Delusions of Grandeur
Folc4evernaday
Chapter 7
Present Day…The monotone beeping of the alarm played in the background. Red and white lights continued to blink on the screen as Lex Luthor stared at the monitor in front of him. He watched the screen change from Clark Kent rocking himself back and forth in the corner of the room to footage of his two body guards beating on the door, trying to make their escape. He felt the vein on his forehead pulse as he rewound the footage and replayed it for the tenth time.
In front of him was his security director who nervously waited for him to respond. Millions of dollars spent on developing the top of the line security and this maggot had dropped the ball, letting his enemy slip between his fingers in the middle of the night.
“Explain this!” Lex growled out, jabbing his finger at the monitor repeatedly.
“I…I’m not sure, Mr. Luthor,” the director stammered back.
“You’re not sure?” Lex hissed. His face twisted as he reached for the man’s collar, pulling him close so he was inches away from his face, “Correct me if I’m wrong but you graduated at the top of your class? Isn’t that right? Best of the best.”
“Y..yes …”
“No one can hack you without your knowing about it. Wasn’t that what you sat in my office and bragged about four years ago?” Luthor spat out angrily, jerking the man toward him by the collar.
“Y-yes, sir, but…”
“No, buts,” Lex threw him to the ground and growled, “You’re fired!”
***
The muffled sounds of Clark’s screams echoed in the room. Lois kept a tight hold onto Clark’s hand as she watched the doctor examine him. Would he notice anything different? Lois bit her lower lip, watching as the doctor continued his exam that resulted in Clark’s body convulsing off the bed and him crying out in agony.
Agent Wallace stood behind her, “You need to keep him quiet.”
“I’m treating him the best way I know how,” the doctor responded through gritted teeth. “What this man needs is a hospital…”
“No!” Lois practically shouted, reaching for Clark’s hand protectively. “No hospitals.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Agent Wallace remarked, covering for Lois’ reaction. “Just treat what you can and prescribe something for the pain.” She turned to Lois, “If he keeps screaming like that someone is going to call the police…”
She eyed the black and blue marks on him warily as the doctor applied medicine to the wound on Clark’s chest. It had taken three hours to get them to Perry’s cabin. A choice the FBI was anything but happy about. She’d had five missed calls from Davenport since they arrived at the cabin.
They wanted to question him, interrogate him about what had happened to him. Clark continued to moan in agony as the doctor continued the exam. She swallowed hard, eying the burn marks on his left bicep. The doctor picked at the burn with a set of tweezers and Clark lurched off the bed, screaming in agony.
“Stop it!” Lois cried, gripping Clark’s arm with all her might as she looked at the doctor in dismay. “You’re hurting him!”
The doctor turned back, looking at Lois and sighed, “He’ll be hurting a lot more if I don’t do this.”
“Lois,” Agent Wallace warned her from behind.
Another blood curdling scream came out of Clark’s throat and Lois clamped her hand over his mouth, resting her forehead against his. “It’s okay,” she lied, trying to calm him down. “I’m so sorry.” She whispered, stroking the side of his face with her other hand. His eyes flashed with anger and confusion as she made out the tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. She felt her chest tighten, staring back at him with tears in her eyes. She pressed her lips to his forehead and whispered, “It’ll be over soon,”
***
The bullet casings scattered on the pavement crunched from beneath Lex Luthor’s feet as he surveyed the scene. He counted the blood spatter outside the entrance to Pier 7. Nigel had already neatly wrapped up the bodies for him and was waiting for direction on how to proceed.
It wasn’t as simple as making them all disappear. Each of them had been on his payroll. Paid to look the other way and plant evidence where needed in order to keep his operation running. How all of them had ended up in Hobb’s Bay in what appeared to be a standoff he wasn’t sure but he was determined to find out.
Nigel cleared his throat, “We were able to find this, sir,”
Lex turned and looked at the object in Nigel’s hand. The green light blinked at the end of the tracker, sending a surge of rage through him. His last line of defense had been the tracker he’d inserted into Superman’s chest. Without it he would have no way of finding him.
“How long has it been?” he asked, locking his jaw as stared back at Nigel for a response.
“Roughly three hours according to a few of the shelter deprived residents.” Nigel said in a subdued tone.
Lex looked to the cleanup crew that stood by, waiting for him to give the go ahead. “Get started,” he ordered them. “Not a single fiber should show any sign of life here. Fail and it’ll be the end of your career and possibly your life.”
With that he stormed through the doors of the warehouse, intent on seeing the extent of the damage that had been done to his facility. Nigel stood behind him, waiting patiently for him to lead the way. “Where’s Gretchen?” Lex asked.
***
Lois held her breath, enjoying the quiet solace that came once Clark’s screams of agony had subsided. She silently mulled over the information the doctor had told her as he wrote up a report for
‘just in case’ Clark decided to testify against Lex. She had told them he was in no condition to help with the case yet the issue kept getting pushed. She glanced over to the other side of the bed where Clark was lying. He had passed out from the pain halfway through the doctor’s exam.
The doctor said Clark probably wouldn’t remember any of tonight. The burn marks were consistent with injuries sustained from patients treated with electroshock. Many of those treatments resulted in short term memory loss. She reached over, stroking the side of Clark’s face, feeling the roughness of his beard and mustache against her palm. He looked almost unrecognizable beneath the dark hair that covered his face.
“I know that wasn’t easy,” Agent Wallace’s voice intruded on her thoughts and Lois turned to face the woman staring back at her.
Lois scowled at her angrily, “Get the hell away from me!”
“The doctor said he should recover in a few days. The wounds should heal up but if not we can call him back,” Agent Wallace continued, crossing her arms over her chest. “You can be mad at me all you want but it needed to be done and you know it.”
“Right,” Lois shot back angrily, dabbing at her eyes with her hand and sitting up on the bed. “It’s not enough that he’s obviously been tortured and put through hell…” She stood up to her feet, wagging her hand in the air, “You didn’t have to make me do that.”
“He trusts you,” Agent Wallace reminded her gently.
“He was scared and screaming for it to stop…” Lois shook her head, running her hands up and down her arms. “There had to be another way.”
“He’ll be fine,” a voice from the corner remarked.
Lois looked up and saw Jack Davenport standing in the doorway. She let out a muttered curse, “What are you doing here?”
Agent Wallace turned to Jack, “You won’t be able to talk to him. The doctor gave him a sedative for the pain…”
“You’re not going to talk to him period!” Lois argued venomously. “Do you seriously think I’m going to let you anywhere near him after what happened to John Black?”
“He’s a potential witness,” Jack Davenport retorted, pointing to Clark’s unconscious state. “He’s obviously been tortured and probably can give some damning testimony against Luthor. Perry White said he’d been the one leading the initial investigation into Lex Luthor.”
“Read my lips,” Lois spat out angrily. “You stay the hell away from Clark or I will make it my mission to make your life a living hell!”
“You seem very protective of your partner, Lois,” Davenport caught her gaze, “I thought you two were just work partners.”
“Jack!” Agent Wallace snapped at him.
“Get out!” Lois pointed to the door angrily.
“We’ll be in touch,” Davenport remarked. “Call us when he wakes up.”
***
Gretchen Kelly felt a panic rise in her throat as she heard the sound of footsteps. She had failed him. Lex had given her the task of breaking Superman and she had failed miserably. She had recognized the woman the moment the gun had been pointed at her.
Lois Lane.
She was alive.
She held onto hope that this information would be enough to save her from Lex’s wrath. The door creaked and the rustling of keys jangling caused Gretchen Kelly’s heartrate to pick up. “Lex?” she called out.
The door opened and Nigel St. John stood in the doorway, aiming the barrel of the pistol at her. “Mr. Luthor is very disappointed, Gretchen,”
“No, you don’t understand, Nigel,” she began to stammer. “It wasn’t my fault. It was…” She looked at him with pleading eyes, “Please, I have to tell him.”
“I know who it was, Gretchen,” Nigel remarked coldly. “But I’m afraid you won’t be telling Mr. Luthor anything,”
***
Two Months Ago…“Are you sure?” Lois asked, staring at the missing person report in front of her. The bluish hue from the corpse staring back at her sent chills down her spine and made her stomach churn.
Jack Davenport laid the glossy 8x10 photo of ‘Barry’ out of costume with a large group and his arm around two women that looked to be charging by the hour, staring back into the camera with a big grin. He looked just like…
“Barry Hayes. Born and raised in San Francisco. Came to Metropolis to have his big break. After Superman’s appearance this past year he found it, playing Superman. The owner of the lookalike agency said he hadn’t shown up to any of his gigs in a few weeks. We ran the dentals and checked the body and found a tattoo on the left shoulder.”
“Kinda hard to get ink done when you’re invulnerable,” Lois muttered, looking away from the images.
“There was some waxy residue applied to the body that was maybe intended to cover up the tattoo, but after the body was embalmed, it came off. The coroner didn’t think anything of it until we were asked to look again. Dental records were a match for Barry.”
“So now instead of a dead superhero, we have a dead lookalike.” Lois shook her head in disgust. “Great.”
“This doesn’t change anything,” Davenport said, pointing to the image on the table. “If Lex Luthor killed this man to fake the superhero’s death…”
“If?” Lois scoffed, shaking her head, “Please, let’s not pretend this isn’t another cover-up.”
“Superman’s out there. The question is, where is he?” Jack asked.
Lois shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “I don’t know.”
“Perry said this partner of yours was pretty close with him.” Jack prompted.
“Clark was...is a friendly guy. He makes friends with everyone. Makes you feel at ease, and you end up sharing more than you intended. That’s just the way he his.” she felt a hitch in her throat as she added quickly. “Everyone loves him.”
“I’m sorry,” Davenport said, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t be sorry.” Lois shook her head. “Help me find him.”
“Find him?” Jack glanced at her in confusion. “Lois, you were the one that said Luthor said he…”
“I know what he said, but I also know Clark. I’m telling you he’s out there somewhere. We just have to find him.”
“You’re sure?” Jack Davenport asked.
“Yeah,” she nodded, “positive.” Her gaze shifted to the table where the picture was sitting. “He’s probably your best bet to find Superman and nail Lex Luthor to the wall. He was looking into him.”
“That must have made the partnership awkward,” Jack Davenport observed.
“Just help me find him,” she said, her expression turning to stone as she looked back at Jack.
***
Christina Wallace sat outside the doors to the mayor’s office, watching as Lex Luthor exited the doors with Mayor Berkowitz in tow. She kept her expression cool and collected as she continued to stare, meeting Lex Luthor’s gaze. She gave him a slow smile, watching as he turned his attention back to the mayor and changed directions.
The phone in her pocket buzzed as she continued to watch him, “Wallace,” she answered the phone.
“How’s the surveillance going?” she heard her partner ask.
“Swimmingly,” she grinned happily, watching Lex peer over his shoulder at her. “The charges may not have stuck, but he knows we’re watching him.”
***
Lex caught the gaze of the young blonde from across the room. His eyes narrowed with recognition. It wasn’t enough that all allegations against him had been dropped. That agent from the FBI kept showing up everywhere.
“Mr. Luthor, let me show you the new facilities…” Mayor Berkowitz said, pointing to the hallway leading to the courtroom. “We’re calling it the Luthor Wing,” he winked back at Lex as he led the way.
“Actually,” he noticed the young blonde staring him down from across the hall, “I have an appointment, Mayor. Perhaps, a raincheck?”
“Of course!” he cheered happily. “I’ll walk you out. I can’t tell you how much we appreciate your generous donation.”
“I’m always willing to support our city’s law enforcement.” Lex remarked coolly.
Mayor Berkowitz shared a solemn expression as they continued toward the exit, “We really appreciate it, Mr. Luthor. With the news of Superman’s death hitting the city the way it has…To be honest, we’re having a hard time keeping good men and women on the front line.”
“Happy to help,” Lex beamed, catching the gaze of the young blonde once more before pushing his way through the exit.
***
Lois took a deep breath, looking around the empty cabin. She set her bags down by the door, checking to make sure the locks were secured. She fumbled with the locks, ensuring each one was as tight as possible before moving into the living room.
She leaned back against the door, staring at the open space in front of her. She grabbed her bags and carried them into the bedroom, pulling the mobile phone out of her bag. She flipped through the envelope, finding the stack of phone cards she’d purchased. She needed to call in and check on how things were going with Jimmy on the names she’d given him.
A knock at the door caused her to jump. She quickly shoved her phone and the envelope full of cards back into the side pocket of her bag. Another knock came and she reached beneath her jacket, feeling the handle to her pistol that was holstered. She made her way to the backdoor where the knocking was coming from. She looked through the window on the side and saw a woman with bleach blonde hair and a white box in her hands. Curious, she unlocked the door and opened it.
“Yes?”
“Oh, see, I knew Tim had someone new move in here. Dolores told me I was crazy, but well this will show her. I may be getting old but I knew I saw a new car pull in.” The woman began to ramble at fifty miles an hour, not even stopping to take a breath.
“I’m sorry,” she did her best to keep up with the woman’s rambling. “Who are you?”
“Oh, where are my manners,” the woman pushed past her, stepping inside with the white box in her hand. “I’m Melinda Hemingway,” she puffed out her chest as if that should mean anything. “I own the property right on the corner…”
“Uh-huh,” Lois did her best to force a smile, uncertain why that should mean anything.
“So, I take it you’re Tim’s new tenants?” Melinda asked, pursing her lips as she turned toward the mirror on the wall behind them, checking her teeth in her reflection.
“Tim?” Lois racked her brain for the name that had been on the paperwork Perry had given her. She had mentioned Tim. Alice’s uncle had been the property owner before he had died and passed it on to Alice. Maybe that was who she meant.
The woman’s mouth pursed into a thin line and she raised her eyebrow at Lois, “Yes, Timothy Westman? The owner of this property?”
Lois did her best to not react to the woman’s intrusive behavior. Creating a lasting impression wasn’t how she wanted to start things. She was supposed to be laying low. “Yes, I think I remember Alice mentioning him.”
“Alice?” Melinda frowned, “Tim’s niece?”
“Yes, she was the one that rented the cabin to me,” Lois forced a smile.
“Oh, yes, Tim does have a soft spot for her,” Melinda acknowledged.
“Right,” Lois felt like her teeth would fall out from how hard she was keeping the pretense of smiling for his woman.
“So, you are…?” the woman prompted.
“Um, Leila,” Lois introduced herself with the new identity she’d been furnished. “Leila Kane.”
“Well, it was nice to meet you, Leila,” the woman eyed her carefully, handing her the white box in her hands. “We do take pride on appearances around here. Just be sure to treat the place like your own and we shouldn’t have any issues.” She opened the box for her, “Double chocolate chip. I made them myself,”
“Well, thank you,” Lois stammered, uncertain how much longer she could carry on this conversation that was making her teeth hurt.
“Welcome to the neighborhood, Leila Kane,” the woman called over her shoulder as she made her way to the exit. It was clear she’d only come over to get the dirt on who Lois was. Lois let out a sigh of relief when the door closed behind Melinda and set the box down. She checked to make sure the locks were tight and then turned back to the bedroom to call Jimmy.
***
Present Day…Lois peeked through the cracked bathroom door, leading to the bedroom where Clark was sleeping. There was still no change. The longer he slept the more worried she became. He had passed out on the car ride to the safe house. Even when the doctor had been cleaning his wounds it hadn’t jarred him from his unconscious state.
Four days. It had been four days since the rescue. Agent Wallace had been waiting at the cabin with the doctor. The same doctor that had stitched her up after Lex’s attack. She glanced down at her reddened thigh as she turned to face the bathtub. She’d run out of antibiotics yesterday and the area around her wound was becoming more and more red. She suspected it was infected. She’d have to reach out to Wallace and see if she could get a refill.
She reached over to turn the faucet to the shower on, feeling the water that came out until it was the right temperature. She slipped her robe off, hanging it on the hook and pulled back the shower curtain. The water continued to run out of the faucet at her feet and she leaned down to pull the lever, rerouting the water to the showerhead. There was a creak in the pipes and then the water burst out of the showerhead, raining over her.
She reached for the bottle of shampoo and began lathering it in her hair, staring at the tile walls. How long had Lex kept Clark in that prison? A month? Two? Three? She placed her hand on the tile, allowing the water to beat on her back as her mind flashed back to the rescue she’d performed four days ago.
‘I’m not crazy.’Those had been the words he’d growled out at her when she’d tried to rescue him. It was clear there was no limit as to what lengths Lex would go to in order to torture his enemy. There had been bruises, cuts and burns all over Clark’s body. She let out a shuddered breath, recalling the ligature marks on his back when the doctor had shed him of the uniform Lex had him in. Agent Wallace had taken picture of the uniform and then burnt it.
She let out a muffled sob, recalling Clark’s frantic state when they’d been surrounded by gunfire. He had been scared. Lex had obviously gotten his hands on Kryptonite and been using it and God knows what else to torture Clark. She knew the physical scars would heal eventually but the obvious mental ones he’d been burdened with she wasn’t so sure of.
She reached down to release the lever to the shower and turned the faucet off. The steam from the shower quickly evaporated and she felt the goosebumps raise on her skin, reminding her of the moist droplets that covered her body. She reached for the towel, hanging on the shower rod above her head, pulling it down and wrapping it around her body. She took the other towel hanging on the rack and used it to dry the remainder of her body, catching a glimpse of her tear stained cheeks in the mirror.
She looked back at the half-open door once more. Still nothing.
Four days.
It had been four days since the rescue.
Surely there was a limit to how much rest a body…even a super body needed to recover. She didn’t have the answers and she knew there was only so long he could go. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if his retreat into slumber was a way of hiding from the perils he’d endured at Lex Luthor’s hands.
She sighed, making her way back into the bedroom. She looked down at the redness around the wound on her thigh. She grabbed the cell phone from the dresser and returned to the bathroom with the first aid kit. Hopefully it wasn’t too early.
She turned, looking over her shoulder when she felt a brush of air against the back of her neck. Nothing. The door remained open as she applied the antiseptic to her leg and listened to the long ring echoing through the earpiece of her phone.
“Hello?”
“Martha, it’s me,” Lois peered over her shoulder, looking back at Clark’s sleeping form. Four days and no change.
“Perry told me what happened,” Martha said carefully. “Are you…?”
“I’m fine,” Lois said quicker than she needed to. Truth be told she was anything but fine at the moment but she didn’t want to waste time discussing herself. She needed to ask about Clark.
“You were shot,” Martha corrected her. “I don’t think that qualifies as fine.”
Lois sighed, realizing she wouldn’t get around the subject. “It’s healing I guess.”
“Are you keeping the dressing clean?” Martha asked. “You’ve got to change them like clockwork otherwise it’ll get infected…”
“Yeah, I’ve been changing it every day, but it’s still pretty red,” Lois sighed, readjusting the phone against her face. “I’m going to call in for some more antibiotics.” There was a silence between them and Lois bit her lip, trying to find the right words to ask the question she’d been dreading. What if he doesn’t wake up? What if there’s something wrong? What if…
“Any change?” Martha asked, seeming to read her thoughts.
“No,” she choked back a sob. “No, there’s been no change. I’m starting to get worried. It’s been four days now…”
“I’m sure he’ll come around soon. Are you keeping enough sunlight on him?” Martha asked.
Before Lois could respond she felt a hand on her shoulder. Flashes from the fight with Lex raced through her mind and she instinctively went on the defense, not giving the potential attacker a chance to throw the first punch. She grabbed the hand by the wrist and delivered a kick before throwing her assailant over her shoulder. She turned, adrenaline pulsing through her veins and stopped when she saw Clark lying on his back in the middle of the floor.
The phone laid on the ground forgotten and she moved to Clark’s side, hovering over him as he let out a painful groan, “Clark! Oh, my God are you, all right? I’m so sorry I…”
“Am I dead?” he croaked out.
She felt a lump in her throat, uncertain how to respond. Was he dead? How was that the first thing he said to her after all these months? She tightened her jaw, swallowing the tears that were threatening to take over and whispered, “No,” She ran her hand against his cheek, “you’re not dead.”
He stared back at her for a long moment. His lips were dry and chapped as he opened his mouth to ask, “How…?”
‘Water,’ the thought popped in her mind as she brushed away a few stray tears that had escaped out of the corners of her eyes.
‘He needs water.’ She removed her hand from his cheek and saw his face fall as she pulled away. “It’s a long story.”
She found herself unable to move, staring back at him. She needed to get up. It had been four days since she found him and God only knows how long since he’d had any food or water. She needed to get up but that task seemed impossible in that moment.
***
Clark began to stir, hearing the sound of water running in the distance. He squinted his eyes, feeling the sunlight on his face. Sunlight. He hadn’t felt direct or indirect sunlight in so long he’d forgotten what it felt like. He tried to open his mouth but felt a sting in his throat. His lips were chapped, and he parted them carefully, feeling the sticky skin pull apart. ‘Water,’ he thought to himself. He needed water. The last attack must have taken more out of him than he’d thought.
He reached for the side of his steel hospital bed, only to find a soft comforter hanging over the side. He squeezed the material, curious how he’d been awarded such privileges by the likes of Dr. Kelly.
His eyes fluttered open, and he stared up at the unfamiliar setting he was in. The plain white walls were gone. He shifted his neck and felt a cramp, reaching his hand back to grab it and felt the sting from his left shoulder. He looked down and saw a white square of gauze taped just below the collarbone. He ran a hand across his bare chest and sat up, staring down at the skin uncertainly. He lifted the comforter and noticed an unfamiliar looking pair of cotton shorts was all he had on.
He frowned, looking around the unfamiliar room. Was this a trick? He peered up in the corners of the wood-paneled walls and saw no sign of cameras. No sign of him being watched but he knew that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Luthor was always watching…waiting.
He looked to the side table and frowned, seeing a familiar pair of glasses sitting on top of a familiar pair of shorts and shirt. He reached out to touch it. The fabric was soft and worn, just as his had been. He lifted the folded shirt, opening it up and gasped at the worn number and lettering on it. It was his old t-shirt from college with his jersey number printed on it. The glasses looked just like the pair he’d kept in Smallville.
He lifted them up, staring at the spectacles with a wary expression. How simple his life had been back then. No evil villains to fight. No stress of having the weight of the world on his shoulders. The small problems that weighed on him back then seemed minuscule compared to the mountain load of pain he carried with him now.
‘Water,’ his mind reminded him. He looked around the room and saw a door partially open and leading to the bathroom. The light was on, and he could still hear water running in the distance. He swung his legs around, placing his feet on the ground and feeling the soreness in his back and leg muscles with full effect. He placed his palms on both sides of him, putting all his weight into the effort of lifting himself up. He could feel a sharp pain in his shoulder, and his leg muscles had definitely seen better days. He was up though.
He glanced back at the bed he’d sat up from and saw a blood stain on the navy blue sheets he’d been laying on. He frowned, uncertain where it had come from. The water stopped. He turned toward the bathroom, hearing a familiar voice.
“Yeah, I’ve been changing it every day, but it’s still pretty red,” the female voice came from inside the bathroom.
‘It couldn’t be,’ his mind screamed, recognizing the voice immediately. He walked toward the open door and saw a woman with a towel wrapped around her and her back facing him as she spoke on the cordless phone to someone. The silhouette was unmistakable. Her hair looked different, but her body language was all her. He knew it was probably a trick. It always was. The holograms and recordings had been funneled through his prison every day, and he knew the evidence had already been presented of her death. It couldn’t possibly be her. Still, he couldn’t help but be drawn in as he stood in the doorway, unable to move, frozen and continuing to stare.
“No, there’s been no change. I’m starting to get worried. It’s been four days now…”
He couldn’t help himself. He knew engaging in the fantasy would only cause his mind further torment. He had to prove to himself this wasn’t real. It was a dream. She wasn’t…
The second he felt the damp flesh against his hand he recoiled, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand up as he croaked out her name, “Lois?”
It only took a second before he found himself flat on his back after she delivered a hard blow to the gut and threw him back across the floor. He let out a painful groan, and then a minute later she reappeared, hovering over him, “Clark! Oh, my God are you, all right? I’m so sorry I…”
“Am I dead?” he croaked out.
A look flashed in her eyes, and she gave him a tight-lipped frown as a sob escaped her throat, “No,” her hand brushed against his cheek, and she croaked out, “you’re not dead.” Image after image of her helping drag him from an elevator flashed through his mind. Another of her pleading with him to trust her and stabbing him with a scalpel flashed through his mind.
<<“I’ll explain later, just trust me,”>>“How…?” he did his best to ask the question as she stared back at him, tears in her eyes. A million thoughts raced through his mind as he stared back at her. He had so many questions but found himself unable to voice a single one. She was alive. Lois was alive. How this was possible, he wasn’t sure, but for the first time, he felt something he hadn’t in a long time. Hope.
“It’s a long story,” Lois pulled away from him, standing to her feet. He caught sight of the bandage on her leg and the swollen red skin around it. She’d been injured. That much was evident.
He stared at her for a long moment, waiting for her to say more but she didn’t. Should he ask? Would she answer? There were so many questions he had but knowing when the right time was to ask for the answers seemed a skill he couldn’t or wouldn’t use as he found himself unable to form the words to ask what he so desperately needed to know. Lois turned, leaving the room without another word and closing the bathroom door behind her.
He carefully sat up from where he’d so graciously been thrown and slowly image after image came back of her literally dragging him from the prison cell he’d been in and rescuing him.
<<“Clark, just know I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have to,”>>
<<“Clark, what did they do to you?”>>
<<“I know. I know. I’m so sorry, Clark,”>>
<<“Clark, it’s okay, I’ve got you”>>
‘Clark,’ the name sounded so good to his ears, but still, it felt strange to hear her call his name. There was something about the way she said it that felt different. He moved his hand to his face, feeling the rough hair against his skin from not being able to shave in…How long had it been?
The door creaked open, and he looked up to see Lois dressed in a t-shirt and shorts with a bottle of water in her hands. “I thought you might be thirsty. It’s been a few days since you last ate.”
He took the bottle from her, twisting the cap and gulping the water down as fast as he could. He could feel the cool liquid soak into his body like a sponge, thirsting for more. He dared not look up for fear his throat would close up, robbing him of the precious gift of water he used to take for granted. He closed his eyes, saying a silent prayer as he looked down at the empty bottle in his hand. He dared not look up for fear that he’d be forced to stare into her eyes once more. He was still reeling from the news that she was alive.
Lois Lane was alive.
She pointed to the bathroom behind her, “The bathroom’s all yours. There are fresh towels on the towel rack. Why don’t you get cleaned up and if you need anything...” She pointed to the door behind him.
He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Listening to her voice made his heart ache as the image of the bloody knife flashed through his mind again and again. The threats and ugly picture Luthor painted for him time and time again.
She stopped mid-sentence and knelt down in front of him, forcing him to look at her. “Clark?”
There it was again. His name.
“I know this is a lot to take in,” she began slowly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched slightly, unable to welcome her touch just yet. “Okay,” she backed away, and he heard a crack in her voice, “I’m just gonna give you some space.” With that she got up and left, leaving him alone in the unrecognizable room to ponder everything he’d just learned.
***
“Clark?” Lois stared at him, watching fear and recognition cross through Clark Kent’s eyes as he stared back at her. He was almost unrecognizable with the unkempt beard and mustache that had grown out over the last few months.
He was scared. She couldn’t blame him. Knowing what she’d been put through by Lex, she knew it was probably nothing compared to what he’d been put through. She stared back at him, hoping to see some resemblance of the man she’d known for the past year.
“I know this is a lot to take in,” she began carefully, placing a hand on his shoulder as she stared back at him. He physically recoiled beneath her touch, and she felt a lump form in her throat as she pondered what to do. Did she keep pushing him and risk more damage or did she give him his space and hope for the best? She swallowed hard and chose the latter.
“I’m just gonna give you some space.”
She stood up and left, hiding the tears that were threatening to overtake her as she slammed the door closed behind her. A muffled cry escaped her throat, and she lowered herself to the ground, leaning back against the door and rocking herself in-between strangled cries.
***
Two Months Ago…Franklin Stern pointed to the large portfolio in front of each of his shareholders. “Gentlemen, this city has been delivered a disservice. For the longest time Metropolis prided itself on being the home of the great Daily Planet. Now it lies in ruins, forgotten.”
He tossed a copy of the Metropolis STAR on the boardroom table, “Are we really going to let Lex Luthor control the narrative of this city?”
“Franklin,” one of his advisors spoke up, “I miss the Planet as much as anyone, but LexCorp owns the entire media outlet of Metropolis. We have influence with some of the television markets but Metropolis is not our turf and with the rumors surrounding Luthor’s last hostile takeover I’m not sure this is a fight I’m willing to embark on.”
“Agreed,” Stern’s CFO nodded. “We know your heart is in the right place, but Lex Luthor is too much of a threat.” He sighed, meeting Stern’s gaze, “I’m sorry,”
“So, we just lie back and let Luthor takeover? No one is willing to stand up to him?” Stern asked, shaking his head.
“That’s not what we’re saying…”
“Isn’t it?” Stern challenged. “Luthor gets a stronghold on Metropolis and it’s only a matter of time before he starts branching out. With his recent legal trouble we need to strike while the iron is hot and take control.”
“But…”
“Have I ever steered this board wrong before?” Stern asked.
***
Lex Luthor sat behind his desk, tapping at the smooth surface of his wood grain desk. He looked up at his visitor, the FBI’s Director of Major Crimes, Victor Talley. “I have half a mind to file a lawsuit against your department for harassment, Mr. Talley,”
“I have half a mind to give Agent Wallace the freedom to open an official investigation into the backroom deals that she’s uncovered.” Talley responded with just as much gusto. “I’m not one of your patsies, Mr. Luthor. You have a problem with the FBI doing its job, file an official complaint and I’ll make sure to give it the attention it needs…Thanks to these budget cuts we’re running out of toilet paper.”
“I’m so glad to see my tax dollars are hard at work paying your salary and threaten me. Perhaps the FBI’s Chief of Staff would be interested in hearing from me. I do owe her a dinner…”
“Oh, yes, I’m sure she would love to hear all about how scared you are of a little town car following you to public functions. Didn’t you fire your head of security? Think of it as government funded protection.” Talley responded with a dark tone.
“Lest you forget your position is appointed by the people.” Lex warned.
“Threatening a public official is a federal crime, Mr. Luthor,” Talley reminded him. “As I stated before, if you have a complaint then file it with my office. If not, then I suggest you go about your day and drop it. If there isn’t anything to find then you have nothing to worry about, right?”
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Mr. Talley,” Lex threatened.
“I’ll take that under advisement,” Talley responded in turn. “Threaten me again and I’ll have you sitting in a federal prison before you can call that fancy lawyer of yours. You wouldn’t bode well in federal prison, Mr. Luthor. Tiny room. Four walls. No windows. From what I hear you’re a bit of a claustrophobic.” His tone turned dark as he added. “Don’t sit at the table with the big boys if you’re not prepared to lose.” With that Victor Talley stood to his feet, smiling as he left the room, leaving an angry Lex Luthor behind.
***
Simon Truesdale sat in his limo glancing at the passenger across from him nervously. He’d always had a weak spot for beautiful women. She popped the wrist of her laytex gloves and smiled at him with a devilish smile, “Just in case,”
“Are we going to be making a mess?” he asked nervously.
“I won’t,” she whispered, leaning over, “but you will.”
He heard a popping sound before falling over, grabbing his neck to stop it from bleeding. The woman whispered in his ear, “Simon, you should have seen this coming. No one talks about closed boardroom deals and lives to tell the tale.” His eyes widened as he realized what was happening. “Think of it this way. At least you can save your kids the heartache of going through a painful divorce….”
***
Jimmy let out a defeated sigh, setting the papers on the coffee table in front of him. Another dead end. He’d tried everything he could but he just couldn’t come up with a way into Westminster in order to talk to Phillip Manning. He’d been able to hack into the school’s mainframe and access the student’s files but trying to find a way to approach the almost 11-year-old or his state assigned guardian.
“You coming up empty too?” Jack asked, looking up from the desktop computer he was huddled behind in the corner.
“I’m stuck,” Jimmy said with a grunt. “Trying to reopen these cases and dig up the evidence we had but was destroyed…”
“Well, you can’t say Luthor doesn’t clean up after himself,” Jack let out a low whistle. He got up from the desk and walked over to Jimmy, “The agent at Lexel Investments isn’t returning my calls.”
Jimmy let out a groan, shaking his head and pointing to the stack of papers on the table. “Your board member was murdered.”
“What?” Jack leaned over and grabbed the stack of papers, looking at the picture on the article he’d printed.
“He’s going to get away with it.” Jimmy muttered angrily. “He always gets away with it.”
“You know, if that’s how you really feel then why are you bothering?” a voice came from behind him and Jimmy turned to see Alice White standing behind him with a mug of coffee in her hand.
“Mrs. White, sorry, we didn’t mean to wake you,” Jimmy said hurriedly, sitting up on the couch.
“Oh, Alice, please,” she corrected him again, taking a seat next to him. There was a silence between them. She nudged Jimmy, “You seem to have given up.”
“He keeps killing everyone,” Jimmy said, shaking his head in dismay. “We get a witness or a little headway and then poof Luthor takes them out.” He grew solemn before adding, “Just like CK.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” Alice reminded him. “He could be injured or …”
“Dead?” Jack cut in with a solemn tone.
“He would have reached out by now if he was all right.” Jimmy shook his head, staring at the monitor on his laptop. “Something happened. He wouldn’t just drop off like that.”
***
Present Day…Clark stared at his reflection in the mirror, trying to recognize himself through the mangled hair that covered his face. He could feel the tension rising on the back of his neck, and he looked down at the counter where his hand was shaking against the countertop. ‘Stop it,’ he told himself, gripping the side of the counter with a growl. He looked up and stared into the mirror, seeing the reflection of the stranger staring back at him.
He was unrecognizable.
He turned away in disgust, looking at the towel and razor that had been set out on the counter for him.
‘Subtle,’ he thought to himself, looking around the bathroom. Unlike the other room he was in this one was covered in floral wallpaper that seemed to be something out of the late seventies. He looked to the bathtub that appeared to have been replaced recently. Unlike the tile around it, the hue was brighter and more of a sterling white than the off-white eggshell that encompassed the room.
How long had it been since he’d showered…or shaved for that matter? He briefly wondered if he could even remember how to use the razor in front of him. He’d relied on his heat vision for most of his adolescence. By the time puberty had hit he was already invulnerable, making shaving a difficult task as he learned how to maneuver his heat vision with hair that needed daily trimming.
“You stink.” He told himself, reaching over to turn the water faucet on. A piercing pain ran through his shoulder as he extended his arm and he pulled it back, hearing the loud ringing from the faucet as the water came on. “Other arm,” he told himself. He extended his other arm out to turn the faucet where he needed it to be and pulled the lever to turn the shower on.
The cold water made him jump back, and he could feel his unsteady legs fighting to keep standing as he stared at the stream of water coming from the shower head. He wore a determined expression on his face as he allowed the sleeping shorts to fall to the ground and stepped out of them. He reached behind him to grab the razor from earlier.
Inside he saw a sample bottle of shampoo and a bar of soap on the side of the tub. It was the same brand he’d used countless times before. He felt the tension immediately leave his body as the warm water hit his skin. He stared down at his feet, watching the brownish water flow toward the drain and bit back a roar of triumph as he reached for the shampoo to wash the stink, blood, sweat, and tears out of his hair. The scent of fresh soap filled the shower, and he felt tears burning the corners of his eyes as he reveled in such a simple task. It was something so common, and yet it had become something he craved for however long he had been trapped in that hell hole.
He reached for the bar of soap, intent on continuing the treatment he’d given his hair when his leg began to shake. He reached out to grab the curtain only to fall back, landing on his back. The pain from the fall made him cry out, and the door flung open.
He looked down, thanking the lucky stars for some semblance of modesty that had been granted to him by allowing the shower curtain to keep him covered for the most part as he struggled to sit up. His body wasn’t nearly as strong as it used to be. That much he was aware of, but the unsteadiness in his legs remained a mystery. Could it be the prolonged exposure to the Kryptonite? The electroshock he’d been subjected to? The beatings? Anything was possible, but at that moment he would have given anything to be able to stand up and continue with the independent act he’d been reveling in. The simple act of bathing himself.
Another thing Luthor had robbed him of.
He didn’t dare look up when Lois entered the bathroom. How could he? He couldn’t even bathe himself. He’d lifted an entire space station into orbit, knocked an asteroid almost the size of half of the Earth atmosphere out of the Earth’s trajectory and yet he couldn’t even stand on his own two feet and finish the mundane task of bathing himself.
To his surprise, she didn’t say anything. She lifted the lever and released the water from the showerhead, so the water rerouted itself to the faucet. Not a single word escaped her lips as she handed him the soap bar that had fallen to the floor. He looked up at her in surprise, uncertain of what to make of this side of Lois Lane he’d never seen before. She adjusted the curtain and pulled it back so that only his face could be seen from behind it.
She reached down and picked up the razor and the bottle of shampoo that had fallen to the ground during his fall. He glanced over at her, uncertain how to respond as she placed the items on the side of the tub. He reached over to grab the side of the tub and let out a muttered grunt when he felt his hand shaking against the porcelain.
Lois’ hand reached over to cover his, stilling the movements and he gritted his teeth, holding in the frustration he felt at his body’s failure to do the simple things that used to come so easy. “It’s okay,” she whispered, turning to him. He didn’t respond, uncertain how to even look at her. There was a silent lull between them and then she broke the silence, “You’re bleeding,” She reached over pointing to his forehead with the wet washcloth in her hand.
He reached up to stop her, grabbing her wrist, letting out a muffled growl, “No,”
She flinched, grabbing his hand to release his grip on her wrist. “You need help,” she whispered hoarsely. “Please, just let me help you,”
He stared back at her for a moment, contemplating her plea for a moment and then released his grip on her wrist. He looked down at the porcelain of the tub he was sitting in, staring at the faucet that continued to run. He could see the red trickle of blood on the side as it ran down the drain.
He was bleeding.
She applied the washcloth to the side of his head and whispered, “I think maybe sitting might be a better option.” She pulled back, standing to her feet and pointing to the showerhead. “I’m just going to turn this on.”
“Okay,” he nodded, keeping a tight grip on the side of the tub when he felt the rain of the showerhead pour down on top of him. Just as quickly as the shower curtain had parted it closed back again and she took a seat on the floor with her back to him. He looked down in defeat, realizing she was trying to give him at least the semblance of the last of his dignity.
The worry on her face was evident, and he wanted to explain. He tried to tell her, but he found himself at a loss for words. The skill of formulating a response and using words to express himself as he had for so many years was foreign to him now. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to say the words. The half thought that he hoped she would understand the meaning behind.
“I fell.”
“I know,” she said, not turning to look at him. “I know this is hard and I know you’ve got a lot of questions, but right now I think it’s best you focus on...healing.”
He stared for a long moment at her back uncertain what to say in response. The water continued to rain over him, trickling warmth as he watched the soapy residue flow toward the drain. He closed the curtain, leaning forward into the stream to silently continuing to wash the remainder of the soap from his body.
***
Two Months Ago…Perry could feel his blood pressure spiking the minute Jimmy, Jack and Alice began pitching their brilliant plan to him. Alice had her hands on her hips and her chin jutted out in defiance as she continued to plead her case. All he could see was the reminder of how close he’d come to losing someone he’d cared about.
“Absolutely not!” Perry White shook his head adamantly, staring at the two traitors sitting across the table, uncharacteristically silent as Alice glared at him. He looked pleadingly at his wife, “It’s too dangerous!”
“It is a
one day trip, Perry.” Alice White shrugged, running a hand through her hair. “One conversation.”
“That’s how it always starts!” he shot back, running a weary hand through his thinning grey hair. “It’s just one day. Whoops, here comes a lead and next thing you know you’re holed up in the corner of an alley with a guy named Moe and the barrel of a 45 pointed at you and then guess who has to come to the rescue…”
“I think that old memory is a bit tainted,” Alice sniffed, shaking her head. “As I remember it, you were the one that didn’t want to check in with Old Man Krebbs because you were so sure Moe could be trusted.” She crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her foot impatiently at him. “I was the one that put a tail on you and saved your ignorant behind from becoming target practice for McCarthy’s gang.”
“Fine!” Perry waved her off, not wanting to get into a debate over who saved who at the moment. Though he knew it was he that had called the cops, not her. “You saved me. Whatever, but that was almost two decades ago! This isn’t a run of the mill mobster. This is a dangerous felon who gets paid to make explosives and ruin lives!” Perry barked, shaking his head.
“Oh, since when has that ever stopped you? It’s not like I’m jumping out of a helicopter waving ‘Come get me!’ Unlike some people I actually know how to be discreet.” Alice huffed.
“I am discreet,” Perry shot back.
“As a bull in a china shop,” Alice rolled her eyes at him. “I remember a certain newspaper hound that got himself tied to a nuclear warhead and …”
“And almost got myself killed if it weren’t for you following me.” Perry finished for her, sharing a smile with her. He was losing this argument and he knew it.
She took a step closer to him, placing a hand on his chest, “We made a great team back then.”
“We still do,” Perry sighed, placing his hand over hers. “But we’re too old to be dangling off of helicopters and chasing down terrorists.”
“You might be too old but I am not,” Alice argued with a grin.
“Alice…”
“Chief, she’s got a point,” Jimmy cut in, setting his glass of water down.
“She most certainly does not!” Perry argued half-heartedly. “It’s too dangerous!”
Jack nudged Jimmy and whispered loud enough for Perry to hear, “You think Perry realizes he sounds like Clark when he’s trying to talk Lois out of something?”
“I heard that!” Perry turned to the two young men sitting at the table.
“Oh, come on, Perry, don’t you miss it? The adrenaline pumping through your veins when you’re on the tail of a hot lead.” Alice pleaded with him.
“You could get killed.” Perry remarked solemnly.
“I remember saying the same thing to you when you went undercover to expose the corruption in the McCarthy trials.” She shot back, wagging her finger at him. “You asked me to trust your instincts and I did. You almost got yourself killed in the process but I trusted you, Perry.”
“Alice, these aren’t dirty politicians we’re dealing with here,” Perry reminded her.
“Which is why you should let me help,” Alice said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Face it, you need help. The only way to get close to these guys without tipping off Lex Luthor is for someone to talk to them that they don’t know. I’m an anonymous face.”
“You got to admit, it’s pretty genius, Chief,” Jimmy piped in. “We’ve got to get something to help bring down Lex Luthor. The FBI said Lois is the only evidence they have in their case against him. Alice would be perfect…”
“It’s one day,” Alice reminded him.
“Just one day?” Perry pondered aloud, realizing he’d already lost the argument.
“I’ll go with her.” Jimmy offered.
Perry wagged his finger at Jimmy, “If anything …and I mean anything looks suspicious you get her out of there and don’t look back. You hear?”
“Aye, aye,” Alice gave a playful salute and turned to leave. Perry sighed, shaking his head. He knew it was a good idea the minute Alice mentioned it but he couldn’t help but wonder if this might be one case where she was getting in over her head.
***
Present Day…
Nigel stood outside the medical office of Dr. B.D. Kahn. The building looked just like any other, but his source had insisted she’d seen a woman fitting Lois Lane’s description brought here a little over a month ago. The question was, why on Earth would Lois Lane have been brought to a plastic surgeon’s office when the hospital was only a few blocks away?
He reached for the front door and frowned when he realized it was locked. ‘Interesting,’ he thought to himself. Perhaps it was time that he got to know who this B.D. Kahn was and what his connection to Lois Lane was.
***
“Just a few more feet,” Lois whispered, keeping a strong grip on Clark as she helped him walk to the bathroom counter.
‘Easy for you to say,’ he thought to himself, dragging his leg across the floor, making his way to the counter and gripping the ceramic surface as if his life depended on it. He looked down, staring at the wet front of her t-shirt from where she’d helped him out of the shower. He felt exposed.
He had to hand it to her she remained eye level with him. Still, he found himself unable to be grateful for the small saving grace in the humiliating situation he was in. He was naked…exposed for all the world to see. Of all the fantasies he’d had over the past year of being naked in the shower with Lois Lane this was not how he’d pictured it. He could feel panic rising in the pit of his stomach as her knee brushed against his upper thigh and he felt his body instinctively respond.
‘No, no, no, no…This is not happening’ he looked down to his feet, the back of his neck burning with embarrassment and tears burning in the corner of his eyes. He gritted his teeth, feeling the heat from his embarrassment wash over him as he imagined for a moment if being back in that hell hole would have been better than this.
“It’s okay,” she reassured him, tilting his chin and forcing him to look at her. “Here,” she handed him a large bath towel, keeping her eyes on him as he took it from her.
Immediately he felt relief when the large terry cloth material unfolded from his hand. He held the counter with one hand and shook it open with the other. Gone were the days of super-speeding through his morning routine and drying off with a spin change. How could he have taken such liberties for granted? He let out a groan of frustration as he struggled to hold the towel in place long enough to tie the two ends around his waist into a knot.
“Oh!” Lois seemed to register what he was attempting to do and quietly helped him with the task. He met her gaze with a pained expression, uncertain what to make of the look in her eyes. She placed a hand on his cheek, fingering the hair that had grown along his cheekbone. “I think you might need to use a trimmer. This is too long for just a razor.” She looked behind her and held up a cordless trimmer.
His eyes widened in a panic as he saw the silver and black trimmer come near him. The last time he’d had to shave with anything other than his heat vision was when he’d broken the blade of the razor he’d been gifted by Pete Ross. He swallowed hard, staring at the blades that could potentially reveal too much. He reached his hand out and stopped her, grabbing her wrist to prevent her arm from coming any closer.
She stopped, staring back at him in surprise. He held her gaze for a long moment before releasing his grasp on her. She pulled her wrist back and set the trimmer down. He looked down, keeping his hand on the countertop for support and looking toward the open door.
He needed to get out of here.
He needed space.
He needed to take what little of his dignity was left and get away from Lois before he embarrassed himself any further. He felt more vulnerable under her gaze than he had in all the months he’d been under the camera surveillance of Luthor and Dr. Kelly. The sooner he could get out of this bathroom and away from Lois the better he’d be.
“Clark?” she placed her hand on his cheek and he shuddered beneath her touch. She stared at him for what felt like an eternity. He looked down, uncertain what to say to explain what was going through his mind in that moment. “Clark, it’s fine,” she whispered, cupping his cheek with her palm. She moved her arm to his back, “I’m just going to help you to the bed and then you can take it from there, okay?”
He nodded silently, unwilling to give a vocal response for fear his humiliation and embarrassment of the current situation would betray him. His legs continued to tremor with each step. He reached the doorway, leading to the bedroom he’d woken up in. He reached his arm out to hold onto the door frame for support.
“Easy,” Lois whispered, tightening her grasp on his shoulder as they stepped out onto the wooden floors. He could feel his arm begin to tremor and she stopped, waiting for it to pass before taking the next few steps toward the bed. “I’ve got you,” she whispered.
He took another staggered step toward the bed, cursing under his breath at the current predicament he was in. how many times had he prayed and wished for an opportunity to be close like this with Lois? How many times had he dreamt of having her hold him and never let go? Now all he wanted was to get as far away from her as possible.
‘Not exactly how you imagined it, is it?’ he thought bitterly as he felt the damp fabric from the front of her shirt press into him. They only had a few more steps before this torture would end.
“Almost there,” Lois cheered, offering him a tense smile. He could tell from the perspiration on her forehead she was looking forward to the end of this task as much as he was. He knew Lois kept herself in shape but he never imagined she was strong enough to literally drag him out of the shower and into the bedroom.
‘Twenty-five steps.’ He took another step and before he could react he felt his legs give out from beneath him, pushing both him and Lois back onto the bed. He closed his eyes, uncertain what storm would come his way from Lois. To his surprise he heard laughter of all things coming from her as she hovered over him, attempting to untangle herself from where they’d fallen in the collision.
“Well, that’s one way of doing it I suppose,” Lois placed a hand on his chest for a moment, staring back at him for a long moment. He found himself getting lost once again in her gaze, uncertain how to react. Instinctively, he moved his hand to cover hers. The top half of her torso was soaked and he could make out the outline of the top half of her bra from beneath her dark green top. His gaze shifted back up to her face, meeting her eyes with his. It would be so tempting to act on impulse. How many nights had he dreamt of being this close to her again and here she was in the flesh, close enough to touch.
He reached his hand up, running his hand across the side of her face, outlining her jawline with his thumb. She felt so good. He knew if he kissed her there was a very real chance he wouldn’t be able to stop. After the months of torture and living in isolation, cut off from everything thinking she had died he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.
She was too close.
Unbearably close.
But in that moment, he didn’t care.
She moved closer and her eyelashes fluttered against her cheek. Then without warning she pulled away, clearing her throat and sitting back, “I’ll let you finish getting ready,” she pointed to the door, standing to her feet in an almost sprint out of the bedroom.
She mumbled a quick, “Call if you need anything,” and closed the door behind her.
He let out a long sigh, sinking his head back against the comforter, uncertain how to respond to her departure.
***
TBC...
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