I'm BAAAAACK!!!!!!!!!
)
/runs around the room cheering wildly, then plops back down at her computer/
And boy is it good to be back! For those who haven't been following the rumor mill around the other sites I post DD on around the 'net, the past few weeks (oh, Valar--has it really been a month?!) have been insane with college projects and all sorts of craziness. Not to mention that spring has finally come, and seeing as I love trees and nature as much as I love my laptop (which is saying something), I have to admit that I've been both swamped and thoroughly distracted--not a good combination in hindsight to keeping on top of this story.
But here I am. Hopefully you are half as glad as I am that this chapter is being posted, because that means that all you new readers that have come along during my long absence (and you very kind, friendly folks who's reviews have supported me so far!) can spare a couple minutes to drop me a quick note.
Please?
And oh my goodness! So many lovely reviews from the last chapter, everyone! Thanks a ton!
Smithcrafter---Holy monkeys! You read the whole thing in one day? You realize this is longer than, like, FOTR at his point, right:D Well, that just made my day. I'm so glad you're liking it! Thanks for BOTH your reviews!
1truelove--thanks for your review. I'm just glad the whole revelation thing was able to be pulled off like that, and that people enjoyed it. It's hard to think of a good, original reveal scene these days!
Delia Ra'Nar--Hello! I'm sorry that your begging for another chapter went so long unheeded--it wasn't intentional, I assure you. I'm glad you're liking the characterizations, and, yes--there is a fair bit of movie-influence creeping into this story now and again. Once I wrap up this fic, in fact, I'm thinking about starting to branch the gap between LnC and the movie-verse. We'll just have to see what happens, eh? Thanks for your review!
gonnabfamous07--blushes furiously Thank you so much! I'm sooo glad that everyone seemed to like the last chapter. Heaven knows I was nervous about it, seeing as it was sooo long coming!! Thanks for your review!
KC-Piper-Fan--I'm a sucker for sunrises myself. I'm quite glad Lois knows too. Things can finally start happening, eh? Thanks for your review!
Fondued Jamaica--Oh, hello! You had a review over on my other posting of this story, didn't you? Well, double thanks to you, then! Your review was very detailed and positively tickles me to read. I'm so glad everything worked for you! Thanks again!
Divamercury--Double thanks to you too! I always appreciate your support!
oneredneckgoddess--Sorry the update came so late, but at least it's here, eh? I hope you like it! Thanks for your review.
blah125--Hehee. Your enthusiasm in your last review just makes me giggle. It makes my day to know that you guys are liking what I'm putting out here. Thank you so much for your review!
Thank you again everyone!
And NOW . . . on with the story!!
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Chapter 42: Just Another Day
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Lois stepped down the street towards The Daily Planet. The parking area beneath the building was under construction, so she had parked a couple blocks away and was walking the remaining distance to work. She walked slowly, preoccupied over an old article that felt as old as time, or maybe even older. She lowered it, not hearing, not seeing the morning rush around her. She was just thinking. The crowds on the damp, dark-grey sidewalk poured around her easy step without a pause in the constant flow.
Someone bumped into her, hard, almost knocking the paper and her purse from her hands before rushing off without a word. Lois didn't glare, didn't say anything, but just shifted her grip on her things and kept walking, too caught up in her thoughts to care about the uncaring jostling of the Metropolis morning sidewalks.
Details, details. So many meant nothing. So many meant everything in the world, like a pair of glasses and a hair style.
It was amazing how much a person could change over such a short amount of time, she realized, looking around at the unchanged world around her. It was odd. Superman walked among them, but they were oblivious to it. More, Superman was one of them, and nobody noticed it. Lois's world had been shaken to its roots once again, and nothing else seemed to have changed.
Just her.
She felt so old, but no longer broken. She knew what she wanted. She knew what she needed, and she had come to realize how little the details, no matter how furious they might have made her not so long ago, could mean nothing.
She would take the risk of everything, because if she didn't have him, nothing else mattered.
She looked back down at the article in her hand—the article she and Clark had written together just before the chaos of being caught, those not-so-many weeks ago.
The article they had written about Bureau 39—and both of them had written it, though Clark had requested his name stayed out of the byline and remain unnamed in the article itself, and now she understood why. There it was—everything they had known about the crazy, mad-minded ex-government agent Trask, who had mistakenly taken Clark and Superman to be the same person. How he had claimed to have found that once-thought imaginary crystal that Clark had chosen to name Kryptonite, and how Trask and Clark had actually fought, fist to fist.
How much had Lois missed?
When she and Clark had been staying with the Kents, she had come downstairs and found him sitting at the table, looking pale and just plain awful. Allergies, they had brushed it off as. Allergies! Allergies to grass, in a farm boy who had been raised in the middle of Cornville, Kansas, and who had never had the slightest sniffle in the months that Lois had known him.
He must have been exposed, somehow, Lois thought with a chill.
And he had mentioned it, in the white room. Last time, he had said, and she had realized that he had come into contact with the cursed crystal before.
No wonder he had looked so awful.
She remembered vaguely, now, how he had gotten a paper cut, and seemed so surprised at the sight of his own blood.
They had both seen plenty of it, now.
Too much.
Lois shivered, her step slowing further and causing someone behind her to push by with a curse to her that passed her by without touching her.
Clark—Superman—had been so innocent, so confident, so invulnerable, even then, knowing he had a weakness. He'd thrown himself into a fight against a madman when he was already weakened, just to protect the people who had taken him in. His parents. His family.
He would have died for them all, if it had been necessary.
And Trask had actually known.
He had known that Clark Kent was Superman.
That thought made her come to a complete stop, staring into the distance over the countless heads of heedless people around her.
Clark had been vulnerable. Trask had been trying to kill him, as well as his parents, because he was an alien. He had almost shot Superman in the back, and would have, had not the sheriff shot him first.
Lois realized, right then, that she felt absolutely no sadness that the shot had been true, straight, and fatal.
If Trask had lived, he would have talked.
If he had lived, Lex would have been one of the first to find out the truth.
It was bad enough how things had played out, but if Lex had known the truth . . .
The truth.
How could she have been so blind—and missed so much?
Across the street, as unnoticed as Lois herself, a tall, dark-haired, big-suited man bumbled along the sidewalk, keeping what seemed to be a constant stream of apologies for every set of toes he trod on and every bag or shoulder he bumped, though, of course, none of his apologies were paid any heed as people rushed along.
After a restful night and the early flight in the sun, Clark felt physically as good as he could remember being. The last vestiges of sleepiness had vanished, and there was a slight bounce to his step as he made his way forward. The clouds had finally parted over Metropolis, and the morning sun was breaking through in all its glory through the scattered whiteness against the broad expanse of blue sky. He strode along the way to work, having chosen to walk rather than fly. Sometimes it was great just to get out and walk among them…to just be normal, for a little bit.
Even his guilt for the perfect night and consequential flight was kept firmly at bay after a short list of flawless rescues.
He was going to tell her.
Today.
It didn't matter what happened. Enough had gone between him and Lois. In a moment of weakness he had even let himself kiss her.
What wonderful weakness . . .
But how much more angry, how much more betrayed, was that going to make her feel when it all came down to it?
He clenched his slightly shaking hands and stuffed them into his pockets with firm determination.
Today.
Today . . .
She was going to kill him.
Or worse, she was going to hate him. Distrust him. Push him away. And for good reason.
All for a good reason.
Lois was blameless in this. How could he expect her to see who he was, when he truly did act so differently in his guises? How could he expect her to give Clark Kent the time of day when she had already sacrificed so much for the man that she claimed—and truly so, Clark feared—to love? How could he blame her after she had saved his life and not slowed in her pursuit to help him for all these terrible, dark, lonely weeks?
How could he blame her when he knew it was his fault that she shivered and cried in her sleep, and charged into work so tired yet heedless day after day? When he knew how much his not telling her was going to hurt her?
Why had he waited this long? His father would be ashamed of him. True, Jonathan Kent had been hesitant to think of letting anyone into his secret, but after everything Lois had done for him, no doubt his dad would be disappointed to know that Clark just hadn't been able to speak those three fateful words.
Lois, I'm Superman.
Lois . . .
How could he forgive him for this, after everything she'd done for him?
He may have saved her life time and time again, but she had saved him more completely than from a metal bullet, or from a mortal end.
She had saved him from a life worse than death. She had protected his heart and given him back his humanity when that had all been stripped away, and saved him time and time again since then, every time he saw her face . . .
Could she forgive him, when he finally told her?
Heaven help him.
He stuffed his thoughts in a bag and pushed them deeper into his mind.
It didn't matter. Fear or consequences be cursed to darkness, today he was going to tell her, and he wasn't going to let uncertainty ruin his thus-far perfect morning.
Perhaps luck would smile upon him today.
Not like it had these past few weeks.
Perhaps Lois wouldn't reject him.
Not like she had, time after time, again and again, whenever he—Clark Kent—tried to speak to her..
Perhaps today they would find a lead on Lex Luthor's activities.
Of white rooms, and fear, and death . . .
Perhaps today he would be able to fly home to Smallville and visit his mother and . . .
Not his father.
Clark flinched, bumping against someone else and this time not quite managing an apology. He didn't remember being optimistic ever being so difficult, when every good thought was tainted by memory and fear.
No. He couldn't let it. He couldn't let Trask, Logram, Luthor defeat him, after everything.
He had had enough bad luck. He would be careful. It was his time for fortune's good will, after everything.
Lois wouldn't betray him. He knew that as well as he knew his heart. She may hate him, but perhaps eventually he could win back into her good graces.
He could survive. She'd come back to him.
She had to.
Luthor had crossed the line in sending his thugs after Lois. The fiery woman-reporter had the right idea—it was time to end this, before Luthor could do any more hurt to the world.
His father wouldn't want him to falter at every thought of his memory. His father would want him to be happy, for his memory to guide him . . . Memories of laughter, and comfortable work side-by-side, and by companionship and that wonderful feeling of belonging.
A slow, cautious smile grew on Clark's face, and it grew on itself until he caught a man's passing glare at his grin, and he lifted his hand and gave him a cheerful wave.
"M-morning," he said.
The man looked at him disgustedly (he probably hadn't had his morning coffee yet, Clark reasoned sympathetically), and pushed by. Clark apologized as he bumped against him and continued forward, beginning to whistle softly to himself and ignoring the annoyed stares he received from the early birds around him.
City people were so funny sometimes . . .
But wait…
He looked up. He could hear her heart beating, not too far away.
Lois. Walking. Just walking, though quite a bit slower than her usual rushed pace, and she looked pensive. Just walking, and she already took his breath away.
He remembered to breathe, and lifted a hand to wave at her. "Hi Lois!" he called, hoping she would hear him from across the crowded street, and hoping even more that she wouldn't still have that betrayed anger in her eyes from the last time he had talked to her as Clark.
Lois felt her heart wrench at the sound of his voice. She looked up sharply, almost running face-on into a man pushing his way past her.
It didn't take long for her to find him. He was tall, waving enthusiastically in a way that nobody did these days, and was grinning—almost that perfect, unreserved grin that she remembered from before the white room.
Superman. Standing in a crowd dressed in a three-piece work suit and waving like a complete, geeky, farm boy bumpkin.
It was insane.
She looked at him, and after a brief hesitation actually waved back, and couldn't help but flash him a grin of her own.
It was wonderful to see him. And she wouldn't have to take her eyes off of him all day . . . .
She could afford to be selfish and enjoy it, knowing that she was close to him. After all of his secrecy, she deserved at least that.
"Hi Clark!" Kal-El, Superman. Good morning to all three of them.
Clark blinked, startled by the very merry reception from Lois Lane, who was famed for her lack of pleasantries in the morning. A smile worked its way back onto his face.
She was smiling—probably an aftereffect of her very unusual night, Clark thought, though he didn't feel the usual slight bitterness or grumbling when Superman made Lois happy where he, Clark Kent, couldn't.
It was just being with her that made both sides of him happy. Why should he begrudge that Superman made her happy in turn?
And maybe, because of that, she wouldn't be able to turn him away so easily, though that thought came with no little guilt.
This was worse than politics, when a passed bill could pass a hundred piggy-backing statements at the same time.
How disappointing would the trailing details of Clark Kent drag on Lois, once she found out?
Clark grimaced. He didn't want to think about that. Not right now. Some things, he had learned, just shouldn't be thought about unless you wanted to be dragged far into memory and fear and doubt.
Clark started across the street towards her, dodging around cars cram-packed in the rush-hour traffic of grumpy Metropolians on their way to work. He couldn't take his eyes from her, even for a second.
There was a loud curse, and brakes screeched on still-damp pavement.
Lois felt her heart jolt, her mind freeze. Clark blinked in the middle of the road, feeling the air as the taxi swerved right towards him.
He didn't take time to think, but just moved. Even as it was, he brushed against the bumper as he jumped out of the way, leaving a very permanent dent as the car bumped to a stop.
Clark blinked at the man in the car, down at the dent on the bumper, forcing himself not to go pale.
Darn.
Not just darn. Had anyone seen him? He didn't know, and couldn't stand there as he looked around quickly. Instead, he focused on the other side of the street—on Lois. He had to get out of there.
What Lois Lane could do to Superman. Slow him down enough so that he was no longer faster than a speeding bullet—but slower than a braking taxi.
Clark grimaced and hurried across the rest of the street, ignoring the honks and curse words that followed his crossing.
Lois had frozen rod-stiff. She paused for a moment, blinking at where Clark had stood for a moment, before he had seemingly appeared about two feet to the side.
She looked at him as he strode towards her with yet another nerdy wave, his smile still bravely there, but shaky enough that it looked held there by a very delicate thread.
A bit distracted today, Superman?
Careless, that was what. He should be more careful.
Idiot man.
But the way he had moved. He had been just there, and then . . . somewhere else.
It was one thing for her to realize that her very normal work partner was a superhero. It was quite another to see it with her own eyes.
What would have she thought, if she hadn't figured it out the night before? Would she just have thought it some fault in her vision, or blame it on her apparent insanity once again?
Had anyone else seen him? a sudden panicked, frantic voice demanded. Lois looked around quickly, but no one seemed to have noticed—not even the taxi driver, who looked irate and red in the face from cursing, but hadn't gotten out of his car—content as long the tall, bumbling idiot had been lucky enough not to get dragged right under his wheels.
But what if someone had seen him?
Clark was still coming. Lois swallowed.
Natural. Look natural. Normal.
Normal. What would she say to Clark? What would she say if he wasn't Superman, and had just risked his safety because of a moment's carelessness? If he wasn't the man she was in love with, and who she had parted with only a few hours earlier?
Normal. Normal normal normal.
Right.
" Clark," Lois called dryly. "Ever heard of crosswalks?" Good. That was normal.
"Yeah," Clark stuttered. "B-but, you know, I mean—"
Stuttering. He was pale, and he glanced back across the busy street and tugged at his tie a bit. No doubt he knew very well the risk he had just taken.
He needed to be more careful.
It didn't look like anyone was watching—it didn't look like anyone had noticed.
But someone could have!
Righteous, protective anger. That was a normal emotion, a normal tone to use towards her partner.
Her partner. Superman.
Clark. She should be ranting at him, lecturing him about crossing the street . . .
Lecturing Superman about the dangers of crossing the street. Right.
"Do you have any idea how stupid that was?"
Kal-El, do you realize how stupid that was?
Clark , you've been hiding all this time. Haven't you learned to be more careful?
Lex, Logram, Trask, the Primaries . . . Who knew who was watching?
But he had been busy coming to her. Busy watching her. He hadn't even noticed the car before it was too late.
Lois felt a little bird fluttering in her chest at that, but she shushed it, though not too firmly.
It was just like the time he had been lured in to the kryptonite. He had been too focused on her.
Too focused on her. He had been careless. He needed to be careful.
That was going to be one of the first things they talked about, Lois decided, adding it to a list that had been growing steadily since quite early that morning.
"Uh, y-yeah," he said, beginning to walk forward so she had to step quickly to catch up with his long strides. He glanced back briefly towards the traffic-congested street, then ducked his head and moved forward, mumbling apologies as he went.
He did realize, Lois realized with a sick jolt. He knew exactly what had just happened, and it terrified him. He didn't need her attacking him on the point—not now, at least.
So she could forgive him, for now, and rant about it to him later.
"Good," Lois said, not letting her voice get too soft. She took a deep breath, taking a step to come beside him as his he slowed his steps as the place of his accident fell behind them. Her voice grew firm. "Listen, Clark. I'm sorry about Saturday night, but you have to admit you had it coming."
Clark winced, not looking at her, and his dark hair fell over to partially obscure his eyes. She wanted to reach over and push it away for him—Kal-El didn't seem to like it when his hair fell into his eyes . . . But then, that might just be the Superman image he had to keep up.
Was it? How did he really like his hair?
For some reason the question bothered her, and she moved it near the top of her list of questions, ridiculous as it seemed.
"I . . . Y-you're right," he said, then paused, grimacing slightly as Lois could tell from the small angle of his face as he looked back the way they had come again . . . Watching the taxi that had bumped against him back there, perhaps? He surely could still see that far—he was Superman after all . . . He sighed, reached up to push his glasses up on his nose, and straightened, almost squaring his shoulders as he looked at her with those perfect dark eyes of his. "I am sorry, Lois," he said carefully, meeting her eyes.
The way he said it gave her a warm thrill, as if he had just barely decided to tell her who he was, but without words. That was a stronger voice—there was no stutter, no wobble of nervousness, though it was clear that he had taken some special care to make sure there hadn't been.
Why?
What was he doing, and why? He had been stuttering terribly just last Saturday, the last time she had seen him as Clark
She walked through the revolving doors, with Clark close on her heels and apologizing softly as he pressed too close to her in the small space.
That was so intentional, Krypton, she thought wryly as they came out of the confined space and into the lobby.
"I—I mean, when I realized I still had your keys . . . " Clark continued.
Don't remind me, Lois thought with a spike of hot fury.
He had better have a good excuse, or Kal-El or no, he was going to get the lecture of his life. Running off for a rescue was one thing, but taking the keys and leaving her abandoned for hours without transportation was quite another.
"So . . . I—I'm sorry," he repeated, catching a glance of the less-pleasant expression that had come over her face.
"Don't apologize," she said, a bit more sharply than she had intended as they walked into the shadow of The Daily Planet. Clark flinched the slightest bit, but his expression didn't change but for a slight flicker in his eyes, followed by determination. It actually made Lois feel better. He really couldn't let everything get to him, she realized, and he certainly internalized far too much. All of her observations of Clark Kent had certainly not been wrong—he took everything far too personally. But then again, Superman had too, he just hadn't shown it as much.
It looked like some of Superman's strength was being drawn into Mr. Smallville. That was just fine with Lois.
Just take care of yourself.
Lois took a deep breath. "You said you have an explanation this time, and I'm going to hear it today at lunch, so you'd better not run off again."
And if he did have to run off, she'd wait. And she'd keep waiting until he came back.
Today.
There had been enough hiding.
There would be no more running away.
She reached forward to push the elevator button, but then realized that Clark had stopped a couple steps behind her, and had an all-to-familiar, nervous look on his face.
"Uh . . . L-lois? I, uh, think I dropped my, uh, wallet . . . "
Despite herself, Lois was intrigued. So that was it. He had heard something, or seen something . . . or was it more of a feeling? And that was what that expression meant, and all of those lame excuses . . .
He really was a rotten liar.
She could see right through him.
"Okay, Clark," she said. The elevator opened and she waited until the first rush of people had entered before backing in. "I hope you find it," she added after him.
But Clark had already turned around and was moving back towards the revolving doors, his hand tugging at his tie.
Then she couldn't see him any more, and the doors shut.
Somewhere close by, Lois was sure Superman had just shot into the sky. She wondered if he was careful not to make a sonic boom, or if he had been in too much of a hurry to worry about that.
Clark Kent.
Where'd he keep the Suit? Did he wear it under his work suit? What about his cape? His boots?
Strange.
She stepped out of the elevator and headed towards her desk. Not two more steps in the right direction, however, and Perry's voice boomed across the bullpen.
Sometimes Lois wondered if Perry had a hookup of cameras watching the whole room, or if he was simply omniscient. He certainly seemed to see far too many things from that little office of his.
"LANE! IN MY OFFICE!"
"Coming, chief."
She stopped by her desk, dumping off a folder and her purse.
"LANE!"
"Coming!" Lois reiterated, keeping one thin folder as she followed the voice of her editor obediently.
"All right, Lane," Perry said firmly, somehow managing to stare her down from his seated position at his desk. "Where in blazes have you been? Have you seen Kent? I called you both a hundred times yesterday, and half thought maybe some other wackos came and dragged you off, seeing as Superman's back, and everyone's scrambling over each other looking for him—" He cut off as Lois dropped a folder on his desk. He eyed it suspiciously for a moment, then picked it up, giving her a narrow-eyed look. "What's this?"
"See for yourself," Lois said, unable to keep the smug note out of her voice. It was a good article, even if Clark had been the one to give it to her. I mean, they'd worked together on articles before, even Superman ones. This was no different, and it was good. Perry opened it and his expression turned positively gleeful despite his attempt at a firm exterior.
"Lois, honey, where'd you get this?"
From Clark Kent, rookie reporter extraordinaire.
Way extraordinaire.
"From Superman. Where else would I get it?" Lois replied. Perry frowned at her, and she rolled her eyes. "Do you need the details, Perry? He just came to my apartment last night and gave me an interview, that's all."
Perry's eyes narrowed at that.
That was all, really.
"Hm," was all he said, and he sat back, taking the article in hand. "Well, then. I'll have this out to you to edit up in a couple. As for this Boss article of yours, I want you off it and on Superman, Lois."
Oh, no he doesn't.
"Take me off this story and I quit," Lois said. "Bureau 39 and the Boss are about Superman, chief. He's working on it with . . . with me and Clark."
He might not have specifically said so, but it was true.
After all, Clark was her partner it had been hisnotes—Superman's notes—on Luthor that had tipped Lois off.
No wonder he had known all those details about the accidents, and about Lex. It all made so much sense, now.
"Where is he?"
Lois blinked, brought out of her milling thoughts that hadn't stilled since she had set her feet back down on the ground early that morning. "Superman?"
Perry's brow lowered at that, and his voice was sarcastic. "Well, I'd love to know that too, if you know how to find him. But I was talking about Kent. Your partner. Heard of him?"
Oh. "He just dropped something on his way here, chief. He'll be right back."
Perry gave her another close look. "Well, then. What about this article of yours, then. What have you got?"
Lois grew serious. "We know who the Boss is."
Perry's eyebrows shot up. "Really," he said, leaning forward. "Well, it's about time. Where's the article?"
"Not written yet," Lois admitted. "We don't have enough evidence to back everything up, but it's out there, chief. We just have to find it."
"Well, editorials don't make front page papers, and I don't do libel—not in my paper," Perry said. "So who is this crime lord of ours?"
This Lois wanted to say with all smugness, but she couldn't.
" Clark figured it out," she said. "I think he should be the one to tell you."
Perry looked honestly, completely surprised at that. It made Lois feel slightly perturbed.
"O-kay," he said slowly, staring at her. "Well, you get on that, then. But I want to see something—hard proof, and an award-winning article. Are you following me?"
"Got it," Lois said.
"Then get to it," Perry dismissed her, turning back to her article that she had spat out at six-thirty that morning.
But before she even got to the door, Perry spoke again from where he was scanning over Lois's article.
"This is a nice article, Lois, but the readers want to know more. You don't say where he's been—and that's the number one question on everyone's mind."
Lois looked back at him. "Page 3," she said. "He said he was gone for personal reasons, and just asks for the public to respect his trustworthiness by what his actions already."
Perry wasn't looking at the article anymore, but his eyes seemed to bore right through hers before he nodded and looked back down to the article without a word.
Lois made her way out of the office, feeling distinctly like Perry was thinking about more than he should know or even guess.
Two minutes later she had logged onto her computer, opened up the internet, and was browsing through a very familiar web page, with Superman's perfect face— Clark's perfect face—plastered boldly in the background for half the world to admire and swoon over.
A farm boy from Smallville.
It made Lois want to burst out into ridiculous, insane laughter. Somehow, she managed to hold it in.
There was no record of a recent rescue, but if Superman had had to go far or someplace more rural it may take days for it to recorded on if ever.
Jimmy brought her the newly-edited copy of the story on Superman and Lois got to work, and though the subject was certainly interesting to her, she couldn't help but let her mind wander to what Superman was doing right now.
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The smoke was oily and black, and the taste of it was thick as tar in Superman's lungs as he darted away from the fire he had blown out of the tipped and now black-charred hull of the semi. He hadn't gotten to it before it had blown, though, and now scattered twists of searing metal were scattered over the four-lane highway, mixing with the shattered glass and twisted hulls of the surrounding graveyard of cars.
Emergency workers swarmed over the area, trying to get the injured out and taken away. The danger of fire was over, now that Superman had come on the scene. The urgency was still there, but having Superman there made the scene a little less chaotic. A little less hopeless. A little less terrible, despite the destruction of the scene.
"Superman, over here!"
He flew over to the next cry in a moment, landing beside the rescue workers who were standing around a car that was bent around the front of the semi and rolled onto its back, lying halfway off the black-streaked asphalt.
A child was screaming inside. A man's arm was reaching through the broken window near the light, and a quick x-ray showed that he was crushed against the smashed-in dashboard, but amazingly still conscious as blood dripped from his crown.
Clark felt ill. Frozen. The child's terrified screams ripped like rusted metal through his brain.
But Superman was in charge, and for the hundredth—even thousandth—time since his return he pushed everything aide, knowing that hesitation could cost a life. He didn't pause, and didn't need to be told what to do. He flew over, ripped the back door off its hinges and threw it aside before darting in, pressing a hand against the crushed roof to give himself some room to hover down and lift the toddler from his car seat. He was shaken, still screaming.
The child cried and stared at him, terrified, but Clark didn't have time to try and calm him. He lifted the boy, murmuring softly to him as he eased him from the shattered confines of the car.
"Mummy. Mummeeee!" the boy cried. Clark's heart ached.
He handed him off carefully to an ambulance worker and darted back to the car, and yanked off the door to get to the man on the passenger side.
"It's all right. Everything's going to be all right," Superman said, placing his hand on the dashboard and pushing it away from the man's chest. The metal moved with a groan, and, ridiculously, the man struggled to stand, clearly in shock.
"R-ryan." Superman took the man in hand, lifting him carefully for fear that he might hurt himself. There was some strain in the man's back, and he didn't want him to make it worse.
"H-he's all right," Superman said. He eased his arms around the man carefully, doing his best to avoid the bruisings as he prepared to lift out of the wreckage. "He's right over here."
And in a second they were there as well, and Clark eased the man down onto a gurney, but the man suddenly tensed and some horrible lucidity appeared in his eyes.
"No," the man gasped. "My wife! My wife!"
The rescuers had gotten to the car, and after Superman's work had been able to extract the body of the dark-haired woman who had been crushed clean-on by the semi.
"Marie!" The man swore desperately, fighting against Clark's arms. "No! Marie!"
Clark should have tried to get him to calm down. He was hurt, in shock, but he himself had frozen at the sight of the delicate woman's broken body, now laid out on a gurney as the rescuers grimly prepared to cover her face.
Her dark hair sprawled around her.
Lois.
He didn't know if he let the injured man down, or if he was simply able to escape the superhero's frozen hold.
The woman's husband half-fell to her side, his own blood dripping onto her pale face as he leaned over, grasping at her pale, limp hand. "No. Nonononono!"
There is something terrible in that broken cry of a man who has lost his life, his love. Clark knew the fear of it, and this was that fear actualized. He was petrified by it, frozen. White walls were nothing before this raw, pure, helpless pain.
It cut him so deep. He couldn't breathe, but just stared at the couple. Stared at the spilt blood. Stared.
Felt a prick of white terror in his suddenly frozen heart.
He needed to take care of the man. He needed medical attention, and there were others that needed his help.
But the woman was dead. And there was no helping that.
Lois.
Blood, ash, fear, screams. He'd seen enough of it, just in these last few minutes. These past days, weeks, months . . .
Superman, help!
"Superman."
It was Henderson. Clark was distantly aware of the ash-streaked officer coming up beside him, but he didn't move.
Henderson swore, then actually stepped forward and took the hero by his shoulders. "Listen, kidI know it's rough, but you've got to pull yourself together. People are watching."
Clark's haunted eyes went to the officer's slowly and he blinked, coming out of his panicked terror and stepping back and away from his touch. He shook his head, bringing a hand over his eyes.
"I—I couldn't . . . s-she's . . . "
"You can't save everyone," Henderson said, glancing around. Again risking breaking the hero's famed distance, he took Superman by the arm and pulled him aside, speaking low. "I don't know what happened to you, or where you've been, and if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. But these people need you now. We need you."
And that was it. They needed him. Their need was greater than even his own fear, his own memories.
Clark took a deep breath, again pulling away as he nodded. He didn't say anything else, but just took to the air as another call for help caught his ear from across the highway, and he busied himself pulling out another bloodied and injured passenger from one of the cars, letting their blood get on his pale hands as he worked quickly.
He was Superman. He couldn't save everyone, but the least he could do was try.
-----------------------------------------------
Clark stepped out of the elevator. He was adjusting his tie slowly, and his step noticeably lacked the usual bounce as he eased his way down the stairs. In fact, his eyes were shadowed, and as he caught her gaze with his own his expression eased only the slightest bit.
Lois stopped herself from standing and going immediately to his side. Instead, she looked at the newly-refreshed webpage in front of her.
Superman Seen at Car Accident Scene
And beneath that,
Nine saved. One in critical condition. One dead.
One dead.
But it couldn't be a rare thing, surely. Superman couldn't be expected to save everyone, and according to the short summary, the woman killed had been dead before he even arrived on the scene.
But knowing Kal-El—knowing Clark—this must rip him apart
How did he keep doing it? Why?
The questions demanded answers more than ever in her mind. Superman existed to help others, but Clark was a man. He could live quite happily, and still a very good life just as he was.
But he wasn't content with that.
But knowing he was Clark Kent also helped answer part of that question. Of course. The optimistic Boy Scout would never pass an opportunity to help someone out, no matter what the consequences to himself.
What horrors had he faced? How did he stay so innocent, so positive, so annoyingly cheerful?
How often did he have to hide this grief and horror, after another terrible accident scene?
Lois swallowed. "Did you find it?" she asked.
"Huh?" Clark sounded preoccupied as he folded his jacket over the back of his chair. "Oh. Uh, yeah."
Did he really expect her to believe he'd spent the last half an hour searching for his wallet? But she had believed such things before.
She stared at him. She wanted to ask him what had happened, if he was all right, and give him a big hug and not even talk, if he didn't want to. Just for him to know that she was there for him.
But not yet. He needed to tell her. Somehow, she knew he needed to.
But she couldn't just let him suffer there, without doing anything!
She swiveled in her chair. "Guess what, Clark."
"Hm?"
Lois leaned forward, intent on catching his attention. "Superman has saved over five hundred lives since he came back on Saturday. Can you believe that?"
"T-that's nice, Lois."
He sounded tired, distant. And he had been so sincerely happy this morning!
"Come here and see," she insisted, not willing to give up so easily. "Come on!"
He sighed and stood from his chair, which groaned slightly as he left it. He came and stood over her shoulder as he turned back to the webpage. She watched his expression as his shadowed eyes landed on the screen, catching his full attention with the full-bodied shot of himself that filled the background. His eyes widened slightly, and if there wasn't a faint blush rising in his cheeks, Lois was a blind woman.
"See?" she said, pointing needlessly to the bold box near the top of the screen.
Rescues (For the last 24 hours):
342 reported and catalogued.
Lives saved: approximately 317.
And beneath that was a new box:
Lives Saved Since Superman's Return:
Approximately 546.
Total Life Count since Superman's Arrival in Metropolis:
Approximately 17,984
"Can you imagine?" Lois said, watching his eyes hover over the numbers. "Just look at how much he's done, Clark. Seventeen thousand, nine-hundred and eighty-four lives. Seventeen thousand, nine-hundred and eighty-four moms, dads, sons, daughters." She paused, then frowned slightly at a sudden thought. "I wonder if they only count each person once." If they didn't, Lois wondered how many of those 'saved lives' were hers.
She'd lost track a few times ago.
Clark didn't answer, but straightened, still staring at the screen.
"They actually keep track?"
Lois shrugged. "I guess. I mean, it's hard to tell if someone was surely going to die, sometimes, but they do as best as they can."
Clark's eyes wandered over the screen, dwelling on the listed articles, the links, and finally landing on the picture of Superman. Himself. An eyebrow lifted slightly, as if in a shadow of incredulity.
"Who in the world is in charge of this?"
Lois shrugged. "Just people. It shows how much of a difference he really makes, and how much people care, you know? I mean, look at this." She clicked on the forum link. "Over two million members strong, Clark, from all over the world, and they all are completely . . . "
"Obsessed," Clark finished for her, staring at a new photoshopped picture of Superman across the header of the forum page, now standing with his arms folded and looking off intently at some unseen target with a background of clearly artistically created galaxies. "What in the world is the 'Man-Meat Thread'?"
Lois jumped and quickly exited out of the window and turned her seat to face him. "Nothing," she said quickly, flushing bright.
Clark decided it was safer just not to know. He could imagine well enough, and he felt his cheeks burning.
Lois cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the burning in her own cheeks and hoping that Clark wouldn't let his curiosity lead him to that particular thread. He'd, quite simply, die of embarrassment, and probably would never step out of doors again for the rest of his life.
At least he wasn't looking so down anymore. Her plan had apparently worked.
"So," she said, her voice slightly higher than normal, but that was not to be helped. "What's the plan?"
Clark blinked at her. "S-sorry?"
Now really, Lois thought, feeling slightly upset. Surely it wasn't that surprising. She wasn't that controlling and unlistening!
Surely, she defended herself weakly.
"To bang the big boss," Lois said. "What do you think? What's the plan?"
Clark shifted, and took his time answering. He knew what he thought was best, but he was hesitant—especially because he, Clark Kent, really shouldn't know too much about Logram, except for the bare facts that Lois had put in the paper.
Lois was patient, and waited for him.
"This L-logram person," he said, hiding a shudder. He hadn't spoken that name out loud since . . . He mentally shook himself. Lois was right there. He didn't need to get caught up in memories. "It sounded like he was kind of . . . important. Have you . . . been able to talk to his wife?"
That name. He shouldn't be saying that name. He shouldn't have to even think that name. It haunted Lois, gave her chills, made her blood go cold. She didn't like him to say it.
Him. But he was right there. She could reach out and touch him, if she wanted. She could see him. He was right there. Real.
"I tried," she said seriously. There could be no joking, not when Logram was concerned. "But she wouldn't tell me anything."
"I—I . . . thought she might know something," Clark said.
"Like, his work address, maybe?" Lois said wryly.
"Or what he was t-trying to do, or if she knew about any visitors he might have had before."
"Any connections to Lex Luthor, you mean," Lois nodded.
"R-right," Clark said. "You said that Henderson said she didn't know anything, but she could be . . . "
". . . trying to protect him? Certainly. The woman nearly took my head off when I tried to talk to her."
Clark looked at that, his eyebrows raised. "Oh, no. What did you do this time?"
"Me?" Lois clarified needlessly. "Absolutely nothing."
A crooked, shy grin grew at the side of his mouth, almost as if it was asking her permission before appearing. "S-somehow I doubt that."
It was amazing, Lois marveled as they rode down the elevator. It was amazing how easy it really was to relax around him, and to get him to relax in turn.
She had realized how hard it was to keep Clark Kent's crush at bay, but until now she never realized how hard it had been for her to keep from relaxing around him.
How often had she needed to start the chant of Mad-Dog Lane to keep from being too easy on the guy?
On Superman.
It was time to get some things in the open air.
The walk to the car was nice, though still a bit too crowded on the sidewalk for good conversation. Clark had eased up slightly once again, though now and again he would look at her with that hesitation, that guilt.
Soon that would be gone too.
Clark was once again taken aback when Lois tossed him her car keys, though it had taken her quite a long internal debate to decide it was the best thing to do.
After all, he might be Superman, but he—Clark Kent—had almost crashed the other day in the rental car (never mind about her part of the near-accident), and she had seen what he had done to that taxi earlier that morning—the bumper would never be the same.
She had to face it—she had seen Superman throw cars, lift cars, catch cars, rip car doors from their hinges, get hit by cars, and crush cars. She could remember few times she had actually seen him—that is, Clark (it was ridiculous to try and picture Superman driving)—drive, and though those times didn't necessarily have a bad memory to go with them, it was one of the greatest moves of trust she had ever made to hand over her car keys.
Maybe she was being overdramatic, but there you are.
She pulled out the directions, settled back in the passenger seat, and started directing Clark towards the northeast suburbia of Metropolis.
TBC . . .
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