Twenty minutes later, they were done eating and the bill had been paid. Bruce headed back to the car, while Alfred ambled down to the far corner to the grocery store. Clark pointed across the street and looked at Lois.
“Maybe we should start there?”
“Jonathan’s General Store?” Lois asked, looking for confirmation.
Clark nodded. “Aside from the clothing, we can probably knock out everything on our list in there. Then we can drop it all off in the car and get the rest of what we need.”
“Sure, why not?” Lois agreed, already on the move. Clark watched her go before hurrying to catch up.
No traffic was in sight, so they made their way across the street to the General Store. Clark opened the door and held it for Lois to pass through. She nodded her thanks and Clark’s heart fluttered in his chest, even if he would not allow himself to harbor any real hope she could ever come to love him. Then he stepped inside and was instantly brought to a halt as he took in the neatly stocked shelves and all the choices they held.
“Wow,” he breathed.
“What?” Lois asked, giving him a funny look. “It’s just a store.”
“It’s…freedom,” he murmured softly. “The choices…”
Lois’ funny look grew. “Haven’t you ever been to a store bef…oh,” she said, catching herself before she could finish the question.
“Never. I…wasn’t allowed to be seen outside of…you know. A job and my ‘home,’” he replied, nearly spitting the word ‘home’ out in disgust.
“I’m sorry,” she told him, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze.
“I…uh…may need a little help. I have no idea what to pick,” he admitted a minute later as they perused the toothbrush display.
“Hmmm…these,” Lois said decisively. “Good brand and a good price.” She selected four of them – steel gray, purple, teal blue, and orange. “And this is my personal favorite toothpaste,” she added, picking up a box of Aquafresh. “Do you have a preference?”
“Anything but that God-awful stuff Bruce supplied me with in Metropolis,” he said in a near-whisper. “I guess I’ll try yours…uh…I mean not yours of course. But your brand,” he continued, tripping over his own words and going scarlet in a blush.
Lois laughed and patted his chest. “I’ll get you the Aquafresh.” She quickly grabbed a couple of boxes of toothpaste and put them in the cart Clark was pushing, along with the toothbrushes. “Okay, what’s next?”
“May as well get the shaving items and soap,” Clark said, scanning the list and wondering for how long he would even need a razor. He looked forward to getting his powers back and being able to use his heat vision to sear away the stubble he woke up with each morning. “I’m not picky. Just choose what you think is best,” he added as Lois began to compare the prices on the soap, eventually picking up a multipack of Dove. “Bruce didn’t indicate what kind of razor he wants. Do you think he’d mind the kind he, uh, provided me with back in the city?”
Lois shrugged. “That’s probably fine.”
They put their items in the cart, then Clark pushed it along to the next aisle.
“This is nice,” he said after a few minutes, as they worked in relative silence to complete their list. Soft country music played over the store’s speaker system, but low enough that Clark could almost ignore it as he focused on his tasks.
“What’s nice?” Lois asked, reaching up to grab a box of laundry soap.
Clark moved to her side and grabbed the box for her, as it was just out of her reach. “This,” he repeated, as if it explained everything. “Getting to go out. Shop. Choose things for myself. Be seen by people other than my former brother and his cohorts. Is this what it’s like, having a normal life?”
“Well…yeah,” Lois said softly.
“All these years,” he whispered tremulously, shaking his head. He looked at Lois and gently took both of her shoulders in his hands. “I don’t want to lose this, Lois. I can’t…I can’t be sent to jail. To be cooped up in a tiny little cell again. To have life ripped away from her. To be told what to eat, when to eat it, when to sleep. To be told when I’ll take my final breath.”
“Hey,” she told him, gently reaching up to stroke his cheek once. “Bruce and I are going to do everything in our power to make sure you get your chance to live a normal life. Okay?”
“I wish I could be as confident as you seem to be about it,” he replied, breaking eye contact to look away.
Lois appeared to be at a loss as to what to say to him. She gave him a weak smile, then slipped out his grasp. Wordlessly, they got back to their shopping, and, before long, they had every item they needed. Clark pushed the cart up to the register and started putting the items up on the counter. The cashier – a big bear of a man with a drum of a belly, a quick smile, and a happy gleam in his eye – was already occupied with helping an elderly man who was buying just a few items.
“How’s it going, Reggie?” the cashier asked.
“Can’t complain,” Reggie replied. “How are you, Jonathan? How’s the back?”
“About as well as can be expected,” the cashier – Jonathan answered, and Clark wondered if this was the Jonathan of Jonathan’s General Store. “How’s Laura been feeling?”
“She has her good days and her bad days,” Reggie replied, his shoulders slumping a bit. “But the doctors say her treatment is working. The tumor is shrinking.”
Jonathan’s face burst into a radiant smile. “That’s wonderful news! I’m happy for her. Martha will be too.” He punched in the price of the last item and bagged it. “Thirty-nine seventy-two,” he proclaimed.
Reggie took out his wallet and counted out a few bills. “Here you go. How are you liking the store? Big change from running a farm, huh?”
“It’s been five years but, boy I’ll tell you, I miss that farm,” Jonathan admitted as he opened the cash register and counted out the man’s change. “I still miss the early mornings out in the fields. But with my back…this is better. Martha is still enjoying living in town. And she’s been having a blast selling her art and clothing creations.”
“She’s very skilled,” Reggie said. “A few weeks ago, I bought one of her knitted caps for Laura to keep her head warm before her hair can grow back. I don’t think she’s taken it off yet. She says it’s so soft and warm.” He chuckled.
So did Jonathan. “Glad to hear it. I’ll pass the information along to Martha.”
“Thanks. I’ll tell Laura you were asking about her. I’ll see you around, Jonathan.”
“Bye, Reggie,” Jonathan said, waving as the older man ambled off. Then he turned to Lois and Clark. “How can I help you folks today?”
“Just this stuff, thanks,” Lois said, nodding at the pile of products on the counter.
Jonathan appraised them for a moment, but not in an unkind way. “Haven’t seen you in town before. Are you new around here?”
“Just passing through,” Clark answered for her. Then, feeling self-conscious about all the things they were buying, he continued. “The, uh, airline lost our luggage.” He wasn’t sure if he should be horrified or proud of how easily the lie slipped off his tongue.
“Sorry to hear that,” the man replied. He began to ring up their items. “I do hope it turns up for you. In the meantime, this town has pretty much anything you need to replace what you lost.”
“Good to know,” Clark politely chatted. “Any place you’d recommend for us to pick up some new clothing?”
Lois shot him a “what are you doing?” look and he responded with a look of his own that he hoped she would understand. Blending in, being a normal, friendly person with nothing to hide, he tried to make it say. She rolled her eyes and gave him a new, exasperated look, but he shrugged it off.
“Well, we have a few good places, depending on your needs,” Jonathan said, stopping his work for a moment and rubbing at his chin. “Of course, I’m a little biased when I say that my wife’s store would be my first choice.”
“Which one is that?” Lois asked, appearing to appreciate the information.
“Martha’s Closet. Just on the other side of the street and in the middle of the block.”
“Thanks, we’ll check it out,” Clark thanked the man.
“Of course, if you need fancier duds, there’s Lana’s store. Luxurious Lang, over on the other side of town,” Jonathan added, continuing to punch in prices on the old cash register.
“Thanks,” Lois said, though she and Clark knew they wouldn’t be checking that store out at all. Their needs were simple ones.
They continued to politely chat with the store owner as he rang up their purchases and bagged them. Lois paid the man with the cash Bruce had given then, then Clark gathered up the bags, refusing to allow Lois to carry any. Jonathan smiled at the act.
“You’ve got a nice young man there,” Clark heard him tell Lois in a confidential tone that Clark just barely caught. “It’s not too often I see city boys with such manners.”
“How did you know he’s from the city?” Lois asked, taken aback. “And he’s not my…we’re not together. Just traveling together.”
Jonathan chuckled. “Your accents gave you away. And you may not be an item with him, but, mark my words…the way he looks at you. That boy is carrying a torch for you.”
“I…uh…” Lois stammered. “Thanks…I think.”
The store owner chuckled again. “You have a great day now.”
“Oh…you too.”
Clark pretended not to have heard the exchange as he and Lois left the store and dropped off the bags in the car where Bruce sat waiting. Alfred hadn’t returned yet, but that wasn’t much of a surprise. The grocery list had been far more extensive than the one they had taken into the General Store. With the bags safely tucked away, Lois and Clark turned their attention to the clothing they so desperately needed.
“Martha’s Closet?” Clark asked simply.
Lois nodded. “It’s as good a place as any to start.”
She led the way, Clark trailing behind at first but swiftly closing the gap between them. Side by side, they walked to the little shop. It was an old building, the wooden façade stained by years of facing the elements. But, somehow, instead of it looking dirty and poor as a result, the weather-beaten look gave the place a charming, even quirky, personality. The gold cursive-style letters proclaiming the store’s name looked new and well cared for. They caught the weak winter sunlight and gleamed proudly. In the window, a few headless dress forms modeled some of the shop’s wares.
I like it, Clark realized, as he stood on the sidewalk, gazing at the place. Looks…homey and comfortable.
“After you,” he offered, holding the door open for Lois.
A tiny bell rang as the door opened, alerting the owner to their presence. In seconds, a spritely older woman appeared from behind the giant stack of fabric on the counter. The store’s bright overhead lights reflected off her glasses as she grinned at them, making her eyes seem to sparkle and masking the laugh lines around the edges of them.
“Welcome to Martha’s Closet,” she greeted them. “Is there anything I can help you find?”
“Oh, uh, just browsing at the moment,” Lois replied politely.
“Okay,” the woman said in turn. “Let me know if you need help. I’ll be back here at the sewing machine. Don’t hesitate to call for me though. The Lord only knows I’m a bit stalled for ideas today.”
“Thanks. We will,” Clark assured her.
“Men’s clothing is on the left, ladies’ to the right. Anything else you need – belts, socks, undergarments, and the like are upstairs on the second floor,” the woman said, gesturing as she spoke. “And I’m Martha if you have any questions.”
“Thank you, Martha,” Clark said, favoring her with a reserved smile.
“You’re welcome, honey. Go on, I’ll be right over here,” she told him affectionately, waving him toward the men’s clothing.
“You want a hand with this too?” Lois teased him in a friendly way, nudging him with her shoulder as he looked out over the racks of clothing.
“Maybe with the stuff for Bruce and Alfred. I’ll let you know. In the meantime, you pick out what you need,” he encouraged her.
“Well…okay,” she hesitantly agreed.
What the hesitation was, Clark wasn’t sure. Perhaps she didn’t trust him to be able to pick out his own clothing like a big boy. Perhaps she worried that his taste in clothing would be God awful. Perhaps she wanted to nip any indecision he might have in the bud so they could get out of the town faster. Or perhaps…
Could it be that she just wants to have an excuse to be near me?
The thought lightened his heart a little, even if he wasn’t sure he believed that to be the case. Still, he was nearly floating with that tiny flicker of hope sparking in his chest as he moved toward the racks of pants. He easily picked what was probably more than he needed, then whittled down the choices until he had a few sturdy pairs of jeans, a few comfortable pairs of sweat pants, and several choices in pajama pants. Then he turned his attention to the shirts, selecting several warm sweatshirts, thinner long sleeve shirts, sweaters, and things he could pair with his pajama pants. He brought them all to the counter, then began to look for clothing for Bruce and Alfred.
By then, Lois had deposited her choices in clothing as well and moved to join him. She went to his side and started searching through the racks with him, pulling out things she thought might be good for the billionaire and his butler. She smirked as she pulled out a pair of sweats to examine.
“Well, this is new,” she said in a low, confidential tone she knew would not reach Martha’s ears.
“What’s that?” Clark asked in the same tone.
“Picking out clothes for a man who can afford to spend more on one dinner than I make in an entire month,” she replied, appearing to be holding back a laugh.
Clark snorted a laugh. “It’s weird, huh? The twists and turns life can bring.”
“Mmm,” she hummed in agreement.
“You think we should mess with him, just a bit?” Clark asked, half a minute later, giving her a mischievous look.
“What do you mean?” she responded guardedly.
“Nothing major. Just buy a few things he’d never wear in a million years and show them to him first. Just to get a rise out of him.” He knew his grin made him look like the cat who’d eaten the canary, but he didn’t care. The thought was far too amusing to him.
Lois wasn’t able to contain her chuckle this time. “Better not,” she said, once she stopped laughing enough to talk. “While he might find it funny, I can’t guarantee that the joke will go the way you hope it will.”
“He’s kind of a stick-in-the-mud, isn’t he?” Clark offered.
“I wouldn’t put it quite like that. But he can be a bit…brooding, sometimes,” she answered, selecting a few pairs of pants and motioning for Clark to move over to the shirt racks.
“How well do you know him, really?” Clark wondered.
“Oh, I guess it’s been…about five years. I met him at one of your former brother’s White Orchid balls. I was a much greener reporter then, so when Bruce offered to allow me to interview him, I jumped at the chance. We became…friendly after that.”
“Can I ask how friendly?” Clark prodded, half fearing the answer. “Or is that off-limits?”
“Just friendly. Not quite true friends; we’ve never had more than a professional relationship and respect for each other. Until recently. I’ve gotten to know him a bit better, ever since, well, you arrived on the scene,” she said, deliberately keeping her words cryptic, it seemed. But Clark knew what she meant anyway. She’d gotten to know Bruce on a more personal level ever since they’d worked together to capture him and keep him hidden away from Lex.
“So…no dates with Mr. Suave?” he teased.
“Why so interested?” Lois tossed back, smirking a little, like she’d scored some kind of point against him.
“I’m not. Just…making conversation,” he easily lied.
“Mmm,” she hummed again. This time, it was ambiguous enough to leave Clark wondering if she believed the lie or not.
“So, uh, think he’d wear this one?” he asked instead, holding up a navy sweater.
Lois nodded. “Yeah, add it to the pile. Good find.”
“Thanks.”
Soon they had all they could picture Bruce and Alfred needing. The pile of clothing had now completely engulfed what had been the one clear spot on Martha’s counter. But with them being the only two people in the shop that morning, it didn’t bother Clark at all that they’d commandeered what little clear space the woman had had on the counter. He jerked a thumb toward the stairs.
“Time to get the rest,” he said.
“Right.”
Lois followed his lead up the stairs to the second floor.
“You thought picking out shirts and pants for Bruce was bad,” he quipped as they reached the landing. “I have to go pick out underwear for my jailor.” He smirked sardonically.
“I’ll tell him to give you an extra helping of dessert,” Lois said, rolling her eyes in a good-natured fashion.
“I’ll take that promise as a blood-oath,” he joked easily.
That earned him another eye roll before Lois walked away to choose her own intimate apparel. Clark chuckled to himself and grabbed one of the handbaskets by the steps. He made quick work of choosing packages of boxers and undershirts, then moved on to the socks. That was also settled in a matter of moments, so Clark investigated the shoes. On a whim, he threw in slippers for them as well, though it hadn’t been on the list, and he only hoped Bruce had given Lois enough money to cover what had grown to be quite the sizable order.
He met Lois a few minutes later, and she added her items to his basket, hastily hiding them under the packages of socks he’d picked up. He noticed her cheeks redden slightly at the embarrassment – real or imagined – that he might see her underwear. He pretended not to notice, and, instead, swept a hand toward the shoes.
“Might as well pick up some boots, sneakers, and the like,” he told her.
“Let me guess…because Bruce is buying?” She arched a questioning eyebrow.
“Because we have no idea what the weather will be like out here,” he countered smoothly. “I mean, once I’m myself again…truly myself…I won’t feel the cold, no matter how much the temperature plummets. But you may want to get things that will keep you warm and toasty. After all, we have no idea how long we might have to lay low for out here.”
“Well,” she stammered, appearing to think it over, “I guess that does make sense. Okay, let’s see what they have.”
Ten minutes later, and she had a pair of warm boots, a new pair of sneakers, and had swapped the pair of gray slippers Clark had chosen for her in favor of a pair of fluffy pink ones. Clark quickly chose footwear for the men, then ushered her down the steps, a sudden thought occurring to him.
“Go on, I’ll be right behind you.”
“Okay, but make it quick. We’ve been in here almost forty minutes. Alfred has to be done shopping by now,” she warned.
“I’ll be less than two minutes,” he promised.
“Okay, I’ll get started downstairs with checking out and everything. Hurry though, okay?”
“You have my word.” He placed a hand to his heart as if making a solemn pledge.
Once she started down the stairs, he set the basket down and made a beeline for the rack that had caught his eye. He grinned to himself as he touched the super thick, super plush bathrobes. He snickered to himself as he chose the colors.
Gray for the butler, he mentally tallied. Nothing short of pure black for Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding. Lois picked pink slippers. This is just about the same shade, I think. And for me…the red? He shook his head, imagining the garment on him. Too close to all those times I came home covered in someone else’s blood. The blue. Much better, he thought, selecting the dark, but vibrant blue robe and checking the size. Perfect.
Then he was grabbing his basket again and heading down to meet up with Lois. She looked up at him as she heard his approach down the squeaky wooden steps. Her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed as she eyed the colorful, fleecy cloth draped over his left arm. His only answer to her was an impish grin. The furrow in her brow only deepened in her confusion.
“Here, let’s add this stuff,” he said as he brought the basket to the counter.
Martha was already halfway done ringing up the assorted pants and shirts they’d chosen. He laid the bathrobes down first and waited until Martha could clear some more space before laying the contents of the basket down on the counter.
“What did you pick up?” Lois asked, peering at the bundle of fabric.
“Bathrobes,” he shrugged. “Figured we may as well be as comfortable as possible.”
“Did you find everything you need?” Martha asked idly as she continued to ring up their order.
“Sure did,” Clark confirmed sweetly.
“Looks like you bought out the store,” Martha joked with a laugh.
“Our luggage got lost on the way here,” Lois supplied, giving Clark a conspiratorial wink.
Martha paused in her work for a moment, giving them a pitying look. “What a shame! I always did say the airlines need a better system to handle all those suitcases. I’ll tell you what. Since you’ve bought more in one order than I typically sell in a week, I’ll knock twenty-five percent off the total.”
“Oh…you don’t need to do that,” Lois stammered, her face flushing in embarrassment. “We didn’t mean it to sound like that…”
“Nonsense,” the older woman said, clucking her tongue to dismiss Lois’ concern. “I’m happy to do it.”
Clark put the rest of the items on the counter, then took the basket to the stack by the door and set it down with its brethren. He let his eyes wander about the shop as he made his way back to the counter, leaning one hip against it in a relaxed, casual stance. He hadn’t really taken the time earlier to soak up the atmosphere of the place. He’d been too focused on the task at hand, feeling the pressure of every second as he and Lois raced to buy what they needed. Although, he had to wonder why that was. Neither Bruce nor Alfred had admonished them to do their shopping in record time. He supposed there was just a part of him that hadn’t wanted to waste anyone’s time. He was used to working quickly, slipping in and out of the shadows at a breakneck pace, making the kill, then zipping away before he could be caught. It was ingrained in him, and he wondered idly if he’d ever be free of that instinct to go as fast as possible.
“Interesting artwork you have,” he commented as he forced himself to take a moment to slow down and appreciate his surroundings.
The walls boasted a collection of odd, mostly abstract, paintings. Most of them had price tags affixed to them. One of them might have been a blue horse running through a field of sunflowers…or were they windmills? Another looked like a melting crescent moon amid a sea of diamond stars, into…was that a soup pot? One was a patchwork of red and blue stripes running diagonal down the canvas, left to right. Another was a swirl of pastel colors with no particular order or shape held within it. Yet another looked like a series of yellow and orange curly springs in various stages of compression.
“Thank you,” Martha acknowledged, bagging some of the clothes. “I make them all myself.”
But that wasn’t all of the artwork. Here and there, up on the floor displays, in between the mannequins and dress forms, bizarre statues stood tall and proud under the store’s fluorescent lighting. Some of them looked vaguely humanoid and Clark got the impression that the forms were naked. Some of them were merely sinuous shapes that looked like nothing in particular to him, but, nevertheless, held fluid movement and liquid grace, like the ever-gentle flowing of a swift, peaceful river. One of the sculptures caught his eye more than the rest.
It was a vaguely shaped woman, but half of her was missing, as though someone had cut her in half, head to toe. And that wasn’t all that was missing either. A hole went straight through her heart, while another opened up a window through her abdomen, clear through to the other side. Her head was down, as though weeping. It filled Clark with a profound sense of sadness. Wordlessly, he went to the sculpture to read the tag that was looped through the hole in her stomach. “Barrenness” it said simply, just above the price. As the realization hit, Clark dropped the tag as though it burned his fingers. This wasn’t just any statue. It probably represented Martha herself, because only a woman without a child could create such a devastating piece of art.
When he walked back to the counter, Martha was watching him intently.
“It’s hauntingly beautiful,” he told her after a moment. “And, uh…I mean that as nicely as possible,” he amended.
“Thank you,” she replied, her voice choking up a little. “That one is near and dear to me.”
“Mmm,” Clark hummed as he nodded.
He let his eyes continue their tour of the cramped, but homey, space. Near the counter, he spied a rack with various, brightly colored costumes. He pointed to them.
“A little early for Halloween though, isn’t it?” he joked lightly.
Martha chuckled as she checked the price tag on one of Bruce’s pairs of pants. “I’m costuming the Smallville Community Theater’s spring show,” she explained, without even looking over to the rack. “Believe it or not, I’m not even half done yet.”
“Ah,” Clark said, without elaborating.
Martha finished tallying the last few items, then punched in the promised discount into the register. Clark drifted away from the counter as Lois paid the woman so that he could get a better look at the costumes. They appeared well-made, to the point of looking professionally done. He was duly impressed. But, then again, he realized it shouldn’t have surprised him. A number of the shirts and pants he’d chosen for himself had been branded with Martha’s Closet tags, not big-name brands.
He went back to the counter and scooped up as many of the over-laden bags as he could possibly take without it looking suspicious. Again, he thanked the kind woman for everything, then he headed out the door, Lois following. Once outside, he held the door open for her with his body, letting her take the lead as they walked back to the car.
“About time,” Bruce dryly needled as they climbed into the back seat after placing their packages in the trunk.
“Hey, we could always go back and return your stuff,” Clark shot back, but the words lacked any real venom. “And after all that time I spent making sure your clothing was comfortable and stylish too.” He clucked his tongue like a disapproving mother.
“Don’t mind Master Bruce,” Alfred told them, shooting a look at them over his shoulder. “I just got back not five minutes before you did. He’s just jesting with you. I’m sure Master Bruce appreciates what you’ve chosen for him.” This time, the butler gave Bruce a meaningful look.
“Okay, yes, I do. God forbid I should have a sense of humor,” Bruce grumbled, crossing his arms.
“A pretty warped one,” Clark muttered under his breath.
“Shall we go then?” Alfred inquired.
Bruce nodded and put the car into gear. He pulled away from the curb and slowly drove through the sleepy little town. Clark yawned as they wove their way down the streets. He leaned back in his seat, resting his head against the headrest, soaking up the weak winter sun, wishing it was summer. Not only would the sunlight be stronger, but he’d always enjoyed how lush and green and full of life the world was in the summer. All the fields of green, withered grass and empty, desolate patches where crops would soon be sown was depressing. He closed his eyes and wound up drifting into a light sleep.
Too soon, he was awoken by Lois gently shaking his shoulder.
“We’re here,” she said as his eyes creaked open.
“Oh, joy. Is it time to milk the cows yet, Maw?” he asked in an exaggerated drawl.
Lois huffed and turned away, climbing out of the car and slamming the door shut. Clark stretched and yawned, then exited the vehicle as well. He stood outside for a moment, just taking in everything. The weather-beaten old farmhouse gleamed white in the sunlight, despite the chipped and scratched paint from years of riding out the harsh Kansas storms. The fields around it lay fallow – perhaps Bruce’s old friend had liked the idea of living on a farm without doing the actual work. Or maybe the fields just needed to rest before being used again. Or perhaps Bruce’s friend hadn’t lived here long enough to start the process of farming the land.
Still, he had to admit that the house, at least, had a bit of charm. Weathered as it was, it was still well kept looking, even from the outside. He tried to X-ray through the building to take a peek inside, but his powers hadn’t yet returned. He growled lowly in frustration and impatience. No one appeared to have heard it, so he turned his attention to helping them unload the car. Even with the four of them helping, it would take them a few trips. Alfred had bought enough food to feed a small army, and he and Lois had bought more than they truly needed to get them each through a week. They could go at least two weeks, if they wanted to, without running loads of laundry. And, based on the amount of detergent and fabric softener they’d purchased, Clark imagined that at least a few loads would be run per week. The thought made him wonder just how long they’d be hiding out for.
No matter. He was in it too deeply now. Even if he got his powers back before nightfall, he felt like he was in it for the long haul. Regardless of if he took the stand when Lex would eventually be brought to trial, regardless of if he was given immunity for his part in things…Lois was counting on him to stay here, at this isolated farmhouse. She was trusting him not to run away. They all were, he realized, absently touching the empty space on his neck where the Kryptonite-filled collar had once resided. He blinked and took a moment to reflect on that notion. Granted, he doubted that Bruce had really wanted to be trusting Clark not to run – or fly – off. It was more of the chance of circumstances that had led to Clark being freed from his prison without the deadly collar tethering him to Bruce’s will. But the billionaire seemed to be…almost at ease, with the fact that Clark was walking around completely unrestrained.
He’s a jerk, but he’s so easily trusting me with this freedom, Clark realized in wonderment. He mentally grinned to himself – not in happiness, but in an ironic way. Now I guess I really do have to stick around.
To Be Continued…
