I apologize for the lateness of this posting, but I've had a couple of back to back family tragedies of late, three if you count the fact that my cat disappeared during all of this. Things appear to be back on track at least for now so here's the next chapter. I hope it will have been worth the wait.
CHAPTER 19
As the ground fell away beneath his feet, Clark marveled for maybe the millionth time in his life at what he viewed as his greatest power. This, perhaps more than anything else, was the best form of therapy he had.
He and Lois had returned to the Planet earlier with Marcus Styles’ phone number and had given it to Jimmy to track down. He told them that he had a friend with the telephone company who could get them a name and address to go along with the number and that he’d have it by the morning. After a quick phone call to Henderson informing him of the situation with Stuart Short, he and Lois had parted company to go home for the evening and Lois had promised to swing by his apartment in the morning so they could get an early start.
In light of the events of the past few days Clark had little desire to return to an empty apartment and brood so he had taken the opportunity to head for the roof rather than the lobby and had launched himself skyward.
Usually in late December at this time of day the people on the streets below had already experienced the setting of the sun. Once you rose above the skyscrapers as Clark was now doing, however, one was treated to a spectacular view as the terminator between day and night became clearly visible as the sun slowly trekked across the sky.
Clark did a quick flyby through the city streets ducking in and out of the canyons created by the throng of buildings. His flight continued uneventfully as it seemed the Christmas spirit was permeating the city and crime for the moment anyway appeared to be non-existent.
When he completed the circuit of the city he paused momentarily a thousand or so feet up and let his gaze travel over the cityscape below. He wasn’t using any of the myriad visual powers he possessed. He simply gazed upon the spectacular view of his hometown with appreciation.
After a few moments he turned and flew in the direction of some of Metropolis’ suburbs. When he reached the home of Emily Rosen he paused and took a brief glance inside with his x-ray vision to check on the young girl. He didn’t mean to spy on them, but he was concerned about the little girl and didn’t want to create a fuss or bring back bad memories by visiting her in person. He found her in the living room quiet, but smiling slightly and appearing content as she sat on the couch between two very attentive parents. The surprising thing though was that she was clutching a stuffed Superman doll. Satisfied that for the moment at least she was doing better he allowed himself to slowly drift high into the sky. Then almost before the idea to do so completely formed in his mind and perhaps before he could have second thoughts about the matter he turned west and raced the sun to the horizon.
Over Ohio he dropped down low enough to admire the landscape as he flew. Even covered in snow farmland looked like farmland and the sight of it brought back to him memories of his youth. Just north of Columbus he came across a young Amish couple struggling with a horse-drawn buggy that had broken a wheel. He dropped down from the sky and speaking in what he hoped to be the correct dialect of German offered to help.
The young man gaped in amazement staring at the Man of Steel as if he was one of the Angelic Host dropping from the sky. Superman gave the man a reassuring smile and disappeared for a second before returning with an appropriately sized piece of wood, which he proceeded to trim and lathe into a wheel-shape. Then salvaging pieces from the original wheel he completed the project and placed it onto the buggy.
When he was finished he stepped back and favored the tongue-tied couple with a smile. He noticed that the young woman wore a white colored bonnet and that the young man had the beginnings of a new beard. Remembering what he had read of Amish customs he surmised that they had only recently been married and so congratulated them on their new union hoping to put them at ease. Only after the fact did he realize that this knowledge without any prior disclosure only served to underscore his strangeness rather than allay it. So as not to be the source of continued shock he quickly excused himself and wishing them happy holidays took to the sky once again.
Leaving the scene he couldn’t help but reflect on the parallels he shared with the Amish. Both were a part of society while yet standing apart. He might walk among humans, but he knew that many still looked on him with awe as well as some distrust and many still did not accept him as one of them. He realized that he even wore clothing much the way the Amish did as an outward reflection of his faith and duty, which probably added to his separateness from the rest of humanity. But, as with the Amish, he knew he must be true to his beliefs. Even though the uniform he wore had been originally designed to catch people’s eyes and direct them away from his face while leaving him easily identifiable, he also realized that it had become a symbol of hope and inspiration the world over.
He had never set out to be an icon, but rather had simply been desirous to help others. He really didn’t like the idea of posters, statues, and dolls of him. The first time he had seen a child running around with a red towel tied around his neck and a Superman T-shirt on he had been horrified. But, no matter how it happened it had happened and he couldn’t ignore it. So, he took the matter seriously and was always careful about his actions and words in public trying to make sure that he did nothing to tarnish the image that had been created in his name.
That was a lot of what was bothering him about the Black Adam affair. He didn’t want people thinking that it was all right to savagely beat or perhaps kill another human being because they had committed a crime even a heinous one. Punish, yes, but never inflict undue harm and never set yourself up as judge, jury and executioner. He was sickened by the thought that an individual such as that might one day be heralded as a hero of the people.
One of the first pieces of advice that his father had given him when he donned his uniform was that he should balance “the right to do something against whether or not it was right to do something.” A lot of people he said get hung up on doing something because they can and don’t worry about if they should.
“Don’t get so caught up in doing something because you feel you have the right to do it that you forget the effect your actions and words have upon others.” Jonathan had told him. “You don’t live in a vacuum, Clark. People who shout that it’s their business and no one else’s are foolish. Every action you take affects another person in some way. You have to balance what you can do with what you should do and think at least five moves ahead.”
“But, how will I know what the right thing to do is, Pa?” Clark asked.
“Sometimes you won’t, son. You just have to do what you feel is best no matter what else is going on and stick to your guns. Then, unfortunately, you have to live with the consequences. But, I have to believe that if you stick to your principles even when easier and faster ways present themselves that by the end of the day you’ll have a lot more marks in the right column than the wrong one.”
These thoughts continued to occupy his mind as he crossed state after state until he finally neared his destination.
Kansas.
For as much as he loved Metropolis and viewed it as his city, Kansas was his home. Much of the countryside was covered in a newly fallen snow, but he flew unerringly across the sky toward a single small town.
Even several years after his departure Smallville still benefited from it’s status as “The Hometown of Superboy.” Tourism had become the leading market even above corn and wheat and its benefits were passed down to the townsfolk and Smallville as a whole. It was probably the only part of his fame that he didn’t regret. Unlike most towns its size Smallville’s Main Street shops did a thriving business and as a result the town appeared to have been unchanged for the past two decades retaining its charm and leaving the town with an almost Mayberry type quality about it reminiscent of simpler times. There was still evidence of modern commerce as chain stores and a mall had sprang up on the outskirts of town, but so long as Superboy memorabilia or landmarks related to the Boy of Steel remained Main Street was left largely untouched.
Looking down upon the town as he passed over Clark could not help but be assailed by memories of his childhood as everywhere he looked brought to mind some connection he had to his past in this little hamlet. At the end of Main Street was the bank where he had made his first public appearance. Each year the bank held a reenactment of the robbery that prompted this appearance and a local high school boy was chosen to play the staring role.
In the center of town in the main square was a stature of him at about the age of 16. It depicted him standing straight with his feet slightly apart and his hands made into fists and resting against his sides in a traditional heroic pose. He had been embarrassed when it was first erected, but now he was mortified each time he saw it because it made him feel ridiculous. He made a special effort in public to never actually stand that way because he knew he would never be able to do it and maintain a straight face. Things like that littered the entire area including various plaques embedded in the sidewalk throughout the town noting some incident that he had been involved in on those spots.
But the things that held the most memories weren’t marked at all. The soda shop where he used to sit and eat ice cream whenever his parents brought him to town. The movie theater where he and Lana used to go on dates. The corner café where he, Pete, Lana and various others spent afternoons and evenings after school when he didn’t have farm shores or Superboy duties to attend to. And, of course, the high school.
Smallville High was on its Christmas break and was deserted at this time of day as the sun sank into the horizon and disappeared from sight. The street in front was devoid of traffic so he landed on the front lawn and walked slowly up to the main entrance. In stood and stared for a several moments. College had been a wonderful time, but to be perfectly honest he had been much too focused on his dual careers in super heroism and journalism to maintain a lot of fond memories. High school though was a time he remembered well.
He walked around the outside of the school remembering doing the same thing in the past with the sun beating down on his face and the sounds of conversation and laughter all around him. He could still hear the coach’s whistle and the sound of the bell signaling either the end of one class or the beginning of another. He walked onto the football field and remembered fall evenings spent cheering for Smallville to beat Easton. In his mind’s eye he saw the bright stadium lights illuminating the field and heard the sound of the announcer providing commentary on the game. Lighter times. Happier times, with the weight of responsibility made easier when counterbalanced by the love of good friends and family. He stopped and stared at the school for a long moment before finally taking to the air and heading out of the city limits.
Five miles from the edge of town he landed in an open field surrounded by a sturdy fence with a farmhouse in the distance. His boots crunched in the snow as he walked slowly across the field surveying his surroundings. If the sights in town had brought a flood of memories then the farm brought an entire ocean. This had been the rock of his life. The anchor that held him firmly in place when nothing else had made sense.
A sub-zero breeze blew by rustling his cape and he remembered a time at age eleven when he had stood in the same spot and felt a very similar breeze. His father standing beside him had made a noise upon feeling the chill and just for a moment Clark had wondered what it was like to actually feel cold. It was probably the first time he had consciously felt different from his adoptive parents, but he had quickly shunted the thought aside. It wasn’t until the incident at the White House when he was thirteen that he had allowed himself to think of himself as truly different.
The smell of a home cooked meal brought back even more memories. Focusing his vision on the farm house the walls seemed to melt away and the interior came into sharp focus. Three people, a man, a woman, and a young boy about the age of 14 sat around the dining room table sharing a meal. The three were laughing as they ate sharing some joke or funny story as they talked about the events of their day.
Clark had allowed the farm to remain untended for a couple of years after his parents death unsure of what to do with it and unwilling to sell it. Martin Lang had finally convinced him to rent out the property to a young couple with a son who wanted to move to the area and farm. Now, several years later he was glad he had done it. A farm was a place where things should be allowed to grow not for the fields to lie fallow.
The Kent Farm had been passed down through several generations from father to son, but Clark had known from an early age that farming was not his destiny. He remembered a time when he worried that this would be a disappointment to his father, but Jonathan Kent had been nothing if not a pragmatic man. He had also been almost precognitive in his reading of his son’s thoughts and feelings, but that was his way, gaining more from an expression than most men did from hours of conversation. These thoughts and fears had barely formed in Clark’s mind when Jonathan had taken him aside to talk to him about expectations.
He lectured Clark on the importance of traditions and responsibilities. Then he told him that as important as those things were they were nothing compared to being true to yourself.
“Son,” Jonathan said looking into the eyes of the young boy, “this farm has been in our family for a long time. My great-grandfather worked it, my grandfather worked it, my father worked it, and now I work it. If you decide to work it then nothing would make me prouder than to turn it over to you when it’s time.”
Clark stilled himself for the inevitable request as he continued to look unwavering into his father’s face. Then, as his father tended to do despite the boy’s oaths to not allow it to happen again after each time it did, he surprised his son.
“But if you don’t want to work it then I would be just as proud to turn it over to someone else. My great-grandfather bought this farm because he wanted it. He wanted to work the land. So did my grandfather and father and so do I. That’s the important tradition, Clark. Not farming, but doing what you want to do and not wasting your talents. You and I both know that you have extraordinary talents that are going to take you to extraordinary places and those places probably want be a small farm. Man or child, Earthling or alien, it doesn’t matter. Don’t waste your life on some misguided sense or doing something you know is wrong just because you think it’s expected of you.”
Even through his amazement Clark felt a curious sense of peace as what seemed like a weight lifted itself from his shoulders.
“Even though I’m not really a Kent I thought you would want me to keep the Kent Farm alive,” Clark said.
Jonathan’s face softened even more as he leaned in close to his son.
“Son, you are a ‘real’ Kent and don’t you dare ever think otherwise. Doesn’t matter where you were born. Nature gave you a lot of good qualities, not just the ‘super’ ones, and I bless your biological parents everyday for passing them on to you. But, there’s something to be said for nurture and I see your Ma’s stamp on you every time I look at you.”
Then the elder Kent laughed, “And when you’re at your most stubborn I even see a little bit of me.”
Clark laughed in return and ducked his head shyly.
“But, still,” he asked, “I thought this farm was just about the most important thing in the world to you.”
“Oh, it’s important, Clark,” Jonathan said. “You don’t put as much work as I have into a place and it not be important, but in the greater scheme of things it’s a far distant second to your Ma and you. And remember, like I said, it’s not working the farm that’s important. It’s being true to yourself. Farms are where things grow, including people. And once it’s grown not all produce stays on the farm you know.”
Clark smiled at the memory as he continued to watch the family at their dinner. He felt his father would have approved of the Palmers. They had made several offers over the years to buy the farm outright, but he had always resisted, reluctant to part with this huge piece of his childhood. Maybe now it was time to let go and let another family build their own traditions in a place that had allowed the son of another world learn some of his own.
As the walls of the farmhouse slowly came back into focus Clark shifted his gaze westward and slowly took to the air headed for his next destination.
**********
While it was Superman who rose into the sky above the Kent’s Farm it was Clark Kent dressed in casual winter wear that entered the graveyard on the edge of Smallville. He crossed a time worn path that he knew by memory and came to stop beside the graves of the two most important people in the world to him.
Children take many things for granted and Clark had been no different, but when he became old enough to consider such things he found himself in utter awe and amazement of his parents. The strength of character and will it must have taken for this simple couple to have adopted and raised a child from another world was almost unimaginable. Where most people would have ran to the nearest phone screaming for the air force Martha had bundled the small child into her arms while Jonathan had loaded the remains of the small spacecraft onto the bed of his truck.
Martha had told him years later that she had never even stopped to consider the consequences. It had simply been the “right” thing to do without question in her mind. Jonathan had agreed that while he had been in shock at their discovery he too had never questioned Martha’s orders at the moment.
For Clark’s part, despite his amazing brain and power of almost total recall he had little memory of those events. He concentrated for a moment trying to call up something to the forefront of his mind. He could only remember screaming.
Mother
Clark stumbled backwards and went to his knees as the flash of memory assailed him. He remembered screaming for his mother over and over again until he had been too weak and tired to continue.
Mother
He fought the dizziness and disorientation that began to close in on him as well as the growing feeling of panic in his stomach and forced himself to concentrate and not shy away from the memory. He remembered being awakened as the ship began to buck and shake due to what he supposed was its entry into the Earth’s atmosphere. He remembered the blue sky spinning in his view and the frightening crash as the craft had plowed into the Earth’s surface. And he remembered being rescued from the darkness and held tight and protectively by someone who had smelled wonderful.
His anxiety calmed at that. He remembered that smell well. It had been his mother’s favorite perfume throughout her life and the scent he had always and would always associate with her and feelings of safety. Now he guessed he knew why. He also realized he had some unresolved issues that he needed to deal with before he had to face Slade Wilson and the rest of Intergang.
Stepping forward he placed his hands on the two gravestones in front of him and bowed his head.
“Thank you,” he said quietly and then after a second of silence he simply disappeared leaving the graveyard as silent and empty as if no one had been there at all.
**********
Moving at several times the speed of sound and much too fast for conventional radar to reliably track Superman crossed into the Arctic Circle following an unerring course toward magnetic North. Just short of the Pole he dipped down toward a large yellow course marker. From the sky it appeared simply to be a yellow arrow marking the way to the North Pole. At ground level it revealed itself to be a gigantic key.
Picking it up as only someone of his power level could do Superman flew though a dark curtain of mist toward an anonymous mountain of ice and snow in the distance. Set into the face of the mountain was an immense metal door with an equally immense keyhole. It was the entrance to Superman’s own private getaway from civilization. His Fortress of Solitude.
Entering through the large door Superman felt something like a doll in a full sized house as he hung the key on a set of hooks by the entranceway. He then continued deeper into the Fortress toward a special room. He had no true memories of his natural parents and indeed had started his life on Earth with no idea of how or why he was there.
Eventually Clark learned of his origins and the sacrifices made by a couple named Jor-El and Lara to ensure the survival of their only son and this knowledge only strengthened his resolve to make use of the chance he had been given. He had been taken from one set of loving hands and delivered across an unimaginable distance into another equally loving set. He took this as proof that good ultimately would win out as long as he kept his faith. And he vowed he would keep it in the face of whatever the future brought.
As he reached his destination he opened a door and approached the only true relic he had that linked him to Jor-El and Lara, the broken and crumpled remains of the small ship that had traversed the cosmos from Krypton to deliver him to Earth.
He stood for a moment in the doorway simply staring at the small craft. The Fortress had never seemed so silent and empty as it did now. He felt like he had traveled thousands of miles from Smallville only to end up in another graveyard. He took a deep breath and approached the ship running his hands along it’s exterior as he walked around it.
For perhaps the first time in his life he considered what must have went through Jor-El and Lara’s minds as they looked at the ship, shining and new, sitting on the launch pad as their world rumbled around them. He had always focused on the strength Jonathan and Martha must have possessed in order to raise him. However, in doing so he had never stopped to truly appreciate the desperation and hope that must have gripped a young couple awaiting their deaths who with literally their last breath and ounce of strength insured the survival of their only child.
God. He thought to himself. Would I have had the strength? Would anyone?
“Go not gently into that good night,” Clark wondered aloud recalling the famous line from the poem by Dylan Thomas. Truly his father and mother had “raged” against the fates and refused to let his “light” die out.
He concentrated on what he remembered of his real parents. His father’s face he knew to be much like his own now in adulthood with only the few features he had inherited from his mother marking the difference between them. In a flash of memory he suddenly remembered the man’s laugh. He could vaguely recall being held aloft and tossed gently into the air only to be caught by the laughing man when he descended.
Once that came he found that he could remember several more moments. Riding on his father’s shoulders just like human children did with their fathers, laying on some type of carpet with his father laughing about something, and holding his hand as they walked while he used his other hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the red sun above. And several more memories like that followed which gave him a tiny window into his interactions with this virtual stranger.
He turned his focus toward his mother and tried to remember what he could about her. He found that once the wall had been breached it was easier the second time and his mind was flooded with dozens of small moments such as he had remembered about his father. Moments captured from another life. A life that he found difficult to think of as his own.
The one overwhelming piece of information he was sure of though was that he was loved. Somewhere out there, millions of miles away a young couple had laughed and cried with their small child. They had walked in the park together, read stories together, played together and for three short years had been a family together.
Clark smiled slightly at the thought as he continued his survey of the ship. Looking into the cockpit he suddenly had another memory of his father. It was his father who had strapped him into the tiny acceleration chair. He remembered crying and yelling for his mother and begging his father not to buckle him in. He had known that they were sending him away. And he had known that they were going to die.
“Those fools have doomed us all!” Jor-El had shouted pounding his fist on the wall in frustration as he had entered their home.
Clark remembered sitting on his mother’s lap when the door had opened and his father had entered making that startling proclamation.
“They wouldn’t listen?” Lara had asked calmly, but holding little Kal-El just a bit tighter.
“Some of them actually accused me of making it up as some sort of play to gain power within the council.”
“That’s ridiculous,” his wife had exclaimed.
“It was almost better than the others though,” Jor-El had said sinking into the couch beside her. “At least they treated me like I was intelligent. The rest just shook their heads and muttered about my foolishness and naivete.”
“Did no one listen?”
“Zor-El believed me. He’s going now to Kandor to attempt to raise what resources he can.”
“Wasn’t he able to help you convince the council?”
“At best they thought he was simply trying to save his feeble minded brother from embarrassment. At worst they accused him of being in collusion with me in my grab for power.”
“What will we do then?” Lara asked.
Jor-El had met and held her gaze for several seconds in silence before he dropped his eyes to look at Kal-El.
“Live,” he answered finally looking back up at her. “All of us if possible, but I promise no matter what that the two of you will at least. I’ll not see your lives ended this soon because some fools refuse to recognize their own mortality.”
“Kal-El is the most important, Jor,” Lara said taking her husband’s hand. “Promise me that above all else he’ll be our first priority.”
“Lara…”
“Promise!” she demanded. “If we all can then we will, but he has to. Promise me that, Jor.”
“We can’t leave him alone in the universe, Lara,” Jor-El pleaded with his young wife. “You at least have to go with him. I can’t bear the thought that he’ll grow up alone.”
“He won’t be alone, Jor-El. He’s our son and no matter what happens he’ll never be alone. If we can be with him in body as well as spirit then we will, but I know my son and he’s too loving a person to be alone all of his life. Promise me.”
“I promise,” Jor-El answered and then clutched his family to him.
Clark realized that sometime during this recollection he had sank to the floor by the ship and tears were running down his face. He had been loved and he had loved them in turn. And now he knew the legacy and wishes of both sets of his parents. And he knew he wasn’t alone.
He rose to his feet and began to stride more confidently toward the door of the Fortress. He didn’t think he was going to be bothered anymore by flashbacks. At least not the unpleasant kind. In the mean time he had a very special woman he needed to tell how much he cared for and a certain criminal gang he needed to remind of how tired he was of having them operate in his city.
TBC…
