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Wrong Place, Wrong Time, Wrong Clark TOC can be found Here

Where we left off in Part 90 …

Slipping his glasses on, Clark mumbled to himself, “I’m going crazy.” He snapped the empty glasses case closed and left the room.

Henderson was waiting for him. “You’re looking better,” he said.

“Thanks,” Clark replied. He wished he could say he felt better. He bent down to the black bag, and slipped the glasses case into the outside pocket. He exhaled and picked up the drawing from his tray table. “Do you know who this woman is?” he asked the inspector, handing him the picture. “I found it… in my stuff.”

Inspector Henderson raised an eyebrow as he glanced down at the picture.

“She isn’t my sister, is she?” Clark hadn’t meant to ask the question; rather it slipped out in a rush.

Henderson tilted his head and looked at him with the brow still raised. “No, no. She’s not your sister. This looks like your partner… well, if she ever cut her hair, that is.”

“Partner? Like my girlfriend?” Clark asked with hope, a huge boulder disappearing from his chest. With longer hair? Like the woman he had seen in the hall the night before? Maybe he hadn’t dreamt it after all.

Oh, God! Maybe he hadn’t dreamt it after all. His eyes widened in fear.

A wisp of a smile appeared on the inspector’s lips. “Mad Dog? Oh, I don’t know about ‘girlfriend’. She’s your writing partner at the Daily Planet,” Inspector Henderson said, handing back the drawing. “She’s right outside. I’ll introduce you.”

Clark froze in his tracks, staring at the drawing. Her name was ‘Mad Dog’? He just couldn’t picture it. Horror descended upon him. He had fantasized about his business partner, his co-worker, who went by the name of ‘Mad Dog’? Oh, dear, this couldn’t be good.

Henderson turned at the door and looked back at him. “Come on, Clark. It’s okay, she doesn’t bite… actually, let’s not say that. Why don’t you decide for yourself?” he said, holding out his hand to coax Clark out the door.

Clark picked up his black bag and, slinging it over his shoulder, hesitantly followed him.

Just out in the hall stood the most beautiful, sexy, passionate woman he was sure he ever had the pleasure to dream about. Holy crapola. Meena was real.

She stared him straight in the eye as if daring him to mention what had happened between them in his mind. She both frightened him and allured him at the same time. If he hadn’t been in love with her before he had bumped his head and lost his memories, he certainly was now.

“Clark Kent,” Henderson said. “Meet Lois Lane.”

*

Part 91

Dr. McCorkle told Lois not to let Clark know that they were involved. Let him remember that on his own, or he might be offended by her assumption that he was in love with her when he had no memory of it.

Therefore, it was back to acting as if they were just friends. Peachy.

True, with Clark not having any memory of their relationship or anything, for that matter, he might not act like the man with whom she had fallen in love. Would she want to push him forward, past his previous intimacy walls, if she discovered that he was a different person without his memories? Maybe she could finally figure out who he really was at heart, by finding out who he was without any memories.

“Hi, Clark,” Lois said, holding out her hand.

“Hi,” Clark replied hesitantly.

She could see the spark of recognition in his eyes. How much of the previous night did he recall? Deny. Deny. Deny. “Lois,” she reminded him, in case he felt the need to go formal on her.

He reached out and took hold of her hand, allowing her to shake his. “Have we met before, Lois?” he asked, holding her hand a second longer than necessary.

Lois shot Henderson an ‘I just won that bet’ look. Okay, true, she had cheated, but he didn’t know that. “I’m your partner at the Daily Planet. I understand that Inspector Henderson has explained who you are and what you do. Are you ready to go?”

“Go?” Clark echoed, glancing over at the inspector. “Am I going with her?”

Henderson gave her a ‘not quite yet, there, Lane’ look. “If you would rather stay in police…”

“Dr. McCorkle said it would be better for Clark to be around familiar people and places,” Lois interrupted, so Clark wouldn’t think he had a choice and choose wrong. “And I’m sorry, Inspector, no matter how many stories Clark wrote up about you, the MPD, and the Twelfth Precinct, familiar means me, the Daily Planet, and his apartment, not you and a safe house under police guard.”

“Kent, I leave the decision up to you,” Henderson said. “Let me remind you that someone did try to kill you.”

Lois shot Henderson a scowl. She could win, and easily too, if she played dirty, but she cared more about Clark’s mental well-being than winning. That wasn’t to say, that if she thought she would lose, she wouldn’t pull out all the stops. The Clark she knew would never choose his safety with no memories over a little risk and a big payout.

Clark glanced between them. She could see the indecision in his eyes. Had she bet wrong? Had Clark changed so much that he would choose Henderson over her?

A nurse walked up at that moment with a wheelchair. “Here’s your ride, Mr. Doe.”

“No, thanks, Camille. I’ll walk,” Clark said, eyeing the wheelchair with distrust.

“Hospital policy. Everyone who leaves does so in a wheelchair, so that he or she makes it out fine. Sit,” Nurse Camille insisted.

Clark sat.

“Well, where’s mine?” Lois asked.

“Excuse me, Ma’am, but you’re not a patient,” Camille returned, a fake smile rising to her lips.

“Oh, boy,” murmured Henderson, taking a step away.

“You just stated that ‘everyone who leaves does so in a wheelchair’ and unless you plan on holding me hostage, I’m leaving,” Lois went on, her hands resting on her hips. “If you can’t risk Mr. Doe here walking out on his own, why am I allowed to walk out on my own, or Inspector Henderson here?”

“It’s hospital policy,” Camille said.

“It’s to satisfy your insurance liability policy. If you don’t think Mr. Doe here is well enough to make it out of the hospital on his own two feet, why is he being allowed to be discharged?” Lois went on.

“Lois,” Clark said softly, apologizing to Camille with his eyes. “It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t okay. If you want to walk, you should damn well have the opportunity to do so. Just because Nurse Camille here likes to order you about…” Lois said.

Clark touched Lois’s arm, essentially halting her words as if he had kissed her. “It’s okay, Lois,” he said. He turned to the nurse, and said, “Thank you, Camille.” Thus earning himself a radiant smile from his nurse.

Lois rolled her eyes.

“You’re the woman from Mr. Doe’s picture,” Camille said, not going down without a fight. “His sister, wasn’t it? His older sister.”

Before her hand could slap the woman’s face for the suggestion, Henderson had nudged her forward. “Shall we go?” he said, clearing his throat. “I’d hate to have to arrest you for assault, Lane.”

“Lois is my partner at work,” Clark clarified. It was just like him to try to smooth the road.

Lois smiled, and set her hand gently on Clark’s shoulder. It was just like him to do that, wasn’t it?

“Oh, where do you work, Mr. Doe?” Camille asked.

Henderson cleared his throat again, and Clark nodded. Lois was amazed that Henderson had allowed her to be privy to this classified secret. Oh, wait, she hadn’t been. She had to dig it out for herself.

Camille wheeled them to the main doors, and finally allowed Clark to stand on his own two feet.

“Thank you,” Clark said to the nurse once more with a smile as she went back inside.

“Geez, Kent, hit you in the head and knock your marbles loose, and you’re still the sweetest man alive,” Lois grumbled under her breath.

Clark stared at her for a moment, and then turned to Henderson, holding out his hand. “Thank you so much for all of your help, Inspector, but I do believe I’d like to see what my life was like…”

“Is like,” Lois corrected. “You aren’t dead.”

For some reason, her remarked earned her a smile from Clark. “I’d like to see what my life is like, Inspector. Thank you,” Clark said, as Henderson shook his hand.

“If I hadn’t been sure about your identity, Kent, you just confirmed it,” Henderson said. “As soon as you remember, you’ll give me a call and let me know what happened, won’t you?”

“That’s top on my list,” Clark said.

“It’s okay if you make me number two,” Henderson replied, tapping Clark on the arm, and walking off.

Lois’s brow furrowed, wondering who Henderson thought would be Clark’s number one. She glanced over at Clark and could see the same question on his face.

“What did he mean by that?” Clark asked.

“By what?” she asked, wondering if he was going to ask her about Clark’s number one priority. Did Henderson know about Clark’s connection to Superman?

“That thing about my identity being proven,” he said, nodding in the direction Henderson had gone off.

“Who the hell knows? Probably some crack about you not being afraid of me,” she replied.

“Should I be?”

Lois raised an eyebrow, but didn’t answer his question. “Come on. My car is over here.”

Clark followed, just as she knew he would. Thankfully, Clark was still Clark. They would be okay.

***

They walked into the newsroom, and Lois took him straight to Clark’s desk, picked up his nameplate, and showed it to him. “Look familiar?” she asked.

He looked at it for a moment, and then over at the desk it had been resting on. “I’m sorry. No,” he replied.

“What in tarnation?” Clark heard a man grumble from across the room. “Lane, get over here.”

Lois smiled at him by way of an apology. “Excuse me,” she said, and entered the office.

Clark followed her, lost without her to tell him what to do in this strange place. He paused a few feet away from the door.

“What is he doing here?” the older man snapped.

“He works here,” Lois rebutted.

“I know that! Someone tried to kill him, Lois,” the man said, clearly knowing the facts about his case. “He shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t know his left from his right.”

There was a pause before Lois spoke in hiss, “Henderson told you?”

Clark’s brow furrowed. Hadn’t Henderson told her? How had she discovered about him? She had been at the hospital last night. She was the ‘L’ who left ‘C’ that note, wasn’t she? Although, Lois had never brought it up and acted as if it never happened. Clark wasn’t ready, yet, to ask her exactly what had happened the previous night, or to whom the “Him” in her note referred.

“I’m his boss!” the man retorted. “I have a right to know.”

“Well, then, you should know that Clark knows his left from his right. He’s still Clark. He’s just a little confused,” Lois defended him.

I do? Clark looked down at his hands. His left hand made an ‘L’ between his index and thumb. Hey, lookie there, he did know. He had no idea how he knew that, but he did.

That was what made that decision at the hospital so easy. Beside the fact that that little firecracker drew Clark to her like a moth to a flame, Lois’s anger, her ferocity, which she pretty much leveled at everyone, as far as he could tell, was mostly in defense of him. He meant something to her. She might never admit it, but he could tell by her words and actions that she regarded him as ‘hers’. Whether that was purely in a partner sense or more, he hoped more, he would see in time.

Clark looked around the office to see if anything or anyone looked familiar. Sadly, nothing and nobody did. He saw a box of donuts, sitting over at the coffee station. That oatmeal he had eaten for breakfast felt like hours ago. There were two types of donuts left. He picked up a glazed donut and a cake donut with coconut. He had no idea which type he preferred but there was one way to find out.

He took a bite of the glazed donut first. It was sweet, almost overly so, with a hint of butter. Okay, not bad, but mostly air, plus it left his fingers sticky. He took a bite of the other donut. It was solid, rich, and cakey, even if it was a bit stale. He liked it. The coconut was all right, but he thought he might prefer the donut without the topping.

Clark turned around to find Lois staring at him. He licked his lips, embarrassed to have been caught trying to figure out his favorite type of donut. “I’m sorry,” he said, between bites. “Did you want one?”

She merely shook her head, her eyes wide.

He shrugged and looked back down at the two donuts. He preferred the cake donut to the glazed, but he didn’t feel right throwing the glazed out. Now, he had to figure out if he wanted to eat the cake donut first and then finish with the glazed, or if he should eat the glazed first and finish, as his dessert, the one he liked better. He decided on the latter technique.

“Do you like it?” Lois asked. There was a slight quiver of something to her voice.

“Yeah. The glazed donut is okay, but there’s something solid about the cake donut, even if it is a bit stale,” he said. “A day in the hospital, and I feel like I haven’t had real food in years.”

She looked skeptically at his donuts. “Real food?”

“Everything they gave me at the hospital was the same, same color beige, lacking flavor, and lukewarm,” he said. “You know what sounds really good? Chocolate!” And his stomach rumbled in agreement. “Oh, what I wouldn’t do for a chocolate bar right now?”

Lois stepped up to him and took hold of his shoulders. “Now, Clark, look at me.”

No problem there.

“You really don’t remember anything?” she asked.

Clark remembered that her kisses tasted like coffee and deli meat with mustard. He remembered how her head felt cradled in the nook of his arm, how her fingers had danced across his belly, and how her hair streamed through his fingers like ribbons. He remembered how his belly muscles tightened whenever he thought about his dream… his fantasy of making love to her, of how she had taken charge, and everything seemed to fall into place. He remembered never feeling as happy in his life as he had with her and that with her, he had felt whole.

“We’re a reporting team,” he replied. “Isn’t that what you said?”

“Well, I’m more like the senior partner,” she corrected.

Clark nodded. He could believe that. “So, you call the shots?” he asked. No wonder he liked her bossing him around.

She grinned. “You could say that.” Apparently, she liked it too.

“Okay,” Clark said, glancing around with uncertainty. “What do I do?”

“Ugh!” Lois groaned, and then confessed, “We’re full partners. Nobody works for anybody. Although, I do think for the immediate future, you should follow my lead.”

Clark liked this Lois better, honest, forthright, and yet a little vulnerable. He knew he would have no problem following her anywhere. “Probably a good idea,” he admitted.

A tall woman with long auburn hair and wearing a hot pink painted-on dress stopped in front of them. “Clark! Where have you been? You’ve had us all worried sick! You better have a good excuse for not calling me back.”

He looked at Lois for assistance. “I was in the hospital,” he said.

The woman gave Lois a bewildered look. “Where’s the punch line?”

“The punch line is that Clark has amnesia. Someone tried to kill him, and he was found half-frozen in Hob’s Bay yesterday morning. Clark, this is Cat Grant. She writes the gossip column for the paper. We write the news,” Lois explained, telling him clearly, which was more important with her tone.

Clark took hold of Cat’s hand and shook it.

“This isn’t funny, Lois,” Cat growled at his partner, and then turned her focused gaze on him. “Where have you really been, Clark?”

“No, it’s true, Miss Grant. I really can’t remember much of anything,” Clark admitted sheepishly.

Cat held up a finger to Lois. “Would you excuse us for just a moment?” she asked, before taking Clark by the arm and leading him away. When they were in a fairly secluded section of the newsroom, she faced him. “Honey, it’s me. Cat. How could you not remember what we meant to each other?”

He had no memory of her at all. “I guess, we worked together?”

She leaned closer to him, and exhaled in almost a patronizing manner. “We do a lot more than that.”

“We do?” he asked. He hated to sound so disbelieving of her, but he wasn’t attracted to her in the least. He might have been if he hadn’t met Lois, but he had.

Cat set her hands on his shoulders, and whispered, “We’ve kept it a secret, our relationship and what I know. You’re so worried about what people think.” She glanced over her shoulder at Lois, who had sat down at a desk and was looking through messages. “Especially her.”

Clark leaned over and looked at Lois, and hoped she could read the expression of ‘help me!’ written across his face.

Cat’s eyes filled with tears. “You don’t even remember…” Her voice wavered with held back emotion. “Us.” She started to cry, holding her hand up to mask it.

He felt as if he should comfort her somehow, but he had no idea how to proceed. He went to pat her arm. “Um…”

Suddenly, he felt himself pulled within her embrace; her hands rubbed up and down his back. “Does this refresh your memory?” she murmured into his ear. He could hear the hope evident in her tone.

Clark held up his hands, locked under her arms, in a shrug as he looked to Lois to save him from this woman.

“Excuse me, folks,” said the voice of the man who had identified himself as Clark’s boss earlier.

Clark was able to extricate himself from Cat’s arms and turned to face the older man. Another, younger, man stood to his side.

“Clark. Perry White,” the older man said in halting tones. “I’m sorry to hear what happened, son… uh… This is…” He indicated the younger man to his side. “Jimmy Olsen.”

“Hi, Clark,” the younger man said, shaking his hand with a grin. “Actually, I… uh… always call you CK, CK.”

Clark nodded at Jimmy, and then turned to see Lois walk up to their group, and Cat roll her eyes and strolled off with an annoyed expression on her face. Had she been serious that there was something more to their relationship? He just couldn’t fathom being close to that woman with Lois in the world.

“So, how are you feeling?” Perry asked Clark. Before he could answer, his boss’s gaze shifted to Lois. “Are you up to doing a news conference?”

Clark looked to Lois to see if she would answer for him, but she seemed to be waiting for him to answer. “Um… yeah, I think so,” he said with determination. A press conference could be just what he needed to do something familiar, get back into his routine. Anyway, the office felt awkward after what Cat had said to him.

“No, not you, son. Someone handcuffed you and dumped you in the bay. I promised Henderson I wouldn’t advertise that you were home safe and sound. If you attend a press conference, your would-be killer might catch sight of you on TV and come after you again. I’m afraid that you’ll have to sit this one out,” Perry said, turning to Lois. “Something’s up at EPRAD.”

“Have they finally heard from him?” Lois asked, blowing past the part where she usually defended Clark. She must agree with Perry about his not going to the press conference.

“Him?” Clark echoed. Him as in the ‘Him’ from her note? The one whom she wanted Clark to contact, that him?

“Superman,” Jimmy interjected.

Perry shook his head. “No, no. I think this has to do with their alternative solution for dealing with the asteroid.”

Superman? Was Superman the ‘Him’ Lois needed Clark to contact? Could he do that, or had he been able to do that when he had his memories? Was that why she wanted to take possession of him? He glanced at Lois, hoping she would be able to read the question in his eyes.

“Oh. Still no word on Superman?” Lois said, and he could hear the dejection in her voice. She cared for Superman, Clark could tell. Did she love Superman? Was Clark only some kind of go-between liaison between them? Was that why she needed him?

Perry shook his head. “Sorry, darling.”

Clark looked at his boss, and then at the younger man standing to his side, and then turned to see Cat, sitting at her desk, her face buried in her hands. Perry. Jimmy. Cat. “I’m Chuck!” he announced with the excitement of someone who finally got the punch line of a joke everyone had guessed days earlier. With a slight disappointment, he realized that there was no house in the suburbs, no children, no daughter, no son, no… Cat! He hit his head with the palm of his hand. Of course!

“What?” stammered Perry, glancing at Clark. “No, son, you’re Clark. Clark Kent.”

“Lois calls you Chuck sometimes,” Jimmy said. “Is that what you meant?”

Clark looked over at Lois with affection; she was staring at him. “Is this true?” he asked with hope.

She shrugged as if to say she wouldn’t deny it.

“So, you are Meena?” he asked, pointing at her. Maybe his dream wasn’t a dream after all.

Lois blanched, and glanced uncomfortably at Perry. “What? No! I mean, whatever do you mean, Clark?” She smiled uncomfortably at Clark, but her gaze was a set of focused slits as if he had said something he shouldn’t have.

She wasn’t Meena, then?

“The note, I found in my bag of clothes,” Clark explained. “To Chuck, wishing you could be there with me, but you had to save the world. You, Perry, Jimmy, and Cat miss me.” He pointed to each of them as he said their names. “I should take care and come home soon. And it was signed ‘love, Meena’.” Only she had been there. Whoa, had Meena actually been there? What exactly had happened last night?

“Love?” Perry repeated, giving Lois an interested expression.

“It’s a salutation, used between friends,” Lois said sharply.

That was true, Clark admitted to himself. Maybe his dream was still just a fantasy.

“Save the world?” Jimmy asked, and Perry nodded and looked at Lois.

“It’s a figure of speech,” she said, defending her choice of words. She grabbed Clark’s arm. “Come on, Clark. We have a press conference to attend.”

“Uh-uh,” Perry reminded her. “Chuck here is staying put.”

“But I promised Inspector Henderson that I wouldn’t let Clark out of my sight. He’s my responsibility,” Lois insisted, again with her telltale defense of him.

“He’s our responsibility,” Perry corrected. “Jimmy, you’ll keep an eye on Clark, won’t you?”

“Be my pleasure, Chief. Come on, CK,” Jimmy said. “Let me show you to your desk. Maybe something there will refresh your memory.”

“I know where it is,” Clark said. It was the one with his nameplate, right?

“See there, all taken care of,” Perry reassured her.

Everyone else wandered off, leaving Lois and Clark standing in the middle of the room staring at each other. He didn’t want her to leave. She was all that was familiar here for him. Without her, it would feel as if they had thrown him back into Hob’s Bay; only this time, there were sharks.

Lois gave Clark one long last look as if leaving him was the last thing she wanted to do. Then with a wry grin, she commanded, “Stay!” The grin gave way to giggles, before she patted his shoulder and turned to her desk.

He didn’t get it. Was that supposed to be funny?

Grabbing her briefcase off her chair, she marched out of the newsroom with one last flick of her hand. She took Clark’s heart with her.

***

Clark sat at his desk. He had gone through all his folders and re-read all his notes, nothing looked familiar, nothing felt familiar. He couldn’t get on his computer either because he hadn’t a clue what his password was. Jimmy had gone off to search for it, but he said it might take a while. In the meantime, Clark sat at his desk, staring at Lois’s empty desk.

He missed Lois. He missed her body and soul, and she hadn’t been gone but a half-hour. He sighed, and looked back down at his press notebook.

A shadow darkened his desk.

He glanced up and saw a man with thinning hair, looking back at him with a cocky grin.

“So, Kent, I hear you have amnesia,” the man said.

Clark nodded and waited for the man to introduce himself.

“Convenient,” the man said, lowering his voice and sticking his finger in Clark’s face. “I don’t think you have amnesia at all. I think you suddenly ‘forgot’ everything, because you owe me fifty bucks for betting against the Nets in last Tuesday’s game.”

“What? Who?” Clark stammered. “No, I really can’t remember anything.”

“As I said, convenient. A big NBA fan like you should have known better. I kept it quiet, like you asked, and let the last bet ride, but I’m not doing it again. One of these days you’ll learn that nobody beats the Nets,” the man said. “So, where’s my money, Kent?”

Clark’s eyes widened as he shook his head. “I… I don’t know. My wallet was missing when they found me.”

“Convenient,” the man snarled. “By this time tomorrow, I want my fifty bucks, and I don’t want excuses about it being ‘the end of the world’. This time, don’t forget.”

The man stomped off, leaving Clark’s head spinning. He had no idea who that man was. Apparently, Clark was a gambler, and not a very good one. Well, that was something he would be sure to stop doing. He had no idea where or how he would get that man his money.

Cat Grant, the gossip columnist, approached his desk. He wished he could be appreciative of her distraction, but he really didn’t want her to hit on him again. He would have to think of a polite way to say ‘no’.

“Clark, I swear, you’re as pathetic today as the first day I met you,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Huh?” he replied, not expecting that comment.

“You can lose your memory, your whole sense of who you really are, but you can’t stop being you,” Cat stated. “Well, I guess that’s a good thing. Come on. We’ve got to talk.”

He stood up. “I really should stay,” he said. “Lois told me to ‘stay’.”

She rolled her eyes. “Relax, Clark, we’re not leaving the building. We’re just going into the conference room to talk privately,” she said. “It’s okay. We’ve done it before.”

They had? His eyes widened, and he held up his hands. “We don’t really have a relationship, do we?”

“We’re friends. That’s a relationship,” Cat reminded him.

“I need to find my own memories. I can’t fake them with somebody else,” Clark said, hopeful that he was letting her down gently.

Cat pressed her lips together, grabbed his arm, dragged him to the conference room, and pushed him inside. She shut the door behind them. “When I said, ‘let’s go into the conference room. We need to talk privately. We’ve done it before.’ I was referring to talking privately, Clark.”

“Oh,” he said, feeling ashamed for his assumption.

“But it’s nice to know that you consider me an attractive woman, whom you’d have sex with, even without your memories,” she said.

Clark’s brow furrowed. He thought he had said that he didn’t want to have sex with her.

“Oh, for goodness sake, don’t tell me that you can’t catch sarcasm now; because if you can’t, this is going to be a long day, and an even longer night,” she groaned.

Sarcasm? Right, saying the opposite of what one meant. He smiled weakly.

“First things first. How in the hell did you end up in the hospital?” Cat asked.

“As Lois told you, I was found in Hob’s Bay, before dawn yesterday morning, half-frozen and with a concussion,” he explained.

“A concussion? Honey, you can’t get hurt,” she replied.

He shrugged.

“No, no, sweet thing. You cannot get hurt,” Cat said pointedly, staring him into the eye.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Oh, my, oh, my, oh, my, oh, my, oh, my,” she repeated, walking to the far end of the room and back again.

When she went back to the window, Clark followed her. She knew something that she wasn’t saying.

“You don’t remember, do you? You don’t know, do you?” she said, and he wondered if she was even talking to him.

“No?” he replied. “What?”

“What did they do to you in the hospital?” she asked. “Exactly.”

“Um… I don’t remember it all. I was in and out of consciousness,” Clark said. “I was really tired.”

“Try and remember. This is important,” she said.

“Okay… um… they took my temperature and it was a bit low…”

“No, no, no, Clark. You told me once; your temperature is higher than normal. It couldn’t have been ‘a bit low’,” Cat corrected. “Go on.”

“Really? Hmmm. I didn’t know that,” he said. “So, they decided to warm me up. They put me in dry clothes, wrapped me in blankets…”

“Were you wearing the Suit?” she asked.

“I was wearing a suit and tie. Inspector Henderson took those as evidence… Oh, and these,” Clark said, pulling out the dark sunglasses that Reed had given him, from his breast pocket. “My eyes were really sensitive to light. One of the guys who pulled me out of the water gave me his sunglasses.”

“You were wearing these? Good,” she nodded. “That’s good.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said, unsure why that was good. “I’ve been staying in a dimly lit room since leaving the ER. Um… oh, and they also gave me a hot water bottle, and ran a warm saline drip to help me warm up from the inside out.”

Cat’s jaw dropped. “They what?”

Clark pushed up his sleeve and showed her the bandage covering the spot where they had removed the IV several hours earlier. “They ran a warm saline IV…”

“Oh, Clark, no!” she said, grabbing his wrist and examining his arm. “How can that be?”

“I was told it was fairly common use in hypothermia patients,” Clark said, watching as she ran her thumb up and down the back of his hand.

Cat turned and grabbed a pair of scissors off a side table. Pulling his hand towards her, she stabbed his finger.

Clark jerked his hand back. “Ow!” he exclaimed. “What did you do that for?”

“Are you bleeding?” she asked, looking at the sharp point of the scissors instead of his hand.

“You’re sick,” he said, gazing down at his bloody finger and then trying to shake away the pain. “You know that, don’t you?”

“No, Clark. You’re sick. You don’t bleed,” she told him.

“Well, I wouldn’t if you didn’t stab me!”

“No, sweetie,” she said, calming down her voice and speaking slower. “You aren’t supposed to bleed.”

Clark stuck his finger in his mouth. “What? Am I anemic or something?”

“Or something,” Cat said, grabbing his elbow. “Come on. We’re going up to the roof.”

“The roof?” he said, shaking his head. Why did she want him to go to the roof? That didn’t make any sense unless she wanted to push him off. His eyes widened. Was she trying to kill him? “No. I told Lois I would stay here.”

“You need sunlight, Clark. You’ve been in a dark room for how long now?” she asked, tugging him towards the door.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. A day, a day and a half?” he guessed.

“Precisely. You’re low in vitamin D. Time for some sunshine for you, big fellow,” Cat said, pushing him through the door and towards the elevator. They passed Lois’s desk, and Cat grabbed a fluffy jacket off a coat rack.

“Shouldn’t I get my coat too?” he asked, trying to find any excuse to get away from her.

“No, honey, you’re going to be taking your shirt off,” she replied.

“What? It still must be cold out, Miss Grant. I just got out of the hospital from having hypothermia and I don’t want to go back,” he said, turning away from her.

She dug her claws into his arm and pulled him towards the elevators. “First of all, you call me Cat. Second, I’ve seen you without your shirt before. And thirdly, the fact that I can get you to go where you don’t want to go, Clark, tells me you are really low in vitamin D and need as much sun exposure as possible, which means you should take off your shirt.”

“You’re nuts!” he said.

“And you’re sick, Clark,” Cat said, shoving him into the elevator and putting on her coat. Once the doors closed, she pushed the button for the top floor, before facing him. “What do you know about Superman?”

Clark shrugged, wondering about her sudden change of topic. Did she think pushing him off the roof would get Superman to appear suddenly to save him? He didn’t like those odds, especially since nobody had seen the superhero since he went to deal with the asteroid. He saw that she was waiting for an answer. “I… I don’t know. He can fly?”

She motioned for him to go on.

“Um… he’s strong… Uh…”

“He’s super strong, super fast, and can fly. He heats things with his eyes, cools things with his breath, impervious to heat or cold, but none of that matters, if he’s vulnerable,” Cat said, lifting his hand. “Superman doesn’t bleed.”

“Okay, that’s great for him, but what does this have to do with me?” Clark asked.

Cat gave him a strange look. She took a deep breath, and then continued on, “He’s invulnerable. We call him the Man of Steel, because he can be shot, sit on an exploding bomb, dive into the Arctic Ocean, swim through lava, and journey out into space, just to name a few examples, with no side effects. You, on the other hand, are a mess.”

“And?” he asked.

“Do you have anything else wrong with you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what you want to hear.”

“I won’t know what it is until you tell me,” she said, waving at him to tell her. “So spill!”

“My eyes, the cold… the hypothermia thing, the bump on the back of my head,” he said.

She continued to nod and waved for him to continue.

“Uh… that’s about it… oh! I do have this strange rash on my right leg,” he said.

Cat knelt down in front of him and started to pull up his pants leg when the elevator doors opened. She turned to look at the very startled executive in the doorway. “Do you mind? I’m trying to save the world here!”

Clark shrugged sheepishly at the guy, who stepped back, and mumbled, “I’ll wait for the next one.”

The doors closed and Clark buried his face into his hand. He knew he should have gone to the press conference with Lois.

***End of Part 91***

Part 92

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