George’s consulting room door loomed before her again. This time, it prodded accusingly at her guilty conscience. Why haven’t you told him, it demanded. You’ve had two chances to tell him since you last saw George and you’ve ducked away from the issue both times.
George would not be pleased.
“I’m disappointed, Lois,” George said ten minutes later, after she’d confessed her failure to comply with his instructions. “I thought we had an understanding.”
“We did, George,” she replied. “But unfortunately my head and my heart aren’t exactly working together as a team at the moment. My head wants to do the right thing, but my heart doesn’t want to co-operate.”
George laughed. “Well, maybe today we can figure out a way to knock the two of them back together again. Have you seen Clark at all in the past week?”
She nodded. “A couple of times, but the timing just wasn’t right. I...I guess I wasn’t in control of the situation enough. Hadn’t prepared my speech...that kind of thing.”
“Okay, so let’s set you up so that you are in control,” said George. “How do you think we can do that?”
“Well, he’s coming over for dinner next Wednesday,” she said. “I guess that puts me in better control. I can decide what to say to him before he even arrives.”
“Exactly. You can even figure out how you’re going to broach the subject,” George said, who then went on to help her plan the entire evening, from the moment Clark arrived to the end of dinner.
“And once you’ve done all that, you can go on to ask him what you asked me last week,” George finished up. “It should flow nicely on from the other stuff.”
“You mean, why did he pick on me as the object of his obsession?” she queried.
“Yeah.” George’s eyes twinkled. “Just don’t hold me responsible for his answer. I can coach you to say and ask the right things, but after that you’re on your own.”
She nodded.
“I will tell you this – believe what he tells you, even when it seems a little...out there. He’s not crazy, despite occasional appearances to the contrary.” George grinned.
She frowned. “You know, I get the feeling that you, Alice and Perry know far more about this than you’re letting on. Not only that, but you know things that I have just as much right – probably more - to know than any of you. I seem to be at the centre of this...whatever it is...yet I’m the one who’s kept in the dark.”
George nodded. “You’re absolutely right, of course. I’m sorry if it looks like we’re engaging in some kind of conspiracy against you, but trust me – everything will make sense when you talk to Clark.”
She grimaced. “I hope so. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t gone to the Congo, so the least I can do now is try and fix the whole darned mess.”
“Oh?” said George, peering at her over his glasses. “Care to run that by me again?”
She squirmed a bit under his scrutiny. He had very piercing eyes at times, and she was suddenly regretting what had been meant as a throwaway remark. She shrugged. “I just mean I should have been more careful. Not got caught.”
“Really.” He pulled his glasses off and leant forward, studying her intently. “Seems to me there was a whole lot more than just regret at getting caught in what you just said. None of this would have happened, you said.” He waved his glasses at her. “Define ‘this’.”
“George...I don’t know,” she said. “It was just a throwaway remark. It didn’t mean anything.”
“Oh, I think it did,” he insisted. “What wouldn’t have happened, Lois? Take me through it step by step. You persuaded Perry to let you go to the Congo, right?”
“Yes.” She rolled her eyes. “You know all this.” How she’d been pursuing the big story, how she’d dreamt of journalism awards, how Perry hadn’t wanted her to go, not least because an American journalist had disappeared under similar circumstances the previous year.
“But you got caught.”
“Yes.” She didn’t elaborate on that either. Everything that could be said on the subject had already been gone over in painful, painstaking detail. She didn’t feel like repeating any of it.
“Which wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t gone to the Congo.”
“Yes.”
“What else wouldn’t have happened?”
“I wouldn’t be here, talking to you.”
George smiled. “You’d be out chasing down hot leads.”
“Exactly,” she replied. “I’d be...normal.”
He chuckled. “No such thing. Just various shades of abnormality - I can do you an hour-long lecture on the subject if you’re interested. Two hours if you ask nicely.”
She shook her head. “No thanks, George.”
“No? I’ve got slides...visual aids...? No? Okay, tell me some more things that wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t gone to the Congo, then.”
“Well...I’d have been working at the Planet when Clark arrived,” she replied. “So there wouldn’t have been any need for him to search for me, because I’d already have been there. In fact, I doubt he’d have fixated on me at all.”
He raised an eyebrow. “How do you know that?”
“People tend to fixate on the unattainable, don’t they? Not the familiar. Not what’s right in front of their noses,” she said. “I’d have been too...ordinary.”
“I see. So Clark wouldn’t have fallen in love with you because you were too boring.”
Why did her own words sound so stupid when George repeated them back to her? She glared at him defiantly. “Exactly.”
“Okay, and I’m guessing that because he wouldn’t have fixated on you, he wouldn’t have turned to drugs either when he couldn’t find you?” asked George.
She glared some more. “Yes.”
George nodded sagely. “Wow. Stunning logic, Lois. I’m impressed.” He slipped his glasses back on and settled back in his chair. “Let me see if I’ve got this right. You forced Perry to let you go to the Congo, on the trail of a big story that you were sure would earn you a Kerth, maybe even a Pulitzer. You made a rookie mistake and got kidnapped. Am I right so far?”
“Yes.”
“And because of all that-“
The door suddenly burst open, spilling a loose-limbed and slightly unkempt Clark into the room. He was grinning from ear to ear, but what really caught Lois’s attention were his bright red Superman boots, which were totally at odds with the sober work suit he was wearing.
“Hey, George!” he exclaimed loudly. “How are you, man?”
He was high, she realised with shock. Drugged up to the eyeballs and apparently without a care in the world. Stumbling slightly as he made his way towards them, he chuckled at his own clumsiness as if it were the best joke he’d ever heard. This was a Clark she’d never expected – never wanted – to meet.
“Shit!” muttered George underneath his breath. “Sorry,” he murmured sideways to Lois, before raising his voice to address Clark.
“What are you doing, Clark?” he said. “You know you can’t come in here when I’m with another patient.”
Behind Clark, Lois saw George’s secretary, an anxious, harried fifty-something woman hovering at the door. “I’m sorry, George, I couldn’t stop him-“
“Don’t worry, Ivy,” said George. “I’ll deal with this.”
Ivy nodded and retreated quickly, while George raised his ample bulk from his chair and intercepted Clark on his weaving path across George’s carpet. Shabby, rotund psychologist faced off lean, fit superhero, and appeared by far the stronger contender despite the mismatch in physical appearance.
“Hey, Lois,” called Clark, peering around George’s vast bulk. “Nice sweater.”
George gripped Clark’s arm firmly and direct him towards a small sofa near the door. “Sit.”
“Sure!” Clark plonked himself down on the sofa. “You know, you really shouldn’t use the ‘s’ word to Lois,” he said earnestly. “It’s rude.”
“Yeah, well it’s not every day I see you as high as a kite, buddy,” replied George heavily. “Are you going to sit there quietly while I talk to Lois?”
“Okay,” said Clark. “So long as you’re nice to her.”
George nodded and crossed back to Lois. “I’m sorry, Lois, but you can see the state he’s in. We’ll have to finish this another time.”
“Okay,” she murmured, glancing over at Clark. “Is he going to be okay? Will it be like last time when it wears off?”
George looked down at her grimly. “Probably. I’m going to see if I can persuade him to stay here. Something tells me he’s going to need us.”
“I always need you, George,” called Clark heartily from his sofa. “That’s why I came to see you - knew you’d know what to do.”
George grimaced. “As you’ll have noticed, he has a tendency to eavesdrop when his inhibitions are loosened by the red stuff.” He twisted around to gaze back at Clark. “Don’t you, buddy?”
Clark grinned shamelessly. “Yup. So what’s the plan, George? See, I brought it with me because I knew you’d know what to do with it.” He dug a hand into his jacket pocket and brought out a bright red, glowing lump of rock.
“Oh, Jesus!” exclaimed George. “No wonder...” He shot across to Clark, surprising Lois with his athletic burst of speed. “Hand it over, buddy,” he said, holding out an open hand.
“’kay,” replied Clark, placing it into George’s palm.
No sooner had George begun wrapping his fingers around the rock, than Clark snatched it away from him again. “You didn’t say the magic word,” he reprimanded.
“Which is?” asked George.
Clark gazed impishly up at George. “Wouldn’t be magic if I told you.”
George sighed. “Please?”
“See, now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” replied Clark, placing the rock in George’s open hand again. “You have to learn to be polite when there are women present.”
“Oh, give me a break!” drawled George. He glanced at Lois. “Look after him while I get rid of this, okay?”
She gulped and nodded.
**************
Alone with Clark and in charge again. Boy, anyone would think she was a nurse in this place, not one of the patients.
And as soon as George had left, Clark had started wandering around the room, peering at George’s bookshelves and studying the prints on his wall with great fascination. She watched him uneasily, not at all confident of her ability to cope with his volatile behaviour.
“What do you think?” he said suddenly, pointing to a copy of Monet’s Water Lilies.
She eyed the picture, wondering what he might expect her to think. “Um...nice flowers?”
He shook his head. “Beautiful flowers. Just like you.”
She smiled wanly. “Thank you.”
He prowled around the room a bit more, picked up a magazine, flicked over a few pages and discarded it. Grabbed a cushion from an armchair, plumped it up and tossed it back. “Did I tell you I love you?” he asked abruptly. “Don’t think I did. Lois Lane, I love you.” He grinned broadly at her, clearly pleased with his declaration.
Little did he know that this wasn’t news to her. She bit her lip, feeling guilty all over again for her eavesdropping, for not telling him what she knew. “I like you too, Clark,” she answered. Guilt, too, that he was like this because of her. If only she hadn’t gone to the Congo-
“Like? Only like?” he pouted. “You must love me just a little bit.” He leant backwards and upwards into a mid-air backwards somersault taken at a very leisurely pace, landing somewhat clumsily on the other side of the room. Straightening up, he spread his arms wide like a circus performer and grinned again. “I’m very lovable.”
“Yes, you are, Clark.” Boy, she just wished he’d drop this particular conversation.
“Good, so you do love me.” He floated upwards again, hit the ceiling with his head and came crashing back down to the floor with a thump. “Oops.”
“I...don’t you think you should sit down? George said you should sit.” He was making her nervous with his antics, and besides, he didn’t look all that steady on his feet. Or in the air.
He grinned. “Good old George. Okay, I’ll sit.”
To her chagrin, he came and sat right next to her on George’s couch, making her flinch as he invaded her personal space without warning. Carefully, she edged a couple of inches away from him, feeling a kernel of panic fluttering in her belly.
“What happened, Clark?” she ventured. “Where did you get the kryptonite?”
He frowned. “Those nice art thieves sent it to me in the mail.” He dug into his pocket again. “See?”
He thrust a crumpled piece of paper at her. Gingerly, she took it from him and studied it.
‘Dear Superman,
Thank you for the painting. Here’s a small token of our appreciation. Enjoy.
Love,
An Art Lover.
PS – There’s more where this came from.’
Lois felt tears prick her eyes, her growing panic forgotten. “Oh, Clark,” she sighed. He already felt bad that they’d got away with one of the paintings. This was just going to rub salt into an already very painful wound.
When he sobered up, of course.
“I didn’t know what else to do, so I came here,” he said, his voice suddenly sounding terribly forlorn. His expression, when she looked up at him, was raw and vulnerable; totally lacking in the false jollity he’d brought into the room.
“Good plan,” she replied, the words catching in her throat. For a moment, it seemed that the real Clark was sitting beside her, a man who’d been deeply hurt and humiliated by this latest turn of events. She wanted to comfort him, to show him that there were people who’d stick by him through this new ordeal, who respected him and knew that he was stronger than the criminals.
But then, as quickly as he’d changed, he changed again, faster than quicksilver.
“George is coming back,” he said, his face splitting into a wide grin again. The moment was gone.
*****************
Lois sat up in bed and flicked her bedside light on. It was no use. Memories of how wretched and miserable Clark had felt last time he’d come down from a kryptonite high kept replaying in her head. She worried that he was lying alone somewhere in the clinic, suffering hot and cold chills and unable to ask for the help he needed. She remembered how he’d wanted her to sit with him last time, and worried that none of the clinic staff would have the time or patience to do that for him.
She hadn’t seen him since morning. When George had returned from disposing of the red kryptonite, he’d brought Caroline, the head nurse with him. Clark had given her a chirpy welcome and promptly floated up to the ceiling.
George had eyed his patient balefully for a moment before muttering, “He gives a whole new meaning to the word ‘high’, doesn’t he?”
Caroline and Lois had shared a weak smile, and then Caroline and George together had spent the next ten minutes talking Clark back down again. Once he was back on terra firma, Caroline had placed a guiding hand on his back and led him smartly from the room, using a surprisingly brusque tone that seemed to work wonders on him.
Lois had been impressed with how easily the slight woman had handled her powerful charge. He’d seemed so erratic and unmanageable.
George had shrugged. “He’s usually pretty amiable when he’s high, and he knows and trusts Caroline.”
And that had been the last time she’d seen Clark. George had assured her that they’d take good care of him and that she’d be best advised to keep her distance until he was fully recovered. “Let him keep his dignity,” he’d said.
She understood. She’d seen that moment of humiliation in George’s office. So she’d kept away all day, but now the lack of information was driving her nuts. Not to mention the guilt.
Seeing him so distorted by his drug, so totally unlike himself, had made her want to cry for him. The effects were so cruel and degrading, and it wasn’t as if he were even blissfully unaware of what he was like when he was high. He knew. He hated it. Hated himself.
She glanced at her clock. Two twenty-three. He’d be at his absolute worst round about now, if last time was any indication.
Pushing back the bedclothes, she clambered out of bed, shouldered on her dressing gown and shuffled into her bed slippers.
The bright neon lights outside in the corridor made her wince after the dim light of her studio apartment. Screwing her eyes up, she made her way to the nurses station at the end of the corridor.
“Hey, Lois,” murmured Anne, the duty nurse, as she approached. “Can’t sleep?” She flipped open a chart on her desk and glanced at it. “I can give you-“
“I don’t want anything,” Lois interrupted. “I just wondered if you know whether Clark’s okay.”
Anne shook her head. “Sorry. He’s not on this floor.”
“Where is he?” she asked.
Anne hesitated, her brow furrowing as she considered Lois’s question. “I’m not sure I should-“
“Please, Anne,” said Lois. “I just need to know if he’s all right.”
“Well...I guess it can’t do any harm,” replied Anne. “I think he’s upstairs.”
Lois smiled. “Thanks.”
As she turned to make her way to the stairs, Anne said, “I doubt they’ll let you see him, you know.”
She shrugged. “May as well try. Even if they can only tell me how he is, it’s better than tossing and turning in bed.”
She trudged up the echoing, institutional-grey staircase and turned into another corridor which was an exact replica of the one she’d just left. The nurses station was at the end, just as on her floor, but as she passed a darkened dispensary on her way to the station, a small movement caught her eye.
Someone was in there.
