A sequel to
Time Doesn't Heal . Time does heal, when given enough help from those left behind.
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James Bartholomew Olsen looked out of the door to his office, overseeing his domain, the newsroom of the Daily Planet. Newsroom was, he freely admitted, an old-fashioned term for the nest of activity before him. It was the hub of a news network. Paper publishing had gone the way of the Dodo fifteen years before, but the news was still reported, corrupt politicians investigated, crimes covered.
Olsen had begun his journalism career at the Daily Planet thirty years before, when Perry White was editor, then publisher/editor. Olsen started as a copyboy, then researcher, finally becoming a photojournalist, moving on to join Time magazine, winning several Pulitzers before returning to the Daily Planet as an assistant editor and finally, now, Managing Editor of one of the largest regional news organizations on the east coast.
He checked his watch. His daughter and her partner, almost fiancé, would be showing their faces shortly. She’d called him that morning to let him know they were very close to breaking open the story on the corruption of the last mayoral election.
Olsen smiled to himself. Perry White, rest his soul, would be proud of him. Olsen had a crack investigative reporting team, almost as good as Lane and Kent had been, twenty-seven years ago, before Lois Lane was accidentally killed by Superman. Of course the current version of the hottest team on the Planet had also won a number of awards so far in their short careers, with promises of winning many more.
Olsen’s expression turned pensive as he thought back to Lois and Clark, his friends. Clark Kent died exactly one year after Lois Lane, by his own hand, a combination of drugs and kryptonite. Jimmy Olsen was one of five people at the time who knew that when Kent breathed his last, so had Superman, Metropolis’s favorite son.
And Olsen was the only one now alive who knew what really happened after Clark Jerome Kent was buried in his hometown of Smallville.
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“Olsen, in my office!” Perry White yelled. Jimmy jumped to comply, happy to be busy, happy to be distracted. The newsroom was still unnaturally quiet after the events of last Monday, when Perry and Jimmy found Clark’s dead body in his apartment. Clark had left a video recording explaining his reasons. He had caused Lois’s death and could no longer live with the grief, the guilt.
Superman was missing. The first two days of no Superman sightings brought a few comments from various news organizations, including the Planet. After a week, people started to notice his absence. Disasters were occurring without Superman coming to the rescue.
Jimmy nearly ran into Perry’s office. There were two strangers with Perry, a man and a woman, both dressed in form-fitting black. The woman wore a blue and black capelet. The pair did not look happy.
“Jimmy, this is Lady Zara and Lieutenant Ching. They’re from New Krypton,” Perry said. “They’ve come looking for Superman. They’ve come to take him home.”
“But Chief . . .”
“I know, son,” Perry said. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell them.”
Zara looked from one man to the other, confusion evident in her expression. Ching stood, impassively watching.
“It is not logical for Kal-El to be dead, for us to have arrived to find this, for him to have taken his own life,” Zara protested.
“My lady, if what they say is the truth, then Kal-El was not the leader we were seeking. No true Kryptonian would be so selfish as to end his own existence over mere grief,” Ching stated.
“Mere grief?” Perry asked. “You weren’t here when his partner died. You weren’t here watching him come in to work day in and day out with his soul ripped out of him. Hating himself for what he’d done, even accidentally.”
“A true Kryptonian lord would have accepted his responsibilities and obligations without regret or remorse,” Ching argued.
Zara interrupted before Perry could respond. “Ching, berating the dead does not solve our problem.”
“And what problem is that, darlin’?” Perry asked.
“New Krypton is governed by an alliance of the most powerful Houses. Lord Kal-El and Lady Zara were birth mates, a contract marriage that was to be consummated when Lord Kal-El reached his majority and proved himself to be a worthy successor of his father,” Ching explained. It was obvious to Jimmy that it was a subject Ching didn’t especially like. “The joining of Kal-El and Zara would reinforce the alliance between the House of El and the House of Ra, the two most powerful houses on New Krypton, thus creating a ruling alliance.”
“And there’s no one else in the House of El who could take Kal-El’s place?” Perry asked.
“No one of marriageable age,” Zara said. “The next most powerful house with a male of proper age and rank is ruled by a would be tyrant named Nor. He has already announced he plans to force a ruling alliance by forcibly taking me to his bed, even if it means dividing the houses and causing a civil war. We had hoped that by locating Kal-El and putting him in his rightful place as Lord of El and my husband, we could keep Nor out of power and avoid bloodshed.”
“But that can’t happen now,” Jimmy completed for himself.
“No, that can’t happen now,” Ching agreed. He placed a hand on Zara’s shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.
Jimmy thought about their problem, finding more questions than answers in what they’d said.
“What if you’d found him alive and married him and then he died before going back to New Krypton? What would have happened then?” Jimmy asked.
“We would have to have proof of consummation, preferably a pregnancy,” Zara said. “But in that event, I would be allowed to govern the House of El as his widow until the child came to majority.”
A gleam came into Perry’s eyes, a gleam that hadn’t been there for over a year. “Jimmy, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Larry? . . .Barry? . . . Barry Barstow, Sammy’s Look-alike Agency. I’m on it, Chief,” Jimmy announced heading for the nearest phone.
Ching gave Perry a curious look. “What have you got in mind?”
