Delusions of Grandeur
Folc4evernaday
Chapter 10
***
Present Day…Lois sat silently on the edge of the loveseat, watching as Clark scribbled notes on a legal pad, flipping through the police reports and crime scene photos from the Clinton Street bombing. Her gaze drifted toward the desk where the file jackets on the subsequent incidents that they knew Lex was behind. She felt a lump form in the back of her throat as she watched Clark hang his head, setting the last stack of photos on the table.
Four hours later and Clark had finally finished taking meticulous notes on the case. She hadn’t said anything. What was there to say? The painful, memory of what Lex had done in an attempt to fake Clark’s death and possibly even add an attempt on her friends’ lives wasn’t something she allowed her mind to dwell on for long. She couldn’t. Given the time, she was always reminded of what happened shortly after and she couldn’t—
wouldn’t relive that. Not now.
There was a lot more Clark had yet to see. The John Black murder, the attempted murder on her and the fake death certificate that had been issued, and of course Jonathan’s shooting at the Kent farm. She knew eventually she needed to tell him…and she would. Just not now.
Seeing the emotional state Clark was in, pouring over the damage that had been done in his absence was enough to prevent her from giving him any more information. His features remained stern and his eyes filled with remorse. Even though he hadn’t been the one to set off the bomb that had injured and killed those people he still carried the weight of their loss and injuries with him. Was that what it was like for him when a rescue went wrong for Superman?
She’d never even thought about how Superman managed after a disaster occurred where he hadn’t been fast enough or able to be in two places at once. A conversation from early in their partnership flashed through her mind.
<<"A fifteen-year-old boy is in critical condition, his mother is in shock, and his little sister can't stop crying. There were witnesses, but they're not talking. The officer I talked to says they've had half a dozen like this in the last week alone."
"Sounds like a job for Superman."
"Yeah. That would have made it a truly great story, wouldn't it?"
"Forget the story, Clark. Metropolis needs Superman."
"You think he would have been able to stop this?... Or that?"
"No. Even Superman can't be everywhere at once."
"Then what good is he?"
“It’s the idea of Superman. Someone to believe in. Someone to build a few hopes around. Whatever he can do; that’s enough.”>> Superman had been missing for days and Metropolis seemed to be experiencing an extra dose of destruction from the criminal element. At the time, she had been resentful of Clark’s ability to track down the missing hero, but knowing what she knew now, she wondered if there might have been something more to the story. Superman had shown up and been actively coming to the rescue for almost two months before up and disappearing from sight. No one knew where he went. Clark wasn’t the type to back down from a fight. She knew that first hand given the wild goose chase he’d sent her on for ‘super Godzilla’ and many of the verbal sparring sessions the two of them had ended up in over the past year.
Something had happened.
She had a sinking feeling whatever it was Lex Luthor’s name was written all over it. What she didn’t know was how to gain enough trust from Clark in order to get him to open up about whatever that was.
Clark pinched the bridge of his nose, setting the file in his hand down on the coffee table. He had gone through every photo and taken detailed notes of the sequence in which the bombing had occurred. He had a list of names on another sheet of paper. She wasn’t sure what they were, but hopefully, it was something that might help Henderson and Davenport solidify the case against Lex. As of right now if they went before a judge with just her testimony, it would look like nothing but bad blood given the broken relationship between herself and Lex. Losing John Black, and his testimony had delivered a mighty blow to the FBI’s case.
“This was a professional hit,” Clark finally said, pushing the notepad he had set on the table toward her.
“What’s this?” Lois asked, wrinkling her nose as she picked up the legal pad.
“Aliases,” he said with a scowl.
“Aliases?” she inquired, not following.
“If you were a professional hitman would you use your real name?” Clark asked. She stared at the names, and he moved to claim the seat next to her. “When we were investigating the Metros these were some of the professionals that came up in some of the follow-ups. Or the aliases rather.”
“And you think one of them might have been hired by…” she glanced over at Clark uncertain how to refer to the name of the man that had kidnapped and tortured him.
“Luthor?” Clark’s mouth thinned out into a straight line, and he nodded, “Yeah, I think he was the one pulling the strings on the entire Toasters operation.”
Lois held her breath, waiting a moment before responding. Any other time they’d talked about his suspicions it always resulted in a fight. She wanted to ask what made him suspect Lex but she didn’t want to risk him pulling away either. “The evidence linked back to Toni Taylor,” she stated the fact as simply as she could, watching him uneasily.
“I know,” his head dropped, and he stole a glance toward her as she stared back at him expectantly, “Don’t get me wrong, she was just a culpable, but she didn’t act alone.” He was silent for a long moment.
Lois bit her lower lip, approaching the question cautiously, “What makes you think she didn’t act alone?” He looked up at her with a look of disbelief, and she added, “I mean, Toni Taylor was running the Metros. She did admit to giving those weapons to the Toasters…”
Clark nodded, letting out a long sigh, “The money and technology needed to create those weapons and suits the Toasters had was way out of the Metros reach. Someone had to design it, create it, and then find a group of money hungry thugs that enjoy seeing Metropolis go up in flames.”
Lois pursed her lips, processing the information he’d laid before her. Many of the names were ones she hadn’t heard before, but one stood out to her. ‘The Handyman’ was on the FBI’s Most Wanted list and at the top of every hitman’s arsonist list. She wasn’t sure how to react to the information he’d just shared. On one hand she was resentful for him not including her in what he suspected months ago, but on the other hand, she was relieved to have him open up to her now.
“So, we’re looking for a possible project contracted at LexLabs or STAR Labs around the same time the Toasters appeared,” Lois reasoned aloud.
“Luthor’s not dumb enough to take it somewhere that he couldn’t erase the record,” Clark shook his head.
“Can’t hurt to at least look,” Lois reasoned.
“No,” Clark sighed, “I guess not,” His gaze shifted toward her and she felt her heart rate speed up, shifting beneath his watchful eyes. A smile cracked at the corners of his mouth.
“What?” she found her voice, staring back at him curiously.
“Nothing,” he shook his head, and she stared back at him expectantly. “It’s just nice being able to talk about this without you biting my head off.”
Her mouth twisted and she shrugged, uncertain how to respond, “Well, things are different now, right?”
“Right,” he nodded his agreement.
***
“The evidence linked back to Toni Taylor,”
Clark did his best not to react defensively to the statement. He stole a glance at Lois, noting how careful she was being as their conversation came dangerously close to the main argument they had had for months with one another for the last year. Despite his knowledge that she was helping testify against Luthor he still felt uncertain of himself around her. How much could he really share? It was idiotic. He knew that. He also knew how many times he’d tried to tell her about Luthor’s murderous ways and been ignored.
Part of it he supposed was being gun-shy, but another part of him was afraid of losing everything he’d gained in the last twenty-four hours. He hadn’t realized how much he actually missed talking to her and spending time with her.
He looked back at Lois, uncertain how to explain everything he knew without causing a rift between them. Most of what he knew was from his interactions with Luthor as Superman. Not that there was any danger of Superman showing up anytime soon. But explaining that part to Lois wasn’t something he envisioned would help gain her understanding. Quite the opposite would probably happen.
“I know,” he finally spoke, meeting her gaze as she stared back at him expectantly. Momentarily, he wondered how much he should divulge about what he’d discovered when following up on the investigation into the Metros. Deciding the only way to determine where he and Lois stood with one another was to just bite the bullet and trust her with what he knew. He swallowed the lump in his throat and sighed, “Don’t get me wrong, she was just a culpable, but she didn’t act alone.”
He waited for her to react, gauging her face and body language. Lois looked away, and at first, he wasn’t sure if she might still think he was paranoid. Then came her question, “What makes you think she didn’t act alone?” He stared at her for a moment, uncertain how to respond to her question and she continued her thought. “I mean, Toni Taylor was running the Metros. She did admit to giving those weapons to the Toasters…”
To his surprise, Lois seemed to actually be rationalizing his statement instead of arguing against him. He sighed, nodding as he explained calmly, “The money and technology needed to create those weapons and suits the Toasters had was way out of the Metros reach. Someone had to design it, create it, and then find a group of money hungry thugs that enjoy seeing Metropolis go up in flames.”
“So, we’re looking for a possible project contracted at LexLabs or STAR Labs around the same time the Toasters appeared,” Lois reasoned aloud.
“Luthor’s not dumb enough to take it somewhere that he couldn’t erase the record,” Clark shook his head, feeling any chance of proving a connection to Luthor had gone up in smoke months ago.
“Can’t hurt to at least look,” Lois reasoned.
“No,” Clark sighed, “I guess not,” His gaze shifted toward her, and he felt a lump in his throat as he tried to process how different things were between them. He wasn’t sure how to react. This was so different from their past conversations about his suspicions of Luthor. The corners of his mouth twitched into a half-smile.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he shook his head, and he caught her gaze. “It’s just nice being able to talk about this without you biting my head off.” He admitted sheepishly.
“Well, things are different now, right?” she shrugged, looking down at her lap.
“Right,” he nodded his agreement.
Lois was quiet for a moment, and he watched her, trying to figure out what she was thinking. She cleared her throat, “Um, I’m going to give Jimmy a call and see if he’s got any ideas,”
“Jimmy?” Clark asked, watching as she reached for a mobile phone from the corner table next to her. He felt a pang in his chest as dread washed over him. Calling Jimmy and involving him in this would only give Luthor an opportunity to strike out. The gruesome mark that had been left on his heart from the images he’d seen earlier made it hard for him to rationalize involving anyone any further than he had to. His friend had survived Luthor’s wrath once, but he wasn’t sure he would a second time.
“No,” Clark shook his head, catching Lois’ curious expression as he elaborated. “I don’t want to drag anyone else into this.” He scowled, looking at her with a snort, “I really don’t even want
you involved in this, but it’s too late for that.”
Lois scowled back at him. For a moment he thought she was going to tear into him with a lecture about being able to take care of herself, but something seemed to stop her. “This isn’t just about you, Clark,”
“It’s
me Luthor’s after,” Clark responded in a dark tone, praying she didn’t push him for more.
“We’re already involved.” Lois sighed, placing a hand on his arm, “Me, Perry, Jimmy, Jack, Alice. Even Bill Henderson.” She was quiet before turning toward him, “You can’t seriously think you’d try to do any of this on your own.”
“You don’t know what he’s capable of,” Clark warned, uncertain how much he was willing to share at that moment.
She was quiet for a moment, pulling back and staring at him before responding carefully, “You might be surprised. He’s done some pretty awful things to all of us.” Lois let out a shaky breath and reassured him, “Jimmy knows what he’s doing as does Jack and Perry.”
Clark sighed, “Does he?”
Lois held up the phone in her hand, “Pay as you go phone. None of them were purchased at the same store or at the same time. Everyone has their own, and they’re O’Neill Cable phones, so there’s no way for LexCorp to put a trace on them.”
“Smart,” Clark observed mildly impressed.
“Jimmy’s idea,” Lois pointed out, handing the phone to him. “Don’t just take my word for it. You can talk to him yourself. His speed dial is three.”
Clark stared at the phone, uncertain what to do. Did he want to reach out to his friend and know how he was? Yes, but something stopped him from taking the phone from her. He shook his head and pulled away from her.
Her face fell, and she pulled the phone back to dial. He sat next to her listening as she greeted their young friend, “Jimmy, hey, it’s me. I think I have something for you…”
***
Lex watched from the safety of his limo as the last brick from the warehouse on Pier 7 came down. After assessing the damage that had been done upon Superman’s escape, he had determined the best course of action was to destroy all evidence of the secret Applied Science Division and anything that would link him to the misdeeds of Dr. Gretchen Kelly.
Nigel had taken care of the orderlies and the lovely doctor. Over the past few weeks, he’d quietly moved people around and set plans in motion to begin the destruction of one of the most expensive prisons LexCorp had ever built. He still couldn’t understand how Superman had escaped from the cell or who had helped him hack into the security system.
Someone had helped him.
Who that was remained to be seen.
He pressed the call button on his phone, waiting for the response he knew was to come. The voice on the other end responded, “Yes, Mr. Luthor?”
“Asabi, there’s still no sign of Mrs. Cox?” he asked, staring at the destruction through the tinted glass of his window.
“No, Mr. Luthor,” Asabi responded.
“Check our contacts in Gotham to see if she’s returned home.” He instructed, “If she doesn’t turn up by the end of the day I want a contract put out.”
“Yes, Mr. Luthor,” Asabi sighed against the phone and static echoed in Lex’s ear.
“And Asabi?” he called out.
“Yes?” Asabi inquired.
“Get the most recent address for Perry White. I have some unfinished business with him,” Lex added darkly.
***
One Month Ago…The drive had to be the longest drive John Black had ever been on. He glanced over at the driver’s side, seeing the light brown hair of the agent driving him to what they called the safehouse. His grip tightened on the envelope in his hand. A new identity that was what he’d been promised if he testified for the feds. He knew given a chance to explain his brother would forgive him.
“You’re a little lost in thought there, Johnny boy,” the agent remarked with a wry smile. “We got a long drive. You going to waste it staring at me like a stalker we’re going to have problems.” He waved the gold band on his hand in John’s face. “No offense but you’re not my type,”
John snorted and let out a chuckle, “You couldn’t afford me anyway.”
“Well, I don’t know,” he awarded John a half-smile. “Mrs. Davenport has pretty expensive taste…”
John let out a laugh, “The good ones usually do,” He grew thoughtful for a moment, staring at the long road in front of them. They’d been driving for hours already and were no closer to their destination it seemed than before. He looked in the backseat where the agent that had taken his statement at the bureau was slumped over snoring away. He wished he could find enough mental peace to get even a short nap, but that was something that he doubted would ever come.
***
The boardroom for Stern Media was dimly lit as Franklin Stern’s team of attorneys sat on one side of the table with the team of attorneys for the New Troy Department of Energy. Everyone wore exhaustion on their faces as the weight of the stress from the negotiations each team had embarked in for the last month. Everyone that is except for Franklin Stern who sat at the head of the table like a cat that just ate the canary.
“We’ll announce tomorrow morning,” Franklin cheered, lifting his glass in a toast. “Chin up gentlemen. This is the start of a new era for Metropolis.”
“I’ll get this filed with Hamilton tonight, but I sure hope you know what you’re doing, Franklin,” his head attorney warned, placing a copy of the contract in his briefcase. “Getting into a pissing war with Luthor isn’t really what we would call smart business,”
Stern leaned back in his chair confidently, “I don’t envision anyone enjoys having LexCorp push their way into the market sectors we built up first.” His gaze grew dark, “I’m sick and tired of bowing down because you all are too afraid to take a stand. We all know who started the twenty-four-seven news circuit in Metropolis and we know who shut them down.”
“LexCorp isn’t going to take this lying down,” his attorney retorted.
“He doesn’t have a choice,” Stern responded with a grin. “I own all the transmitting towers in New Troy, and now Luthor has to come begging to me to keep LNN as the top news network in Metropolis.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then the competition just disappeared, didn’t it?” Stern laughed.
***
The room was dark and dimly lit as Jimmy Olsen sat in the visitor’s room. He stared at the steel door he was told Toni Taylor would enter from by the guard. It had been fifteen minutes and still no sign of anything. He momentarily wondered if she decided not to come.
It had been sheer luck that he’d come across her name in the list of inmate transfers. Florida State Penitentiary had become the home of quite a few inmates from Metropolis. All of which seemed to be in connection to the Metros. The Metros had almost been pushed out of Metropolis by the Toasters. At least that was the story they’d all been told. Lois had asked him to look into all the old stories she and Clark had worked where Lex Luthor’s name came up. So here he was.
He heard a creak from the door and looked up. There, standing in the doorway was a shackled Toni Taylor. The door closed behind her, and a loud clank filled the room. Jimmy gazed at Toni for a moment. Her hair was pinned up in a bun as she stared at him in disbelief, “You the reporter?”
Jimmy stood to his feet, “James Olsen.”
“Like I told you on the phone, there’s not much to tell,” Toni looked around the dark room as she took her seat across from him.
“Then why the request to transfer?” Jimmy pressed, looking back at her expectantly. “You sent fifteen requests in your first month of being in Metropolis Penitentiary.
“It’s prison,” Toni scoffed. “That’s what you do. Besides, I like the scenery here better. Much less dreary when you’ve got the ocean waves to help drift you off to sleep in this hell hole.”
Jimmy stared at her for a long moment and then leaned back in his chair. This wasn’t the woman Clark had described to him. She wasn’t vulnerable or scared but rather dismissive. Could it be an act? He cleared his throat, going for the jugular, “I don’t believe you,”
“Pardon?” Toni scoffed.
“I don’t believe you,” Jimmy repeated. “I think you’re hiding something. Maybe covering for someone and that’s why you wanted out of Metropolis Penitentiary,”
“And what makes you such an expert?” Toni scoffed.
“Because my friend said he saw a side of you that was worth saving,” Jimmy narrowed his eyes at her. “I believe you know him as Charlie,”
“Yes, I know Charlie,” Toni said as she gave Jimmy a glare. “I’ve spent the last few months trying to figure out how Clark Kent pulled the wool over my eyes like that.” He tone grew soft, “Still it was a shock to hear what happened t him.”
Jimmy glanced down, uncertain how to respond, “CK is one of the good ones.”
Toni looked away for a moment before responding, “So, what is this about?”
“Lex Luthor,” Jimmy said, folding his hands in front of him on the table.
“What about him?” Toni shifted uncomfortably.
“He came to the Metro Club to see you, the head of the Metro Gang,” Jimmy looked at her with a prompting look. “Why?”
“Why don’t you ask your friend, Lois Lane?” Toni gave him a disgusted look. “She had her opinion made up before the ink was dry on the warrant.”
“I’m asking you,” Jimmy said, ignoring the remark.
"You don't understand..." Toni shook her head. "You don't know what he's capable of..."
"Not if you don’t tell me," Jimmy said, tapping his hand on the table. "You met with Lex Luthor at your club, and the next day the Toasters were shut down, and you were left holding the bag."
“You have no idea,” Toni muttered looking away.
“What if I told you that night Lex Luthor went to Lois Lane and pointed the finger at you being responsible for the fires?” Jimmy asked.
A flicker of something crossed her face, “I can’t testify.” There was a silence between them and then she added, “But I can point you in the right direction,”
***
Present Day…Lois stood in front of the bathroom mirror, applying the lipstick as she prepared for her afternoon shift. She ran her hand through her hair, checking everything was in place. Since their conversation a week ago about the arson and his suspicions Clark had closed himself off again. He still talked to her, but he was holding back something. What it was she wasn’t sure.
She had called Martha a few days ago to update her. It felt so strange being closer it seemed with Clark’s parents than with him. Still, she felt she owed them whatever information she could provide. Martha had risked everything bringing her back to Smallville, and that had almost cost Jonathan his life. A shudder ran through her, and she pushed the memory of that day out of her mind.
Martha, of course, was thankful for keeping her informed about her son. Even if he didn’t want to pick up the phone and call her himself. She still didn’t understand that. She had given Clark the numbers and the phone to call everyone that she thought would matter to him and he just stared at the phone like it was a foreign object. What she couldn’t understand was given his close relationship with his parents why he wouldn’t want to at least call them and let them know he was okay. Despite her own fragmented relationship with her parents, she would give anything to be able to reach out to them through all of this. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t talk to them or see them or give any form of communication that might give Lex and his thugs reason to believe she was indeed alive.
The differences she and her mother had had over the years seemed so small in the grand scheme of things now. She missed her mom. She missed her sister. She even missed her dad. She had spent months on the run, hiding and staying one step ahead to survive. Seeing Clark shrug off an opportunity to talk to his family sent a range of anger and jealousy through her. She knew it probably wasn’t as simple as it seemed but she couldn’t help but resent him for squandering any opportunity he had to talk to his family.
She stepped out of the bathroom, checking the bedroom for her purse and keys before heading out. When she stepped into the living room, she found Clark asleep on the couch with one of the files across his chest from where he’d apparently been reading it. Her gaze shifted to the coffee table where a plate of half-eaten pasta was, and three empty glasses sat next to it. She shook her head, grabbing the plate and glasses and taking it to the kitchen. Her foot slammed on the lever to the trashcan, lifting the lid up for her to dump the half-eaten dish into the trash. She then slammed the plate and glasses down on the counter before spotting the bowl and spoon sitting in the sink.
She let out a muttered curse, “You’ve got to be kidding me,”
She could leave them there and hope they get cleaned but that would assume Clark was doing anything but sitting on the couch going over that file. That’s all he’d done for the last week, and her patience was wearing thin. If there was one thing, she couldn’t stand it was a messy kitchen. She couldn’t stand dirty dishes sitting around while someone went about their business. How hard was it to pick up a dirty dish, clean it and put it in the dishwasher?
She set her things down on the table then turned to the kitchen sink, yanking the dishwasher open. Sure enough, everything inside was dirty. She checked and found a spot for the lonely dishes that were sitting in the sink. Her hand tightened on the handle for the water, jerking it on with a loud clank as she rinsed the dishes off and loudly pulled the top rack of the dishwasher open, tossing it into the rack with another loud clank.
“I would have gotten those,”
She looked up and glared at Clark’s disheveled appearance and shrugged her shoulders, “It’s
fine.”
It wasn’t fine. Nothing about the current situation was fine, but she wasn’t going to argue right now. She had to leave, or she was going to be late. She patted her hands dry with the dish towel and then tossed it on the counter. “Just turn the dishwasher on.” She glared at his disheveled appearance with a snort, “You know if you’re not too busy what with all your time being consumed with nothing.”
She grabbed her purse and then headed toward the door, hoping a few hours of sorting books would help calm the anger that was festering inside her. She jerked the door open and was met with a downpour and rumbling thunder.
“Great,” She ran out the door, keys in her hand, slamming the door behind her as she raced for the car.
***
Jack Davenport pulled onto the interstate. After a short stint in the hotel and a greasy meal, he was finally back on the road. He knew the visit to the cabin may have been a mistake, but he had to at least try to get Kent on his side. That had only gotten him the wrath of Lois Lane. Despite the obvious tension between the duo one thing that couldn’t be mistaken was Lois Lane’s fierce protectiveness over her former partner.
He knew if he could get Kent to take the stand against Luthor that would solidify the case against him and keep that piece of scum behind bars for the rest of his miserable life. He’d come across some pretty twisted figures in his career, but Lex Luthor was in a class all his own. There was no limit to how far he pushed the boundaries of the law or which laws he chose to disregard. What he couldn’t understand was how he continued to stay so many steps ahead of them.
The phone rang, and Jack grimaced, reaching over to hit the speaker button to answer the phone, “This is Davenport,”
“Jack?” Christina Wallace’s voice crackled through the speakers.
“Hey Chris, talk to me,” Jack grinned, speeding down the hallway.
“We just got a break,” she said with a sigh of relief, “A real honest to God break.”
“Bigger than John Black break?” Jack asked.
“We got an ID on Nigel St. John and a witness connecting him to the boss,” Christina said with satisfaction.
“Witness?” Jack pressed.
“Didn’t Rollins call you?” she asked.
“No, I’ve been sleeping the last forty off,” he groaned. “What’d I miss?”
“Dr. Kahn was attacked last night, Jack,” Christina explained. “Nigel was looking for Lois,”
“Did he get anything?” Jack asked, holding his breath as he waited for an answer.
“You know Kahn,” Christina said wryly, “He wouldn’t give anything to anyone.” She was quiet a moment before adding, “Talley’s issuing the warrant now. If we can get Nigel…”
“We got Luthor and his entire empire locked and loaded.” Davenport finished for her. “Keep me updated.”
***
Clark watched as the backlights left the driveway and turned to see the water splattered all over the counter from where Lois had angrily flung water around as she’d finished up the dishes. He let out a sigh of defeat, reaching for the hand towel to dry the counters with. It was clear everything was not
fine.
Truth be told, he couldn’t really blame her for going into a tangent. He hadn’t exactly been helpful with anything since he’d gotten here. He supposed he probably would have done the same thing if the roles were reversed. He looked down at himself with a grimace. It had been two days since he’d last showered. He was becoming something he didn’t even recognize.
He stared at the empty cabin.
It was a mess. He knew he was to blame for a lot of it too. He looked back at the living room where the clutter of papers and food crumbs surrounded the couch. He looked to the kitchen and sighed, staring at the food stains on the stove and the bottles and spices that had been left out. The old Clark Kent never would have tolerated anything being out of place or even a stain on the counter. He had been meticulous with his cleaning habits and had always kept a clean house. It was a habit he’d learned early on as a child.
In his depressed state, he’d lost that. His hand went to his matted hair, and he sighed, realizing how far he’d come from who he was all those months ago. The fool that thought he was invincible and could take on Luthor without any consequences wasn’t someone he wanted to think about. He relived his mistakes every day for months, knowing that if he hadn’t been so arrogant, he wouldn’t be in the situation he was in now. Luthor wouldn’t know the one thing that could destroy him. Lois wouldn’t be living on the run. His friends wouldn’t be holed up in Perry’s beach house afraid to step into Metropolis again. Everything would have been different if he had just ignored that call from Lex Luthor’s secretary.
<<“If ifs and buts were candies and nuts we'd all have a Merry Christmas.”>> His father’s favorite saying popped in his head and Clark shook his head in disgust. He had to do something. He couldn’t continue like this. He had become something he didn’t even recognize and certainly didn’t like. Here he was sitting in his own filth, afraid to sleep and letting Lois do everything. He needed to make a change.
The thunder outside clapped, and he looked around the kitchen. He opened the door to the cabinet beneath the sink and began pulling out the cleaning supplies. It was time for a change.
***
Nigel straightened his tie as he prepared himself for another meeting with Lex Luthor. His latest assignment left him dreading the final confrontation. He was supposed to be looking for Mrs. Cox. She had gone missing after the escape and Lex had found the last signal from her phone had been a block away from Pier 7. He suspected betrayal within his organization, and the contract for her return was issued without a second thought.
Nigel knew better though. He had a sinking feeling that the person responsible for the raid wasn’t someone in the Luthor organization at all. He had a sinking feeling the person responsible was none other than Lois Lane herself. Of course, admitting that to Lex Luthor would mean exposing his own failure in taking care of the problem as he’d promised. That was something he couldn’t do.
***
Several hours later Clark stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. He stared back at the unshaven face staring back at him. He still couldn’t bring himself to shave it off. He wasn’t sure what he expected to happen once the hair was gone, but he just couldn’t bring himself to shave it off. Still, the messy look of the beard and mustache that was covering his face wasn’t something he wanted to see either.
The trimmer Lois had tried to help him with over a month ago sat on the charger in the corner. If the blades broke, he’d at least be alone when it happened. There was no explaining how or trying to lie himself out of it. He hit the switch on the trimmer, and a loud hum came from the blades as it turned on. He stared at the rotating blades wondering one last time how good of an idea this was.
He lifted the trimmers, taking a deep breath as he brought the blades to the side of his face. One by one the hairs fell into the sink, and he let out a sigh filled with remorse and relief as he saw the skin revealed on both sides of his face. Gone were the trimmer breaking days for him he supposed.
He winced, pulling the blade back when he felt a sharp pain. He grabbed a small piece of toilet paper and blotted the red bubbles of blood that began to rise to the surface. ‘First time for everything,’ he told himself, waiting for the blood to dry up enough for him to continue. He examined the blade and cleaned off the trimmers.
He reached up to carefully remove the tissue from where the cut on his face had been. Thankfully it wasn’t that noticeable. He was fairly certain the cut would heal up within the next few days. He ran a hand against the coarse hairs on the other side of his face and sighed. He still had to clean up the other side. He clicked the button on the trimmer, and it hummed to life once more. This time he didn’t apply as much pressure, holding the trimmer steady as he watched the hair disappear from the side of his face. All that was left was a neatly trimmed goatee around his chin and mouth.
Should he keep going?
He looked at the reflection staring back at him, running his hand against his now smooth face. He ran his hand against the freshly trimmed goatee, feeling the soft hair against his fingertips. He still didn’t recognize himself, but that was the point, wasn’t it? He had a new identity, and he supposed a new life here. The name Collin seemed so foreign to him, but that was who he was supposed to be.
A stranger he shared the same initials with.
He picked up the pair of glasses from the counter and put them on, feeling at ease as he stared back at himself. He looked around the bathroom and turned the water on to rinse the hair down the sink. He’d spent most of the afternoon cleaning the cabin. He’d found the cleaning supplies and scrubbed the tile floor, swept, mopped, and done some deep cleaning in the bathroom before giving himself a good hose down in the shower. It was long overdue. He’d become complacent in his own filth and muddled mind. Depression and laziness had taken over as he fell further and further away from anything or anyone he recognized.
Part of why he couldn’t bring himself to pick up the phone and call his own parents was out of sheer self-loathing. He had let them down. He was not the man they’d raised him to be. His fears of what Luthor could or would do to them if given the chance continued to keep him up at night. Reaching out to them would mean having to admit his own failures, and he wasn’t ready to do that.
After wiping down the counter with a damp towel, he padded his way into the bedroom to get dressed. He rummaged through the closet, finding a pair of jeans and a green t-shirt. He tossed the towel in the hamper and barely finished pulling his jeans up when he heard a distinct knock coming from the back patio.
He glanced toward the bedroom door, spotting an aluminum bat by the door and grabbing it. His hand tightened around the base of the handle, and he opened the bedroom door, glancing out into the hallway where the patio door was at the end of the hallway. He could make out the silhouette of a female figure from the blinds covering the glass door. He looked at the clock on the wall. Lois wasn’t due back for another two hours.
Another knock came from the unwelcome visitor on the doorstep. He held the bat in his hand, cautiously making his way to the door. What he would do with it he wasn’t sure. He’d gotten into plenty of fights as Superman with criminals trying to take a swing, but he’d never had to worry about being hurt before. Hitting a woman wasn’t something he was sure he could do if it came down to it but still having the bat in his hand gave him the reassurance he needed to open the door.
The warm, humid air hit his bare chest as he peered through the cracked door. The woman on the doorstep was short and wore her red hair in a tight bun as she looked him up and down over her red framed glasses. “Can I help you?” he asked, not opening the door open more than a quarter of the way.
The woman’s eyes moved up and down him once more, giving him the compulsive need to return to the shower and shed himself of the sinful gaze he was under. She pushed her glasses down the bridge of her nose, biting her lip as she remarked, “Well, hello there, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,”
He stared at the hand she extended toward him, refusing to take it as his grip tightened on the bat. He didn’t know this woman. He didn’t know who she was or what she was doing here. He certainly didn’t feel comfortable letting his guard down enough to offer a greeting to her. If he’d learned anything during his capture, it was to never trust anyone.
She seemed to sense his distrust and cleared her throat, “I’m Melinda,” she pointed to the driveway to the left that wound out toward the corner, and she purred, “I live...right over there. Are you a friend of Leila’s?”
He could feel the tightness in his chest as she stepped closer and he blew out his nostrils as he replied evenly, “You could say that,”
Her lips pursed, “She certainly does like to keep to herself, doesn’t she? I’ve invited her to bridge at least a dozen times.” Her eyes slid across his chest once more, and she added, “But she never mentioned a, uh…”
Clark sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to get rid of this woman unless he gave her something. Recalling his new identity and now current connection to ‘Leila’ he ground out with an annoyed expression. “Husband.” The woman’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her sockets as she choked back the title. He couldn’t help but wear a satisfied grin as he extended his hand to introduce himself, “Colin Kane,”
***
The grandfather clock ticked the seconds away as Lex read through the paper in front of him. He could hear the heavy breathing of his attorney, Sheldon Bender as he nervously twitched in the corner like the greasy rodent he was.
“How long?” Lex barked out, turning to the corner where his sorry excuse for legal counsel cowered, waiting for him to continue. “Are you deaf?”
“I…I believe we’re looking at a few weeks,” Bender finally stammered out nervously.
“A few weeks,” Lex mused, controlling his anger as he stood to his feet. He walked toward Bender, keeping the false sense of calm before grabbing the front of Bender’s shirt and jerking him toward him by the collar. “A few weeks! Tell me something, Bender, how exactly did the top attorney in the state let my top lieutenant have a warrant issued on him and somehow remain clueless on the matter for what was that again?”
“A few…weeks,” Bender stammered back, his eyes squinted closed as Lex threw him to the ground.
Lex stared at the soiled stain on the front of Bender’s pants and snorted, “Good God, Bender, clean yourself up. You’re an embarrassment,”
***
The humid air was sweltering as Clark made his way up the narrow hill leading back to the cabin. Why he had such a stupid idea as to walk back from the store rather than calling for a ride like any other normal person. He still wasn’t used to this.
After getting rid of the rude neighbor and promising to have Leila keep an eye out for Melinda’s missing dog, he had finished getting dressed and then started work on prepping dinner. He wanted to make sure there was nothing for Lois to do when she got home. She’d been doing everything…and he’d let her for over a month now. In the beginning, it was necessary. He could barely move. Now, however, it was sheer mental strength that kept him from helping her.
That had to change.
It was a two-mile walk to the butcher shop. Two miles hadn’t felt like anything when he was going downhill, but now that he was feeling the pain of the incline he could feel the tension and strain in his back and leg muscles. The rain had come and left, leaving the ground slick from the recent downpour. The sun’s sweltering rays were making the trek up the last hill far more difficult than it needed to be.
How long had he cursed the gifts he’d been given, wishing to be normal? How long had he wondered what it would be like to be normal? It seemed like the thoughts of another person. What he wouldn’t give for the gift of flight or super-speed. After cleaning the cabin from top to bottom, he had a new appreciation for just how much he had taken for granted.
He glanced at his hands, seeing the slight tremor beginning to show and cursed, “Not now,” he told himself. He just had to make it back. He’d already made the sauce and had the dough prepped. He really didn’t want to have to deal with another tremor. The pain that always came with them always left him weak. He looked up at the golden sun, staring into the white heat boring down on him. ‘Please no,’ he pleaded silently.
Whether it was luck, the sunlight or mind over matter he wasn’t sure, but just as quickly as the tremor came, it went, leaving him relieved and confused. He turned the corner catching sight of a man covered in mud and pine attempting to grab the back tire of his pickup truck. Curious he approached, setting the bag in his hand down, “Looks like it’s stalled.”
“You could say that,” the man said, pointing behind him to the large truck. “Been stuck for half an hour and no reception.” He pointed to the mobile phone sitting on the bed of the truck’s open tailgate.
Clark looked to the large chunks of mud behind the tires from where they’d been spinning and the man’s disheveled appearance. It was clear the mud had flown all over him when he’d attempted to reverse out of the muddy ditch he was in. Clark spotted the pile of pine the man had been pushing toward the stalled vehicle.
Clark pointed to the pine, “Maybe I can help.”
***
Jack Davenport pulled up to the steel gate, fishing his ID badge out of the cup holder for the security guard to inspect as he wheeled up to the booth. He recognized the guard on shift and grinned, “Man, they’ll let just about anyone in there, won’t they?”
“Well, they let your ugly mug on staff,” the older guard retorted with a laugh. “Christina’s been expecting you.” He scanned the badge and keyed something into his computer. “For the record, you’re late.”
“I’m never late,” Jack grinned smugly.
“Take that one up with your partner, Jack,” he pressed a button, and the steel gates unfolded, opening up to the New Troy Federal Building.
Jack Davenport chuckled when he saw Christina Wallace standing on the corner behind where the gates had opened up. He drove up and shook his head, “You know you keep waiting for me outside like this and people are going to talk,” he joked.
“If you actually showed up on time I wouldn’t have to babysit you,” Christina retorted, jerking the passenger door open.
Realizing she was more upset than he realized he dropped his joking demeanor and turned to her, “Where’s Kahn at?”
“Dr. Rosenthal is looking him over in the triage wing,” Christina said, shaking her head.
“That old bat?” Jack grimaced. “Poor Kahn,”
“You need to prepare yourself, Jack,” Christina said, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“For what?” he asked.
“Just prepare yourself,” she repeated, looking straight ahead as he pulled into the parking garage.
***
“Thanks for the ride,” Clark said, climbing out of the pickup truck with the brown bag he’d picked up from the butcher shop. “I really didn’t want to climb that hill.”
The man nodded his thanks to him, “I really didn’t want to push this baby out of the mud.” He joked, “Thanks again for your help.”
“Have a good night,” Clark nodded, closing the door behind him and then turned back to the cabin, hearing the engine roar behind him as the stranger drove away. He looked down at the mud covered shoes he was wearing and spotted the garden hose hooked up to the faucet near the patio. He picked up the hose and aimed it at his muddied feet and ankles, feeling the cold water blast the chunks of mud off of him. Once he was sure it was all off, he wrung the water out of the ends of his jeans and kicked his shoes and socks off, setting his shoes on the top step of the patio to dry.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside, stripping his pants off and making his way to the bedroom to get changed. He glanced at the clock. He still had another forty-five minutes before Lois got home. He was barely going to make it in time, but hopefully, dinner would make up for it.
***
Lois grabbed her things, slamming the car door shut behind her. She held the large manila envelope she had picked up from the post office earlier and readjusted her purse on her shoulder. The ground was still damp from the recent downpour, and she could smell the wet ground as she walked around the back of the cabin, fishing out her keys to unlock the back door.
She noticed the cushions that had been hanging on the side of the patio were folded neatly inside the plastic bin by the door. Curious she put her key in the door to unlock it and found it was already open. A frustrated groan escaped her lips. Had she forgotten to lock it in her haste this afternoon when she left?
She stepped inside, and her senses were assaulted by the drastic change that had taken place. Gone were the putrid smells of old food and decay and in their place were the warm scents of lemon and a hint of cheese and pepperoni. She looked to the kitchen where Clark was pulling out a pan from the oven.
She looked back toward the living room and saw it had been vacuumed and dusted. Everything had been organized, and the couch even appeared to have been vacuumed. She bit her lip, looking back at the kitchen where Clark was cutting the pizza on the pan. She could feel her mouth salivating at the prospect of once again having a slice of pepperoni pizza. It had been nearly four months since she’d last tasted her favorite greasy slice of pepperoni from Mario’s.
A small smile threatened to overtake her face as she stood in the entryway of the kitchen. She felt a lump form in her throat and tears threatening to flood out of her dark brown eyes as she watched him pull the messy triangles he’d cut out of the misshaped pizza from the pan.
“You made pizza,” she said finally, letting her presence known.
He stopped, looking back at her with a half-smile, “Tried,” he gave her an apologetic look. “I know how much you love your pepperoni. I thought it’d be a nice change.”
She nodded, looking around the kitchen that he’d obviously just cleaned. “Thank you,” she said, placing a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry for earlier. I just…”
He shook his head, stopping her mid-sentence. “You were right,” he said. “I needed to get yelled at.” He handed her a plate, and she stared down at the round red slices of pepperoni glistening from the light in the kitchen.
A smile spread across her face, “You made me pepperoni pizza.”
“Tried,” he shrugged, pointing to the misshapen pizza on the pan. “I think I underestimated the dough.”
Lois let out a tearful laugh, and he looked at her in concern. She shook her head, “I’m fine. It’s just…no one’s ever made me pizza before.” She let out a light laugh.
He grinned back at her, “I also did some cleaning,”
“I saw,” she cleared her throat, “Thank you,”
“I guess I got a little too lost in my own head,” he frowned looking back at her.
She nodded sadly, recalling how Martha had helped pull her out of her depression the first week after she had found her bleeding to death. It wasn’t easy to come back from, and she knew all too well how easy it was to get lost in what could have happened and the paranoia of what could happen. It was enough to drive anyone crazy. Given the hell Clark had been through she couldn’t say she was surprised that he had suffered through something similar. She would have been more surprised if he didn’t have any lingering effects from being held captive by Lex.
“Well, they don’t exactly make a ‘how to bounce back from an abduction’ guide for stuff like this,” Lois said cautiously.
“No, they don’t,” he shook his head, placing his hand on her shoulder. “But I think it’s time to stop wallowing and start doing something.”
“Like what?” she asked, looking back at him expectantly.
“Like taking some of this off of your shoulders for one,” he gestured to the cabin. “I think you’ve been pulling more than your fair share longer than necessary.”
“It’s fine,” she shrugged, avoiding his gaze.
“No it’s not,” Clark moved his hand to cup her cheek, “You saved my life, Lois and I have done a horrible job of showing you how grateful I am for that.” His tone dropped a few octaves, and he added, “I’m sorry, and I’m going to try and help more where I can.”
“Thank you, I know this isn’t easy and I am sorry for snapping earlier. Patience isn’t exactly something I have a lot of practice in.” She said slowly.
He grinned back at her, “I’m well aware.”
She felt a flutter in her abdomen as she stared back at him. She’d felt awful all day for snapping at him. She knew how hard it was for her after Lex had attacked her and she’d had to stay hidden from the world. The depression that overtook her had been whole consuming. If it hadn’t been for Martha helping her to see what was happening she was sure she never would have made it as far as she did.
A small smile crossed her lips as she looked at his newly shaven appearance. He still wore a neatly trimmed goatee, but he had shaved. She wondered momentarily why he had chosen not to shave completely. She reached her hand up, stroking his cheek. “You shaved,”
He nodded, “I figured it was time.” He ran a hand over his face.
“Going for a new look?” she teased.
“Well, looking too much like Clark Kent wasn’t something I thought I was supposed to do,” he teased the hair on his chin with his fingers. “This is the new normal, right?”
“For now,” Lois nodded, staring back at him.
“So, there may not be a Planet or a story to chase, but we can still learn to work together as a team to bring down Luthor.” Clark smiled back at her.
A half-smile crossed her lips, “Lane and Kent.”
He nodded, “I guess now it’s Kane and Kane?”
“Hottest Team in Town,” she recalled the marketing campaign her and Clark had been pulled into early in their partnership.
“Who better to bring down the man that thinks he’s Metropolis’ Golden boy?” his lips curled into a smile.
“I guess we have a lot of work to do,” Lois agreed.
“Yes, but first you need to eat.” He guided her to the table.
***
TBC...
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