Dropping this warning here, just in case Chapter 7: Smallville, 1975 Clark sat there numbly, staring at the rather large red puddle pooling on the floor before him. His dad was currently tending to his mother— who was having a nervous breakdown of some sort, and Clark would prefer not to watch her fall apart before him. Oddly, the dead man was a more reassuring figure.
Cautiously, tentatively, he reached out his arm, just to see—
"Clark! Get away from there!"
His father's voice did little to break his reverie, until Jonathan stormed over and had to physically drag the boy away by his wrist. He shouted in pain at his father's strong grip, surprising himself as much as his father. He could feel pain, Clark marveled at himself. It was a mild pain, more of an irritation, but it was a new sensation regardless.
“Clark.”
He wondered if he could bleed.
"Clark! I need you to listen very carefully to me. Go wash your hands, clean up, and then I want you to bring me a large, empty feed bag and a bucket and a mop. Can you do that for me?"
Clark finally was able to tear his eyes from the dead man long enough to look into his father's eyes. They were unlike anything Clark ever remembered seeing them as before. Fear, panic and an odd sense of calm resided in them. Jonathan was determined to stay in control. Clark mutely nodded his agreement before Jonathan pulled him in for a quick hug and kissed his head. "That's my boy."
He went off to do as asked, only to stop at the top of the stairs and turn back around to watch his father. His gaze drifted back to Jason as Jonathan stood back up fully and went over to his mom, who was sobbing and shaking uncontrollably still. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, trying to still her convulsing form. "Martha. Martha. Please, Martha, you have to listen to me. You have to quit crying and be quiet, okay? Go on upstairs or something, I can handle this."
She looked up at her husband and looked blindly at the red spattered on his clothes and the small amount he had on his hands. Clark looked down at his own hands to find them curiously clean, but somehow it didn’t feel like it. His shirt was another matter entirely.
Jonathan exploded, drawing Clark’s attention again as he threw his hands up in the air. "I don't know what you want from me, Martha! I didn't want to hurt him, but he— that bastard— he hurt our son! Would only keep hurting him! And what then, huh Martha? We'd just, let him walk away with our boy in his arms? No way on earth would I ever let anyone do that! He is the only thing important to me in my life, more than my life. You do for family, Martha!"
Her sobs were getting worse. Jonathan knelt down and shook her shoulders. "Martha! Listen—"
"Don’t touch me!" she finally broke through the sobs enough to scream at him and she swatted his hands away, leaning as far away from him as possible. "Don't you
dare touch me, Jonathan Kent! You just
killed a man! You— you're a— how are you not more upset about this?!"
His father looked pained at her words and his shoulders slumped. "Martha—"
"Don't you realize what you've
done?!"
That riled him up again. "What I've done? Martha Clark Kent, that man would have killed us both to get what he wanted! It was self-defense!"
“By the tenth bullet, it’s not self-defense anymore!”Jonathan swore and wiped his face on his sleeve. "What do you want me to say?! I screwed up? Fine! I screwed up! But I'm not going to apologize for it! I did my job as a father and protected my son no matter the cost!"
Martha only wept bitterly in response. His father almost ran a hand through his rapidly thinning hair before he caught himself, staring at the blood on his own hands. Reeling, he took a few steps back and looked down at himself. He was a mess. He quickly glanced up at his wife and saw her crying. “What have I done?” he whispered, clutching at his head desperately.
A loud creak sounded beneath Clark’s feet and he held his breath, peering through the railing at his dad with fear in his eyes. Jonathan’s gaze snapped over to the staircase and locked on his own wide, brown eyes. Clark swallowed nervously. Jonathan stood upright and squared his jaw. "Clark," he called out softly, and he flinched. A glance of pain struck across his father’s face. "It's okay, son," he soothed, "It'll all be okay. There’s nothing to be scared of. Come down here and let me look at you."
Somewhat reassured, Clark hesitantly and very quietly made his way back down the staircase to his father's side. Jonathan knelt to his level and looked into his eyes. "Are you okay, son? Are you hurt anywhere?"
Clark shook his head mutely. He hurt everywhere— it was a strange, tingling sensation— but the ache was fading fast and he was certain that if he said anything his dad would just make a bigger deal out of it. Clark didn't want or need his father to worry about him right now.
Jonathan let out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes for a brief moment. "Thank goodness," he whispered. His eyelids fluttered open and he still saw the pain and confusion in his son's eyes. "Listen to me, Clark. This is very important, and I need you to do exactly as I say, understand?"
Clark nodded vigorously, not wanting to disappoint.
"There's nothing I love more, nothing more important to me in the whole entire world, than you. Now I didn't mean to kill that man. But he was a very, very bad man and he was going to hurt you. And that’s not okay. You’re my son, and I’ll never let anything bad happen to you. But I need you to promise me a few things, in case anything ever happens to me, okay?"
Clark looked between his father and the man lying dead on the floor for a few moments before conceding with a nod.
"Firstly, promise me, that if anything happens to me, you won't tell anyone about your powers. That is most important. And secondly, you need to remember that no matter what, you always do whatever you have to in order to protect yourself, got it?"
Clark flinched at his father's words, pulled back slightly. Jonathan gripped his shoulders firmly and stared at his son dead on. "Promise me," he reiterated in a firm tone.
Clark nodded his head vigorously, tears blinding his eyes. "I-I promise."
Jonathan sighed in relief and shut his eyes briefly. "Good. Because if... if something does happen to me... you'll be the man of the house, okay? You're gonna be in charge. You need to tell me you'll take care of everything. You need to tell me that you will always,
always do whatever you can to take care of yourself. Promise me?" Clark sniffed loudly and Jonathan firmly brushed the tears off of his son's face with the pads of his thumbs, only to wince with regret upon seeing the track of blood he left behind. "Promise me, Clark."
"Yes, Dad. I promise."
Jonathan pulled Clark in close to his chest and pressed a hard kiss to the top of his head. Clark shut his eyes and clutched at his father tightly for several long moments. He breathed him in, heard his father doing the same, relishing every second they had.
Slowly, Jonathan pulled back and looked his son straight in the eye, watching as Clark felt the scared tears stream down his cheeks. His dad cleared his throat before speaking. "Now go upstairs, just... clean up, try to get some rest. I'll take care of everything, okay? I don’t want you to see any of this.”
Clark nodded and turned toward the stairs, slower than normal still, and Jonathan turned back to the man lying on the floor with a sigh.
“What did I do?” he murmured softly, just barely reaching Clark’s ears. Clark glanced back once more at his sobbing mess of a mother, and again to his father, watching as he steeled himself and all the remorse fled from his features. Clark shook his head as if to clear it, ignoring the pounding headache, and raced up the steps to his room.
*****LnC*****
Metropolis, 1993 "Lois!"
Lois sat up ramrod straight, a piece of paper stuck to her cheek from where it was pressed against the countertop. Confused, she looked around her surroundings, trying to sort out why she had seemingly fallen asleep on her kitchen countertop. Squinting with bleary eyes at the words on the pages in front of her, she remembered— CK Enterprises. Her night had been filled with research and reading after gathering as much information as she could from the Daily Planet Archives and— she glanced at the mostly empty carton of cigarettes— more than a little smoking. She supposed she was making up for lost time with her non-smoking stint. A brief wave a regret washed over her— she had almost made it another week. But feeling guilty only made her crave it more, and so the vicious cycle began. Peeling the paper from her face, Lois finally reached out for the pack of cigarettes, only to have her hand swatted away by some unknown source. She scowled bitterly and looked up to find her sister smiling down at her, all too cheerful for the morning.
"Morning, sis!" Lucy chirped happily, stealing away the pack and hiding it behind the spice rack once again. "Coffee?"
She grunted a response, which Lucy took as a yes and poured a second mug. A caffeinated Lois was always a happier Lois.
It took a few moments of warm silence, indulging in her beverage, before Lois was finally able to speak. "Why'd you take my cigs?"
Lucy raised an eyebrow at her older sister. "Uh, because it's already seven-thirty and you need to get ready for work? It's Tuesday? You don't have time to—"
Lois' eyes widened dramatically as she looked at the digital clock on her stove and jumped out of her seat. "Crap! Lucy! Why didn't you—"
"I did wake you, if you remember!" Lucy called out after Lois with an all-too-mirthful tone, and Lois raced into her bedroom and slammed the door to get changed.
*****LnC*****
Lois rode the elevator down from the rooftop where she had taken her brief morning smoke break. She hoped she didn't smell like it. She knew that some people in the bullpen probably suspected that she smoked, but she liked to think she was more secretive and mysterious than that.
Smokers always think they don’t smell like smoke, Lois.She pursed her lips at the voice that sounded suspiciously like her little sister in her head, tossing a mental
”Whatever, Luce” back at her.
When the elevator dinged, she strode briskly off, all confidence and attitude. No one could mess with Mad Dog Lane on the prowl. When she started going undercover at the Metro Club, everyone thought she was just crazy— until she learned that Johnny Taylor was involved with the up and coming Toasters gang just the other night. Mysteriously, after her investigation and bust, the Toasters all disappeared off the face of the earth. But, she figured, if she had just been outed for arson, she'd be in the wind too. It was the way of the criminal.
Her article went to print yesterday, was yet another major success. Toni Taylor even called and thanked her for getting her out from under her brother's thumb— a weird thing, considering she had just put the woman's brother in jail, but she supposed she was probably treated badly by him. It didn't hurt that it meant she got control of the Metro Club.
Unfortunately for Lois, though, that story did not transform her life. Neither did any of the others. So she sat down at her desk, spinning her wheels until her next story hit, waiting with baited breath for Perry to come and beg her to take on some story or another.
James slid past her desk and slipped a paper in front of her casually before continuing on his path. Lois frowned as she looked it over quickly. "Olsen! What the hell is this for?"
He turned on his heel and continued to walk backwards. "Chief wants you on it asap. Told me to drop it by your desk." He smoothly turned back around, not wanting to face the wrath of Lois Lane.
She read over the assignment once again and unconsciously began gritting her teeth. Suddenly taken over by her emotions, she crumpled the paper in her tight grip and shot to her feet, storming over to Perry White's office in a whirlwind force. Not even caring that the door was closed and her boss appeared to be in a meeting when she came storming through it.
She jumped straight in. "Chief, we need to talk. I just bagged a huge story that I spent weeks looking into, going deep undercover for, and you hand me this... this puff piece?! That's absurd!"
Perry glanced sideways at his guest, whose back had straightened considerably at the intrusion of the conversation. "Uh, Lois? Can't you see I'm in the middle of something here?"
Lois suddenly realized that her boss was indeed in the middle of something as she noted the familiar man starting to stand up respectfully out of his chair. "Oh," she said as she racked her brain for how she might know this man. She frowned deeply, brow furrowed in thought as she still came up empty. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"
The bespectacled man looked slightly amused. "I, uh, believe we met at that nightclub a few weeks ago. You're that hooker I turned down, right? Lola, wasn't it?" He outstretched his hand, a mischievous smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.
Lois was flustered and could feel her embarrassment coloring her cheeks. She glanced at Perry furtively, wishing he hadn't heard that comment, but the color in his own face proved that he had. To cover for her blunder, she stepped up closer to stranger and ignored his greeting, fuming inside and not doing a very good job covering it up. "Oh, I remember. First of all, for your information, I am not a hooker. I wasn't even pretending to be one. That was
your misinterpretation. And second of all, just what brings you here to my real place of work? You some kind of creepy stalker or something? Why are you talking to my boss? Perry, I don't like this."
"Lois, I, uh, I don't think—"
"It's all right, Mr. White," the handsome stranger spoke smoothly. "I don't offend easily. I'll let you get back to your work and I'll go make the announcement."
He made his exit from the room, giving a slight nod to Lois on the way out to the bullpen. Curious, Lois followed him, flanked by her boss. "What does he mean, make an announcement? Who does he think he is?"
Perry opened his mouth to respond, but was beaten to the punch.
"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, reporters of the Daily Planet," Clark started out in a booming voice, gathering everyone's stares. "Can I have your attention, please? Thank you."
His smile was intoxicating, Lois couldn't help but think. She certainly remembered him from the bar now. She bit her tongue to keep from asking any more foolish questions and just wait for him to explain himself.
"First off, I'd like to introduce myself. My name is Clark Kent. Many of you may recognize that name, some may not. Let me put your minds at ease: yes, I am the Clark Kent of CK Enterprises."
Murmuring suddenly erupted from the bullpen, and Lois felt herself going pale at his words. Clark Kent? The one whose company she had been looking into the last four days? Crap, what had she done?
"Now I have some good news and some bad news. The bad news is, the Daily Planet has not been doing so well recently. Circulation has been down, advertisers dropping, the whole nine yards. The good news is, I have agreed to purchase the Daily Planet. Meaning I am the new owner, and I hope to help your newspaper thrive continuously the way it was meant to all along."
A series of cheers and claps sounded throughout the bullpen, and Lois couldn't help but be drawn into it. She cast a sidelong glance at Perry. They were saved. She hadn't seen him so happy in years.
Then Lois turned her attention back to their so-called savior, this time with new eyes. No longer the handsome, slightly awkward or creepy stranger. He had a name, he was a figurehead, and he just had a very real impact on her life.
And suddenly, she felt she was in a lot more danger having Clark Kent around than she was before he'd miraculously decided to save the Daily Planet.
