Here's a refresher...
from pt. 2-
******
"My parents," she began contemplatively. "They didn't fall in love right away. Well, I mean, my dad did obviously. But my mom..."she looked at Wells. "She completely ignored him!" she said incredulously.
"Yes, quite. Lois and Clark's first encounter was certainly unique," he remarked.
"That's the understatement of the century!"
"Well, I must warn you, it gets worse," Wells chuckled painfully. "A lot worse."
Her brown eyes widened fearfully.
He reached up and gently squeezed her arm. "*And* much better," he added.
"I want to see it, Mr. Wells," Clarissa said. "I want to see it all."
Herb inhaled deeply, and nodded, convinced by her resolve that he'd made the right decision. "And so you shall, my dear," Wells replied.
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and now, pt. 3/?
"Mr. Wells, I have a question."
"Yes, my dear?" Wells replied.
Clarissa opened her mouth to speak, paused, then closed it again, apparently having difficulty organizing her thoughts. Herb waited patiently, mildly surprised that the daughter of two celebrated journalists would have difficulty expressing herself. He watched her, almost able to see the gears turning in her head. After a minute, though, she spoke.
"How do we get there?" she finally blurted out.
"What do you mean?"
"We came to this day, in this year, to see my parents meet for the first time, in that time machine, right?"
"Yes, quite," he replied, giving her his full attention.
"Well, if I'm supposed to see their history together, how their relationship evolved..." she trailed off, not sure she was making any sense. Herb smiled sympathetically. She might have been the daughter of Lois and Clark, but she was still a thirteen-year-old girl, a child trying to contemplate a situation most adults would find confusing.
"You want to know if, with each minor change, or momentous event, we will have to return to the alley in which we started, and move forward a day or a week or a month?" he supplied.
She nodded, eyes wide, grateful he understood.
He chuckled softly. "No. I've set the controls on the time machine to advance us automatically. It is programmed to," he searched for the appropriate word, "'transport' us, if
you will, to certain days and times I've already selected. We are not subject to the laws of normal time, as we are a mere fraction out of it. Think of the time machine as our anchor, and my watch as a tether binding us to it; it will remain in the alley until we return. Did that answer your question, my dear?"
Clarissa nodded and sighed softly. Even after traveling back with Mr. Wells, and seeing her...so young parents with her own eyes, it was all still a little hard to believe. She figured she'd just have to take his word for it. After all, he *had* managed to bring her here, he must know what he was doing.
"So, where're we going now?" Clarissa asked.
"Right now, to a rather low point in your father's career. Having failed to get the job at the Planet, he was facing having to move on, a prospect he did not relish."
"Why?"
"Well, up until this point, Clark had been traveling all over, seeing the world, feeling a terrible sense of not belonging anywhere. That all changed when he came to Metropolis. He finally felt he had a reason to stay."
Clarissa's brown eyes softened. "My mom," she said, understanding.
"Indeed," Wells nodded, then reached into his coat pocket and adjusted his watch. Just then the scene before them changed. The effect wasn't dizzying, as she'd secretly thought it would be, and she wasn't overwhelmed by the sudden shift. She blinked a few times, however, just to orient herself, then wrinkled her nose as she took in her new surroundings.
"Okay, where are we now?" she asked disdainfully.
"I'm afraid the accomodations were all your father could afford at the time," Wells said, looking around at the drab room, with the peeling paint on the walls, the moth eaten curtains, and the sunken bed. The place was so cheap, in fact, that the only phone was a pay phone mounted on the wall Clark was leaning against, talking to someone.
"No, I'm fine. Not so good, but I'm sure something'll turn up. I'm fine, Dad," Clark said reassuringly.
"He's talking to Grandma and Grandpa?" Clarissa mused softly.
"What? And miss your home cookin'?" Clark chuckled.
"Yep, he's talking to Grandma," she concluded with a smile. Wells regarded her, curiously. "Grandma Kent feeds everyone," she explained with a slight shrug, then continued to watch as her father talked.
"Sure..." Clark began hesitantly, "other than the bus incident this morning, but..." he said, then winced at the shouting coming from the other end. Clarissa wondered what exactly they were saying to him to make him nod his head and roll his eyes like that. "...dissect me like a frog, I know that," he finished tiredly. "Believe me, I'm trying my best to be like everybody else." He paused, then smiled slightly in what looked to Clarissa like embarassed gratitude. "Dad, I'll pay you back, I promise. I'll talk to you guys soon. Bye." Hanging up, Clark began to pace the room restlessly. Picking up that day's edition of the Daily Planet, he skimmed the front page, his eyes glued to the header. But Clarissa could see what really had her father's attention. Although he half-heartedly read over the entire page, he kept going back to the main article, about a car-smuggling ring, and to the picture of the reporter who had written it.
"You're right, Mr. Wells," Clarissa said. "Everything's going wrong for him, but he doesn't wanna leave."
"Hmmm, quite. In fact, after his conversation with his parents, he was more determined than ever to make a home for himself here. And, yes, a large part of that determination was Ms. Lane, though he didn't know it consciously at the time."
"So, how *did* he get the job?" Clarissa was dying to know how her dad's life at the Planet began.
"Oddly enough, he wrote a mood piece that was originally your mother's," Wells replied.
Clarissa's brow puckered. "You mean, that story that she and Uncle Perry were arguing about when Daddy first interviewed?" she asked amusedly.
"Yes, quite. Your father decided he had nothing to lose from simply trying. So he wrote the story, and submitted it to Mr. White."
"And Uncle Perry liked it?"
"More than liked, my dear," Wells said, and adjusted his watch. "Time to get back to the Planet..." and the scene changed again.
Clarissa found herself back in the Editor's office. Clark was there again, standing expectantly in front of the editor's desk. Perry sat at his desk, holding a story that the young man he'd rejected had given him, reading it out loud, for everyone to hear. Jimmy was standing behind him, a huge grin on his face, while Lois stood in the door, clearly not wanting to be there.
"'...to the past and to a life and a place that soon would exist only in a bittersweet memory,'" Perry finished quoting as he stood.
"Smooth!" Jimmy remarked.
Clark nodded in appreciation at the two men, then turned to see what Lois thought.
"Uh, yeah," she said quickly, trying to sound enthusiastic, and failing miserably. "If you like that sort of thing."
"You know, Kent, there's only attribute I value more than experience, and that's initiative." Perry set the copy down, then turned to Clark, his hand outstretched. "Clark Kent, welcome to the Daily Planet!"
A beaming Clark shook hands with his new boss, Clarissa smiling with pride for her father. The moment was short lived, though. A commotion in the bullpen drew Perry, Lois, Clark and Jimmy out to hear a late-breaking story, while Clarissa and Wells stayed behind.
"So that's how my dad's career in Metropolis began," Clarissa said softly. "Mom didn't want the story because it was too touchy-feely, so Dad wrote it instead. I have to say, Mr. Wells, that's not what I was expecting to see when we came here."
"What were you expecting?" he asked.
She looked at him. "Mr. Wells, my parents write about political corruption, international scandals, crime rings!" she exclaimed. "Now, yes, Daddy's always been the one more likely to do a puff piece, but a story about a theater closing??"
"I admit, the irony is there," he nodded. "Are you disappointed?"
Her head shot up. "In my father? Never!" she exclaimed.
"No, no, no, no, no, that's not what I meant," he hastened to assure her. "Are you disappointed that your father's first story for the Daily Planet was not one of greater importance, something that would've had a bigger impact on people?"
She thought about that for a moment, then shook her head. "No. I'm just surprised, that's all. But in a way, it does make sense. That's the kind of thing my dad's good at."
They were silent for a few moments, before Herb spoke up again. "Clarissa, before we go any further, I'd like to know a little bit more about your upbringing. I'd like to know what kind of parents Lois and Clark were to you, what it was like for you growing up, parents as busy professionals, always talking about stories, and your father being who he is..." he trailed off. "I want to know what all that was like for you."
She thought back, as far as she could remember, the memories of her childhood in the house at 348 Hyperion. "My parents were great, probably the best parents a kid could ever want. I was born a couple years after they got married, and I remember when I was little how they were always kinda...smoochie," she said, averting her gaze and blushing.
"'Smoochie'?" he repeated, not familiar with the term.
She nodded, embarassed. "Y'know, always cuddling, holding hands, kissing," she said, blushing even harder. "My dad was always whispering in mom's ear, making her giggle. I didn't think anything of it until I was about eight, and then I started hearing my friends talk about their parents, and I realized, most parents don't act like that! They still do, even now. That's what they were doing when you came to the house."
Wells paled momentarily, recalling how he'd intentionally interrupted Lois and Clark's wedding night, and swallowed nervously, imagining what he must have interrupted this time!
"Anyway," Clarissa continued. "Mom and Dad have always been very...y'know, and sometimes it can get really embarassing. But secretly I'm glad they are. It feels good to know how much they love each other."
Wells smiled.
"Growing up, I always felt so loved and special. I was Daddy's little girl, and Mommy's little miracle; that's what they called me. I wasn't sure why mom called me a miracle, but I didn't care. I just remember always being the center of attention. Whether we were at home, or the Planet, or at the farm with Grandma and Grandpa, it was always the same thing-'let me see that adorable little baby!' and 'Clarissa's such a beautiful child, she looks just like her parents!' and 'come over here and sit in your Grandpa's lap!'" she smiled. "One of my first memories is of sitting in my Uncle Perry's lap, watching him edit stories. And sometimes he would have a radio on, and he would sing along to the music, something about a 'hotel being crowded', and 'being so lonely, baby', and sometimes he would sing to me, he had a really deep voice, '...love me tender, love me true, never let me go...' When he did that, it was like he was singing right to me, asking me to love him," she said softly, her brown eyes sparkling.
"Oh, and I loved going to the farm in Smallville! When Grandma and Grandpa Kent didn't come to Metropolis, we went to them. It was so much fun! I learned how to milk a cow when I was only a year-and-a-half! Grandpa put me in his lap and held my hands in his while he squeezed the udders. He told told my dad that the first time he did that I let out this huge, delighted squeal! Grandma and I would feed the animals, she'd take me to the pond and let me swim around..." she trailed off for a moment. "And last year Grandma took me to see Daddy's clubhouse from when he was a kid. He called it 'the Fortress of Solitude'."
"I'm so pleased to hear how you grew up in such a warm, loving, environment, Clarissa. I'm exceedingly glad to know that Ms. Lane and Mr. Kent were such exemplary parents," Wells remarked, nodding.
"Sounds almost like I had perfect parents, doesn't it?" Clarissa asked. "Well," she sighed, "I didn't," she chuckled. At Herb's look of alarm, Clarissa waved a dismissive hand in front of him. "No one has perfect parents, Mr. Wells, not even in the Kent family. But I did get lucky. I wouldn't trade mine for anything."
Herb nodded in understanding. He was very impressed by the girl's maturity, and grasp of human imperfection, even in her own parents.
"Once when I was four, my parents got into an argument. I don't remember what it was about, but I do remember they were almost shouting at each other. I started crying, and mommy came and picked me up, started patting my back, saying it was okay. I stopped crying a little, and mommy said something about daddy just being overprotective," she shrugged. "I heard that word a lot growing up-'overprotective'. It was always mom calling dad that. After a few minutes, daddy walked over, and put his arms around both of us. I think he was apologizing, cause he kept saying, '...so sorry, honey...worry even more...' and '...never lose you...' So even when they fought, it never lasted and they always ended up close together again. I mean, *literally*, she giggled.
"And then there was the time when I was seven and I broke one of my mom's Kerth awards. Boy was she mad!"
"Oh, dear," Herb coughed at the mention of Ms. Lane's prized awards.
"Yeah. I was running through the house, pretending I could fly, and I accidently bumped into the cabinet in the living room. It fell off its shelf into what looked like a million pieces. Mom came into the room to see if I was alright, and saw me standing there, looking at all this broken, scattered glass with tears in my eyes. She gasped, and dragged me into the kitchen to see if I was cut. She was so concerned, I was afraid to tell her what happened, cause I knew she'd be mad. But of course, she did. I told her real softly, real quiet, that I'd bumped into the cabinet.
"At first, she just looked stunned, almost laughing at my confession. She muttered something about the 'apple not falling far from the tree', and I thought it was gonna be okay. Then it registered that I had broken her Kerth, and that's when she stopped being concerned and started being angry!" Clarissa laughed at the long-ago incident.
"Oh, dear, dear, dear, dear," Wells repeated, shaking his head.
"She started yelling about not running in the house anymore, and how special her Kerths were to her, and then Dad came into the room to see what was going on. When she told him, he got the same look on his face that she'd had and said, 'Clarissa was pretending to fly?' Mom got mad that Daddy wasn't more concerned about her Kerth, but Daddy said it would be okay, and went back to what I'd been doing in the first place. I couldn't undertstand why mom and dad were so fixated on that one particular detail. Of course, two years later, I found out. Mommy hugged me and apologized for yelling at me, said the Kerth didn't matter, as long as I was okay, " she finished, taking a deep breath, and smiled.
"I must say, you narrative sounds, quite...quite," Herb shook his head as if appalled, then chuckled. "Normal."
"Well, that's what we are, Mr. Wells, " she replied simply. "My dad may be Superman, but other than that, we're just like any other family."
Wells chuckled non-committally. 'Not quite so like other families, my dear,' he thought to himself. And she would learn that before they were through. It was a credit to Lois and Clark that they had raised their child to always feel special, but never abnormal. She had all the usual experiences a child has while growing up, and two wonderful parents who obviously put her about everything. But before they were her parents, they were two individuals, themselves struggling. When Clarissa saw more of what was to come, she might not still believe she lived a life so ordinary.
"Let's continue, shall we? We still have much to see," Wells said, straightening his hat. He took her hand lightly and led her out of Perry's office. "Incidently," Wells asked. "Whatever became of the Kerth you broke?"
"It's funny. A couple days later, it was back on the shelf in the cabinet, just like new. It'd even been polished, " she answered, and he noticed her eyes had found and were following Clark.
"Indeed," he murmured rhetorically.
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