Clark looked out the small round window of the plane, squinting against the sunlight. He’d been watching the landscape growing larger and larger as they began their descent. From what he could tell, it was flat and uninteresting, all insipid brown fields as far as the eye could see, save for where patches of half-melted, dirty snow still clung to the grass and occasional weather-beaten roof.
“Okay, where in the hell did you bring us?” he finally asked as the plane taxied down the runway, slowing as it drew closer to the terminal. “It looks like Little House on the Prairie around here.” He pointed as he looked out the windows. “Are those…actual corn fields?” he asked, flabbergasted.
“Welcome to Kansas,” Bruce replied with a cheeky grin, patting Clark’s shoulder. “Hey, Lois? Time to wake up. We’re here,” he continued, ignoring the blistering look on Clark’s face.
“Great,” Clark mumbled under his breath. “We couldn’t have gone someplace where we could blend into the crowd. No, we’re in the middle of Nowheresville, where we’re gonna stick out like a couple of sore thumbs!”
“I have a friend out here,” Bruce explained, rolling his eyes as Lois finally woke up and yawned. “Out in the farmlands. Trust me, we’ll be safer there than in any city. Luthor probably expects us to try our luck hiding out in New York City, or Vegas, or Los Angeles and the like.”
“Yeah, but there are millions of people in those places,” Clark pointed out. “What are the odds he’d actually succeed in finding us there?”
“Higher than they are out here,” Bruce said firmly.
“He’s right,” Lois said, looking at Clark. “From what I’ve been gathering, Lex has people in all the major cities. He’s the head of an organized crime syndicate, the likes of which we’ve rarely seen before.”
Clark nodded slowly. “Could be.”
“You lived with him, don’t you know for sure?” Lois asked, but there was no accusation in her voice.
He shook his head even more slowly. “Lex never conducted his business outside of his office. And I mean all of his business.”
“Don’t you have super hearing?” Bruce asked, and this time, there was some accusation in the question.
The plane came to a complete stop and Clark stood, eager to be off the jet, regardless of what backwoods, hick place they were in. He shrugged at the question.
“That doesn’t help when the office is sound-proof.”
Lois blinked in shock. “He sound-proofed his office?”
Again, Clark shrugged. “He sound-proofed the entire penthouse, to keep me from hearing things he didn’t want me to hear. Besides, if you were plotting multimillion-dollar business deals and ordering the assassinations of your rivals, wouldn’t you take that precaution too?”
Lois opened her mouth to say something, her finger pointed outward like a lecturing teacher, but she said nothing, and closed her mouth a moment later. “I…guess so,” she allowed, her finger drooping as she lost the point against him.
The pilot made a brief announcement, and a few minutes later the cabin door was opened. Lois exited first, then Clark, and Alfred, with Bruce bringing up the rear. He pointed to the charcoal gray Jeep waiting at in the distance.
“That’s us,” he yelled over the whine of the plane’s engines, which hadn’t been shut down yet. “Let’s move. The plane needs to leave so it doesn’t attract any attention.”
Lois and Clark both nodded, then everyone began to move, making a beeline for the car. The frigid wind bit at them as it whipped around them, threatening to freeze them in place. It was colder here than in Metropolis, Clark thought.
Probably because of all these wide-open spaces, he thought sourly. His mind sarcastically started to sing. Home, home on the range. Where the deer and the antelope play…
He wished he had a pair of sunglasses as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight. The plane had been surprisingly light colored and airy, done in tasteful creams, light browns, and blonde wood tones. But half of the shades had been drawn, leaving the cabin comfortably subdued. Now, in the full force of the sunlight, Clark’s eyes were watering. Still, he could see well enough to follow the group as they set out across the tarmac and to the rental car, all of them staggering a bit as the arctic wind buffeted them.
Once everyone piled in to the Jeep and shut the doors, Clark finally felt relief on his ears. Even without his powers making his hearing extra sensitive, the noise of the plane’s engines and angry wind had been a bit much.
“So…what now?” he ventured to ask as Alfred consulted a map.
“First…we go into town,” Bruce replied. “Stock up on essentials. Food. Clothing. Toiletries. That kind of stuff.”
“I thought you said we were going to a friend’s house?” Clark tossed back, just the slightest barb to his words.
“We are. But we aren’t rude. We’ll bring what we need, and a little extra too,” Bruce chastised sharply. He took the map from Alfred. “I’ll navigate,” he offered gently.
“Much appreciated, Master Bruce,” the butler smiled back. He chuckled. “It’s been a while since you’ve done the navigating,” he added cryptically.
Bruce laughed. “True enough. Okay, head north.”
“Roger that, sir.”
***
Half an hour later, Clark saw the first road sign indicating where on Earth they were. Welcome to Smallville! it boasted in fainting red and blue paint, with weather-beaten looking sunflowers below the too-neat script.
So, Nowheresville has a name, Clark thought sourly as the Jeep bounced over the worn, cracked asphalt of the road.
The town they rolled into surprised Clark as they drove slowly down the sleepy little streets. It was quaint, in a way that charmed even his too-cynical heart. Everything was neat and tidy looking, clean and well looked after, unlike the poor sign they had passed a few miles back. He wondered why that was, but it was only a passing thought. He watched from the tinted windows as families strolled down the streets, even in such cold weather. The lights were on in every store, welcoming people inside. In the distance, a church bell rang, marking the hour with its cheerful, yet resonant knells. Instinctively, Clark shot a look at the car’s dashboard, as if needing to confirm the hour. The church bell had been correct, he saw, and for some reason, he took great satisfaction in that. He let his imagination take over for a moment as they drove, trying to picture what the town would look like in the summer, when the spindly trees and concrete planters lining the sidewalks would be brimming with deep green leaves and bright flowers. He liked the mental picture he concocted, but he suppressed the smile that wanted to break free.
They passed a large park as they went, the once lush and inviting green grass now brown and dead until the spring thawed the world once more. Clark imagined that all kinds of country fair-type events probably took place there.
Probably hoedowns and carnivals and vegetable worship, he thought to himself smarmily.
And yet, even his mental put-down lacked the vehemence it once would have contained. Instead, he found the idea of rustic traditions charming in a way, and it almost made him wish they could participate in one, even for just an hour, just so he could experience it for himself.
“There,” Bruce said, pointing up ahead as Alfred made a left turn. “At the end of the block. Let’s park around the corner.”
“As you wish, sir.”
“I hope you mean Maisie’s Diner,” Clark quipped as his stomach grumbled. “I’m starving.”
“We aren’t here to eat,” Bruce admonished.
“What? Because it isn’t a multimillion-dollar chain place?” Clark said, clucking his tongue like a disappointed mother. “Too good to support a local Mom and Pop shop?”
“We can’t afford extra delays,” Bruce replied evenly. “What if someone recognizes us?”
Clark couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up out of his throat at the mere absurdity of the idea that anyone would recognize them way out here in the middle of nowhere. It earned him a sour look from both Bruce and Alfred, but that wasn’t enough to squash down his laughter.
“Who, Bruce?” he scoffed once he caught his breath. “Who on God’s green Earth is going to recognize us out here? I thought that’s why we came to hide out here in East BumbleFu…”
“He’s right, Bruce,” Lois interrupted. “Besides, I’m hungry too.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how far away your friend lives, but we still have to pick up clothing and essentials and go food shopping to boot. I’d rather eat first.”
Bruce turned in his seat and rolled his eyes. “Really?” he asked, incredulous, as if Lois had suddenly announced that she was going to run for the presidency. “Alfred?” he asked, not needing to elaborate.
“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything, sir, but, I could do with something to eat as well.”
Bruce sighed in defeat. “Fine. Park the car. We’ll go to the diner first.”
Alfred did was he was told and less than ten minutes later, the group was seated in the diner, though Bruce insisted on keeping his baseball cap on to try to keep his identity under wraps. If anything, it made the billionaire stick out all the more, but either the locals didn’t care who he was and ignored him, or they were completely ignorant about the rich man in their midst.
“Come on, take the hat off,” Clark prodded him again, just after the waitress brought their drinks to the table, making a half-hearted grab for the cap.
“No.” Bruce ducked out of the way, and Clark missed his mark.
“You look ridiculous,” Clark pressed in a harsh whisper, leaning forward in his seat, as though confiding a secret.
“It gives me a bit of cover,” Bruce replied with a frown.
“Oh, yeah. You’re freakin’ invisible,” Clark mockingly responded. He snapped his fingers as an idea popped into his mind. “I know! We should give you a code name too! Can’t have us saying your real name, right? So, how about it? B-Man? The Waynester? B-Dawg? B-Money? Waynerooski? Cash Money?” He bit his lower lip to prevent himself from bursting out into laughter as Bruce’s face clouded over with irritation.
“Is this funny to you?” he asked, verbally slapping Clark in the face. “Is this all a game to you? Do you realize how serious things could get, if word gets back to your brother?”
The grin melted right off Clark’s face as the embers of his own anger were stirred and flared into life. “You think I’m stupid? Of course I understand what’s at stake. But, look around you! Who’s gonna blow our cover? A cow? We’re in the middle of nowhere, Bruce,” he hissed through gritted teeth.
“Quit it you two!” Alfred chastised them, sharply enough that the two men quit glaring at each other and turned their attention to him. “The more you bicker, the more attention you’ll bring to us.”
“He’s right,” Lois said with a mild shrug. “Plus, it’s downright annoying watching you two men-babies constantly going at it. Clark, without Bruce, you’d be completely screwed right now, so you’d better start giving him a little respect. And Bruce, what the hell are you trying to do? Drive Clark – and his help with our investigation – away? Now, play nice, the both of you!”
“I…sorry,” Clark mumbled at Lois’ scolding remarks. “You’re right. I lost my temper for a moment. I shouldn’t have.” He meant the words for Lois, but he deliberately made them vague enough to apply to all three of the others as they sat at the table. “So…what’s the plan, anyway? Won’t people notice that Bruce has taken off to parts unknown?”
“Yes,” Bruce supplied, nodding. “It’s only a problem if it takes a long time for us to finish building our case against your brother though. If it starts to take a while, I may have to leave from time to time, do the campaign trail stuff, check in at Wayne Enterprises and the like.
“You mean go to the grand openings of hospitals, show up to festivals, shake hands and kiss babies,” Clark clarified.
Bruce nodded again. “Pretty much. And, of course, I’ll have to attend debates…and soon.”
Clark nodded in turn. “Of course,” he agreed with a gesture of his hand, indicating that such a thing would be a given. A thought occurred to him. “And Lois? Won’t work be missing her?”
“Perry’s given me pretty much free reign to cover Bruce’s campaign,” Lois said in hushed way. “It won’t be a problem.”
“Okay. Sounds good to me. Just uh…are you going to lock me up in a fruit cellar or storm shelter or something? Or do I get to see the daylight this time?” He grinned, letting them know he was only half serious.
“Let’s see how you behave,” Lois replied, cutting Bruce off. She gave Clark a smirk, making him laugh.
“I’ll behave. Scout’s honor,” he promised, making a clumsy Scout sign with his fingers.
“Somehow, I doubt you were ever a scout,” Lois teased back with a chuckle.
“You two want a room or something?” Bruce tossed in with a restrained smile.
If only, Clark’s heart whispered.
The waitress appeared just then, breaking the conversation. She took a pen and pad of paper out of her apron.
“What can I get for you today?” she asked. “Or do you still need another minute?” she offered.
A murmur went around the table, everyone voicing their readiness to order, even if it was all spoken in half-questions as they looked to each other to determine if they were the only one ready with their order in mind. Then, by some unspoken agreement, they placed their orders. Clark was last.
“I’ll have a double bacon cheeseburger, please,” he said, closing his menu. “The steak fries with that. And is it possible for me to get an extra pickle?” he asked, pouring on the charm and making the waitress blush.
“Sure thing, sugar,” she replied, biting her lower lip like a school girl trying to hide her crush on him. “Anything else?”
Clark thought for a few seconds. “How about a house salad to start? Balsamic dressing, if you have it, please.”
“I’ll get right on that,” she said with a bright smile, before collecting the menus and swishing away to put in their order.
Lois waited until the waitress retreated behind the swinging door leading into the kitchen. The she turned to Clark.
“Really?” she asked, eyebrow arched.
“What?” he asked innocently, figuring she was going to give him grief for flirting with the waitress.
Or are you hoping she does, because that means she’s interested in you? his mind wondered.
“It’s mid-morning,” Lois clarified. “All that food?”
He grinned and shrugged. “I’m hungry. And Bruce is buying. So why not?” he shot Bruce a glance, but the billionaire’s face was unreadable.
Lois didn’t seem to have an answer for that, and he had to squash down his disappointment that she hadn’t mentioned smiling his way into an extra pickle. Bruce flipped over his paper placement and looked to Lois.
“Do you have a pen on you? I think we should make a list of what we’ll need to pick up.”
“Um, yeah, just a second,” Lois answered. She picked up her purse and set it on her lap. Clark watched as she rummaged around in its seemingly bottomless depths before her hand reemerged, clutching a black ballpoint pen. She reached across the table to Bruce. “Here.”
“Thank you.” He opened the cap and set the pen to the paper. Immediately, he started to jot down items, mumbling them aloud as he wrote, but for who’s benefit – his own or the rest of the table – Clark couldn’t tell. “Eggs…milk…bread…peanut butter…butter…jelly…”
“Ok, I get that we’re trying to be nice and not intrude and eat all your friend’s food and all but…really? Butter and jelly and the like?” Clark asked after a moment, as the waitress returned with Clark’s salad and a carafe of soda to refill their drinks.
“I got a message from Lucius while we were on the plane. His daughter went into early labor. He’s heading out to Wyoming to be with her and he’s not sure when he’ll be back,” Bruce explained. “We can still use his place, but we’re pretty much on our own. And it’s a good half hour drive in each direction to get into town. May as well stock up on everything we need, even if there’s only a slight chance we’ll actually need it.”
Clark nodded as he ate a forkful of his salad. “Well, when you put it that way…it makes sense,” he grudgingly admitted.
“If there’s anything you want – within reason – let me know. I’ll add it to the list.”
For the next ten minutes, they each took turns adding ideas to the grocery list, until they were fairly certain there was nothing else they could possibly need. They were about to turn their attention to a separate list for their non-food needs when the waitress came back, balancing a tray of food. She set their dishes before them, and Clark’s mouth began to water just looking at the plump, juicy, slightly greasy burger. He thanked the woman as she set his meal down before him and cleared away the empty salad bowl. Then, as soon as she left, he took the top off his burger, plopped on a generous dollop of ketchup, replaced the top bun, and took a big bite. His eyes rolled up blissfully at the first steaming mouthful. It tasted even better than it looked.
“Gotta hand it to them,” he said after swallowing it down. “The food is good.”
Lois nodded around a mouthful of Southwestern omelet. She swallowed. “It really is.”
Bruce chewed his pancakes thoughtfully, then added a few more items to his list. “Very good,” he agreed. “But, unfortunately, this needs to be a working brunch.”
“You must be fun at parties,” Clark quipped. “Okay, okay, sheesh,” he added at a stern look from Bruce. “I’m cooperating! Uh…toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap, razors, shaving cream…” he listed, ticking off the points on his fingers.
Bruce hummed his acknowledgement as he jotted everything down and Clark couldn’t help but to feel a little pride at being part of what felt like a team. Sure, they weren’t acting together by any real choice; they’d been forced together to overcome a common and very dangerous enemy. But still, Clark had never had an experience quite like this before. Even in his earliest days, when he’d still had a heavy sense of hero-worship toward Lex, he’d never really been part of Lex’s team. He’d been Lex’s hitman, working alone in the shadows to achieve a goal no one could ever find out about.
This, he thought as he sat silently eating his meal and watching the others interact, is different. This is an actual team. We may not all get along or even like each other all that much, he thought with a mental grin as his eyes flicked to Bruce, but we’re all working together. No one’s sitting back, running the show, refusing to get his hands dirty. I don’t think Lex could do what Bruce is doing. He’d never stoop to taking suggestions and help from others.
Clark froze. A bolt of realization shot through him like a surge of adrenaline. Every nerve tingled and goosebumps rose on his arms. The short hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention and his stomach flipped, forcing him to stop eating. All thoughts vanished, save for one.
Bruce is a pain in the ass but he’s…humble, he thought in wonderment. He’s…a decent leader. He might even actually make a good president, if he wins. Oh, God, it’s happened, hasn’t it? I’m starting to actually kind of respect this guy.
He would have laughed, if it hadn’t meant he’d need to explain himself to the group. But it still amused him in a morbid way, to know he’d grown to grudgingly respect a man who’d kept him prisoner, held Kryptonite over him, and had denied him the sunlight he needed to heal himself with for a solid half a year. He kept his mouth shut and simply watched, particularly the way in which Bruce interacted with Alfred. It absolutely awed Clark.
Theirs was not the typical master/servant relationship Clark had always known. And not just in the way Lex had always treated him, but in the way he’d treated anyone who’d worked for him, including Mrs. Cox and – to a lesser extent – Nigel. No. What Clark saw before him now was a more familial relationship, as though Alfred were a doting grandfather and Bruce was the respectful, but sometimes head-strong, grandson. When Alfred offered to take over the list writing once his meal was finished so that Bruce could focus on eating, the billionaire gently refused and kept writing, smiling easily and chuckling as Alfred and Lois tossed out suggestions. The three almost seemed like a little family.
And I’m the homeless stranger on the outside looking in, he mentally sighed.
Lois touched his shoulder then, shattering his thoughts and making him jump slightly. She looked at him and frown a little.
“Everything okay? You’ve barely touched your food and you’ve been quiet for a bit.”
“Okay, yeah, just…lost in my own thoughts,” he admitted sheepishly. “Sorry.” He made a point of taking another generous bite out of his burger. “Let me look over the list?”
Bruce immediately handed the placemat over and Clark read the items listed on it. He nodded and handed it back to Bruce. “Thanks.”
“Anything you can think of to add?” Alfred prodded.
“I’m not sure,” he replied carefully. “I’ve never had the freedom to go furnish my own living space. If it helps though, nothing stands out at me as being blatantly obviously missing.”
“Same,” Lois concurred.
“We can always make a trip back into town if need be,” Alfred added.
“Okay,” Bruce said with a nod that somehow felt final to Clark, as though it signified that the conversation was now over.
“How do we want to divvy the list up?” Lois asked.
“We don’t,” Alfred answered her. “You three will low lay in the car while I do the shopping.”
“No way,” Clark argued with a shake of his head. “That’ll take forever. Give Lois and me some of the items.”
“You need to stay out of sight,” Bruce reminded him.
“Why? I’m already out in public, right here, right now as we sit having lunch,” he argued, stabbing a finger down on the table while he bit into one of his pickles.
“He’s got a point, Bruce,” Lois said, defending Clark before Bruce could argue with him. “It’ll be faster if Alfred gets the groceries and I get the rest of what we need.”
“I’ll go with you,” Clark offered, perhaps a little too quickly, but Lois didn’t seem to mind.
“There’s no reason for you to go,” Bruce stubbornly insisted.
“Many hands make light work, isn’t that how the saying goes?” Clark inquired innocently, spreading his hands apart. “Besides, I want to pick out my own stuff for a change and not have to rely on others to choose my toothbrush and wardrobe. Not that I think Lois would do a bad job at it. I’m sure she has lovely taste in clothing.”
“No offense, but I don’t want people picking out clothes for me either,” Lois said. “The last time I let that happen, my sister had me going out to a club looking like a street walker. And a cheap one at that.” The ghost of a wistful smile crossed her lips at the memory, sending an avalanche of guilt crashing down inside of Clark.
“I wouldn’t mind the help,” Alfred said with a shrug.
“I…guess I’m out voted then,” Bruce said with a forced chuckle. “Okay. Alfred, I can help you with the groceries.”
“I don’t think that’s wise, sir. After all, of the four of us, you are the most recognizable,” the kindly old butler said apologetically, but firmly. “I think it best if you wait with the car. It shouldn’t take us too long, I hope.”
Bruce thought it over, frowning, but at last he nodded his assent. “Okay, have it your way. But I’ll take over the driving once we’re done.”
“Complaints with my driving, sir?” Alfred teased, his eyes twinkling.
“More like complaints with how little I’m getting to do here,” Bruce laughed, this time in a genuine manner. “Here. These are the sizes Alfred and I will need,” he added, making a couple of quick notes. “And,” he said, furtively glancing around the diner, but no one was paying them any mind, “some money. It should be more than enough to cover what we need. If you need more, you know where to find me. You too, Alfred,” he said, reaching into his pocket and retrieving his wallet. He handed first Lois, then Alfred, a stack of crisp new hundred-dollar bills.
Clark stuck out his hand too, needling Bruce. Bruce rolled his eyes and put his wallet away while they finished their meal.
“Not gonna happen,” he told Clark coolly.
Clark shrugged. “It was worth a shot.”
To Be Continued…
