“Hey, do you want me to drive you home?” Lois asked after dinner was finished and they’d left the newsroom. “It’s getting late.”
“Thanks, but…I can make it from here,” Clark said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He took a moment to breathe in the warm night air outside of the Daily Planet’s building, taking solace and strength in the city’s familiar heartbeat as much as he did from having Lois at his side. He looked up at the dark sky for a few seconds, then turned his gaze to her, giving her a soft smile as he did so. “You’re right. It’s getting late and your place is a lot closer to here than my place is. No reason to have you driving all over Metropolis.”
“Really, it’s not a big deal,” Lois tried to reassure him. She touched his arm gently. “I…” she stuttered for a moment, as if looking for the right words or perhaps knowing them but afraid of using them. “I know today was a lot harder on you than it was on me. Confronting your past through Jack and all…”
Clark smiled, his heart melting with warmth over her concern for him. It was nice, he mused, to have someone care so much about him. Of course, Bruce and Alfred cared deeply about him, but that was different. They were family. Lois…well…Lois loved him in a forever kind of way…or so he hoped. He knew she loved him – she told him all the time. But would she still love him, once he came clean about masquerading as Superman?
“I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “If anything, I’m relieved over Jack and Denny being in the halfway house now. Today wasn’t easy, but…it was worth it.”
“You were pretty amazing today,” Lois said with a bright smile.
Clark shrugged self-consciously. “I didn’t do much. Jack and Denny did the hard work by choosing to gamble on us and going to the halfway house.”
“They never would have taken that step without you,” Lois pointed out.
“Maybe,” Clark allowed.
“Come on, my Jeep’s down this way,” Lois said, taking his elbow and trying to guide him down the sidewalk.
Clark shook his head. “I’ll grab a cab or something. It’ll be faster than making you drive all the way over to my place. We’ve both been working hard lately. You’ve got to be exhausted. I know I’m beat. Go home and rest.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, biting her lower lip in indecision.
“Absolutely.”
“Well…okay. I hate leaving you here but…if you insist,” she said in halting tones. “You’re right about one thing. I’m ready to get home and climb into bed.”
“You and me both,” he told her.
“Well…goodnight then, Clark,” she said, still sounding less than happy to be leaving him there.
“Night, Lois. I’ll see you in the morning, and we can get started on nailing Luthor for the bombing.”
That thought made her whole face light up. “You bet we will!”
Clark chuckled. “No one gets away from Lane and Kent,” he grinned.
He took Lois in his arms. His hand reached up automatically to stroke her cheek. Then his craned his neck down to kiss her passionately. He poured all of his love for her in that kiss. The tension he’d felt since discovering Jack, the tape, and Luthor’s evil deeds dissipated as he held Lois tightly. His relief that Jack and Denny were safe was forgotten. Only his love for Lois existed in that moment. Nothing else mattered. As much love as he gave her in that kiss, he drew in strength and comfort from her in return. She was his rock, his safe haven in the storm that had been his life up until now. She was the light that penetrated the darkness he’d once lived in – in the shadows as Nightwing and as a very lost and lonely man who’d wondered if anyone could possibly ever love him. She was his reason for continuing to be Superman. She was the person who made him feel connected to the world around him. She was his every dream, his every wish made on far off stars come true in one miraculous woman.
“I love you,” he said breathlessly when they parted.
“I love you too,” she replied, just as breathless, before capturing his lips again in softer, more lingering kiss. “Call me when you get in?”
Clark smiled tenderly as he ran his fingers through her hair and down along her jawline. “I wouldn’t dream of going to sleep without calling you first.”
Lois patted his chest playfully. “Good. I’ve trained you well.”
That made him laugh harder. “You sure have. Go on. I’ll call you in a little bit.”
“Okay. Night, Clark.”
“Night, Lois.”
He watched as she turned – with regret in her features – and walked down the sidewalk to where she’d parked her Jeep. Listening in on her heartbeat, he began to walk in the opposite direction, toward his own apartment. It brought him such peace in his heart and mind to listen in on that perfect sound – the sound of his soulmate’s heart beating steady and strong. And he knew, without a doubt, that Lois was his soulmate. No one else in the entire universe could compare with her or make him feel so at peace in his own heart. She was the one he was meant to spend his life with, there was simply no question about that. All that was keeping him from asking her to marry him was his secret. And that, he vowed, would soon be out in the open.
He listened in until she was out of his range of hearing – some of that being the distance between them and some of it being the city noises all around him. Even at that hour, trucks and cars still rumbled down the streets, their angry and tired drivers blaring their horns at the other drivers on the road. People still walked down the sidewalks – chatting, singing, whistling, or silent enough while their canine companions yipped and barked and howled in excitement of being outside. Music was heard too – spilling out of bars and restaurants, thumping out of open car windows, drifting out through the screens of windows from apartments all around.
Clark smiled to himself.
The sounds of home.
Perhaps some people might find the constant assault of sound and lights from the city exhausting or even intimidating. But not him. He felt comforted by the constant hustle and bustle of Metropolis. The city had a unique heartbeat, a pulse that drew him in and let him know in his heart that he was exactly where he’d always been meant to be. He was home – more than he’d ever been in Gotham or at Grandma Tildy’s or even, he admitted with a jab of guilt, in Smallville. While a part of him missed – and would always miss - the farmlands of his youth, he’d far outgrown the place as his powers had developed further and his passion for helping others had been kindled from a small, uncertain spark and into a raging bonfire.
Home.
Lois had made Metropolis his home, more than anything else in the world could have. Sure, working for The Daily Planet was great, but without Lois, it was just a job. With/i] Lois, it was Clark’s dream come true.
She also made it possible for him to pull on the Superman outfit each day. When he’d first created the hero, it had been refreshing for him to be able to use his powers in the full view of others, out in the sunlight, letting the world see what he could do. But it had also been far more demanding than he’d ever anticipated. He’d known, on some level, that Superman would be sought after. Everyone would want to meet the powerful alien. People would call for his aid.
He’d still [i]seriously underestimated how in-demand Superman would actually wind up being.
Everyone wanted a piece of the hero. There had been demands for his endorsement on products, calls for licensing rights so people could profit off his image and his S “logo” – as they put it. Everyone wanted him to support their cause, their charity, be there for the unveiling of a new business, or hospital, or school. And then there were the calls for help. All over the world, when people needed him, they cried out for Superman. And even if they didn’t, Clark would catch wind of a situation where only he could help – a raging wildfire, a mudslide, a plane going down over the ocean, the threat of war between two countries.
In the beginning, he’d tried to respond to as many situations as he could, but it had taken its toll on him. He’d barely slept, leaving him exhausted. His work had nearly suffered, and he’d been glad to have Lois’ help and guidance to make sure he didn’t falter in the quality of his work. And the nightmares! Some of the things he’d seen had left scars on his very soul.
There had been moments – ones he wasn’t proud of – when he’d considered hanging up his costume for good and letting Superman vanish just as suddenly as he’d emerged onto the scene. And each time, just before he could finalize his decision to go home and burn his uniforms, Lois had said something to him that somehow wound up being exactly the kind of encouraging thing he so desperately needed to hear. As if by magic, his heart and soul would feel healed, and he’d find the strength to face a new dawn in the guise of the hero.
There were no two ways about it.
Superman existed because of Lois.
He stopped only once on his way home, to intervene in a mugging that was taking place nearby. Quickly changing into his Superman costume, Clark was just in time to grab the switchblade out of the mugger’s hand before he could use it on the terrified old woman the young man had cornered. He carted the mugger to the closest police station and escorted the woman to her home, a short block and a half away from where she’d nearly been robbed of her purse. Satisfied with another rescue made, Clark flew the rest of the way home, after watching to ensure that the police arrived to take her statement.
As soon as he was inside his apartment, he called Lois, as promised. He didn’t even bother to change his clothing.
“Hi, Lois,” he said as she picked up the phone with a tired ‘hello.’
“Clark? You’re home already?” She sounded surprised.
“I lucked out and didn’t hit any traffic,” he easily fibbed. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I got home safely.”
You’re a liar, his mind hissed at him.
“Thanks. That puts my mind at ease.” She yawned.
“You sound pretty beat,” he offered. “Get some rest and I’ll see you in the morning.”
When are you going to man up and tell her the truth?
“Yeah, okay,” she agreed. “Night, Clark.”
“Goodnight, Lois. I love you.”
You love her so much you can’t even tell her what you are, his inner voice sneered. His shoulders slumped and he forced himself to squash down his self-criticizing thoughts. Now was not the time to get into things with Lois.
“Love you too.”
Clark gently hung the phone back up once the dial tone sounded, then hesitated. What to do next? He wasn’t opposed to a quick shower and spending the rest of the night in his bed. While he didn’t need as much sleep as a regular person, he had been pushing himself pretty hard lately, and hadn’t slept as much as he would have liked. On the other hand, he was too ecstatic over how close they were to seeing Luthor safely locked behind bars for the rest of his life. It felt impossible to sleep just then.
“A patrol wouldn’t be the worst thing,” he said to himself, rubbing his chin in thought. “Maybe a fast one, just to burn off some of this excitement.”
Nodding mutely, his decision made, he left his comfortable apartment again. He took off from the privacy of his secluded balcony, shooting straight up into the clear night sky. For a moment, he hovered there, far above the city where he’d made his home. Up as high as he was, most of the noises of Metropolis faded away into a barely audible murmur in his sensitive ears. But he knew, from experience, that if a cry for help were to come, his ears would instinctively zero in on it, allowing him to pinpoint where he was needed.
He began to fly at a pace that was neither leisurely nor rushed – just an effective, ground-eating speed that allowed him to scan the city with both his enhanced vision and powerful hearing together. But the city was quiet that night, and before Clark knew it, his patrol was complete.
“Not bad,” he whispered to himself as he gauged the time by the moon’s position in the sky. “Maybe now I can get some sleep.”
He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. Just as he was about to head home once more, he picked up the sound of a television in one of the apartments he was near. His ears tuned in of their own accord. It was the news, he realized a few seconds later. A state-wide manhunt for an escaped serial killer, out in Kansas. Clark frowned. He could not ignore a problem like that, no matter how strongly his bed was calling him.
“Kansas it is,” he said to the stars.
In the next heartbeat, he was rocketing through the night, heading west. Three seconds later, he’d zoomed over the Metropolis city limits. A minute later, he’d left New Troy in the dust. Before five minutes was up, he found himself above Smallville. It always felt different, seeing the town from above. It almost felt like looking at a model toy town from as high up as he was. Especially on nights like this – dark and clear, the sky above glittering with thousands of stars, the buildings and land below awash in silver moonlight, the streets almost completely devoid of life as the town’s residents slept soundly or simply relaxed in their homes. Clark saw quite a few houses with lights on – he wondered if the people within were following the ongoing manhunt on the news.
He listened in, locating another news report with ease, but there was no new information to be gained, other than that the killer’s name was Colin Coleman. Clark recalled the name. When Coleman had been captured and tried the previous year, the story had been page one news in every news outlet in the country. He was the most prolific serial killer in fifty years. Clark didn’t even need to see the man’s picture on the news – the image was seared into his mind from all the press coverage during the trial.
Without having a decent idea of where to start searching, Clark decided right there in Smallville was as good a place as any. He flew to the direct center of town, then began flying in slow, deliberate circles, gradually widening the circle with each revolution. He strained his eyes and ears, searching for something – anything – that might give him a better clue of where to concentrate his efforts. But he found nothing. He left Smallville behind, broadening his radius to the surrounding farmlands, but all was still and quiet in the night.
He moved on again, going beyond the world he’d known growing up in Kansas. As he flew, he caught glimpses of search teams combing through the countryside, all of them looking for the escaped criminal. Floodlights lit up the night. Flashlights swung in slow arcs, cutting through the darkness. Bloodhounds sniffed everything in their paths. German Shepherds barked and whined, eager to do their jobs. Police officers and Sheriffs spoke in hushed tones to one another, made calls over their walkie talkies, or outright called out to one another. Clark thought he heard Sheriff Harris at one point, out in the farmlands as he passed overhead. A younger woman was with him, and Clark heard the man call her Rachel.
A smile ghosted over his lips at that. It made sense that Rachel would follow in her father’s footsteps. She’d wanted to go into law enforcement ever since the third grade, as he recalled. He’d had no doubt in his mind that she would make an excellent Sheriff herself, one day. He was actually a little more surprised that her father was still on the force. He wasn’t elderly by any means, but he was well past retirement age. Clark would have thought that Sheriff Harris might have wanted to kick back and relax at this point in his life, instead of continuously suffering the stresses of the job.
“Nah,” Clark said to himself as he flew, with the slightest shake of his head. “That’s not really his style. He always did love his job. Lois will probably retire before he does,” he joked.
And still he kept on moving, seeing no signs of the escaped fugitive. He did, however, see a ton of police activity, even blockades on the major roadways. An hour slipped by, and most of another. Clark was getting frustrated. Coleman had to be somewhere. It was possible, he knew, that the killer could have crossed over the state line and out of Kansas, but he wasn’t convinced by the idea. Search teams were everywhere.
“No, he has to be holed up somewhere, waiting for the search to die down a bit. But, where?” Clark wondered.
He came to another small town. For a moment, he stopped and hovered in midair, giving himself a chance to take stock of the place. It was maybe half again as large as Smallville, he noted in his mind. But it was quaint and homely in its own way. And…familiar? Clark did a double take. Yes, he was sure of it now. That clocktower was unmistakable!
“I’m not far from Grandma Tildy’s,” he told the night air in an awed, hushed whisper.
He was stunned. Had it always been so close to Smallville? He did a quick calculation in his mind. Just a couple of hours’ drive between the two towns. Yet to the terrified, grieving thirteen-year-old he’d been at the time, he might as well have been shipped off to a different planet.
Shaking his head to clear away the sad memories, Clark set to work, carefully combing the town with his super abilities. The movie theater was still fairly busy, he could tell. The lights blazed in the darkness and laughing groups of people exited and entered into the building to see the latest movies, seemingly blissfully unaware than a killer was on the loose. He moved on, searching the much quieter areas. The local cemetery was quiet. But what was that? Clark froze, listening – all but straining his ears now. Yes, he was certain of it. A series of barely audible, stifled sneezes coming from the rickety, old, abandoned church that stood before the graveyard. Clark x-rayed the place.
It was a mess inside, to say the least. Rotted wooden beams had splintered and fallen down over the years. The heavy wooden pews had been moved around – possibly by squatters, or maybe just bored teens out looking for a cheap, safe thrill. Graffiti was scrawled over everything – some of it obscured by mold that blackened the walls. The marble floor was covered in a thick layer of trash and moldering leaves that had blown in through the broken windows. The altar was cracked badly, but still standing together in one piece. And behind that, cowering in the dark, Clark could see Coleman.
There was no mistaking the man, not with the prominent scars on his face and the way the moonlight framed the sharpness of his features. There were a few defining tattoos on his forehead and neck too – the bleeding moon and stars on his right side was a dead giveaway, at the very least. He was furtively checking this way and that, probably fearing that the police would find him any minute now.
Clark dropped into a silent, swift landing. The front door of the church was broken – standing ajar and hanging on by only one rusty hinge. Clark didn’t even need to move it aside to enter into the building. He didn’t want to spook Coleman and risk what he knew would be a brief chase. He simply wanted the criminal back in police custody as soon as possible. So, in an effort to not make any noise, Clark floated a few inches above the floor, easily clearing the layer of debris laying there. Coleman’s back was too him; the man neither saw nor heard Clark coming. But he did shriek when Clark laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Colin Coleman?” Clark asked sternly.
“S…S…Superman?” the killer gulped.
“Shouldn’t you be in jail?” Clark continued icily.
He always tried hard to ensure that his voice remained neutral when he spoke to criminals, but he couldn’t stop his contempt from surfacing in this case. He remembered only too well the grisly details of Coleman’s murders from the trial coverage, and they sickened him to his core. How he liked to violate the women in front of their boyfriends or husbands before skinning them alive. How he made the men watch before stabbing out their eyes, then slitting their throats. How he dismembered the bodies and scattered them over the entire state of Kansas.
Coleman licked his lips nervously, his eyes darting about the room, as though he might have a chance of escape. “You don’t understand…” he started.
“I understand perfectly well,” Clark interrupted. “I’ve heard the reports. A riot in the jail. Two officers killed. Five others wounded. And you, somehow managing to escape.”
“I didn’t start that riot! And I didn’t hurt nobody!” Coleman shot back angrily.
“Maybe so,” Clark allowed as he grabbed Coleman with two hands and lifted off. “But you still have to pay for your numerous other crimes.”
“Put me down!” was Coleman’s indignant demand.
Clark ignored him completely. He didn’t even look down at the killer as he guided them out of the church and into the night air outside. He flew up above the treetops and started to scan the surrounding area, looking for the nearest police team he could spot. It didn’t take him more than thirty seconds before he spied a roadblock, just a few miles up the road. The red and blue flashing lights lit up the surrounding darkness, and a floodlight illuminated the desolate road. In the far distance, a helicopter swept over the land, its spotlight ceaselessly exposing everything below.
Coleman continued to protest, but Clark hardly heard him as he focused on his task. He picked up speed – not enough to potentially injure Coleman, but enough to cross the distance to the police in under a minute. He landed before the group of startled officers and gently pushed Coleman forward, without letting go of the man.
“Good evening, Officers,” Clark greeted them politely.
“Superman!” exclaimed one of them.
“I believe you’ve been searching for this man,” Clark continued.
The same officer nodded. He seemed to be the one in charge. Clark glanced at the name on his uniform. W. Manheinz.
“Thanks, Superman. You just saved us a world of trouble,” Manheinz said graciously. He took the cuffs from his belt and deftly secured Coleman’s wrists behind his back.
“I scanned him earlier,” Clark informed the policeman. “He has no weapons.”
“Thanks. Dodson? Get him in the car, would ya?” Manheinz said, nodding to a burly man on his left.
“You got it, Boss. You want me to call it in too?”
“Yeah, would you mind? I wanna get Superman’s statement.”
“No problem.” The dark-skinned man flashed a set of perfect white teeth as he guided Coleman to the squad car. Clark heard Dodson start to recite the killer’s rights to him.
“You have no idea how much work you just saved us, Superman,” Manheinz said, turning back to Clark, relief in his eyes. “We owe you, big time.”
“Just glad I could help,” Clark said, giving the officer a friendly smile. With Coleman back in custody, Clark felt like he could release some of the tension that had invaded his entire body as soon as he’d heard the report of the serial killer’s escape.
“Still, a lot of people are going to be able to sleep a lot easier tonight, thanks to you.”
“I’m just happy he’s off the streets now,” Clark replied.
Manheinz chuckled. “Us too, believe me.”
Clark smiled and nodded.
“Can I take your statement now? Or do you have anywhere else to be?” the officer asked thoughtfully.
“I can do it now,” Clark told him, gesturing to the side of the road.
The policeman followed and leaned his back against an aging oak tree. He pulled out a pad of paper and a pen, ready for Clark’s story.
“Okay, Superman, whenever you’re ready,” he told Clark.
Clark leaned crossed his arms before him - an old, self-conscious habit. “I was in Metropolis when I overheard a news report, saying Coleman had escaped,” he began, feeling like he was obligated to start at the very beginning. “I flew out to Kansas immediately, because of how dangerous the situation was. I searched for a while – I’m not sure how long. But, eventually, I wound up here, in town. I heard Coleman sneeze while I was searching near the old, abandoned church on Astor Place. I found him inside, hiding behind the altar. He didn’t put up a struggle when I apprehended him.”
“Uh huh,” Manheinz said, scribbling notes as quickly as he could. “And you said he had no weapons, right?”
“Nothing,” Clark confirmed. “I checked carefully. The guy didn’t have so much as a baloney sandwich with him.”
“Good,” the policeman said, still focused on his notepad. “Anything else?”
Clark hesitated a moment, then, “He said he wasn’t involved in the prison riot that broke out when he escaped. He claims he didn’t have anything to do with the officers who were wounded or killed.”
Manheinz frowned but nodded. “I’ll make a note of it. Frankly, I don’t know much about what happened over there. All I know was that we got the call for a state-wide manhunt. What about you? Do you believe him? Off the record, of course.”
Clark shrugged, his arms still folded over his chest. “He sounded scared, but that’s all I know.”
“Anything else you can think of for the report?” the officer said, glancing back down at his notepad.
Clark shook his head. “That’s pretty much it. I can stop by during the day to file my official report.”
“Perfect. Here’s my card.” Manheinz extracted a business card from the breast pocket of his jacket.
Clark read it and committed the address to memory, then declined the card.
“I’ll be by as soon as I can,” he swore as the other man returned the card to the rest of the pack. “In the meantime, is there anything else I can do?”
“No, you’re done more than enough, Superman. We’re grateful for the help.” He started to say something else, but stopped.
Clark smiled. “Go ahead, you can ask whatever it is,” he encouraged the policeman.
“Well…it’s kind of embarrassing,” Manheinz stammered. “But…well…would you mind…taking a picture with me and my team? You know…you’re kind of a role model for all of us.”
Clark chuckled, genuinely and pleasantly surprised and pleased by the request. “Absolutely.”
Manheinz’s face lit up. “Thanks, Superman! Hey, Taylor? You got the camera?” he called as he started back toward where his fellow officers were taking down the roadblock. “Bring it here and tell the guys it’s picture time.”
To Be Continued…
