Continued from
Chapter 11 [CHAPTER 12 - See]
They stepped onto the third floor and Howard held the door open for her.
Julie glanced at Mav before brushing her silver bangs from her forehead as she took the lead and guided them to the lounge area straight ahead.
"Before we discuss anything else, Kal-El, this is Howard Stone, our new Head of Security," Mav said as they all sat down.
Stone held out his beefy hand, which Kal-El amiably shook.
"Nice to meet you," Kal-El said.
"Likewise," Stone said, restraining his excitement behind a stoic but friendly, bearded face.
"He's retired military. Marines. I've worked with him a number of times and trust him implicitly."
Stone shifted silently as Mav continued.
"Counting Mr. Stone, we now have eight security guards, all part time, save Mr. Stone. They're on a twelve hour rotation, two on each shift. As for the rest of the Foundation, we now have fourteen volunteers who help with the phones and organizing the donations, and five full time aids who direct the volunteers and assist Julie and myself."
Kal-El nodded. "Do we have any other needs?"
"Not at this time. Murray is handling most of the rest, and he hasn't expressed any concerns to me. But back to more pressing matters, how are you?" Mav asked, his white eyebrows up slightly in gentle concern.
"I'm better than when I first arrived, but I'm not back to myself yet," Kal admitted.
“Did Henderson discuss any of the doctors that I recommended with you?” Mav asked.
Kal nodded. "Dr. Bernard Klein seems to be the best match, but I'd rather wait until morning to call him. Although Henderson will be delivering something to his lab to be analyzed."
"That's fair. I must admit I was expecting you to appear worse off. I'm glad for the surprise," Mav said, although he quickly grew worried when Kal gave an uneasy, nervous sigh.
He decided to ask about what was being analyzed later.
"For now, this goes no further than this room," Kal said, looking at the three of them, clearly deciding something.
"Of course," Julie chimed in as Mav and Howard nodded firmly.
"I don't remember anything before the asteroid. Well, I don't remember much. I've started having flashes of things, but . . . ." Kal-El brought his free hand up to his chest and unzipped the jacket, revealing a very familiar emblem. "I seem to have dissociative amnesia. This morning I didn’t even know my name. I’ve been reading articles, watching video tapes, as well as the news throughout the day to try to jog my memory, which has happened somewhat, but there is still a lot I don’t remember yet.”
He looked down at his clasped hands, not sure what else to say.
“What do you remember?” Julie asked softly.
“Bits of coming back to Earth, which I wish I didn’t remember to be honest, and snippets from my childhood,” he answered.
“When did you get back?” Mav asked.
“Around 10 last night. I was . . . very lucky. Lucky that I made it back to Earth and lucky that I received help as soon as I landed.”
“Was it Bill Henderson who helped you?” Julie asked.
He shook his head ‘no’. “It was Lois Lane and one of her neighbors. Somehow, I knew where to go when I entered the atmosphere over the US. It was all instinct. The moment I came to in space, confused and weak, I was pretty much on auto-pilot.”
“The press conference, what do you want me to share?” Mav asked.
“That I got back last night and that I’ve been recovering since. I don’t want it ever known exactly where I landed or who helped me, only that I’m grateful for them and that they saved my life,” he said, leaving no doubt about how serious he felt about it.
“I understand. Those details will remain a complete secret,” Mav promised unequivocally.
“So other than your memory, are you all right?” Howard asked, speaking up for the first time.
“My injuries healed this morning, but my shoulder is still a little tight and I do feel like I could use another nap, but other than that, I feel fine. I don't hurt anywhere anyway. Although, you should know . . . I don’t remember how to fly or use my abilities, other than my hearing, which came back this morning," he said with a slight grimace as if recalling discomfort.
"All right. I'll keep things brief for the press then. The fact you're back and moving under your own power should be enough to appease the world - for tonight anyway," Mav assured. “I’ll keep your amnesia under wraps.”
"Thank you. And please, express my gratitude. From the prayerful vigils to all of the efforts in preparation and the like, it’s amazing."
“I will,” Mav said with an understanding nod as they all stood up.
"Your room is over there, first door," Julie said, indicating with her hand. "Are you hungry?”
“No, but I am thirsty,” he said.
“We have a kitchen on the second floor with a fully stocked fridge. I can give you a tour once you’ve settled, tonight if you wish,” Julie said.
“That sounds good. Hopefully being around familiar things will help me remember more,” he said.
“Well, if you have any questions or need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. One of us will always be in the building,” Mav said.
“All right. Thank you,” Kal said, before making his way to his room.
O o O o O
The streets were completely packed, and not from vehicle traffic, but people. The colors red and blue dominated the streets with posters and flags bearing Superman’s shield throughout. The evening was pleasantly warm with a refreshing breeze. Certainly a blessing with the amount of bodies currently standing so close to one another, waiting for the press conference to start.
Lois stepped out of the cab four blocks from the Superman Foundation.
With her press pass in hand, she slowly edged her way forward to the modest three story building dwarfed by most of the surrounding white collar businesses in the area.
Fortunately, her fame aided her, as people stepped aside when they saw who she was -- Lois Lane, the one who had introduced their hero to them all. The one who their hero had chosen to act as his unofficial press agent.
Henderson had taken Kal-El to the Superman Foundation soon after a lengthy discussion about their options. Ultimately, they decided Kal-El returning to his Foundation was the best choice. Along with informing the world that he had returned and was well -- at least physically -- they hoped being around familiar things would help jog his memory. The other reason was to allow Lois a chance to focus on her investigation so they could discover what exactly had happened and who was responsible for the sabotage.
Kal had thanked her again before he left, promising that he would continue to keep in touch, as it was clear he had before the asteroid. She wasn’t too sure of his desire to be open and upfront with the public about how he was doing, but she decided she could do nothing less than support him no matter what.
The man had saved the world, after all.
Lois smiled to herself as she continued to cut through the crowd littered with Superman insignia and written signs of well wishes for Kal-El. There were even people obviously praying, with and without prayer beads.
She came to a stop at the edge of the press corps as Director Maverick Ervin stepped out and onto the podium covered with microphones that had been set up in front of the glass doors of the building’s entrance. Jimmy came to a stop behind her, out of breath.
“Thank you for your patience. I know you all have been anxious to hear a statement from us, but until recently, we had nothing to really tell you. That has changed," Mav said to the nervous and somewhat fearful assembled masses before breaking into a big smile. "A few hours ago, at roughly 3:30pm, we got a message from Superman that he had returned and was in a safe place recuperating."
The crowd responded as she expected - ecstatically. The cheers and cries of joy were insurmountable.
Mav lifted his hand after a moment for silence. Amazingly, or perhaps not so amazingly, he got it.
"After communicating with him, we felt this conference should wait until after he had arrived here," he said, to the astonishment of most listening. "We spoke briefly when he arrived and he wanted me to express his gratitude for all of the prayers and good thoughts sent for his sake and for all of the efforts taken around the world to prepare for what thankfully has been stopped," he said, doing a remarkable job of ignoring all of the flashing cameras. “He is currently residing in his chambers above us and stated he hopes to make an appearance tomorrow. I will take a few questions now.”
Many people who were not even reporters called out, but the primary question was obvious.
“How is he?”
“Is he okay?”
“Has a doctor seen him?”
“Was he hurt?”
Mav lifted a hand and was once again immediately answered with jittery silence.
“He was injured but has recovered from the worst of it. I have not inquired on specifics but I can tell you that he has no visible wounds now and can walk completely unassisted. He did admit to feeling tired and having a stiff shoulder, but I believe a good night’s sleep will tend to that. In either case, we have made arrangements for him to be seen by a doctor, just to be safe,” Mav answered.
“Where did he land?”
“Did he get any help?”
The director’s hand gently came up again. “He didn’t tell me where he landed, only that he is grateful to the individuals who helped him. He said he was lucky to have made it back to Earth and lucky to have received help so quickly upon his return. The people who helped him saved his life.”
“Who saved him?”
“He told me they didn’t want to be known,” Mav said plainly. “Understandably, he wants to respect their wishes, so I will leave it at that.”
“So he will be seen by a doctor?” someone called out, clearly latching onto the tidbit of Superman being looked over.
“Yes. But we are not prepared to give any further details at this time,” Mav explained before clearing his throat. “Well, I need to cut things here. Expect another statement sometime tomorrow, providing an update, and thank you all again for your patience and prayers. Superman deeply appreciates it. Good night."
He reentered the building as the crowd eased back, relieved and very pleased with what they had learned. They could now go home and rest easy knowing Superman had returned to them.
O o O o O
Martha and Jonathan remained on the street for a long time after the reporters and majority of the well-wishers had left.
"What do you want to do?" Jonathan asked, his eyes still on the building.
"I don't know. We could go to his apartment and wait for tomorrow's statement, or we could go back home. I just wish I knew why he hasn't contacted us yet," Martha said.
"Maybe he hasn't had the opportunity. I doubt he's had much time alone, and that's before we consider . . . injuries," Jonathan softly pointed out.
"We'll wait to hear the statement tomorrow and then decide from there. If we're assured he's all right, we'll go back to Smallville and wait for him there," Martha decided.
"All right," Jonathan said, glad his son had had the forethought to give them a spare key to his apartment.
O o O o O
Bernard Klein was escorted in through the back entrance, torn between being thrilled and horrified.
He was a scientist, not a practicing medical physician! Granted, he did have a major in Biology, had an M.D., and was known in the medical community as being the go-to person for obscure medical research, such as radioactive therapy and cell mutation.
“This way, doctor,” the Co-Director, Julie Heinz, said.
They went up the stairs and Bernard tried not to feel too nervous. He had been given a brief overview but he knew he hadn’t been told everything.
Stepping onto the third floor, he immediately spotted Superman waiting for them on one of the couches directly ahead. He wasn't wearing the suit, but the blue t-shirt with his emblem was more than enough to help identify him.
Superman quickly stood up as they approached.
"It's a great honor to meet you, Superman," Klein said, shaking his hand.
"Likewise. Your work on cellular decay and recovery was groundbreaking. I hope you continue making strides in that research,” he said.
Klein blinked, surprised, as Heinz stepped aside to allow Paul and another guard carry in the equipment he had requested.
"Where would you like this, doc?" Paul asked.
“Over here will work,” Klein directed beside the main couch before looking to Superman and Heinz. “Unless, of course, there is somewhere else more preferred?”
“There is fine,” Superman said.
“Yes, this whole floor is at your disposal, doctor,” Heinz assured.
Paul placed the equipment where indicated, noting to himself that most of the equipment was pretty basic and wasn’t nearly as fancy as he would have thought.
“Thanks,” Klein said.
”Well, if you need anything, we'll be downstairs," Heinz said.
"Thank you, Julie," Superman said as they left them.
Klein busied himself with setting up the heart monitor as the door shut, suddenly very aware he was now alone with the most powerful and arguably most revered man alive on the face of the planet.
"So you read my report on cell de- and re-generation?” Bernard asked, seeking to fill the silence as Superman sat down on the couch and faced him.
“Yes. Bill was very thorough in his efforts to ensure I could make an informed decision on who to help me. So, just a question, how would you feel about being my doctor?"
Bernard stilled. "Officially?"
Kal-El nodded.
Bernard straightened. "Honored. Helping you is more than I could have ever dreamed. Helping you long term would be infinitely more so," Klein said. "Although, you should know, I had my residency over ten years ago and haven’t practiced in a medical setting in over five. I'm a researcher at heart. It's why I went into the field I'm in now." Klein took a deep breath, suspecting his next words would greatly shape his relationship with the Kryptonian. "I would love to couple my strength in research with helping you in any way I can, and although I imagine you're likely a bit apprehensive about anyone essentially studying you, I must admit that the prospect of possibly getting the chance to do so, to any degree you allow, is quite exciting to me."
Superman nodded appraisingly. "I must admit I am curious myself about figuring out how exactly I fly and such. I'm not sure I would want results publicized, but knowing it for myself would actually be a big help."
"Is there anything specific you would want us to investigate?” he asked, relieved that revealing his curiosity had not put Superman off while slightly surprised by the relief he could make out in his eyes.
“Well, that actually is part of why you’re here. As I’m sure you might have guessed, I’m not quite myself,” Superman admitted.
Retrieving his stethoscope and one of the lines from the monitor, he sat on the corner of the table across from Superman.
"Okay, let's start from the beginning, from the moment after you struck the asteroid. Don't leave anything out about yourself. The bigger the picture I have, the better," Klein said, talk of research now aside as his more important purpose galvanized.
"I woke up in the asteroid’s cloud of dust," he began as Klein started taking his vitals.
Klein listened closely as Superman told him of his struggle back to Earth and couldn't help but grow concerned as he realized he had experienced at least the beginning of anoxia and a moderate form of hypothermia.
But then Dr. Klein learned of his amnesia.
"Nothing?" Barnard asked, numb.
"I've gotten a few flashes of things since I got back, but the majority. . . ." Superman said uneasily.
"All right, well, the fact some memories have returned is a good sign. Were there things that triggered them or did they surface randomly?"
"Definitely triggered."
"Good. So we should be able to trigger more, especially with them surfacing so soon after the trauma."
"I've been watching videos and reading articles involving myself and it seems to be helping. The events feel familiar at least, even though I don't remember actually being present."
Klein hummed thoughtfully, looking over a document and comparing it to the readouts on the machine. "Your body temperature seems to be lower than what EPRAD recorded from you. About two degrees under. How do you feel?"
"I could probably use some more sun. I don't feel cold, but I'm not as comfortable as I think I could be."
"And your powers?"
"My hearing acted up yesterday, but I now have it under control. I can turn it on and off pretty easily now. As for my other abilities . . . I don't remember how to use them. I've tried to use some of my special vision abilities: x-ray and telescopic vision, but I'm either doing it wrong or I don't have them back."
"Don't have them back?" Klein asked, concerned.
"Apparently, I normally have to use heat vision to shave because razors don't work on my hair, but I shaved with one this morning without a problem," he said, brushing his hand across his smooth cheek. "I read about it in an article last night and wanted to see if my hair really is cut proof. It wasn't, at least it's not anymore."
Klein's eyes widened. "Okay, so you must have energy reserves that fuel your abilities. It could explain your lower body temperature. It may indicate your level of strength. Did you nick yourself with the blade at all?"
"No, which honestly surprised me. I, uh, fumbled a bit with the razor. Unlike most other things since getting back to Earth, shaving felt completely new and foreign."
"Hm. Would you mind if we verified your skin's imperviousness?" Klein asked before quickly clarifying. "It would just be a pin prick, to see how close your skin is to being impenetrable again, assuming it's not already."
"Uh, all right. I suppose that would be good to know. After reading that I can catch bullets and all, it's hard for me to believe I can do that after having bruises yesterday. Granted, they did disappear once I was in the sun.”
“That is so amazing!” Klein said excitedly before firing off questions - to which Superman quickly answered to the best of his ability.
“You must absorb sunlight and store its energy in your cells, and that energy is what enables you to use your powers. And you’ve been here for years, likely absorbing more energy than you could ever need for typical super activities. However, since you no doubt had to drain those reserves to survive the impact and get back, it makes sense that it‘ll take time to return to your normal level of power. And when combined with the anoxia, hypothermia and injuries, I imagine you’re starting from scratch, like an empty battery,” Klein rattled off before giving a single clap with his hands in excited realization. "And the fact you were covered with that tar substance - which I've finished analysing by the way - it makes a lot of sense!"
"What was that black stuff? What did you learn?" Kal-El asked, quickly cutting in.
They had decided to provide only his ruined uniform. The sample Eleanor had procured from his hacking fit was currently sealed away in Lois' apartment, and would remain there unless analysis of it was absolutely necessary. As disgusting as it was, they understood its value but at the same time didn't want to just hand over anything that likely contained his DNA. He would wait and see if Klein was worthy of such trust.
"Oh! Right! Well, taking what I could from your uniform, the description Henderson initially gave me, 'space tar', is fairly apt. It was definitely tar, although with a much higher concentration of carbon, which makes sense due to the explosives and fuel in the rocket. However, there was also a notable amount of nickel, lead, and cadmium, which was likely residue from the asteroid itself. All of this explains why you were so weak when you returned. Had it not been for the tar, you likely would have returned in better condition because you would have been taking in direct sunlight. At the very least you probably wouldn't have been covered in bruises, although you might have still suffered from memory loss. I think that was due to the impact itself. The amount of energy. . . ." He shook his head in wonder before nodding to himself. “I’m going to send for some full spectrum lamps. I want you under either direct sunlight or those lamps as much as possible. We should focus on getting your energy levels up before anything else.”
“Doctor’s orders?” Superman asked teasingly, notably pleased.
Klein smiled somewhat shyly while deciding his life had just become a lot more interesting.
O o O o O
Lois circled a second name, her suspicions rising as she continued following the trail of clues and rather alarming 'coincidences'.
Liam Price, former assistant to the late Dr. Baines, was part of the Launch and Telemetry System crew of the Asgard rocket for EPRAD and had been transferred there not long after her death.
He had the means and opportunity to sabotage the Asgard, but did he have motive? Could he have been coerced or bribed?
"What if the helicopter crash wasn't an accident?" Lois whispered to herself, recalling Baines' demise. "What if it was a means to take out loose ends? What if Dr. Baines knew something?"
She frowned and took a bite of her double double chocolate fudge icecream.
"Or maybe she was in on it? She could have been double crossed."
She shook her head, knowing those particulars didn't really matter now as she looked deeper into Price's history.
"Well, that's certainly something."
During college, he had worked as an intern for LexCorp before being hired by EPRAD and working under Baines.
"You've just made the top of my list, buddy," she said, picking up her phone to call Henderson to ask for a thorough background check on those she had flagged.
O o O o O
Kal took a deep breath, suddenly questioning his decision, but it was too late now. The press were eagerly waiting just outside.
Was it possible for a superman to get stage fright?
He looked down, reassuring himself that ‘going casual’ was the right course. He didn’t want to suggest that he was ready to get back to performing rescues, and wearing his shield t-shirt with simple jeans and shoes would hopefully make that loud and clear.
“You’ll do fine. Just take it slow. You crashed into an asteroid and made your way back across over a million miles of space. You’ve already surpassed all expectations,” Julie said, softly as she came to a stop beside him.
He nodded his thanks and squared his shoulders as he allowed his hearing to extend out of the building.
He was getting good at controlling his hearing. Dr. Klein had excitedly helped him hone it further that morning after finishing his physical exam.
The crowd's murmurs reached his ears, surprising him by being quieter than he had expected. However, there was still a lot to hear. There were inquiries about what they would soon learn, wondering if Superman would make an appearance or not and how injured he may still be. Others shared their concerns, fearing that things were worse than what the Foundation was letting on.
"All right, we're all set," Mav said, pulling Kal back to his immediate surroundings.
Mav looked at Kal, as if to confirm. Kal gave a nod. They had already discussed how to go about the conference.
They went to the ground floor, and Kal didn't bother to extend his hearing again as they came into view of the windows. It was very obvious when those outside saw and recognized him.
It was a good thing he had gotten his super hearing under control.
The cheering rattled the windows.
Julie stepped out first, and before he knew it he was standing beside Mav who came to a stop directly behind the podium.
“Thank you,” Mav said, “Thank you.”
The cheers softened and the crowd that stretched down both directions of the street stilled despite the bubbling anticipation.
“As promised, an update, which I think will be best delivered by Superman himself,” Mav said, foregoing a long lead in and stepping aside.
Kal stepped forward, placing his right hand on the edge of the podium and taking a deep breath before smiling softly at the enraptured people before him. He did his best to ignore the mics not far from his face and the cameras all directed at him throughout the masses.
“Thank you all for your prayers and well-wishes. I cannot fully put my gratitude into words. I am blown away. Thank you.”
The crowd gave a whoop before quieting again.
“I got back around 10pm the night before last. I won’t mince words, I was not in good shape. I was suffering from lack of oxygen, severe cold, multiple contusions, and extreme exhaustion, but I received help and, as you can see, am doing much better. However, as you can also see, I am not wearing my typical attire, as I am not yet fully recovered and cannot in good conscience return to my normal activities until then.”
Many people watching glanced at one another in concern before quickly refocusing on Superman, hoping for clarification. Superman’s expression did not exactly reassure them.
“From what we can determine, I have a form of Dissociative Amnesia, which, to put it simply, is a form of amnesia where you can't recall anything about yourself.
Fortunately, I have regained some of my memories, and have started reviewing articles and the like to help things along. The fact my memories are already returning is a good sign and my doctor is confident I just need time.”
Murmurs sparked throughout but were instantly cut off when he continued.
“I want to take this time to reassure the world that the Treaty I signed is still valid in my eyes. I am still Lord Kal-El and I will always honor my agreements. Also, the Foundation will continue to be run as it has since its inception.
“I promise the world will be kept informed on my continued progress through the Foundation. Thank you again for your prayers, support and understanding. I will now take three questions."
The reporters would have clamored forward had there been room, but their flailing arms more than adequately expressed their eagerness to ask a question.
Kal pointed to one of the least spastic.
"John Pierce, CBI News. Are you going to remain here for your recovery?" the reporter asked.
"Yes, unless advised otherwise by my doctor, but I don't foresee that happening," Superman answered.
He pointed to another more or less composed reporter.
"David Kamet, BBN. How do you feel about the world's response to the EMP and other reactions to current events, including your temporary disappearance?" he asked, neatly combining multiple topics into one question.
"Amazed and touched. I read an article that contained some of my comments leading up to the mission to Nightfall and I am exceedingly proud that Earth has responded so well. I don't think I can ever properly thank everyone who looked for me and took action to help alleviate the challenges caused by the EMP, but I will say, even though I can't yet remember how things were myself, I believe we have proven that we can do anything together."
Enthusiastic cheers roared up in agreement before quieting. Superman selected a reporter to give the last question.
"William Dox, ETN. Other than your memories, have you fully recovered?"
He expected the question but couldn't help but feel the rise of unease that went through him. He knew his answer would not calm anyone, but he refused to lie or obscure the truth when asked outright.
"No."
"Could you clarify?" Dox asked tentatively.
"My doctor suspects I've recovered fifteen percent of my full capabilities. Unfortunately, because of my memory and the fact we do not have anything substantial to compare to my current state, we can just estimate. However, I feel I should be set physically in two to three weeks."
Kal-El blinked and hid a frown as he cast his eyes across the immense crowd. For some reason he was suddenly having a hard time focusing. It was almost as if his vision was blurring a bit -- no, it was definitely blurring, but before it could get too bad it would stabilize again, as if he was looking through an uneven lens that was slowly tilting back and forth.
He needed to finish this up and get inside before it got worse.
"Well, per doctor's orders, I shall close this up here. Thank you all again for your prayers and support," he said with a wave, turning with Julie to go back into the building as the crowd bellowed their enthusiasm.
Mav remained and gave a closing statement, assuring they would continue to keep the world informed on his progress.
Kal-El was grateful when his back was to the crowd, but he quickly realized there would be no reprieve. Not only was he still within full view of the street and would remain so even after entering, since the doors were made of glass, but his vision suddenly swam wildly. He managed to catch himself on the doorframe and make it appear that he was merely stepping through, but the expression on his face was apparently enough for the security guard by Julie to move toward him.
He wasn't sure if it was Stone or not, his vision was so blurry and warped that he could only make out the man's vested form, but he didn't hesitate to take hold of the guard's offered shoulder to support himself.
He wasn't weak, just utterly disoriented.
"I need to get upstairs," he said quickly, forcing himself to move smoothly even though all he wanted to do was sit down right there and shut his eyes.
They made it across the reception area as everyone else within did an admirable job of not panicking and drawing undue attention to them - although people outside looking in would have to have been blind not to realize something was going on.
"What's happening, Kal?" Julie asked as they made it into the stairwell and blessingly out of sight from the street.
"My vision is--" he began, only to startle as his attempt to get what he was seeing under control backfired spectacularly.
His vision focused, becoming sharper than he had ever thought possible, and then it zoomed in.
He saw each and every detail within a square inch of the beige paint on the far wall, flakes of dirt and even dead skin stuck out on the rough surface, and then his view sharply slammed back out before zeroing back in again, but then the wall seemed to evaporate.
Two-by-fours and insulation, followed by exterior wall facade solidified and then bled away before his eyes, revealing hundreds of people clustered beyond. Nauseous with the unending visual movement, he slowly lowered himself onto the steps, hoping he wouldn’t alarm those with him too much. He tightly gripped the handrail and he felt the surface give slightly beneath his finger tips.
"Kal-El!" Julie said, moving into his field of view as he sat down, which unfortunately didn't help matters.
Before he could blink, he saw her face give way to muscle, tissue, blood vessels, bone, brain, hair, and then the wall once more.
He tightly closed his eyes, bringing his forearm over them as well as he found the wall with his shoulder.
"I'll call for Dr. Klein," the security guard said worriedly.
"No. Help me get him up to his room first," Julie said.
"All right," he said.
"It's like my hearing. I just need to remember how to control it," Kal said out loud, more to himself than to anyone else.
Julie touched his arm. "Do you think you can walk upstairs?" she asked.
"I can’t see the walls. I’m seeing through everything,” Kal tried to explain. "Even myself."
“Your x-ray vision?” Julie asked.
“Yeah, and my tele- and microscopic vision as well,” he said, exhaling thickly. “I don’t feel I should move.”
“Do you feel like you might throw up?” the guard asked.
Releasing a soft hum of uncertain admission, Kal decided this couldn’t be Howard Stone. His voice didn’t sound familiar, but he didn’t dare risk looking at him. At the moment, he was staring through his arm and partially up into the ceiling. He was counting the nails in the floor above, hoping the task would limit how much his eyes would waver.
“Wait here. I’ll get a wet cloth. It may even help ground you,” the man said, getting up and leaving Kal alone with Julie.
‘Ground?’ Kal asked himself as he realized that’s how he was able to regain control over his hearing with Lois. So how could he ground himself enough to ignore what he was seeing and figure out how to turn off his advanced sight?
He heard the stairwell door open again and some people enter, but he was too busy wracking his brain over how to regain control, even as his sight pierced through the third floor of the Foundation and up into the roof where some bird droppings lay beside an AC unit.
“His sight is going haywire like his hearing apparently did yesterday,” someone said as a wet cloth was draped across the back of his neck.
“Get Dr. Klein here,” Mav said.
“Yes, sir.”
Kal grimaced as his sight shot back down and swam in and out through his arm and to the steps overhead through the floor, making his stomach lurch at the disorienting movement that was counter to what his inner ear sensed.
“Kal-El, how are you doing?” Mav asked softly, kneeling down beside him.
Abandoning caution, he lowered his arm and tried to look at the older man. His vision wavered and warped horribly, throwing his body’s equilibrium into a seeming death spiral.
There was nothing to grab onto. At least with his hearing, he could lock onto something physical that coincided with a sound and drown out the others to regain control, but this . . . this was like drowning in a whirlpool of slashing waves. He could see and focus on one wave for a time, but it would soon bash against him and be replaced with one that would blindside him.
Blind.
Blind.
“Are you blind, L.T.! I know it’s hard to accept, but there is nothing alive under there! We need to shift our efforts where there are still people to save,” a captain hissed sharply at him, mindful of the ears above on the hill.
“Sir, please, I could have sworn I heard something,” he said.
“You have ten minutes, and then I expect you up top and helping with the remaining efforts. I know you knew some of these people from before, but we can’t lose sight of our mission, and that is to help those still living,” the man said, relenting slightly before walking off.
Kal turned away and peered through the earth, his sight slipping through stone and rubble, ash and grime. Blood and bone.
What had happened?
A bomb. He was looking at a warzone. He was standing in a warzone.
His eyes stopped on a body, cocooned between a beam and a car, beneath a slab of roof and a coating of dust.
He dug.
He could save him.
There was still life.
He had seen his chest move.
He could hear his heartbeat.
“Captain! I found someone!” he bellowed up.
The memory shifted. . . .
They had to be found, and everything indicated the sad truth to be encapsulated here.
His eyes panned the abandoned, rusty factory, seeing beyond what was otherwise impossible to be perceived by everyone else on earth.
And then there was a void.
Grimacing as suspicion rose, he pulled out the key he had procured.
He approached the wall and forced it aside, engaging a hidden gear in the floor allowing its movement.
A case lay beyond it.
A padlocked case.
A case he could not see into.
He unlocked it and, resigned, opened it.
He wished he hadn’t.
He’d found them.
But there was no life and there would be no recovery, or at least none of the sort those remaining wished for.
But he had found them.
There would be closure.
The memory snapped out of place, engulfing him in that moment that may have been better never remembered.
The sound of the unending echo resounding through the floors of the empty metal tomb that had once housed clanking machinery and hundreds of working men.
The sight of the body, the missing person, heartlessly enclosed in a box placed to be forgotten and never found.
And the smell.
Mold and dried blood and putrid rot.He gasped, choking.
A hand gripped his upper arm as he gagged.
He twisted, relieved as the memory bled away and he found himself on his knees with his hands flat on the stairs and his forehead resting against the cold concrete between them.
A small, thin hand was on his back, rubbing firm, confident circles.
He blinked back tears, although whether they were produced from emotional or physical onslaught, he couldn’t say. He exhaled shakily as another memory surfaced.
“Honey, it’ll come, just try not to force it,” a female voice said by his ear as she rubbed his back, soothing away the fear.
Calm, slow circles. Grounding.
“But it’s hard, mom. It just comes on randomly. This morning it was all I could do to sit still in my chair. I saw my teacher’s heart! His heart, with flowing blood and pulsating chambers! Not to mention his lungs and all the rest.”
“Hm. Is there anything you’ve noticed that you can’t see through?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“How about lead? You’re seeing through things, like an x-ray. Maybe there’s a way to stop your sight in the same way?”
“Can we try?” he asked, hopeful.
“I’ll talk to Dad when he gets home. We might still have some old lead paint somewhere.”He relaxed as the memory drifted away.
“Lead. I need lead. I can’t see through lead,” he said softly. “That might help until I relearn how to control this,” he said after a moment.
There was some shuffling and someone got up.
"I'm on it," someone said.
"Kal, do you think you can get upstairs with us guiding you?" Mav asked as the door opened and closed again.
"Yeah," he said with a swallow, hoping his stomach would settle.
Slowly, he stood up and, with the help of Mav, a security guard he didn't know, and Julie's encouraging touch on his back, they made their way up the two flights of stairs.
O o O o O
Martha and Jonathon hugged each other as they pulled away from the dissolving crowd.
“Our boy is back and he’s alive,” Martha whispered to him, tightly gripping his sleeve.
“Yes,” Jonathon said, just as wrought with emotion.
"What should we do?" she asked.
Seeing Clark so close, and yet so far away. . . .
He didn't remember them, that much was clear. His eyes had passed over them without any flicker of recognition. If he remembered them, he would have made eye contact, would have given some indication to them that he was all right and just couldn't contact them directly just yet. But he hadn't.
"We should stay at his apartment. If anyone asks, we can say we’re keeping it up for him until he gets back. We’ll say he may be awhile since he’s following a lead on some case, which will line up with what he told Henderson and the others he communicates with,” Jonathon advised.
Martha nodded her head.
“Should we try to send something to him? To help him remember or tell him things he may need to know?” Martha asked before gasping, scared. “Jonathon, what if he doesn’t remember how to control his powers?”
Jonathon frowned, suddenly just as disturbed. He recalled very well how overwhelming his boy’s powers had been in the beginning. Would he experience that again? Would he have to relearn everything that he had discovered about his abilities?
“We’ll write a letter and find a way to get it to him without it being able to be tracked back to us. If nothing else, it’ll let him know he has people who really know and care about him, which may be the most important thing for him right now,” he said softly.
Martha nodded in agreement.
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