Lois and Clark have been working together for a long time now, but Lois has never really launched herself into investigating who Superman really is. She enlists Clark’s help on this, which of course he thinks it prudent to be in on with her, seeing as how he’s a bit more involved than he’d like to be already. She comes up with some interesting leads, does her usual sleuth work and finds what she’s looking for, or does she?
The familiar characters and settings of this story are the
property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. December 3rd Productions,
et al. but the story is mine.
Investigating Superman
By Nancy V. Sont
nancysont@hotmail.com comments appreciated
PG
Lois Lane wasn’t the best investigative reporter Perry had ever seen for nothing. She sat back in her chair, holding her pencil from both ends and looking beyond it into the distance. When she’d first met him, Superman had flown her home from the Prometheus. She’d clung to his neck and been completely swept away by his abilities, his muscles, his handsome face. She’d thought about him, dreamed about him, swooned over him to her backwoods partner, Clark Kent.
But now, the investigator within her was re-emerging. Who was this man? Where did he come from? Where did he go when he wasn’t saving the day? He must live somewhere. Did he live in the clouds? Did he fly back to his planet?
She had to come up with a plan. She was good at finding things out. What did she usually do when she wanted to find out about someone? She’d have Jimmy run a police check on his name, interview his friends or those who had met him. If she didn’t have a name, she’d track a name down by following him. What about when she had a face, but no name. She’d do something about it, ask the police?
She looked down at her desk. Papers from the last story she’d worked on were still scattered all over it. She dropped the pencil into the container and started straightening up the mess. Her thoughts about investigating Superman changed into thoughts *of* him, his gentle eyes, his sincere smile. She was losing it again, but she didn’t care. He’d carried her as they had flown many times. She’d had her arms around his neck, she’d smelled his aftershave.
That was it! She had a lead. He wore aftershave. He’d had to buy it somewhere. He’d had to be somewhere when he shaved. He’d have to be keeping it somewhere. It wouldn’t just sit on a cloud. No, he had to have a home.
What else did she know about him? What other leads did she have? His hair. He hadn’t just pushed his hand through it; it was too orderly, too neat for that. He had to own a comb. He had to keep that somewhere.
What else? Well, his boots. Those boots were regular boots, only red. Were they bought that way? Did he arrive on this planet with them? Where were they made? Could there be a brand name on them somewhere?
She’d investigated so many people. Hundreds were behind bars because of her undercover work. She could do this. It would take more work than other cases she’d worked on, but she’d do it. She had to find out who he was. Her mind flashed on the Lone Ranger. He’d worn a disguise. But Superman didn’t wear a mask. That was his real face. So if he were living somewhere among them and hadn’t shown up out of nowhere at the space station, then he must have a disguise too. If his face as Superman wasn’t concealed, then his disguise would have to be worn when he wasn’t *being* Superman. It was only logical. Movie stars put on sun glasses and hats to be left alone in public. Superman must do the same sort of thing in order to have times alone.
If he only showed up when someone was in trouble, he had to be somewhere else the rest of the time. People, even superheroes, didn’t just disappear into nothingness.
She opened a new document on her computer and began to list the things she knew about him, from the top of his head to the bottom of his boots. Granted, there wasn’t much to go on, but she had to start somewhere.
Fingerprints. She’d have to get his fingerprints. That wouldn’t be hard. She felt like a sleuth again. How she loved that feeling.
Clark looked over at Lois’ desk. He’d sent his story about the foiled assassination attempt to Perry. She was busy working on something. He leaned back in his chair, watching her. Her face had a determined look on it as she typed. She was into something full strength again. He loved watching her. The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile as he thought about her determination. They’d worked together for awhile now. She wasn’t treating him as badly as she had when she’d first met him. She was content to be partners with him, to tell him how wonderful Superman was, to divulge all her secrets when they were trapped in the jaws of death together. She was pigheaded and selfish, but she was also self reflective. She would admit she was wrong, but not at first. If she somehow was made to see that she was being childish or mean, she’d eventually feel badly about it and wail over her behavior and her actions. He’d loved to be with her at those times, to hear her acknowledge her failings. She was a totally different person when she did that. The harsh exterior was gone, the sarcasm was stilled, if only momentarily.
What was she up to now, he wondered as he watched her pause to take a sip of coffee, and then pour the rest into the healthy plant on her desk?
He stood up and asked, “Want another cup?” She looked up at him, smiled and handed the empty cup to him.
He returned with it in a moment, and with one for himself. Seating himself on the edge of her desk, he looked over her shoulder and asked presumptuously, “What are we working on next?”
She turned her chair away from the screen and looked up at him. Clark was wearing a suit as usual. Today it was dark grey. His tie was an expensive one, probably silk, from the way it shimmered in the light. It was light green with dark green triangles on it. They each had designs in the middle of them, none of them the same.
Lois said, “Well, I’ve got a plan. Let’s find out who Superman is.”
Clark lifted his eyebrows and pushed his glasses farther up his nose. “Superman?” he asked, stalling until he could regroup.
“Yes,” Lois replied, looking up at him. “I'm an investigative reporter, but as much as I wished I knew about Superman, I’ve never done a darn thing to find out more about him! I figure he lives somewhere. We know what he looks like.” She pulled a picture of him out of her drawer.
“You have a picture of him in your drawer?” Clark asked, unsure where this latest investigation was going to lead them, and wanting to sound interested. Inside he was mortified. ‘Great,’ he thought, ‘now I’ve got the best reporter on my tail.’ He breathed deeply trying to remain in control and telling himself, ‘Let’s look at this optimistically. At least she’s involving me in what she’s up to. She won’t be able to sneak anything past me. I hope.’
“Yes,” she responded grinning. “Now the way I figure it, since he doesn’t wear any kind of a mask when he’s Superman, he must wear some kind of a mask or something when he’s ‘going incognito’. I don't know, glasses, beard, moustache?
Clark was stunned. What was he doing sitting here on the edge of her desk listening to his demise? How could this be happening? He wanted to flash to the window and fly home to Kansas. Perhaps he should go get donuts. No, he had to keep right up with her on this, every step of the way. A million thoughts went through his mind. He breathed deeply again, trying to have faith in his abilities to keep the trail cold for her. But she was good. Darn good. He’d seen her put people away that were a lot harder to find. He was sitting right here on her desk. All she had to do was look at him funny and pull off his glasses.
So she was going to find out where Superman lived. She was going to find out what mask he wore to hide his face. Fingerprints? Clark had never been fingerprinted. He’d never been arrested. There wouldn’t be any fingerprints on file. Sheesh, this was going to be hard, keeping the trail cold for her. Surely she’d figure out what he was doing. She was good. Darned good at her job. That’s one of the things he loved about her.
“Lois,” he began, glad beads of sweat didn’t form when he was nervous. However, he couldn’t feel the desk under himself quite as well. Was he floating? He tuned in and sank all his weight back onto the hard surface. “Don’t you think we should be working on something more important than this? The guy’s not done anything bad. He’s a nice person. Let’s just cut him some slack.”
Lois eyed him, “What’s wrong, Clark? Do you know something you’re not sharing with me? Oh, I get it, you’re friends with him aren’t you, I forgot.” Her eyes lit up. Yes, Clark knew about Superman. She’d just have to get him to want to help her. She’d have to come up with an angle to convince him that it was best to find out who Superman really was. Maybe though, she wasn’t going to get much help from him, not if he thought it was his duty to protect Superman.
She remembered the day when the Bureau 39 men had stormed the newsroom and given them a lie detector test. She wished she could give one to Clark. He probably knew more about her hero than he was letting on.
Clark was at a loss for words. He had to keep on top of this with her. If he gave her too much opposition, she’d just do it anyway, only, she’d do it behind his back. He didn’t dare let her do that. He knew she was brilliant, perhaps smarter than he was. What if she came up with something when he wasn’t looking, something he hadn’t thought of. No, he’d have to go along with her on this one.
“Does Superman have another life?” Lois asked him directly. He shifted uncomfortably, seeing how difficult this was going to be.
“Lois, how should I know?” he offered pathetically.
“Clark, you know Superman. Tell me about your relationship. What sort of things do you do together, do you just talk when he’s at the scene of a crime, or does he come over and visit with you? Do you go out together? Play ball?” Her mind was racing as she saw the possible leads she could get from Clark.
“Well,” he began. “We are often at the crime scene together,” he added lamely.
“What do you talk about?” she pressed.
He didn’t like this. This wasn’t working very well. He wished Perry would come out and get them onto a different story. He looked up, hearing the sound of Perry’s voice on the telephone in his office. “…Elvis wouldn’t have done it that way and I'm not going to either!”
‘Pull yourself together, Clark,’ he said to himself. This isn’t kryptonite, it’s just Lois. But then his mind flashed to the Nigerian princess he’d met a few years earlier. They’d been dancing when the distant sound of war drums had alerted him. A group of painted savages had rushed through the door and thrown their spears toward the King and Queen who’s been dancing nearby. He’d rushed to deflect the spears, and then returned to the princess’s side before anyone would see him. She’d not been so easily duped, however. After all, she’d been holding him in her arms and gazing into his face when he had suddenly disappeared and reappeared in a gust of wind. The look in her eyes had been enough. She had seen him do something impossible. The next day he’d left the village before anyone had time to ask questions, to somehow lock him up in a lab and dissect him like a frog. His traveling days had always been like that. He’d stayed in one place until someone figured it out, then he’d moved on, yet again. But this was Metropolis. He had the job he’d always wanted. He had his sights on the perfect girl. He was tired of running.
“What do we talk about?” Clark responded, resolute to keep the trail cold. “Well, mostly we just talk about crimes and about investigations. He’s really interested in the stuff I'm, we’re researching. He likes to help out. Sometimes he flies over the city and looks at things for me, you know, with his super vision, to watch the bad guys and stuff.”
Lois made a few notes.
“Sometimes we talk about you,” he added offhandedly.
She bit the bait, “Really? What does he say about me? I mean, well, what does he say?”
Clark smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe promoting Superman’s relationship with her wasn’t so bad, it sure beat letting her try to uncover his disguise. “Yeah, he talks about you.”
“Well, what does he say?” she pleaded with him, that look of hopeless love returning to her brown eyes, as she put her hands on Clark’s knees.
Clark looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “Well,” he said, stalling for time to think up a good story. “He loves the way you look at him, I mean, well; he knows you really like him a lot.”
“Mmmmm,” she swooned, holding her hands together over her heart. “I doooo.”
Clark couldn’t help but smile at her. How much he wished she felt that way about him. It was funny really, she barely knew anything about Superman but she loved him with this intensity he’d rarely seen outside of the world of movies and fairy tales. On the other hand, she knew practically everything about Clark Kent, well, except for one thing. She was friends with him. She appreciated him. She came running to him to hide from real dangers. She depended on him to be with her through thick and thin.
If only he could expose Superman with her, then maybe she could just settle for him instead. He snapped out of it. What was he thinking, he wasn’t two people. He watched Lois as she drifted in loving thoughts of Superman. How he loved her. How would she really react if she ever found out he was Superman?
