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Chapter 6: Worry
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The sight of Clark returning to the newsroom with the tiny hint of a smile where despair had previously rested and his hand intertwined with Lois's had eased some of Perry's worry and made him think that maybe they could get through this latest mess.
The sight of his son shuffling toward him in a prison uniform with a dozen guards standing in the vicinity instantly reawakened all of Perry's earlier worry and doused his hope.
His son was in prison.
Perry could remember the way Jerry had felt in his arms, wrapped in blue blankets, his tiny eyes blinking against the hospital light. He remembered carrying him on his shoulders and tickling his rounded stomach, delighting in the sound of Jerry's childish laughter. He remembered shaking Jerry's hand and pulling him into an awkward hug the day he had graduated high school. A hundred memories--a thousand moments--all flashed through Perry's mind as Jerry sat down on the other side of the partition.
"Hi, Jerry," Clark said after a moment, darting a quick glance to his editor.
Perry wanted to speak, but he couldn't. How did he apologize for a lifetime of neglect and rushed love? How did he explain why a newspaper had been more important than the life he had been responsible for?
How did he ignore the sense of betrayal that choked him? How did he ask his son why he had done this to him?
"Hey, Clark." Jerry flashed his patented 'charmer' grin at the reporter, but his gaze instantly returned to his father. "Dad," he said cautiously. "You doin' okay?"
How was he supposed to answer that? Perry wondered. He wanted to snap that he had been doing much better before his own son had lied to him, manipulated him, and betrayed him. And yet...it was partly Perry's own fault. And he wasn't even the one who had been hurt the most. Superman was the one who was having to live with the consequences of Jerry's actions.
"I'm, uh, I'm fine," he said belatedly. "How're you doin', son?"
"Better this time around than the last." Jerry made sure to meet Perry's gaze, and the editor felt the hardness encasing his heart melt a bit at the subtle assurance that he was keeping his promise to turn over a new leaf. "And I may not end up being in here that long, not if Superman really does put in a good word for me. The judges really put a lot of stock in his input."
Carefully, Perry kept his gaze straight ahead. "Do you think Superman would really be willing to do that for you?" he asked quietly. "You did target him specifically, after all. Not everyone takes kindly to that."
Jerry flinched and looked down at his hands. "Well, Clark said--"
"I've talked to Superman," Clark interrupted, "and he promised he would speak on your behalf."
Perry felt a hint of his worry fade. He looked over at the young reporter and really took in his appearance. Clark's eyes were shadowed behind his glasses, and his hands were carefully tucked in his lap, but his shoulders were straight and he met Jerry's gaze head-on. A spark of admiration fluttered through Perry, and he had to tighten his own hands over the table between him and Jerry to keep himself from clapping Clark on the shoulder. How ironic that his own son had disappointed him while the man who didn't share even a hint of common blood with him made him feel as proud as if he *were* his father.
"Really?" Jerry gave Clark a hopeful smile. "I mean, I'd understand if he didn't. Like Dad said, I did target him. Some guys might hold a grudge."
Clark shrugged. "It's over and done with. You realized you were wrong. In the end, you did what was right. That's enough."
"Well, thanks, Clark. I'm glad you're not mad at me too. I know Superman's a friend of yours."
"Clark and Superman both have a forgiving spirit," Perry interjected before Clark had to come up with a reply. "And I'm glad. Son, I...I know some of the blame for what you did is mine to claim. And, well, I wouldn't feel right without admitting that I've made plenty of mistakes. I just want you to know that...well, that I'm on your side. If you need anything, you just let me know, all right?"
"Thanks, Dad." Jerry cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. "How did Mom take the news?"
Clark leaned back in his seat and tried to pretend he wasn't there. Perry appreciated the gesture. It was a private conversation, but he didn't know that he wanted to face it alone. It was nice to have someone else to lean on, someone he could trust. After the last year and a half, Perry was beginning to realize just how rare it was to find someone trustworthy--first the Churches, then Truman Black, and now his own son. But Clark...Perry knew he could trust Clark.
"Well, she was...all right. Not jumpin' up and down for joy, you understand, but...she'll get through it. We all will."
"Yeah." Jerry shifted and looked behind him as two or three guards gathered by the doorway leading farther into the prison, their hushed whispering covered by the echoing sounds of the dozen conversations transpiring all around them.
"What the samhill is going on here?" Disturbed by the obvious worry of the officers, Perry shifted and stole a glance at Clark, who had his head cocked as if listening to something.
"They've all been pretty nervous today," Jerry observed with a shrug. "The rumor is that one of the prisoners was found dead."
"Dead?" Perry blinked, then leaned toward his son, the old newshound in him unable to give up such a juicy tidbit. "Suicide?"
"Not from what I heard. One of the inmates claims he saw Emmett's cell door--it was twisted and malformed, as if someone had grabbed hold of it and bent it to pull it from the lock."
"You believe this man?"
Jerry chuckled. "Dad, this is jail. Nobody's exactly what you'd call...reliable. However...he is in the cell next to Emmett, so barring a bit of exaggeration, I'd say he's in a position to know more than anyone else."
"Emmett?" Clark asked, leaning forward with caged intensity. Perry looked on in admiration, reminded of why Clark was one of his two top reporters. "Emmett who?"
A frown crossed Jerry's dark features, and the slant of his brows reminded Perry of Alice when she got to worrying over a problem. "Hmm. Let me see...it started with the letter V. I'll ask around and see, but I don't remember it right offhand. He was a scientist, that much I know--always going around prating about how he was smarter than ten of us put together. If this rumor's true, though, I'd say it didn't do him much good."
"Would you mind letting me know if you hear anything else?" Clark paused, that habitual embarrassment giving him an apologetic expression. "Sorry. I didn't mean to--"
"Don't worry about it," Perry assured him. "Trust me, if Jerry was having as hard a time as me tryin' to think of something to say, we're both grateful for the topic."
A slight laugh escaped Jerry. "Nothing like being blunt, huh, Dad?"
"It's better than beatin' around the old bush," he said, refusing to apologize.
"No, I like it," Jerry hurriedly reassured him, prompting a slither of uneasiness in Perry. He had at first been gratified and pleased by Jerry's anxiousness to please...until it had turned out that it was only his way of deflecting suspicion. Now, the return of the charmer ways made the editor wonder what his son had up his sleeve.
And Perry hated that suspicion. He hated the lack of trust. He hated the entire situation.
"Well, uh..." Perry wasn't quite sure how to make a graceful exit. He had thought that seeing Jerry would bring him some measure of peace, some closure in the knowledge that his son was paying for his crime. Yet Jerry had already been here and done that; now he was doing it all over again. Would this be the cycle forever? A couple years in prison followed by a couple weeks of freedom? With his blood pressure just barely regulated, Perry wasn't sure he could survive another go-around.
"Look, Dad, before you go, I just wanted to say..." Jerry swallowed and looked down at his clasped hands. "I'm sorry."
Shame suffused Perry, overwhelming his remaining anxiety. "Son, you already said that. Now, take my advice--do your time and move on."
"Yeah." Jerry's shoulders slumped, as if in disappointment. What did he expect? Perry had accepted his apology, hadn't he? He had come and visited him, hadn't he? What more was he supposed to do? And why did it feel as if the burden were on his own shoulders rather than Jerry's?
"Look, I'll come and visit soon, maybe in a coupl'a days?"
"All right. Thanks, Dad. Bye, Clark."
"Good night, Jerry." Clark offered him a smile--small, but all his smiles had been small since the incident with the red Kryptonite. "Thanks for the information."
"Hey, no prob. It might do me good to see what my old man does for a living."
"Old man, huh?" Perry smiled to cover the pain in his heart. "I'm not that old yet, *kid*."
A genuine smile made Jerry seem suddenly years younger. It was a good last note to go out on, Perry thought, and took advantage of the moment to turn and leave. Any longer and he feared he might just start crying--and that wouldn't do his reputation any good. He'd be lucky if anyone took him seriously at all considering how easily he'd been conned; the last thing he needed was to give the rumor-mongers something else to gossip about.
Clark was silent as they checked out of the prison, leaving the editor alone with his thoughts. Perry took a deep breath as soon as they emerged into the open air, evening-dark, chilly, and free. It stilled him for a moment, thinking about the way he was allowed to leave while Jerry was forbidden to cross the door's threshold. What would it be like to be so constrained? How it would feel to be forbidden to do what was natural? How much did the rejection of society--even knowing it was your own fault--hurt?
Surreptitiously, Perry cast a sidelong look at Clark.
Superman had been forbidden to help in any situation after the second or third catastrophe. He had been warned not to use his powers. He had been threatened with what amounted to banishment from the city he had adopted as his own. In essence, he had been rejected by the people he loved when they should have been offering him help and support. If anyone knew what it felt like to be constrained, forbidden, and rejected, it was Superman.
And it hadn't been Superman's fault at all. It hadn't been any crime he had done. Instead, it had been because he was always trying to help, always ready to give more of himself, always prepared and able to stop the criminals from doing whatever it was they planned on doing.
Jerry had targeted Superman. Perry's own son had attacked the beacon of hope and light.
He had thought that before, but he didn't think he had yet comprehended it. How did he reconcile that fact with the memories of his precious son?
It was a two-sided coin that had been threatening to drive Perry insane for the past day and a half, ever since he had seen Jerry open that briefcase and expose the red glow Perry knew from intimate experience. He had been the one, after all, to hear Bill Church Jr. freely admit to using it repeatedly on the Man of Steel. Bitterly, Perry wondered if he was fated to be hoodwinked by every criminal who ever got his hands on the rotten stuff.
"Chief, can I ask you something?" Clark's question was so sudden--and unexpected--that Perry started, then tried to cover it by clearing his throat.
"Uh, sure. Is everything all right?" He hesitated before cautiously adding, "You've seemed a little down all day. You're not still sick, are you?" Perry studied the younger man, searching for any sign of strain or discomfort.
"I'm fine" The answer was so automatic that Perry knew Clark must never even think before saying it to anyone who asked after him. The explanation for that could be the obvious, considering who he was, or it could just have been a mark of the selflessness of his character. Perry had never known anyone as caring and compassionate as Clark. Those two traits--along with a healthy dose of patience--had to have been exceptional, Perry thought wryly, or Lois might never have noticed him as anything more than a colleague.
"Chief, I know you're like a father to Lois, and I...well, what would you do if someone hurt her? Accidentally," he added hastily, a very vulnerable look reshaping his features.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, Perry's mind raced furiously. He had to be very careful here if he didn't want to give the whole game away. "And, uh, just how accidental are we talking? Hypothetically."
"Well..." Clark took a deep, shuddering breath, and Perry was suddenly very glad for the cloaking darkness. "What if...she got bruised? Because...something distracted...the someone...and he...held onto her arm too...tightly."
"Uh-huh. Well, Clark, I think my reaction would depend on what Lois had to say about it. Seein' as how it was an accident and all."
"Oh." Clark kept silent for a few more steps, then blurted, "What if...she shrugged it off and said it didn't matter. But it still hurt her. I mean, the bruise is still there. So...wouldn't that...wouldn't that still matter to *you*?"
Perry came to a halt and turned to face Clark full-on. "Son, you know how much I love Lois. I hate to see her in trouble, though Elvis knows I should be used to it by now. But I have to say that...well, if I understand the situation...it was an accident."
Clark's brief look of panic quickly faded before his desperate guilt and impassioned earnestness. "But she was hurt! *I* hurt her! Doesn't that...I mean, doesn't that qualify as abuse? Abuse of power--or strength, I mean--if nothing else? Hypothetically speaking, of course." He glanced away, clearly struggling for control.
Pursing his lips, Perry reached out and took Clark by the shoulders, consciously registering the feel of the muscles hiding beneath the coat. "Clark. You can't blame yourself. Like I said, it was an accident. I mean, Elvis certainly made mistakes in his life--but he learned from them and he moved on. And he didn't take them all to the Colonel. So, what I'm goin' to ask you is...who are you really tryin' to get forgiveness from? If Lois doesn't blame you--and I don't--then don't you think what you're really wanting is some way to forgive yourself?"
"I don't know if I can do that," Clark said so quietly Perry almost missed the words.
"Well then..." Perry shrugged and shook his head. "All this is more redundant than a back-up singer for Elvis--because nothing I say can change your mind about what you blame yourself for. Only you can do that. Hypothetically speaking, of course."
"Hypothetically," Clark repeated tonelessly.
"It might help if you remember that it was an accident," Perry couldn't resist adding with a backward glance at the brightly lit prison. "And, presumably, there was something...to distract you. So that you didn't realize how tightly you were holding her."
That had been the whole point of inviting Clark along, after all. Perry had figured Clark would need the reminder that he hadn't been to blame for what had happened, that there had been other people so much more responsible. Maybe it wasn't the most comforting solution--the knowledge that there would always be people willing to go after him--but it had been all Perry could think of to help. And maybe, after it had time to sink in, it *would* help. Unlike Lois, Clark always needed time to process things and think about them a little bit more thoroughly. And thanks to Lois and her articles, Perry thought with a bit more hope, Clark might actually have that time.
Clark took a deep breath, his voice firm. "Perry, I--" He broke off abruptly, his head cocking in that peculiar way of his, as if he were half-poised to take flight even now. It was a familiar sight, one the editor saw anywhere from two to twenty times a day.
Casually, Perry shrugged deeper into his coat, pretending to be occupied during that moment Clark took to listen to whatever it was he heard.
"Uh, Chief, I--" Desperation was written all over his face.
Perry raised his brows expectantly. "What is it, son? Forget you were supposed to meet Lois somewhere?"
"I--uh--"
"Well, you'd better hurry!" Perry exclaimed. "If I were you, I wouldn't want Lois mad at me. Hornets don't have nothin' on her."
"Right. Uh, good night, Chief." Already reaching for his tie, Clark ducked away. A short moment later, a sonic boom broke the stillness of the night, a pretty common sound in most parts of Metropolis.
With an amused smile, Perry shook his head and continued walking toward his car, hoping Clark hadn't really gone to meet Lois. The trouble that girl could get into would have amazed even the Colonel.
It was impossible for Perry to say how long he had known that Clark was Superman, or when precisely he had connected the reporter and the superhero. Certainly before the New Kryptonians had tried to take over things, and before that whole mess with Luthor and Lois's amnesia. In fact, Perry almost wondered, sometimes, if he hadn't known since that first fiasco with Luthor. Maybe he had made the connection watching Clark worry himself to nothing about Lois, and come up with information about Luthor only Superman could have known, and show up looking like death warmed over after a wedding that just so happened--it was later discovered--to involve a Kryptonite cage. Whenever he had figured it out, Perry had never had a moment's doubt concerning his belief that the two men were the same.
Appearances aside, Clark and Superman were both men of character, integrity, and decency. They each cared deeply about others and put their own lives second to the needs of the world.
And they both loved Lois so deeply that neither one could hide it.
Perry had taken to thinking of Clark and Superman as two different men even in his own thoughts, however, because it made it less likely he'd slip. The last thing Clark needed was additional worry dumped on him about someone else being loose with his secret or being caught by some villain eager to pry it out of him. No, the editor thought it best that he keep his knowledge to himself. Most of the time, it was fun, watching Lois and Clark come up with their excuses for his quick exits and her exclusives.
This time...Perry had to lean against his car door before he could open it. This time it wasn't fun. This time, it was just plain awful. Clark was right when he said Perry loved Lois like a daughter, and Clark meant just as much--if not more--to him than Jerry did. Seeing them suffer...seeing them bearing the brunt of Jerry's foolish decisions...it was probably the most painful thing that had ever happened to Perry, worse even than getting the divorce papers from Alice, worse by far than the day Elvis had died.
The press conference was the next day, and Perry was pretty certain he knew what Clark would say. He also knew that it would be just as wrong as it was right. Morally speaking, Clark was rightfully compelled to offer to leave, yet the very fact that Metropolis had driven him to do it was just wrong, plain and simple. Somehow, Perry determined, some way, he had to help Lois find a way to keep Superman in Metropolis.
The Daily Planet needed him.
Lois needed him.
The city needed him.
More to the point, Perry needed him.
Clark wasn't, after all, the only one who needed to find some way to forgive himself.
