Hello, all! Thanks for all your reviews, and if you haven’t checked back on chapter 39’s FDK and want to hear some more of my blathering and some very nice ideas and comments from your peers, check back there.
Oh! An extra warning: this chapter is pure fluff. I’ve never written such a thing before without a good dose of angst to balance it off, so I apologize beforehand if it doesn’t work.
I hope you enjoy!
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Chapter 40: Getting to Know You
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Superman hovered just outside Lois’s window, heedless of the pouring rain. He was already soaked to the skin a thousand times over (his suit provided little protection from the torrential downpour), and his hair was slicked back as water slid down his face like a constant river.
He was late—it was almost ten o’clock, by the glimpse he had caught of a rushing businessman’s wristwatch as the man had struggled down below with an uncooperative umbrella. Clark had actually been honestly surprised. Flying around all day, in and out of so many time zones that day and night seemed to blur as one, time had slipped away from him, leaving only grey exhaustion in the late hour.
Of course, he had known and tried to warn Lois that something like that would probably happen, but she just hadn’t listened. And he really had meant to get there on time, but he’d been stuck dealing with the earthquake in Hong Kong for over six hours now, and hadn’t been able to pull away until now, even if the time had occurred to him. No—he had been too busy to worry about the luxury of time until now.
Clark ran a soaked hand over his face to brush the rain from his eyes, but seeing as his hand was dripping wet it did little good.
He was tired.
It hadn’t helped that it had been night in Hong Kong during most of his work there, and he had returned to Metropolis to be greeted with the sky dumping several tons of water over his head.
Half of him just wanted to go home and sleep.
But Lois was waiting.
He hadn’t hovered there for more than a minute when a light went on inside and Lois Lane walked towards the window—which was interesting, because Clark was sure that she hadn’t seen him floating there. She opened the window and caught his eye.
“Are you going to come in, or are you going to stay out in the rain all night?” she asked, her tone as dry as Clark was wet. She sounded wonderful.
But instead of immediately moving, Superman didn’t answer at first. He paused, hovering there almost absently as he looked at Lois as if he was using is x-ray vision to look deeper than her skin—down into her very mind. His brow furrowed slightly as his dark eyes studied her, and for a moment Lois felt as if she, instead of him, was hovering outside his personal space and threatening to intrude.
She didn’t know what sort of conclusion he came to, but after a moment his eyes pulled from hers, and she could have sworn she saw him bite his lip, if only for a second as he ran a hand through his sopping hair.
“What is it?” Lois asked, resisting the urge to mirror his nervous action.
“N-nothing.” But he didn’t meet her eye right away.
Instead, his gaze moved down at where the pounding drops were bouncing off the window ledge and onto Lois’s nice dry carpet. As if reading his mind, Lois reached over and picked up a towel from where it was sitting neatly folded on her coffee table and held it forward, as if trying to lure a little animal inside.
“Here,” she said, worried that he might change his mind and fly off in a moment. “Come on in, and we can talk.”
He stepped forward, touching lightly upon the windowsill as he reached out and took the towel from her. He began to step inside, then there was a blur and suddenly he was standing there, a steam of cloud rising from his perfectly dry being.
Lois’s jaw dropped despite herself. “Wow,” she breathed as he turned around and blew the steam out the window.
Kal-El closed the window and turned to give her a crooked, embarrassed grin. “I didn’t want to drip all over the place.”
“Oh. That’s all right,” Lois said. “I mean, thank you for not dripping all over the place, and for doing whatever you did, but it really would have been all right. I wouldn’t have made you stay outside or anything even if you did come in dripping wet. That’s why I had the towel there and everything. But I guess you didn’t need it anyway, and I should have realized that you wouldn’t but . . . ” Oh great. Her fourth real sentence of the night and she was already babbling, and Superman knew it, from that bemused, amused look on his face. She cut herself off sharply, reaching out sharply for the towel. “Here. I can take that from you.”
“Thank you,” he said, handing it back to her. Their fingers brushed, and Lois suddenly felt quite warm despite the chill air that had been let in through the open window.
She realized she was grinning at him like an idiot and forced herself to stop. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m acting completely stupid, aren’t I? I—I’m just really glad you’re here. I was starting to worry you weren’t going to be able to come.”
“I was in Hong Kong.”
“I know,” Lois said, and Clark realized for the first time that the television was on. He had been too caught up just staring at Lois to notice earlier. He looked at her closely again, as if not exactly sure how to take her—and he wasn’t. He wanted to lean forward and let her hold him. The day had been hard—wonderful at times, but there was so much death, even amongst the miracles. His body was drained, his soul was wearied, and the images of death and blood and pain had torn open still-raw memories in his heart and mind. He had actually had to fly off quite suddenly more than once to be ill where it wouldn’t be caught on camera or witnessed by a thousand prying eyes, amidst the carnage of the earthquake or another tragic disaster.
So much death. So much pain. Even while he fought to save each little, single light of life and hope . . . there was so much he couldn’t do.
How had he coped with it before? It had been terrible, but he didn’t remember it eating at him, tearing at him, choking him.
Logram . . . Luthor . . . what have you done to me?
He wasn’t going to let it stop him. He couldn’t—and he couldn’t let them win. But he was so tired . . .
Three days ago he’d been unable to fly and had been spending most his time resting. Then he’d started his rescues, and since then had only had as much sleep and sun as when he accidentally fell asleep yesterday morning in California. He didn’t remember flying ever being so difficult, or lifting through debris and rubble so incredibly trying.
His mom was going to kill him.
He just wanted to sleep . . .
But despite all the darkness, there was that hope in the peoples’ eyes. The light of relief that dawned on their faces in the black of the night as Superman came on the scene—never-ceasing. He was ubiquitous, it seemed at times, as he darted here and there to lift and clear rubble that it would have taken days for normal men to sort through, and pinpointed a living soul amongst the ruins that probably wouldn’t have been found until it was too late.
Life. Hope. Tears of joy and reunion. He needed to focus on those. Not on the blood. Not on the darkness. He was seeking the light—showing it to the people to encourage them on their way. He was not fighting the darkness, he was just bringing the light.
He’d leave facing the night to a certain caped marauder in Gotham City, he thought wryly.
The images on the television were flipping through some stills of the wreckage, as reports of the destruction rolled along the bottom in running letters. More than half of the shots had Superman in them. He grimaced. There were thousands of other heroes out there, volunteering and risking their lives to help others. He was just the one with the flashy uniform, and so he got all the attention.
It was a part of his job that he was really growing to hate.
Lois seemed to sense the darkness of his thoughts, for she hurried over and turned the television off. “I was just watching. I saw you leave a few minutes ago, so . . . I hoped you were coming. How are you?”
Clark took a deep breath, drawing himself from his thoughts. He had hardly spoken all day, except for that necessary for his rescue efforts. He needed to pull himself out of that tight, firm, unyielding mindset. It was time for him. For Clark Kent.
Even if it was Superman standing in Lois’s apartment right then—he needed this. All of him needed it.
The relief. The joy. It had been a wonderful day, a wonderful night. There had been so much hope restored, so much life returned . . .
“I’m fine,” he said, and gave an honest smile.
Lois looked at him for a moment and then just shook her head. “And to think I used to believe you couldn’t tell a lie. And I guess in one way I was right. You’re the worst liar I’ve ever heard.”
She walked towards him and reached up to touch his face—hesitating only a moment at the intimate gesture before she reached up and brushed at a streak of dirt smeared across his cheek. “You look tired. Do you . . . need to go and get some sunlight?”
Clark could tell she loathed the thought of letting him go, but she asked the question anyway. He smiled faintly. Yes, he was tired, and his whole body felt heavy and slightly achy, but he was content to stay here, just for a little while. “I’m fine, Lois. Thank you.”
Lois drew her hand back and looked at him. He was still slightly paler than usual, and though he looked cheerful despite his obvious tiredness he seemed a bit distant—withdrawn, and even weary beneath that. She put a hand on his arm. “Come and sit down.”
Lois helped him forward, sitting him comfortably at the table before walking over and pulling a lamp from against the wall and bringing it right up to him. She turned it on, making Clark wince and cover his eyes against the sudden bright glare. “Lois? What . . . ?”
Oh, but it felt good. He could feel it—faint, gentle, like a soft breath of energy. It was a mere shadow next to the power of the sun, but he could feel it as it began to seep steadily into his drained body.
“Can you feel it? Is it working?” Lois asked, sounding anxious.
“Yes,” Clark said, opening his eyes that he hadn’t realized he had closed in pure bliss at the small but blessed amount of energy. “Is that—?”
“A sunlamp?” she finished, a bit bashfully. “Yeah. I saw it was raining again, and I thought you might be tired . . . ” She still sounded a bit uncertain, so Clark gave her a smile and reached over to take her hand in his. He stood slowly, catching her eyes with his own, and suddenly the energy from the light seemed insignificant as he sunk into those perfect, heavenly pools of her soul.
“Thank you, Lois,” he whispered, unable to speak the words in a full voice, but somehow that just made it more powerful.
Thank you.
The words carried more than just a thank you for the light. That was a little thing—petty, small, and quite forgettable. This was an expression of gratitude that swept away those simple words written and left on a lonely coffee table two weeks ago, when Kal-El had left her apartment without a word.
Thank you.
They carried the weight of the white room, the burden of the fears and pains. They carried the spirit of hope despite the despair, and the laughter despite the tears. They carried the sound of a thousand unspoken words of love in a cold, sterile world where all humanity had been replaced by hate—except for the two surviving lights of themselves.
Gratitude for his life, for his hope, for his still-surviving spirit. Gratitude for her smile, her laughter, even her sharp words, at times . . .
Gratitude for the way she furrowed her brow when she thought, or how her eyes lit up with a new thought. For how her gaze drifted towards the window without her noticing, or at times she looked at a bumbling, annoying partner with that odd softening in her expression without realizing it.
Gratitude for a simple word or touch, a little bit of kindness, and for the return of a worthless, worn out pocketknife.
“No,” Lois whispered back, leaning forward to put her face against his warm chest as she put her arms around him. “Thank you, Kal-El, for coming back.”
That was enough. As long as he was here, she’d do anything for him.
They stood there in silence, not wanting to let each other go—simply standing there, holding each other.
She was so small, Clark realized as he gently rested his head on top of hers. How could someone so small be so strong—both in body and spirit? He was supposed to be the strongest man in the world, but he realized—he was nothing without Lois. Nothing. His arms tightened slightly. Luthor had tried to take her last night. On his father’s grave—both of their graves—he’d never see it happen and live to tell.
Never.
After a long moment, Lois pulled away, though it was slightly hesitant and her hand caught his as she stepped back, as if she couldn’t bear the thought of losing contact with him for a second. She smiled somewhat self-depreciatingly. “Sorry. You know I’m not that much of a hugging person, but, well, you know—”
“It’s all right, Lois,” Clark said. “I wasn’t complaining.”
Lois blushed. “I wasn’t either,” she said, with a slight challenge to her tone, though her eyes seemed to glow.
Clark was marveling at the power of that glow again, and took a moment to come up with an answer. “I’m glad,” he said softly. “I’ve missed you.”
And he had, and not only because he had gone to Smallville for those days. No—even seeing her at work, spending all those hours with her on the case—it just wasn’t the same. He missed seeing her—a side of herself that she didn’t allow Clark Kent to see.
Lois’s frowned and her hand went slightly stiff in his, though she still didn’t pull away. Instead, she moved over to open the fridge, actually dragging him forward a couple steps so she could open it and reach inside. “I missed you too,” she said, but she didn’t look at him.
“I’m sorry for leaving you, Lois. I’m sorry you worried.”
Lois pulled a box out of the fridge and set it on the counter before reaching in and pulling out a carton of milk. “I know you are. But you must have realized I would worry no matter what kind of note you left. And I realize you thought it wasn’t safe at my apartment. It turns out you were right.” She looked back at him as she pried open the box to show a full-sized, heavenly-looking raspberry cheesecake. She pulled a knife out of a drawer beneath the counter and began trying to cut it with one hand. “You knew Luthor was responsible for Bureau 39 all along, didn’t you?”
Clark winced as the cake slipped as Lois tried to cut it. He gently pulled his hand from hers. “I think it might work better if you used both hands, Lois,” he said. “I’d rather not have to fly you to the hospital tonight.”
Lois shrugged it off, but obeyed in using one hand to hold the box as she cut. “But you didn’t answer the question.”
“Can I help?”
Lois rolled her eyes. “Yeah. The plates are in the cupboard by the—oh.” There was a rush of air and the plates were set carefully in front of her, along with two forks. After blinking for a moment, she looked up at him. “You could be useful around here, Kal-El. You don’t happen to cook, do you?”
Superman gave a crooked smile. “When I want to,” he said. “I don’t have to eat, remember.”
“But that just means that what you do eat you have to enjoy,” Lois nodded, then frowned. “I . . . uh . . . I had dinner, but . . . it burned, so . . . do you mind if we just skip the main course?”
Her face flushed with the admittance, and Clark wondered what in the world Lois might have tried to cook up for him. His heart warmed within him at the thought of the trouble that she had gone to . . . just for him to come.
No. Just for Superman to come.
Lois had gone still and was watching him, looking so very unsure and vulnerable again. He realized he had gotten lost watching her again and cleared his throat, feeling a slight burn in his own face as well.
“That . . . that’s fine, Lois. Unless you want me to get something for you. Chinese, French . . . ”
Lois smiled, still a bit flushed. “That’s all right. I fixed something else up already. But . . . thank you.” She carefully set two picturesque pieces of cheesecake onto their respective plates and then paused. “You do like cheesecake, don’t you?”
“Do you like chocolate, Lois?” he said to that, his tone slightly wry.
“Point taken.”
Lois handed him a piece of the cake. They sat next to each other at the table, and Superman waited for her to start first before taking a bite of his own.
There was a moment of silence save for the stead, and then Superman closed his eyes.
“Oh my gosh.”
Lois swallowed her first bite so quickly she almost choked on it. “What is it?” she demanded, sitting up straight and putting down her spoon.
Kal-El opened his eyes at her sharp reaction, and gave an embarrassed smile. “Nothing. It’s just . . . this cake . . . ” He took another bite slowly, closing his eyes again as he positively savored it. “It’s the best thing I’ve tasted for days.”
His slow delight was bewitching, and Lois cleared her throat and took a bite of her own to distract herself. “And I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what you’ve eaten during the past few days, hm?”
Clark was drawn out of his rapture of taste and blinked at her. She was right, and he hadn’t even realized it. He hadn’t eaten anything for . . . was it two days now? Three? Yet another thing his mother would kill him for if she found out. No matter that he hadn’t needed food since he was a teenager, she had always made sure he ate well anyway, and since he’d been sick she’d been watching like a hawk over his eating habits.
“See?” Lois said smugly, taking his silence for the affirmative it was. She took a bite of her own. “Mmm.”
Clark looked up at her and suddenly even the richness of the cheesecake was forgotten. Blushing slightly, he took another bite, but didn’t look away from her. Lois opened her eyes and caught him staring, they looked at each other for a minute, the awkwardness palpable. Clark swallowed his last bite, and an awkward grin struggled at the corner of his lip as Lois’s eyes glittered with unhidden mirth. At the same time, each of them gave a stifled laugh, then looked at each other in surprise, and Lois began to snicker.
It was ridiculous. There was nothing funny, but something was hilarious. Clark couldn’t help himself, and a grin grew on his face as he felt a chuckle rising in his chest, and before they knew it the cheesecake was forgotten as they were bent over in downright, open hilarity.
Anyone watching might have thought them both gone mad, for there was absolutely no cause for their mirth, but for the next five minutes every time either of them started to settle down, either Lois would begin snickering madly or Superman’s chin would start shaking from his failing attempts to regain a serious expression and it would start all over again.
Finally, exhausted from laughter, Lois plopped herself upright in her seat and sat back. “This is so ridiculous!” she said, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. “What’s so funny?”
Clark was chuckling, and actually had to wipe his own eyes. “I—I don’t know. You’re the one that started laughing first.”
“I did not!” Lois retorted in mock-outrage. Superman tried to turn his broad grin into a straight face, but wasn’t doing very well, and Lois felt another soft snicker rise in her chest. She stifled most of it, but not very well. “Oh my gosh, we’ve both gone crazy.”
“Maybe it was the cheesecake,” Superman grinned, giving up on the more somber mask for now.
Lois grinned back, realizing that she had never ever seen the superhero looking so relaxed and generally happy, which was wonderful, considering how tired he had looked when he had arrived. He really did have such a stunning, brilliant smile. It looked like it was ready to jump right off his face.
“Maybe.” Lois leaned forward, growing more serious. “But darn you, Kal-El,” she said. “When it comes to dodging questions from nosy reporters, you’ve got to be the best I’ve ever met.”
Clark blinked, surprised and a bit confused. “What?”
“I asked you about Luthor.”
His brow wrinkled as he tried to remember. After a moment his expression cleared, only to be replaced once again by confusion. “That was over five minutes ago.”
“And I’m still waiting for an answer.”
Superman picked up his fork and cut the remainder of his cheesecake in two pieces, but didn’t lift either piece from his plate. He grew solemn, and didn’t look at her in the eye but for another quick, searching glance as if he was trying to puzzle her out, but it was gone in a moment.
“I wasn’t certain about him being behind Bureau 39,” he said slowly, then hesitated. “Clark . . . Clark and I had some suspicions, but nothing solid. We still don’t have any proof against him.”
Lois looked troubled. “Clark said . . . Clark said you didn’t tell me because you thought I’d believe him. But when I didn’t . . . why didn’t you tell me?”
Superman shifted uncomfortably, and it looked odd to see the superhero looking so out of place—though, Lois thought with some amusement, he really did look quite unnatural sitting at her kitchen table, eating his cheesecake. His reply was serious. “You knew Clark so much better than you did me, Lois. I thought you two were friends, and if you didn’t believe him . . . why would you believe me? It’s not like we know each other that well.”
“That’s what Clark said,” Lois sighed, putting her chin in her hands and frowning at herself. “I guess I was a bit of an idiot.” Superman gave a distant smile, but didn’t say anything. Lois’s frown deepened. “But that was before. I do know you better now, Kal-El.”
Superman put down his fork, stopping himself from further decimating the remnants of the cheesecake on his plate, which was now just a pile of crumbs and mush. “Lois . . . I don’t think you know me as well as you think you do,” he said, not looking at her
Lois bristled at that, sitting up straight. “Don’t you dare!” she hissed, suddenly stiff and fiery as an angry cat. “Don’t you dare start that now, Kal-El!”
Clark was completely taken off guard by the sudden defensiveness of Lois’s tone and posture. “What?”
“Don’t feed me that hogwash of ‘we can’t be friends because it’s not safe.’ We’ve been over this. I don’t know if you realize it, but Lex’s interest with me has nothing to do with you. I won’t be any less in danger if you take off and move to China. So don’t you dare do what you did to Clark and try to leave me for my own good! I’m a grown woman and can make those kinds of decisions for myself!” she said, her voice taking on a slightly frantic tone.
He couldn’t leave her. He couldn’t. But if he decided to, what could Lois do to stop him?
She’d go up to her rooftop and throw herself off, that’s what. And she’d keep doing it, making him come back and save her until he realized there was no point in trying to run away . . .
Clark blinked a few times and shook his head slightly before he realized what in the world she was talking about. He leaned forward slightly. “I wasn’t going to say that, Lois.”
Lois’s mouth was already open with another almost panicked retort, but at those words she stopped, looking quite comical as she blinked, then shut her mouth and looked at him as if searching for a hidden meaning in what he had seen so far. Finally somewhat satisfied, her eyes narrowed and she folded her arms. “Well, then. What were you going to say?”
Clark swallowed, his eyes drifting into hers again. He couldn’t think when that happened. He didn’t want to talk, but just wanted to sit and stare and sink and lose himself in the essence, the power, the being that was Lois Lane. He lowered his eyes to his hands which were clasped on the table between them.
“I am very grateful for what you’ve done for me, Lois,” he said softly. “You . . . you are an amazing woman. I . . . when I t-think what m-might have happened . . . ”
He was stuttering again; his voice was shaking. Lois reached over and put a hand over his. “It’s all right,” she said. “It’s over.”
The superhero nodded and swallowed, taking a breath. “I . . . I know. You sacrificed so much for me, Lois, but even after that . . . you don’t know me as well as you think.”
Lois looked down at her hand resting on top of his. His powerful hands which could shatter mountains and bend steel. Those gentle hands who could lift with such care, and touch with such gentleness.
“Kal,” she said softly. “There are some times . . . when after you have been through something with someone . . . it doesn’t matter if you know all the facts from their life or not. I may not know about Krypton, about your childhood, about your life. I may not know where you live, or why you left me . . . but those don’t matter.” She looked up, catching his eyes in hers and holding them firm. “I know you. I’ve seen your soul. I have seen that, Kal, and it doesn’t matter what little details I may or may not know, because they don’t matter.”
Kal-El actually bit his lip and looked away, pulling his hands away to run a hand through his dark hair as he looked north with some preoccupation. Something tugged in the back of Lois’s mind.
“I don’t know, Lois.”
Lois’s eyes narrowed and she frowned at him for a moment. “Fine,” she said, suddenly business-like as she sat back. “Tell me. How old are you? When’s your birthday? How was it in Kryptonopolis? Did you play sports? Did everyone fly, or what? Is it genetic, or some sort of super-technology?”
Clark blinked at her. “I thought the rule of good reporting was just one question at a time,” he said with a shadow of a smile.
“Well, then,” Lois said with a wave of her hand. “Pick and choose, I guess.”
Clark hesitated, then took a deep breath as he pushed his plate away from himself. “Krypton . . . was much like Earth. The people were like humans, but the civilization was older, I guess. They couldn’t fly. My powers are genetic, but they are due to the fact that Krypton’s sun was a red sun, and Earth a smaller, younger yellow sun. So everyone just walked around there like people do here.”
Lois blinked, surprised to have actually gotten an answer like that. “How do you know?” she asked. “A couple of weeks ago you didn’t even know you were solar-powered, let alone why.”
“I received a message from Jor-El—my father,” he added after a slight hesitation. “He . . . cleared up a lot of questions I had.”
Lois’s curiosity got the best of her. She leaned forward. “What sort of message? Like, a hologram, or what?”
Clark smiled at her enthusiasm. “Kind of. It’s a projective, 3-D image that can actually respond to any questions I have.”
“AI like that? How does that work?” Lois asked, then stopped at Kal-El’s amused expression as he watched her. She grinned at herself, somewhat embarrassed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for this to turn into an interview, Kal-El.”
Superman shrugged, but the way he spoke was not light or dismissive, but rather slow and thoughtful. “It is only natural that people would have questions. About me, and Krypton. So far, I have generally tried to avoid them, but I think I can answer them now.”
Lois lifted her eyebrows. “So . . . you want me to give you an interview?” She was surprised but glad for the free opportunity to get some of her questions answered, so she didn’t complain when he nodded, but she stood to grab a notebook from her desk and flipped through quickly to make sure there were enough pages.
She hesitated, however, before beginning.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked, opening to a blank page.
Superman looked towards the window, where a sudden gust of wind pelted the rain more furiously against the pane before subsiding. His voice was soft when he began. “Lois,” he said. “I . . . I can’t help but think that . . . part of the reason why . . . Bureau 39 . . . ” He swallowed, clasping his hands under the table to hide his slight shaking, but even as he paused to compose himself Lois’s hand slipped on top of his. He flinched at first, not wanting her to feel his fear, but her small hand intertwined with one of his and didn’t let him go. “I . . . I think that if the people know . . . more about me then maybe . . .”—Lois’s hand tightened on his, feeling his fear in the reflection of her own—“. . . Maybe they won’t . . . be afraid.”
Lois blinked. She had expected perhaps a stronger PR front for Superman as the reason, after the many questions flying around about his disappearance. Granted, the general public was already quite firmly on his side, but with more information of the superhero known the government would no doubt back off a little. Maybe the Primaries would leave him alone a little longer.
But she hadn’t expected him to express a hope to dismiss fear of him.
“Kal,” she said. “Nobody’s afraid of you.”
He lip curled in a slight smile, but it was mirthless and his eyes were lightless. “I’m an a-alien, Lois,” he said, slipping slightly as he whispered the word—as if afraid of speaking it too loudly. “People hung their neighbors in the seventeenth century because of slight discrepancies to the social norm.” He looked away from her. “Fear brings out the worst in mankind.”
“Or the best,” Lois insisted, still holding his hand tight under the table. Fear was like any of the dark emotions of mankind—they tried the soul and spirit, and peeled out the fluff and lining to the truth beneath. “We both haven’t had the easiest time with being . . . afraid. But look at you. You didn’t let it stop you, even . . . back There. And you haven’t let it stop you since.”
Was that a flash of guilt across his face as he glanced at her? It was gone in a moment, but Lois was sure she had seen it, and it made her heart ache. He shouldn’t still be blaming himself on things he couldn’t control. The man expected too much of himself!
His hand squeezed hers back. “It’s taking me time, Lois,” he admitted. “You—you just kept going, no matter what.”
It was Lois’s turn to look away. “I had to,” she said softly.
There was a moment of silence, and Superman’s thumb gently brushed over her knuckles.
“Maybe we should start,” Lois said at last. “It’s getting kind of late.” She hesitated. “That is—if you’re absolutely sure you want to do this.”
Superman smiled softly at that. “I am.”
Lois nodded and sat up straight with a deep breath. “Okay,” she said, and hesitantly slipped her hand from his to lift her pen. To compensate for the lack of touch, she scooted her chair over a few more inches towards him, so their knees actually knocked slightly under the table. After a couple seconds they were both settled, and Lois pulled out her tape recorder and began. “Let’s start at the beginning, then. You were born on Krypton.”
“Yes.”
“What kind of culture do they have? Government?”
Superman hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. “It was a democracy,” he replied. “The ruling body consisting of a council which was elected and chosen, though often they were chosen from a sort of upper body of citizens—of lords, if you will.” He frowned. “To tell you the truth, I don’t really understand too much of it myself.”
Lois scribbled quickly onto her notebook before looking up again. She bit her lip. “It might be a hard question, seeing as . . . but, what was your family like? You know, siblings, parents?”
Clark smiled slightly. That was one of the first questions he had asked, and had been quite relieved to find that, yes, he did have parents. Yes, he was born in a very human way, rather than some strange spawning or cell-splitting as was shown on TV for some types of aliens. Family-wise, Kryptonians seemed to be quite similar to humans. He had been surprised how relieved he had been to hear that.
It was good to have the answers to those little things—those little things that a person raised on Krypton might think laughable to ask about. But Clark hadn’t known. He hadn’t known anything.
“I was the only child,” he said. “My father was a scientist, who predicted the destruction of the planet but . . . the council didn’t listen. Jor-El sent me away against their orders. I’m . . . all that’s left.”
One of the horrible answers he had received. He was all that was left, except for a side note which Jor-El had dropped about some criminals being held in some alternate dimension called the Phantom Zone, but Clark hadn’t really understood, and had changed the direction of the conversation when his biological father had began a long and completely confusing explanation of it.
As long as they were put away for good, Clark was fine with that. He certainly didn’t want any super-powered criminals flying around.
Now that thought was chilling.
Lois put her hand over his. “I’m sorry.”
Clark realized she had taken his long silence for grief and cleared his throat. It certainly was an awful thought—that an entire race and civilization—his race—had been almost completely destroyed. Wiped out. Annihilated.
But it was a distanced sort of grief. Not sharp and painful, like the death of his dad. The death of his real dad—Jonathan Kent, the farmer. The simple man with the stubborn streak, the steadfast morals, the quick council and the deep, pleasant laugh.
With Krypton, Clark had lost something he had never had. It certainly left him feeling empty and as alone as ever, but that was it, though he felt he should have felt more.
A whole people lost. What if something like that were to happen to Earth?
Even the very thought of that made Clark feel sick. The thought of one human life slipping away needlessly made him sick.
He had to stop the pain, the needless suffering . . . He needed to help.
Wasn’t that enough to show that Earth was more of a home to him than Krypton could ever be? That he was more of an . . . an Earthonian, or whatever, than anything?
But Jor-El wanted him to stay at the fortress, to be trained. To be taught, so that Krypton would not be forgotten. Wasn’t it his duty to let his people live on through him?
He realized that while he had been lost in his thoughts, Lois was chewing on her lip and looking guilty—no doubt kicking herself for asking a question that had obviously driven him into silent despair. He gave a crooked smile.
“Sorry. My mind got caught on a tangent.”
Lois smiled back, though she still looked a bit nervous.
“We still don’t have to do this, Kal-El. People don’t need to be able to pick over your life like . . . like . . . “
Like scientists over a dissected frog.
Lois swallowed. “Well, you know. They just don’t need to be able to pick over your life like this.”
“You’ve heard the rumors, Lois,” he replied seriously. “People are wondering, especially with me going . . . missing. More than ever, conspiracy theorists are shouting of a possible—a possible alien invasion of Earth. I need their trust, Lois, and it’s safer for everyone if they know the truth.”
Everyone—especially the two of them.
Lois still didn’t look entirely certain, but she hefted her pen and went forward.
They went on, and Clark answered as best as he could, though he was surprised with some of the questions that Lois came up with—ones that he wasn’t sure how to answer, because he didn’t know the answers himself. He would grimace and ask to skip that question, and though curiosity would positively gleam in Lois’s eyes, she never pressed him. Much.
Some time later, Lois sat back, listening to the rain on the windows and biting the end of her pen while she leafed through the pages of notes they had put together.
“Well, this will be a killer article, that’s for sure,” she said, unable to hide her enthusiasm. “Have we missed anything?” She scanned over a few notes. “Oh.” She bit her lip. “But those might be too intrusive.”
Clark looked at her suddenly, and he turned a bit pink. “Uh . . . ” What kind of questions was she thinking about?”
Lois blinked and flushed dark. “Oh! No, I didn’t mean anything like that. Just, you know—height, weight, favorite spandex brand, you know,” she said hastily.
Clark’s eyebrows shot up. “Spandex brand?”
“You know what I mean!” Lois said, smacking him on the shoulder, but it wouldn’t have hurt him even if he wasn’t invulnerable. “Just—normal stuff—what you like, whatever.”
“Spandex brand,” Clark repeated.
“Would you lay off it? You know what I meant.”
Clark just shook his head and pushed his hair from his eyes. His spit curl fell over his forehead perfectly. “Okay. But . . . I can’t reveal the spandex brand. That’s . . . too personal,” he finished somberly.
Lois glared at him, but couldn’t keep it up. After a moment she sat back, chuckling a bit herself.
“You’re impossible. Fine. If you don’t want to go near the spandex, we’ll stay clear of that, then. Your height?”
“Six four.”
Lois penned that in carefully.
“Weight?”
He hesitated. “Uh . . . now, or what it usually is?”
Lois looked at him with a frown. “What do you mean?”
Superman ducked his head and ran his hand through his hair. “Well, I usually weigh about 225.”
“And . . . ” Lois prompted, feeling that his sentence wasn’t quite complete.
He shrugged. “Well, right now I’m a little less than that, that’s all.”
Lois bit her lip and leaned forward to turn off her recorder. “How much did you lose?” she asked, her tone completely changing and making it clear that this was quite off the record.
He shrugged. “Some.”
“Kal-El,” Lois warned.
“It’s all right, Lois. It’s coming back.”
“Stop avoiding the question. You dangled the bait, and I’ve snatched at it. Now tell me.”
Clark gave up, knowing there was no way he was getting away from the question unless he flew out the window without another word.
“215.”
Lois leaned forward, looking into his eyes, but he wasn’t looking at her. “Right now?”
Clark shrugged and nodded.
Lois immediately reached over and took another piece of the cheesecake and plopped it on his plate. She pushed it back to him without a word, though the look she gave him was clear.
“How bad was it at first?”
How much had they taken away from him?
“It doesn’t matter, Lois. Really—” Clark tried as he looked down at his new piece of cheesecake and took an obedient bite. Mmmm.
Lois straightened, looking him over with a newly critical eye. “Okay, Flyboy,” she said. “If food doesn’t fatten you up, then you had better be soaking up that sunlight. I want you back up to 225 by next week, understand? If you need to cut back on your work until then, that’s fine. Even you need to watch out for yourself.”
Ten pounds in a week? Surely she wasn’t serious. It had taken him the past two weeks sitting in the sun in Smallville even to get this close to his normal weight.
“Lois, isn’t that a little ridiculous . . .”
Lois rolled her eyes exasperatingly. “Goodness, Krypton. Shoot for the stars, and even if you come up short then you’ll still probably get to where you need to be.” She leaned forward and poked him in the shoulder. “Ten pounds. Next week. I want you back in the peak of health”
Clark felt an odd but pleasant tingle at the affectionate-sounding nickname. “It’s better to try for something trying, but doable. The way you’re talking you’re always bound to fail, it seems.”
Lois crossed her arms. “But I’ve found that I always end up above everyone else anyway. And besides, when you do reach the stars you get to rub it in the faces of all those earthbound unbelievers who don’t reach beyond what they know they can get.”
Clark chuckled. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m not the one who flies around in a cape and tights,” Lois countered.
Clark fought a blush at that. Lois chuckled, taking a hold of her notebook again.
“So there we have it. Basic information on Krypton and yourself, some background, a couple stories . . . ” She trailed off, scanning through the notes. “Do you think you might ever have time for an interview about Krypton’s destruction sometime later? People would no doubt be interested in a whole series about what happened, to wipe out a whole civilization like that.” She gave him an assessing look. “That is, if it’s not too hard to talk about.”
Clark shrugged. “I don’t see why not, if it’s all right with the ch—with Perry.” Oops. He had almost slipped that time. He was getting too relaxed.
It was so nice to be able to relax, though. He was feeling most contentedly sleepy and peaceful for the first time in weeks.
Lois put down her notebook and stretched, then stifled a yawn. “So . . . it’s still not too late. Do you feel up to a movie?” she asked, reaching over to take his hand.
“What do you have in mind?” Clark asked, curling his fingers around hers. Her hand fit so perfectly within his.
Lois smiled and stood, moving over to her television. “You’ll just have to find out,” she said. “And no peeking,” she said, as she furtively drew out a DVD and stuck it in the machine.
Clark smiled, feeling too content and relaxed to argue at this point. He came over and sat down.
“I like your new couch,” he said.
Lois smiled as she moved back to sit next to him. “So do I,” she said. “It’s much more comfortable than the other, that’s for sure.”
She turned on the TV with the remote and skipped the commercials and pressed “play” on the movie.
“Oh, you didn’t,” Clark said, chuckling as she came back to sit on the couch beside him.
“You said you liked it,” Lois defended herself, drawing her legs up onto the couch and leaning against him. She rested her head on his shoulder.
“I do love it,” Clark said, but he wasn’t looking at the television screen.
The opening notes of The Scarlet Pimpernel started the movie. They watched in silence, their fingers intertwined and Clark’s head resting lightly atop hers. The tale progressed, and the two watchers’ eyes slid slowly closed, until both unknowingly slipped into the oblivion of peaceful sleep as the rain beat a steady and peaceful rhythm outside of the quiet apartment.
TBC . . .
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