was handwriting on the paper – handwriting that wasn’t hers. She read the words out loud to herself to make sure they were real –
‘I think it needs to go more like this, Sue. I made a few suggestions. I hope you don’t mind. Please don’t ever stop writing. I can’t wait to see how this one, um, turns out. – Clark.’
All across the page there were small notes in the margins and above certain sentences - suggestions on his thoughts and feelings.
It was perfect! Exactly the parts she would have asked him about if he had been here...
...*If* he had been here?
He *had* been here! She hadn’t dreamed it! But how? If the pen was from John, there was no way it was magical.
Something Clark had said was trying to come back to her...
<The pen may have been the writing instrument, but I think the power came from you, Sue.>
No. No way. But still, what could it have...
A sound from Sue’s laptop interrupted her thoughts. It was her notification sound again – the one that told her someone was online. She turned the laptop to face her so she could see the screen.
It was DJ.
‘Hi, Sue. Almost time for me to go home. Just wanted to check back on you. See if you were feeling any better.’
Sue sat back against her headboard and lifted the laptop into her lap. Part of her wanted to spill every little detail about what had happened, but DJ would never believe her – not in a million years. She’d think Sue really did belong in that ‘institution’ that they always teased each other about... not to mention the straightjacket.
‘Hi, DJ. Yes, feeling a little better. It’s amazing how good you feel after a hot shower.’
And a visit from Clark, she added mentally.
‘Good. I was worried about you. And I’ve missed getting snippets from you, too. :-p Did you get any time to work on anything today?’
Sue looked over at her notebook, which was still open to the page with Clark’s notes.
‘Yeah, a little. How about you? Got any new stories up your sleeve?’
‘As a matter of fact, I do. I’ve noticed there have been discussions on the boards about why there are so many Lois deathfics and not nearly as many Clark deathfics. It may get me killed, but I’m thinking I might try my hand at a Clark deathfic.’
An ache settled deep into the pit of Sue’s stomach. No. She couldn’t let DJ do that. Not now, not after everything she knew. Sue couldn’t bear the thought of reading a story where DJ had killed Clark off. Besides, what if Sue wasn’t the only one with the power to shape Clark’s life? What if Clark lived the stories that other writers wrote, too?
Oh, dear.
‘Nah. You don’t want to write something like that. It’s just not in you, DJ.’ Sue watched her screen as she typed the silky smooth words on her keyboard. ‘Write something waffy. You’ve written so much angst lately, I think you deserve to write a little waff.’
‘Huh? <DJ reaches through the screen and feels of Sue’s forehead.> Are you sure you aren’t still feeling ill, Sue? LOL.’
‘I’m feeling fine. Trust me, write something waffy.’
‘Waffy? Really? But what about what you told me before...’
‘Forget it. I was wrong. Waffy. That’s what people want to read.’
“Well, okay, if you say so... I didn’t really want to write a Clark deathfic anyway. Whew! Let’s me off the hook.’
Sue let out a sigh of relief. Clark was safe... for today at least... from DJ at least.
‘I look forward to reading it.’ Sue typed back, meaning every word.
‘Thanks. Well, it’s time for me to go. Get some rest tonight. Oh, and Sue? ...’
‘What?’
‘Don’t forget to give “Clark in your closet” a kiss from me, okay? <snicker>’
Sue felt herself blush. ‘Will do – but I’m not sharing. So you can just forget about it. <g>’
‘<snort> Jojo will be so disappointed. She was really hoping you’d share that freckle with her. <g> Okay, I really am leaving now. Bye, Sue!’
‘Bye, DJ!’
Sue set her laptop down and picked her notepad back up. It was time to do some serious writing. She let herself enjoy a smirky little grin as she set to the task.
**********
EPILOGUE
**********
The Internet Café owner frowned when he saw the older gentlemen coming through the front door. The man had visited ‘Café Java’ every night for the past couple of weeks.
It was the same every night. The gentleman would come in, order a cup of hot green tea, pick a secluded spot at a corner table, and then proceed to eat up a good portion of bandwidth all night on one of the many computers he provided for his customer’s use.
It wasn’t the fact that the gentleman used the computer all night long - until closing time - that upset him. It was the fact that the gentleman never purchased any more than one cup of tea and never left any ‘tips’ for his use of the free Internet service.
But the owner never said anything. After all, there were worse customers to have – like that noisy group of teenagers that was always coming in, disturbing his other clientele. At least the older gentleman was quiet and kept to himself.
He wondered just briefly, though, what it was that the gentleman came here to research or read, every night.
Sometime he would have to ask him.
**********
Herbert George Wells took a careful sip of his hot tea while he waited for the computer to log him in to the Internet. Fascinating thing this ‘Internet’. No one back home would ever believe him if he told them about it.
But then again, they wouldn’t believe the other treasures he had concealed in his pockets right now, either. Herb reached down and patted each of his coat pockets. They were both still there - his ‘window’ to go back home and an amazing little machine that controlled the thoughts of other people. What was it John Doe, err, Tempus, had called it? The ‘Subliminator’? Yes, that was it.
Herb hadn’t needed to use it this last time. He didn’t really like to use it unless no other option presented itself.
In Sue’s case, another option had been available. Herb reached into his inside coat pocket and pulled out a small note-card. He read the words on it to himself –
‘To a good friend: May your writing never cease - may your joy always increase. If your heart is wanting and it lacks desire, if you find your circumstances are quite dire – you’re but a pen-stroke from igniting a fire.’
It irked him just a little bit that she hadn’t understood the card. He supposed it was the poetic way he had written it. But since he was a writer and she was a writer, he thought she might have understood.
He probably should have just written the thing in plain English. But –
‘Never stop writing and you will always have joy. If you find you need something but don’t know how to proceed... if you find yourself in a dilemma... you are just a moment away from writing something to get yourself out of trouble.’
...just didn’t have the poetic flare and ‘ooomph’ to it that the words he had written possessed. He frowned. Oh well, he thought, it worked out – alls wells that ends wells. He stifled a chuckle at his little joke.
Now to check on the stories that she had posted, just to make sure...
After transporting Clark back to where he had belonged, Herb had jumped ahead into the future a few months, so he could check back on his progress.
When he had originally found this particularly strange universe almost a year ago – it didn’t have a Superman in it, if one could believe that – he had been surprised to find this group of individuals who wrote about a ‘super’ man that they had never met, from a world they had never been to.
What had surprised him even more, though, was when he had discovered that the stories they were writing came true, in yet another universe. That universe was even stranger. The Clark Kent from there lived out everything that was ‘officially’ written, drawn, or filmed about him.
Every story that Herb had read on this ‘message board’ had happened to that poor Clark. The man’s life changed on an almost daily basis. Sometimes for the good... sometimes not.
It had eaten up a fairly substantial chunk of Wells’ time recently – going around trying to undo and fix some of the things that had happened to Clark. The worst ones were when he died – or even worse, when Lois died. That was always the most traumatic.
Herb was getting really tired of ‘fixing things’ and putting things back the way they were supposed to be. Or at least the way *he* knew them to be. It had been hard enough to stay on top of Tempus – staying on top of all of these authors was proving to be much more difficult.
It had been just a few weeks ago that Wells had finally determined that a pre-emptive strike was in order. He had decided to start taking matters into his own hands.
Sue had been his first successful attempt without using the Subliminator. He was pleased with the results. Not only had he managed to secure a pleasant future for Clark in the capable hands of Sue, but from what he had later learned, she had managed to talk that MetroRhodes author into playing nice, as well. Imagine the nerve of that woman – thinking about writing a deathfic for Clark.
Atrocious!
It would have taken him days – weeks probably – to have fixed that one. And he simply didn’t have the time.
So that had worked out quite nicely. How did that saying go? He’d been able to bathe two cats in one tub?
The others, the ones before Sue, he had convinced to just leave the ‘fandom’ that they wrote for and move on to other pursuits. That had worked well enough, but Herb liked this outcome better. After all, without new stories, Clark Kent and Lois Lane wouldn’t have much of a life, would they?
Now his new protégé... Who was it again? Herb scrolled down through some of the posts until he recognized the name. Ah, yes. There he was. This one was sneaky. He wrote those dreadful endings that hit you out of nowhere. He would suck his readers in with the hope of a nice, happy story and then – wham – out of nowhere he would yank the rug, as it were, out from underneath them. The ones he wrote where everyone died in the end – those were the worst.
Ah, but Herb was going to do his darnedest to fix all that.
Well, let’s see, he thought. The closet thing worked pretty well for Ms. Sue. What about this gentleman? Herb could try it again with him - of course using Lois instead of Clark... make that, Lois after her hairstyle change. This writer seemed to have a thing for Lois with her short hair.
Yes. Yes that just might work. But not tonight. Tonight Herb wanted a little relaxation time to read.
He pulled his pocket watch out of his pocket and looked at it appraisingly. Yes, he still had a few hours to spare.
With a contented smile, he lifted his cup of tea to his lips again and clicked on the folder marked ‘fanfic’.
**********
The End
***Now for some acknowledgements <g>***
I wrote this fic initially as a get well present for Sue S. She had pneumonia and I knew she felt awful. So, first and foremost, I hope she got a kick out of this. The story was intended to be a little ‘tongue-in-cheek’ and I wasn’t sure if anyone would enjoy it even half as much as I enjoyed writing it. So imagine my surprise at all the wonderful feedback you all gave me. That was an added bonus! Thank you.
A thank you goes out to Sue for being Sue <g> and thereby giving me such a wonderful character to work with (no matter how badly I may have screwed it up). I also want to thank James (d8a) - the story I’m beta reading for him right now gave me a little inspiration for a piece of my ending. And, of course, Tank - I hope you didn’t mind me picking at you just a little as well <g>. Oh, and Jojo, too.
There was no beta reader on this particular story (and I’m sure you all saw the reason I need one) so if there were any glaring errors or things that gave you the ‘twitches’, I apologize.
You may have thought that the story was funny, but believe me, I laughed myself silly at some of the things you FoLCs wrote – thank you for the fdk and the laughs.
-- DJ
