Previous Fic in Series: Scraps
Series ToC
Caution: Angst
Recycling‐--------------
“What do you mean we can’t run it?!”
As the elevator approached the newsroom floor, Clark imagined that he could already hear his wife’s voice. Or maybe he wasn’t imagining; he couldn’t always tell. The radio crackling in his ear, asking about his oxygen supply and whether he could see his target: that had been imaginary, sort of. Lois had immediately dragged him back to Dr. Klein's office for another round of scans after that one, and the rest of the week had been filled with awkward silences. Hearing one of his five-year-olds about to fall from the top of a tall China cabinet: that had turned out to be real, and the only thing more mystifying than how the boy had gotten up there was how Clark himself had suddenly materialized from the attic.
“Lois, I appreciate what you and your husband have been going through since the accident,” a man’s voice spoke, “but this is still the Daily Planet, and we don’t print anything that we can’t back up with hard evidence! How did the two of you even get your information?!”
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime. As he passed through the crowded newsroom, unfamiliar faces smiled up at him from desks or called out from the watercooler, asking how he was doing. Clark only smiled politely in response and continued on to the editor’s office.
“If Perry were still here—" Lois's voice was loud and clear despite the surrounding din.
“—He would tell you the same thing!” came the equally clear retort. “We’re struggling enough without a libel suit on our hands, and frankly, I’m a little concerned about legality. Did you actually *break into* this place?!”
“Look, Mr. Edge—”
Clark tapped gently on the door of the office. The voices stilled. “Come in,” the man gruffly called out.
There was something off about the tidy office that Clark couldn’t put his finger on. Maybe it was just too impersonal; a picture or two might brighten the place up a bit, or maybe even a theme. Elvis seemed like a good subject, though he couldn’t think why.
The stranger leaning against the large desk looked up from the papers in his hand, his expression shifting from agitation to sympathy when he saw Clark. “Hi, Kent, feel free to have a seat. This shouldn’t be too long.”
Clark took the vacant chair beside his wife, who was visibly fuming.
“I was just asking your wife about some of the claims in this story,” he said, showing Clark the papers that Lois had spent the better part of yesterday typing up. “Can you tell me where you got your information from?”
“I heard a lot of it,” Clark said automatically.
Lois stared at him, wide-eyed, and subtly shook her head. The man turned to look at her, frowning.
“You heard a lot of it?” he echoed, turning back to Clark. “What does that mean?”
“I’m…not sure.” Clark’s forehead scrunched as he tried to concentrate. They had gone to visit someone, though he couldn’t remember who; Lois had kept prompting him to use “Kansas charm" or some-such, only to give up and do most of the talking herself. They had gone down a hallway at some point, only…the hallway was also outer space, somehow? A radio buzzed in his ear again while Lois frantically whispered for him to snap out of it. Somebody asked if he was okay, but the oxygen was broken and he couldn’t breathe. Then it was night, and they were all in black, and Lois kept asking him what he was hearing, scribbling furiously in a notepad while he told her. She had smiled at him then, and he had felt useful for the first time he could remember; she gushed that they were on their way to getting another award, but as far as he was concerned, it would be enough just to have a real job.
“Mr. Edge, Clark and I worked very hard on that story,” Lois cut in. “We, uh, can’t divulge all of our sources, but every word of it is true.”
“I’m sure it is.” The man tossed the papers onto the desk and sank into the leather chair behind it. He sighed. “The hottest team in town…. Listen, I’m sorry. I really am.”
**********
Lois drummed her fingers on the arm of the sofa while staring at the computer on her lap. The upholstery-muffled staccato nearly echoed the heartbeats upstairs. “Just a setback,” she repeated.
Clark gave a noncommittal grunt and sipped from his tea. At least she wasn’t asking him to edit her copy, again: the spell checker always did a better job of catching her mistakes than he could, and her insistence that he “just add something” only ever left both of them flustered.
“Hey.” She rested a hand on his knee, giving him a wan smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Don’t give up, okay? We're going to get you back.”
He set his half-empty mug on the table. “I’m going for a walk.”
*****
The darkened streets were fairly quiet at this time of night, though never truly silent. Sounds of televisions and chatter and clacking cutlery filled nearly every house that he passed, while traffic roared in the distance behind him. There was something reassuring about the omnipresent noise, and he paused to bask in it while filling his lungs with the sweet, cool air.
An electrical hum caught his attention. It was faint, one of those sounds that Lois and his parents always said they couldn’t hear, but it was obviously coming from a long, black car parked far down the street. As he stared, it filled his vision and the chassis seemed to melt away, exposing a complicated tapestry of computer circuits and machinery that wasn’t usually found in a normal car.
“But can you prove there’s even a car?” he mumbled bitterly to himself.
A dark figure exited the vehicle and, with the grace of an acrobat, launched itself onto a nearby roof. Clark stilled, watching this person slink and skulk further into the residential area, and realized with a start that he was heading right towards Clark’s own house! Alarmed, Clark followed, hoping that he wasn’t about to witness his wife’s reputation as a trouble-magnet firsthand.
The figure paused in its journey and looked around, as though somehow aware of being watched. Clark ducked behind a garage and waited, his breathing slow. When his target began to move again, Clark’s feet dropped to the ground and he resumed following. They came to a stop on Clark’s block; the stranger tucked himself behind a chimney on the house right across from Clark’s and pulled out a pair of binoculars.
He looked bigger, suddenly; just as the car had shortly after Clark spotted it. He looked large enough and near enough for Clark to be sure that the figure was a man in a black costume with a mask. With the binoculars, he stared at Clark’s house for an insufferably long moment then, suddenly, leapt down to the ground and walked up to Clark’s door.
Clark stared at the figure.
The figure stared at the door.
From his hiding place, Clark saw the man raise a hand to knock…and then…lower it again. He darted onto the roof of Clark’s next-door neighbor, and then they were off, going back the way they came. In about half the time, they were back at the outskirts of town.
When the figure alighted from the rooftop, Clark stepped between him and the car. “Is there a reason you didn’t knock?”
The man stared at him. “Not many people can sneak up on me,” he said.
Clark shrugged. “I’ve been told I’m not most people.”
The figure looked him over. “So I see.”
There was something familiar about his voice, though Clark couldn’t assign a memory to it. “Do we know each other?” he asked.
“Not exactly.” The man in front of him looked uncomfortable. “We used to work together, but…” He seemed to consider something for a moment. After looking around the empty lot in which they stood, he pushed the mask back from his face, revealing a head of dark hair and light blue eyes. He extended a gloved hand. “Bruce.”
“Clark,” he replied, shaking it.
Bruce replaced his mask almost immediately. “We probably know each other better now than we did before you...um…”
“Died,” Clark said flatly, leaning back against the car and pushing a hand through his hair. “That’s what really happened. The man who left home was a writer, a farm-boy, and a world-traveler. The man who came back…isn’t. I don’t know what I am. I’m just in love with that other guy’s widow, and I don’t know if she can bring herself to love a literal nobody who's so completely useless.”
Bruce’s expression was hidden by the mask. “You’re not useless. You were able to track me here without my knowledge; that’s a valuable skill.” He tilted his head. “There are…some people I’ve been trying to keep an eye on. Would you be willing to help me get some information on them?”
Clark shook his head. “It won’t work. I’ve been trying to help Lois with getting scoops for the paper, but I can’t back up anything I find out.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Bruce. “I don’t need you to give me proof: if you just tell me what to look for, I can verify it myself .”
Clark’s eyes widened. Could it really be that simple…? “I…should probably talk to Lois…”
Bruce nodded. “I’ll keep in touch.” Clark stepped aside so the man could get into his car again. Before closing the door, he looked up at Clark one more time. “I…truly regret not taking the opportunity to know your past self,” he admitted. “Maybe this can be an opportunity for both of us to start over; make something new.” He smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, whoever you are.”
END
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