Months passed in a busy, but blissful, whirl for Lois and Clark. Building the case against Lex Luthor took up much of their time. Their regular, assigned stories at work took up the rest. And, when they actually took a day off together, they busied themselves with building their life together. Clark insisted that those days be spent doing normal, newlywed couple things – lunches and dinners out at fine restaurants, trips to parks and zoos and amusement parks, nights spent stargazing on sandy, deserted beaches. Whatever they could think of, Clark was willing and eager to do it all. He’d missed so many years of enjoying simple pleasures and now he wanted to make up for lost time. Having Lois by his side as his wife only made his second chance at life all the more perfect.
But, as much as he immersed himself in experiencing all the things that had once been denied to him, he never lost sight of the important goal of bringing his former jailor to justice.
“Tomorrow’s the day,” Clark announced one August morning as he came into the kitchen, tucking his white button-down shirt into his tan suit pants.
“What’s the day?” Lois asked.
“To make our case against Luthor,” he said grimly.
Lois nodded. They had about as much evidence as they were going to get, connecting the billionaire President to a host of crimes, both before his administration and during it. Everything they had was iron-clad. There was no way that he would be able to weasel his way out of any of it. It was just a matter of bringing the evidence to the right people, to get the ball rolling on formally charging him and getting impeachment proceedings started. But, try as Bruce Wayne had, no concrete evidence had turned up to pin Clark’s imprisonment on Metropolis’ Golden Boy, as Lex Luthor had come to be known during his campaign.
“I just got off the phone with Jimmy,” Clark continued. “We’ve got the go-ahead to take the next couple of weeks, starting today, to head down to D.C. I did a bit of research while you were sleeping last night and, as it turns out, my best friend from high school, Pete Ross, works for the FBI. I sent him an email asking if we could meet up and I guess the FBI never sleeps. He got back to me a couple of hours ago. We’re meeting him for lunch tomorrow.” He flashed a triumphant grin as he fiddled with the cuff of his shirt. “We’ve got him, Lois. He’s already trapped and he has no idea.”
The thought of Luthor being so close to being brought to justice made Clark feel almost weak in the knees. It was such an incredible relief, like he’d spent all those months running a marathon and the finish line was in sight; like a runner at the end of a brutal course, his body felt ready to give out and crash, but he knew he had to give it one final push and then it would be all over and he could finally rest, and that alone kept his spirits up. And yet, somehow, it felt like bringing the evidence to the feds would be just the beginning of an Iron Man competition, though Clark couldn’t put his finger on why.
But, more than anything, he was nervous.
He wasn’t scared of Luthor himself. No. The billionaire had tried to take everything from Clark already. And he’d failed in the long run. But Clark was wary about the things Luthor might do in retribution. Though it would be the FBI bringing the charges against Luthor, unfortunately, the psychopathic President was smart. He would know Lois and Clark were behind things. They would have to tread carefully, lest more would-be assassins might spring up in the future.
“Great!” Lois piped up with a sparkle in her eye as she downed the last sip of her coffee. “When do we leave?”
“This afternoon, at four,” Clark said, coming around the counter to hug her from behind.
She sank into his embrace. “SuperClark Express or….?” she asked, leaving the rest unsaid.
“Commercial flight,” Clark said apologetically. “While I’d love to fly us down in the middle of the night and cut out the plane entirely, we need to have a paper trail on this.”
“Do we though? Maybe it’s smarter if Lex can’t prove we were ever in the area,” Lois said thoughtfully.
Clark smiled at the way she thought. “As much as I agree with you, he’s going to figure out it’s us anyway. It will probably cause less problems in the long run if we don’t have to lie about how we got to D.C.,” Clark said with a heavy heart. “I kind of hate it, but we can’t risk anything not adding up. This isn’t like taking down just any random billionaire crime lord. This is taking down the sitting President of the United States. Besides, we’ll have to cover things when they blow up. And you know they will. Luthor isn’t going to handle things quietly. There’ll be a press conference at the very least.”
Lois sighed. “You’re right, of course. Okay, let’s get packed.”
“Already done, except for your clothing,” Clark said with a shrug. “I got everything else together while I was talking to Jimmy.”
Lois twisted in his arms to look at him. “Show off,” she teasingly accused.
He grinned. “What’s the point of superpowers if you don’t use them?”
The words stopped him dead in his tracks as soon as he uttered them. What good were his powers if he wasn’t actively using them for the betterment of society? Superman still hadn’t been resurrected. He was still worried about how to do so without making the world suspicious about what had really kept the hero away for so long.
Lois seemed to sense his mood and kissed his cheek lightly. “Thanks for doing that for me. Come on, let’s finish up. We’ve still got a few hours before we need to leave for the airport. And I can think of a few ways to spend our time…husband.” She fairly purred the last few words out and Clark instantly melted.
“Mmm,” he wordlessly agreed as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her out of the kitchen.
***
Everything had gone smoothly. Lois and Clark had met with Pete Ross and given him the flash drive with all of their months of research and investigations. They did make it clear to him that they had a backup of the flash drive locked away in a safe location, just in case. They wanted to leave nothing to chance. He listened intently to them and took everything they said seriously. After lunch, he’d invited them back to his office where he popped the drive into his computer and skimmed through the mountain of information stored on it while his eyes grew wider and wider with shock.
“All of this is legitimate,” he said under his breath, half a question and half a statement of fact. It was clear he was absolutely blown away.
“Yes,” Clark had replied, chafing a bit to know that he couldn’t prove that Luthor had stolen two decades of his life. “And that’s probably the tip of the iceberg,” he said.
“Impressive,” Pete had said, letting out a low whistle. Then he gave them a funny look. “What prompted all of this?”
Clark had fidgeted badly under his friend’s gaze. He’d never been able to lie to Pete for as long as he’d known him. “I can’t get into details,” he said quickly. “And I can’t prove anything. So this stays between you and me. But…Luthor is responsible for some…personal grievances. I’ve suspected his criminal dealings for a long time now.”
“Personal grievances?” Pete had asked, arching an eyebrow. “Clark, I know you better than that. What’d he do to you? I mean, you disappeared for twenty years and…” He’d stopped short. “Wait.” He’d given Clark a hard look. “Clark?” he’d half demanded.
Clark had sighed and shaken his head. “Remember how I was found in the Arkham Asylum? He’s the reason I was there…against my will. Please, Pete, don’t ask me for more details. I don’t really want to think about what happened.”
It had taken a long time for his friend to respond. When he did, he did so slowly. “For the sake of our friendship, I won’t press the issue. But, Clark, if he’s responsible for other criminal misdeeds…”
Clark had shaken his head again. “It doesn’t matter. It would be my word against his and I can’t prove anything. Let’s focus on what we can prove. What we gave you should be enough to convict him and sentence him to several lifetimes in jail.”
Reluctantly, Pete had nodded. “For now, I’ll drop the subject. You’re right about one thing. We certainly have enough to get the ball rolling bringing justice.”
“Thanks, Pete. You’re a good man.”
***
The announcement was made a week later that the FBI was formally investigating the sitting President of the United States, Alexander J. Luthor, for crimes too numerous to count. Lois and Clark were right there, front and center, at the press conference held to make the announcement. It was hard not to beam with pride for a job well done, but they both had practice in keeping a neutral face; for Lois, it was years of professionalism, and for Clark, it was his brief, but impressive, stint as Superman. And although it had been more than two decades since Clark had donned the uniform and gone out into the world as his alter ego to help fight crime and protect the helpless, he found it second nature to adopt the neutral mask the hero had always worn, even in the face of the worst tragedies.
Luthor’s response was swift and predictable. He called for his own press conference not two days later, to formally renounce the accusations against him as “false, unsubstantiated, and a personal attack” on him. Victory should have felt so close that Clark should have been able to taste it. Instead, a nagging feeling plagued Clark since the announcement was made that the President would be addressing the nation at 8pm sharp the following evening. It was a sick feeling at the pit of his stomach that just would not fade and Clark had found himself slipping out of the hotel room he and Lois had been living in for the past week just before midnight.
Finding a dark alley, he took off into the sky like a rocket, straight back home to pick up one of his Superman uniforms. Then he made a beeline for Gotham, once more seeking out Bruce Wayne, with whom he’d grown to have the beginnings of a friendship with. He knew Bruce would not be patrolling the city that night – Bruce had mentioned that the Justice League would be meeting. Instead of scanning the rooftops, he zoomed toward the billionaire’s former home – the original Wayne Manor, only half standing after a fire some thirty years before, and well shielded from prying eyes by a dense strand of woods on all sides. Now, the part that hadn’t been destroyed by the fire had been refurbished while the demolished half was being rebuilt. Officially, the billionaire wanted to reconstruct the home his parents had built for nostalgia’s sake. In reality, the old mansion had been repurposed and renamed. Now it was the Hall of Justice, a safe place for the Justice League to hold meetings in or to lay low in if the need ever arose.
Clark landed just as the meeting was coming to a close, so he hurriedly made for what had once been the manor’s expansive living room. Everyone looked up in surprise as he gently rapped his knuckles against the doorframe to announce himself, rather than just barging on in. Bruce stood, a slight smirk on his face.
“Nice to see you. Does this mean you’ve changed your mind about my invitation into the League?” Bruce asked smoothly, indicating with one sweeping gesture of his palm that Clark should enter the room.
Clark shook his head. “Not yet. And maybe that makes it wrong of me to be here. But I need your help.” He took a few steps into the room and looked at everyone, making eye contact and giving them all a barely-there smile. “All of you. Please.”
For a few seconds – each of which felt like a millennium to Clark – no one spoke. Everyone just looked at one another, appearing to be looking for someone else to answer Clark. Then, finally, Wonder Woman spoke up.
“What’s wrong?” she asked gently.
The air rushed out of Clark’s lungs. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath. “Lex Luthor is the problem.”
That got everyone’s attention. Those lounging – Flash and Cyborg – sat up a little straighter. Green Lantern put down his soda. Wonder Woman’s posture changed ever so slightly – sitting forward in her seat to listen more closely. Bruce folded his arms. Aquaman raised his eyebrows over the rim of his can of beer. Martian Manhunter set aside the computer he’d been taking notes on and looked expectantly at Clark.
Quickly, Clark told them of his misgivings and the fears he had of Luthor seeking retribution, even though he could not put his finger on exactly how he expected Luthor to get his revenge. Unsurprisingly, those gathered knew of Clark’s story – he’d met them all over the last few months and had informed them about how Luthor had been behind the kidnapping and imprisonment he’d suffered through. So, none of them seemed particularly shocked at his insistence that something just didn’t feel right. Instead, they listened intently and didn’t judge him, the way he’d been slightly worried they would.
“What can we do to help?” Cyborg asked when Clark finished.
Clark sat down in an empty armchair and shook his head. “I’m not sure yet. I can’t even pay you all back for the work you put into trying to find me, and then again with keeping your eyes and ears open for threats against me after I was found and unable to defend myself.”
“It was our pleasure to help,” Flash said with a casual shrug. “Helping an actual legend? How could we say no?”
Aquaman rolled his eyes at the much younger man. “Dude, you weren’t even born when Clark was doing the hero thing.”
Flash shrugged again. “So? It doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate what he’s done for the world, in both of his identities.”
“Kids, play nice,” Wonder Woman chided gently.
“But, Diana, he…” Flash began to protest before she cut him off.
“Well, as you know, I’m often in the capitol area,” Wonder Woman offered. “I can easily hang around and keep an eye on things from above.”
“I’d appreciate that, yeah,” Clark replied gratefully, nodding in thought.
“I can blend right in with the media,” Manhunter added, shapeshifting to look like a tall, slim, square-jawed, but forgettable looking, man. “It might not hurt to have someone on the ground.”
“Good idea, J’onn,” Clark agreed.
“I’ll hang back with Diana,” Green Lantern offered after a moment. “We can flank the area that way.”
Clark nodded. “Thank you.”
When he left, the League had the beginnings of a plan and Clark felt a pang of longing in his heart to join them as a member of their group. For the first time, he desperately wanted to figure out a way to bring back Superman, and he made it a priority in his mind to talk to the others and Lois once the business with Luthor was through, in order to figure out how they could explain why Superman had disappeared without a word only to return after more than twenty-two years.
His meeting with the League brought him peace of mind. There was nothing Luthor could do to weasel his way out of justice. Not if the group of them had any say about it. His fears mostly assuaged, Clark flew back to the hotel room without bothering to drop off his uniform at home first. For some reason, something was telling him to keep it close by, just in case Superman needed to make an unexpected and unexplained return. A part of him felt compelled to wear it beneath his civilian clothing at the press conference the following evening, though the larger part of him was screaming that it was unnecessary.
The next day took forever to crawl by, until, at last, the members of the media were allowed beyond the gates of the White House and into the area of the lawn where a podium and a stage had been set up for the press conference. As with the FBI’s announcement, Lois and Clark were there to witness and report, though this time, by both design and luck, they found themselves on the leftmost fringe of the area, rather than at the center of things, though they were still up front.
After talking things through with Lois, Clark decided to wear his uniform beneath the sandy brown suit he’d chosen for the conference. It was a risk, he knew that. If Luthor saw him there, any number of things could happen. Clark didn’t want to be exposed for the alien hero he’d once been. But he also knew that, if push came to shove, he would do whatever it would take to ensure that Luthor faced justice.
Now, as he stood waiting for the President to make his entrance, he regretted his decision to wear the suit. He felt like a fraud. He wasn’t Superman anymore – at least, not publicly. But, more importantly, he felt nauseated by the memories that swirled up out of the deepest places of his mind – memories of only being Superman in Luthor’s presence, the way Clark had been beaten out of him, the way the Superman suit had become the only article of clothing Clark had worn for a decade, until it was ripped and frayed and stretched out and hung in tattered strips that barely covered any of his body. He remembered huddling under the half-shredded cape, dripping wet and shivering in the dark, trying to will some heat into his body. He remembered how the vibrant blue material had blackened over the years from grime, the long stretches where Clark went unwashed, and, of course, from the blood that seeped into it and crusted there so deeply that not even the forceful hosing downs Nigel gave him could loosen it from the fibers.
“Clark? Are you okay?” Lois asked, peering concernedly at him. “You’re white as a ghost.”
“I just…this is harder than I thought,” he admitted in a whisper as he bent to speak directly into her ear. “Knowing I’ll be looking at that smug, sneering face again. It’s…stirred up a lot of unpleasant memories. I shouldn’t have worn the suit. It’s…too strongly associated with him.”
Lois hugged him close. “You’re brave for being here,” she told him, a whispered sentence into his own ear.
A pleasant shudder ran down his body. “No, I’m not. I’m only here because I need to see this through. And because I need to make sure he doesn’t try to pull some stunt or another to get out of facing justice.”
“That’s still brave,” she pointed out, stubbornly refusing to admit that Clark might be right. “You’re making a huge, emotional sacrifice to make sure that nothing bad happens. You’re amazing.”
“Why does it feel like I’m a coward?” he wondered. He pulled at the jacket of his suit, as though it was itching him. “I don’t deserve to wear…this,” he said, meaning the suit hidden beneath his professional attire.
“Yes, you do. You are still him, even if you’ve kept that part of you out of view,” Lois assured him.
“I worry that Luthor succeeded in what he set out to do,” he confided in a low tone. “He wanted to erase me and everything I stood for.”
“He failed,” Lois staunchly replied. “You’re back and making a difference in the world again. Clark Kent is someone who writes articles, informs the public, and gets justice for those who have been wronged. You’re one of the most read reporters in the world, Clark.”
“Maybe. But that doesn’t change how much he took from me.” He sighed and motioned vaguely to the empty podium where Luthor was about to make his statement. “I’m not sure I can ever go back to the way things were. A part of me wants to. But he really did erase that other side of me. No one cares anymore that he’s gone. The world has moved on. Probably for the better.”
He paused, sighing once more as he dragged his hand through his hair. After a moment, he shrugged. “Or, at least, not for the worse, what with the scores of new heroes that have cropped up.” He looked around subtly, but the others were not in view. “And, believe me, I’m thrilled to see how many others have stepped up to help. But it feels like…like there’s no room left…for me.”
“Clark, that’s not…” Lois began, but he couldn’t stop himself from interrupting. He needed to get this off his chest.
“I’m not wanted or needed anymore, Lois. Superman’s relevance has been erased.” He stared down at his shoes in embarrassment as his words tumbled swiftly, but barely audible, from his lips.
“Is that really what you think?” Lois asked, looking for all the world like his words had slapped her across the face. “That’s not true at all, Clark. There will always be a need for Superman. Always. Okay, fine, people are stupid and have short memories,” she allowed, her voice a gossamer whisper but intense. She gestured vaguely with one hand. “But I guarantee that, if you brought him back right now, there would be plenty of people who would be thrilled. People you once saved that remember you. Kids who have heard the story about how you appeared on the scene and the deeds you did. People who wish they could have seen just a glimpse of you in person.”
“Maybe for an hour or a day or a week. But, eventually, they would want answers that I can’t give them,” Clark firmly reminded her.
Clark could see her gearing up for a response, but a hush rippled through the crowd, making it impossible for them to talk without being overheard. The press secretary came out, made a quick announcement which Clark barely heard over the rushing of blood in his ears from his racing heart, and then introduced - as if he needed it! – Lex Luthor to the crowd.
Clark’s heart lurched into his throat and his stomach dropped out as Luthor strode confidently to the podium. Seeing the man who’d abducted him, imprisoned him, tortured him, and brainwashed him in person was a vastly different experience than seeing still photos or video images of him. Clark wished he could throw up or fly away and never look back. A cold sweat broke out over his entire body and what was left of his stomach churned. The coppery taste of bile rose up from the knot in his abdomen and he found himself trembling as his mind brought back all the vile things Luthor had said and done for ten years.
What is your name?
Say it!
I have but to say one word and I’ll be flying to a certain pathetic little Kansas farm. Do you understand what I’m saying?
I’ll kill your parents right in front of your eyes. And if that doesn’t break you…Lois Lane’s death just might.
Say it!
We’re going to be together for a long, long time.
Don’t play coy with me. I’ve seen past your flimsy disguise for a while now.
Say it!
Ah, here we are! Our pretty little bird in his gilded cage.
You’ll soon be forgotten.
I’m enjoying chipping away at you, eroding what you used to be, erasing you from memory, just as you tried to do to me. Already, the people have turned on their supposed ‘hero.’
Say it!
You’re rather stupid. All you have to do is give up on the Clark hoax and the pain will stop.
Say it!
Clark Kent never existed. You are Superman. You are not and have never been Clark Kent.
He fought hard not to clamp his hands over his ears in a futile attempt to block out the voice. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself. He couldn’t afford to. Luthor was crazy. If he realized Clark was there, on the fringe of the crowd, there was no telling what might happen.
This was a mistake. I shouldn’t be here, he thought to himself in a sickly voice. I should have asked J’onn to stand in for me.
Every klaxon alarm was ringing in his brain. And yet, he knew he would be a target if he brought attention to himself by trying to leave. There was no way he could escape Luthor’s eye if he did anything at all that might set him apart from the crowd.
“I know you’ve all heard the allegations made against me,” Luthor was saying, and Clark realized with a start that he’d missed the billionaire’s opening remarks. “I want to address them right here and right now.”
Clark took a deep, measured breath through his nose, trying to calm his nerves. He could do this. He had to.
“These allegations are nothing more than the fevered delusions of those who would seek to do me harm and I emphatically deny them all,” Luthor said, just the barest uptick to his voice, which Clark knew signified his annoyance. “It is insane to even entertain the notion that I was, am, or ever will be a criminal. I have done countless good things for this country. Because of my companies, many, many people have been able to get jobs. I have given considerable amounts of money to charities. I have done my best to do what is in this country’s best interest as your President.”
Clark scowled slightly. Of course Luthor was going to pat himself on the back.
“Because of this, I have, unfortunately, made enemies. But I promise you. I will find out who – and I have my suspicions – has planted such false evidence against me and they will be punished,” Luthor went on.
He knows, the panicked voice in Clark’s head screamed.
“In fact, I suspect they are here now, among you,” Luthor hissed and his gaze slithered over to rest on Clark.
The various reporters all exchanged confused looks. There was a general muttering and a lot of shoulder shrugging. Clark refused to lower his head and hide from that reptilian gaze of Luthor’s. He stared back, hard.
Checkmate, Clark thought as he saw a flash of hatred and maybe a little uncertainty flash across Luthor’s features.
“They will regret the day they tried to frame me,” Luthor continued.
“Is that a threat?” Wonder Woman asked, descending from the sky, and, save for Lois, Clark had never been so glad to see any woman before.
“Sounded like one,” Green Lantern agreed, gently alighting on the grass on the opposite side.
“I seem to remember only extending an invitation to the press,” Luthor coolly complained. “Which reminds me. The enemy. He’s right over there. Clark Kent. Otherwise known as your absentee ‘hero,’ Superman.”
Continued Below...
