Summary: Set during 'House of Luthor,' beginning as the wedding is stopped/interrupted, and Clark escapes the Kryptonite cage, this story takes a different turn.
A/N: I always thought Clark recovered awfully quickly from being inside the cage for so long. In GGOH, his parents had to help him inside after a short exposure, and when he grasps the Kryptonite to throw it, you can hear a 'sizzling' as though it's burning his skin. Those experiences fueled this version of events.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, merely exercising my imagination.
****
He sat in the shadows, his whole body burning with exhaustion, and agonizing pain from the continuing Kryptonite exposure. It had taken, what he hoped wasn’t the last of his energy, to crawl behind the wine barrels, hiding in the dark, with the cellar wall at his back. It hadn’t been a moment too soon. He had still been trying to crawl further back when Luthor had barged in, wielding an axe, screaming about taking his pound of flesh, and upon finding the cage empty, he had exploded in rage, destroying one of the many empty wine barrels stacked nearby.
When Luthor ran out of the cellar, Clark heaved a sigh of relief. He needed to get out of there while he still could, as far away from the Kryptonite as possible. He crawled up the stairs, one painstaking limb at a time, and once at the top, dragged himself through the door Luthor had left open when he had come down to kill him. There was a long tapestry covering the entrance of the door, and once Clark had crawled past that, he collapsed on the floor.
Waves of nausea hit him, partly from the Kryptonite, mostly from the realization that he had been very close to an excruciating death. He lay in the middle of the corridor, exposed, nowhere to hide, trying to remember where he was, and quashing the fear that Luthor’s would return, and kill him.
When he’d responded to Luthor’s request to see Superman the previous day, Mrs. Cox had met him at the main reception desk to escort him. They’d taken the elevator down several floors to the cellar, and out of habit, he’d scanned the area for exits if needed. Thankful he had taken that precautionary step, he tried to orient himself to where he was, and where the closest exit was, before it was noticed he was gone. He had only seen Luthor visit him in the cage, but Mrs. Cox had brought him down to the cellar. Did anyone else know he was there?
Clark used a nearby door handle to pull himself to his feet, and leaning heavily on the wall, he began to make his way to the emergency exit stairwell.
Once in the stairwell, he sat back down, exhausted, but already feeling a little reprieve from the distance he now had from the cage. His stomach rolled at the thought of it. Thankfully he hadn’t eaten or drank anything in at least twenty-four hours, but that unfamiliar feeling of his stomach rebelling, made him pause for a few more moments.
Clark used that time to take stock of himself. His hands had burn marks on them from grasping the bars of the Kryptonite cage, as did his wrists, arms, and he had one particularly long burn down his right side from reaching for the key. With his powers gone, his Suit was no longer protected by his aura, so it too had scorch marks from the Kryptonite bars. He needed to escape, and find a disguise so he could get back home without anyone recognizing him. It wasn’t often he left home in the Suit without a change of clothes, but last night he had, never imagining the outcome. Escape first, he told himself. He could berate himself later, and find out how Luthor got hold of Kryptonite.
The parkade!
He remembered there was one a floor or two above him. He could escape through one of the fire exits there that faced the rear or side of the building. Using the stair railing for assistance, he pulled himself up again, and began climbing the stairs as fast as his weak legs would take him, thankful he was finally out of the range of the Kryptonite.
Every floor would have video surveillance, Clark was sure of it, and he would have to deal with anyone witnessing Superman feebly making his way across their screen, at a later time. He slowly opened the door that was signed as employee parking, and cautiously poked his head through the gap, trying to see or hear if anyone was around, desperately hoping for the miraculous return of his super hearing or vision.
Before he closed the door to the stairwell he heard voices and footsteps echoing down.
“Oh, I can’t imagine…” exclaimed one voice.
“…left at the altar…” said another.
“This way please,” directed a male voice.
“I hope the police won’t keep us long,” the first voice commented.
“No ma’am, we just need a statement,” a lone male responded.
“…wasn’t going to hang around to wait for the elevator,” someone grumbled, as other voices joined in, the comments becoming harder to distinguish individually.
Clark let the door close quietly behind him as he stepped out of the stairwell, and heaved a sigh of relief that the police were here. Perry, Jimmy and Jack must have made it to Henderson.
Lois! What had happened? The one voice had mentioned being left at the altar. Did that mean…? He’d heard some of the ceremony. As he’d tried to reach the key, his own screams of agony as he’d touched the bars had drowned out the sounds coming through the speaker. When he’d hidden behind the barrels, the sounds were of a room full of people talking, individual voices had been impossible for him to discern.
He shook his head as if trying to shake his memories out. Not now. First he had to get out of here. If Luthor found him, he wouldn’t survive. If the police were here, Lois would be ok. Escape first, then find Lois, he told himself firmly.
He wrapped his arms in his cape, to hide the burns, and walked around the edge of the cars, trying to stay low and in the shadows as much as possible. The closest exit wasn’t too far, and would bring lead him to the alley, away from the front of the building. When he got to the door, he opened it cautiously, and not seeing or hearing anything, he stepped out. As he climbed slowly up the concrete steps to ground level, he was momentarily blinded by the sun, which was just clearing the building, bathing him in warmth and light.
“Superman,” a voice exclaimed as Clark stepped out of the stairwell, while a chorus of screams came from the front of the building. Clark forced himself to stand as straight as possible in his Superman pose, leaving his arms wrapped in his cape as if he was holding it down against the wind.
“Did you find him?” The young officer asked.
“Umm… No,” Clark answered, unsure who they were asking about, though suspecting they meant Luthor. “Is Henderson here?”
“Yes, somewhere.”
“Could you ask him to meet me here? It’s important, but not urgent. I can wait.”
“Sorry Mr. Superman. We’re supposed to stay here and guard this exit in case Mr. Luthor tries to escape.” The second officer glanced towards the road where there had been an increase of pedestrians, and noise, though the screaming from a few minutes ago had subsided.
“I’ll stay here if one of you could go find Henderson.” Clark didn’t have the energy to run around and find him himself, and hoped that neither officer would question his strength at that moment. He was resisting the urge to sit, but the sun was now directly overhead the narrow alley they were in, and he was starting to feel stronger, the headache lessening, and his stomach had settled. Thankfully, the one officer left, and the one remaining was too busy trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening towards the street, to pay him any attention.
Clark had no idea how much time passed until Henderson arrived with the officer, and didn’t care. The warmth of the sun felt good, it’s light helping to chase away the shadows of the past day.
“Superman!” Henderson called.
“Can I speak to you?” Clark asked. “In private?” He added, with a slight nod to the two officers, trying their hardest not to look like they were eavesdropping.
Henderson turned to the officers. “You can both join everyone else taking statements at the entrance.”
“Yes, sir,” the men replied and hurried towards the action.
“Luthor?” Questioned Clark.
“Dead,” Henderson stated. “Took a swan dive off his penthouse balcony when we confronted him.”
“Lois?”
If Henderson thought there was anything suspicious about Superman asking about Lois Lane, he didn’t let on. “She’s safe, she’s fine. She’s with Perry White. He’ll take her home once she’s given her statement.”
Clark felt his legs weaken, this time from relief. Henderson turned his head in curiosity.
“What was so urgent, Superman?”
Clark paused. His desire to speak to Henderson was no longer relevant with Luthor dead. There was still the problem of the cage as it had to be destroyed somehow, and he couldn’t go anywhere near it. As Superman, there was a very short list of people he could trust, and he would have to ask someone to remove and destroy the cage, without the general public discovering the element that could hurt him, existed. Henderson was a good man, he would understand the importance of it not becoming public knowledge.
“Luthor has a cage in his wine cellar, below the employee parkade. Go down one floor below the parkade, and there’s a large tapestry hanging on the wall at the end of the corridor. Behind it is a door that opens to stairs to the cellar. There’s another entrance into the cellar, Luthor used it, but I don’t know where it leads to.” Clark shuddered involuntarily as he remembered the cage. Henderson seemed to notice something wasn’t quite right as he moved closer, reaching out as if to brace Superman, before thinking twice and moving his arm down.
Clark continued, his voice dropping quieter. “The cage, it may still be glowing green. There’s a remote that turns it on and off, and it also retracts it into the ceiling.” He took a deep breath and looked Henderson squarely in the eyes as he spoke, barely above a whisper. “I need you to destroy that cage.”
Henderson looked startled, the first time Clark had seen emotion on him throughout this exchange.
“Can you tell me what it is?” Henderson asked.
Clark fought for control over his stomach as he answered. “The cage is made from a material that is dangerous to me.” He knew he could trust Henderson, but didn’t want to reveal anymore about Kryptonite. He could hear Henderson suck his breath in, either in surprise or shock. Clark couldn’t look him in the face as he didn’t want to see pity from Henderson. “I don’t know how to destroy it; bury it, sink it, it just needs to be somewhere were no one can find it.”
Henderson reached out as if to give Clark a reassuring pat on the arm. Clark flinched before he could, and he heard Henderson gasp as his cape slipped exposing his burn marks.
“How long?”
“Not quite a day” Clark guessed Henderson was asking how long he had been in the cage, and tried to be vague. He’d arrived at LexCorp Tower shortly after sunset the night prior, and it was now late afternoon the following day.
“Do you require medical assistance?”
At this, Clark did look at Henderson, relieved to see compassion and not pity in his eyes. “No, I should be fine, I’ll recover quickly,” he said bravely, not really knowing what would happen next. “I need to get out of here before I’m noticed.” Clark held up his cape. “I’m pretty conspicuous.”
“Well, we’ll get your statement and then….”
“No,” Clark interrupted. “No, I can’t risk it… Luthor, Nigel, maybe Mrs. Cox, they all know about this. I can’t have this on record. You’ll have every criminal wanting to kill me off, looking for it.” He could see Henderson mulling over that last statement, considering the long term effects of a written record of something that could hurt the city’s hero.
“Come down to the station. We’ll say you’re giving your statement if anyone asks, and I’ll help you slip out in disguise. Give me about thirty minutes and I’ll be back with a car.” Henderson raised an eyebrow in lieu of a question. When Clark nodded his head in assent, Henderson headed towards the road, towards the action, leaving Clark alone.
****
By the time Henderson had returned, the sun had passed overhead and was now behind the neighbouring building, and Clark was beginning to feel a little chilly standing in the shadows. Clark got into the front seat and they drove the short distance to the station in silence. Henderson parked in the staff parking lot behind the station, and they entered through the back exit. Thankfully, they didn’t encounter many people on the way to Henderson’s office. Clark pasted a smile on his face, and tried to walk as though he wasn’t exhausted. Once the door of the office was closed, Henderson sat, and gestured for Clark to take a seat.
“Superman, I do have a few questions for you. Do you have any evidence, or knowledge of the crimes Luthor has been accused of?”
Clark couldn’t see any harm in giving Henderson Superman’s insights, so he informed him of his suspicions from the last few months.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“I had no evidence,” which was true, Clark reasoned. “It was his word against mine, and my suspicions. I had nothing concrete against him, and was hoping to gather evidence I could bring to you before making baseless accusations.”
“Looks like Kent and company managed to get that evidence for you.”
“Yeah,” Clark shifted uncomfortably.
“Speaking of Kent, have you seen him? Perry White says he’s been missing for at least a day.”
Clark had no idea how to respond. “Do you need him for something?” He tried to stall.
“Yes. According to White, Kent was instrumental in gathering evidence against Luthor, that was then brought to us. We need to find him as we’ll require his statement.” Henderson paused, then continued, in a quieter tone. “No one’s seen him for a day, he’s disappeared. That’s not Kent’s style. I want to be sure Luthor didn’t get to him first.”
Clark gulped back a surge of gratefulness that there were friends, coworkers, and one gruff inspector, that cared about him. “He’s ok, Inspector.”
Henderson’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Superman. “Where was he? Why wasn’t he with White and Olsen? Did Luthor have him too?”
Clark held up his hands at Henderson’s questions, forgetting the burns on his palms. “I can’t say anymore.” He hoped that would buy him enough time to recover a bit, and come up with a reason for his absence. He noticed Henderson’s expression change to one of concern, and quickly put his hands on his lap. “He will come down and talk to you when he can, I can promise that.”
Henderson made a sound, along the lines of a grunt. “What happened last night?”
Clark felt his heart race as he remembered, and began to speak, his voice cracking at first. “I was lured there. He trapped me, and left me alone. Had I not escaped, I believe he would have killed me.” It was vague, without the details of the entrapment, the agonizing pain he’d endured, or the desperate attempts to escape. “After I escaped, I hid. Luthor arrived, agitated, angry, and when he saw the open cage, he attacked a few barrels with an axe. He ran through the other entrance, and that’s the last time I saw him.”
Henderson didn’t respond immediately, and Clark couldn’t meet his eyes any longer, dropping them to his hands, palms down on his knees. He felt awkwardly self-conscious and tugged the cape so it covered his arms completely.
Henderson stood abruptly. “I’ll get you something to change into, and arrange for a ride for you. I have to get back.”
“I don’t need a ride,” Clark swiftly declined the offer, as Henderson opened his office door. “A change of clothes would be great, and if I could leave the same way we came in, I’d be grateful.” There was a subway station outside the precinct, he could easily slip away into the crowds and make his way home.
Henderson left, returning within a few minutes with a change of clothes, before leaving again to give Clark some privacy to change. Clark, after checking the blinds were down completely, and no one could see in, painstakingly began to remove his cape. He hurt all over, feeling pain deep in his bones, his muscles wobbling like jelly, and the burns aching. As he reached around his shoulders to detach the cape and reach the clasp at the back of the Suit, he brushed against the long burn running down his neck, and moaned in pain. Slowly, trying his best not to aggravate the raw wounds on his skin, he stripped down to his underwear, and explored what Henderson had brought.
The dress pants were just long enough, but a bit big around the waist, and the long sleeved shirt, was the right length for his arms, but also, too large around the midsection. Thankfully, he found a belt, and added the sports coat. There was a pair of black slip on shoes, and a ball cap, which he pulled low over his face. He folded the suit and cape carefully, tucking his boots inside, wondering what to do with them. He couldn’t walk of the station carrying a tattered Superman suit! He quickly undid the belt, untucked the shirt, and stuffed the Suit underneath, moving it around until it sat on his waist. He grinned as he forced the zipper of the coat closed. No one would suspect who he was with a large belly, but he would have to keep the hat low. His face was too recognizable to go without it, and when he’d left the previous day, he hadn’t taken any of Clark’s belongings with him, including his glasses.
A sharp knock permeated Clark’s thoughts and he called out that he was ready. Henderson stuck his head around the door and grinned wryly. “You don’t look like you. Keep that hat low, though. You’ll have to leave through the main entrance, as I can’t let you out of the staff entrance looking like that.”
Clark nodded, his heart pounding, as Henderson led him out of his office, towards the main desk, and into the lobby.
“Keep in touch,” Henderson muttered as he escorted Clark through the front doors. “I’d like a call from Kent to confirm he’s ok, and let him know his friends are concerned.”
Clark nodded, and Henderson walked back inside, leaving Clark standing alone on the sidewalk. He looked up to the sun, and sighed in relief as the warmth and light hit him, almost chuckling at the thought of a new, third identity. He wasn’t Clark or Superman in that moment, just some guy, needing to catch a ride home. He stuck his hand in the jacket pocket and held onto the few bills he had there, thankful he had, out of habit, stashed those in the Suit. At least he had money for the subway fare home.
