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Chapter 2:
Sound and Fury
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August 23, 1999, 5:45 PM
348 Hyperion Avenue, Metropolis
Lois paced back and forth in the living room, the therapist's words echoing in her ears. Dr. Summers's words had made her angry--no, more than angry, furious! How could anyone just give up on a child who'd been through so much? The thought of Rachel's abuser still made her want to hit something or someone, and now that her baby had been abandoned yet again by an adult made her want to deck the therapist.
Lois took a deep breath and flopped down on the couch. She'd been reading books on dealing with the aftermath of abuse, and they all had one thing in common--it was absolutely necessary to forgive in order to move past the abuse. Part of her knew that she had to forgive Rachel's ex-stepfather, as well as Dr. Summers--she didn't want to be a hypocrite by *not* doing it--but sometimes when the hurt was as grievous as what had been inflicted on her daughter, forgiveness came hard. How could she teach Rachel to forgive when she was having problems with it herself?
It had taken years for Lois to finally forgive her parents for the unintentional damage they had inflicted during her childhood, and her experiences had definitely colored how she behaved. She didn't want that for Rachel. Lois wanted her little girl to find healing, to be able to just be a happy child--and until she found a way to forgive Papa Gary, that just couldn't happen. She'd seen far too many people throughout her life that, because they refused to forgive people who hurt them, became consumed by anger and bitterness. That wouldn't happen to Rachel.
Lois sat up and rested her face in her hands. She was tired, and she just hoped that Jamie would sleep a while longer. She needed to edit a story for Perry, but Jamie's constant crying was wearing her down. She ran her hands through her hair and got up to go check on the baby.
Lois peeked into the crib, and was relieved to find Jamie sleeping soundly. She tiptoed out of the room and started looking for her daughter. She checked the linen closet, and, finding it empty, headed down the hall to Rachel's room.
"Peanut?" she called softly, as she stuck her head through the door.
"Yes, Momma?" Rachel's blonde head looked up from a Superman coloring book. She smiled charmingly and held out her box of crayons. "Color with me, please?"
Lois dropped to her knees beside her daughter. "I'd love to, baby, but Grandpa Perry sent me stories that I need to edit--how would you like to help me?"
Rachel put her crayons back in their box and stood up. "Does this mean that I get to help read?" she asked eagerly.
Lois nodded. "Of course, baby."
Rachel's face split into a wide grin and she clapped her hands. "Goody." She threw herself at Lois, and gave her a hug. "Don't send me away, Momma."
Lois returned the hug before looking at her daughter, startled. "Why would I do that, peanut? You're my little girl, and I love you."
Rachel pulled back. "Sometimes," she whispered, scuffing the toe of her sneaker against the carpeted floor. "Mommies and Daddies say that, and they lie. Sometimes, they say that and then hurt kids."
Lois tipped up her daughter's face and found that the haunted look had returned to her eyes. It was the exact same expression that was often there after a particularly bad nightmare. "And sometimes," she said gently, "they tell the truth, because they really *do* love their babies, and would never hurt them." She kissed her daughter on the cheek. "Your Daddy and I love you, Rachel Kent--and that will never change."
"Really-truly?" Rachel asked, meeting Lois's eyes.
"Really-truly," Lois said, pulling her baby in for a hug. "Now, how about we go look at the stories that Grandpa Perry sent me, and then we can start dinner? I think your Daddy left something that we can throw in the oven."
Rachel simply clung more tightly to Lois. She kissed the top of the child's head and, with a bit of difficulty, stood and walked toward the door. Lois knew that it wouldn't be the last time her little girl needed reassurance--the books all agreed with that--but she and Clark would be there to give it. Adopting Rachel hadn't been easy, but it had been one of the best decisions they'd ever made.
~*~*~*~
August 23, 1999, 6:30 PM
348 Hyperion Avenue, Metropolis
Clark hoisted the bags of groceries higher in his arms and opened the door. He went inside, kicking the door closed behind him and headed for the kitchen. Something was starting to smell good, and he grinned when he found Lois and Rachel in front of the laptop editing stories. At least, *Lois* was editing, while Rachel 'helped'. "How are my two favorite girls today?" He put the bags on the counter and turned around.
Rachel threw herself out of Lois's lap, ran across the room, and wrapped her little body around his legs. Clark disentangled her gently, then swung her up into a big hug. Rachel's arms came up around his neck, and she clung to him tightly, burying her face in the join between his neck and shoulder.
"Daddy," she said, her voice muffled, "you're not ever gonna leave like my first mommy did, are you?"
Clark looked at Lois, not quite sure where Rachel's question was coming from. Lois motioned that she'd tell him later before turning her attention back towards the article for the morning edition that she was editing. Clark rubbed Rachel's back soothingly. "Sprite, I'm not planning on *ever* leaving you--I always come back."
Rachel's grip tightened on him. "Even if the bad men have kryptonite?" she asked.
Clark kissed Rachel's forehead. "Sprite, not all the kryptonite in the world could keep me away." He shot Lois a look of apology and headed for the living room. He sat down on the couch and rearranged Rachel so that she was cradled in his lap. "What's the matter, peanut?"
Rachel cuddled closer to him. "Nuthin'," she said. "I *missed* you, Daddy."
Clark hugged her tightly. "Sprite, that's really sweet, but *something* is bugging my little girl." He started caressing her hair. "Rachel, what' the matter? You can tell me and your Momma anything." He hugged her again. "I won't get mad, sprite, I promise."
Rachel simply laid her head on his shoulder and sighed. "I can't say," she whispered. It was safe in Daddy's arms, and she couldn't worry him. Daddy wouldn't let the bad person who had hurt the little boy hurt her. And Daddy couldn't do anything about the bad dreams and memories that wouldn't go away.
Clark's head shot up as he heard the baby start crying. "Want to help me feed Jamie?" he asked, getting up from the couch.
Rachel looked at him and nodded slowly. "Ok," she agreed.
Clark walked toward the kitchen, and grabbed a bottle of breastmilk out of the fridge. He shot Lois a grin. "Rachel and I will get him," he said, stopping her from getting up.
Lois simply nodded, settled back in her chair, and continued editing the article. Clark zapped the bottle, tested it, and then turned to leave the kitchen, still holding Rachel. She held on tightly as he took the stairs two at a time and hurried to the baby's room. He put her down, then lifted Jamie out of the crib and took him to the changing table.
Rachel watched as Clark changed the baby's diaper. He balled it up and threw it in the diaper bin before picking Jamie up and settling him in his arms. "Would *you* like to feed Jamie?" Clark asked.
Rachel's face lit up. She'd watched her momma feed him, and her daddy a few times, too, but she'd never been asked to do it before. "Can I?" Rachel smiled. If she could make Jamie stop crying, then nothing bad would happen.
Clark smiled, sat down in the rocking chair, and patted his lap. Rachel climbed up into it, and he put Jamie in her arms, keeping one arm underneath to make sure that he was properly supported. He handed Rachel the bottle and showed her how to hold it before wrapping his other arm around her and the baby.
Rachel put the bottle in his mouth and smiled as he began to suck on it. She giggled when he blinked at her. "Hello, Jamie," she said. "You're sure noisy for somebody as little as you are."
Jamie blinked again and opened and closed his hands. "I'll make you a deal," she said. "You stop screaming all the time, and I'll teach you how to ride a bike when you get bigger."
Clark's mouth twitched up into a smile. "Rachel, sweetheart--"
"Shhh," she said, glancing back at him. "I'm talking to my brother." Clark hugged her, trying to suppress the chuckles that were trying to come out.
"I'll teach you how to spot the bad peoples and how to read, too," Rachel promised. "No more yelling, ok?"
Jamie spit his bottle out, and Rachel laughed, taking that for assent. She put the bottle back in his mouth and watched as he drank the milk. "Y'know," she said, "you're kinda cute--for a boy. I bet you're the only boy in the world that doesn't have cooties."
"Hey," Clark objected. "*I'm* a boy."
"No you're not," Rachel said. "You're *Daddy*, and that's *different*."
Clark rolled his eyes. "What about Perry, Jimmy, Grandpa Kent, and Grandpa Lane?"
"*They* don't have cooties." Rachel looked at Jamie again, and smiled as he spit out his bottle. "See? Jamie agrees with me. They're not boys, either. They're grandpas, and Jimmy's an uncle. Those aren't boys."
Clark suppressed a chuckle and hugged the kids. Rachel leaned down and kissed the squirming baby on the forehead. "Sarah says that she's got a new baby at her house, but I bet that you're cuter." She watched as he finished the bottle, then started to fuss.
"I'll burp him," Clark said, throwing a cloth diaper over his shoulder. He picked up Jamie, put him against the diaper-covered shoulder, and rubbed the baby's back gently.
Rachel leaned back against Clark and sighed contently as she reached to scratch a scar on the underside of her arm. She giggled when Jamie burped and held out her arms to cuddle him again. She had a family. It wasn't perfect, but if she was lucky, she'd get to keep it.
Clark carefully put Jamie back in Rachel's arms and put his arms underneath to support the baby. He dropped a kiss in Rachel's hair. "Thanks for helping, sprite," he said.
Rachel leaned down, pulled up Jamie's shirt, and blew a raspberry on his tummy the way she'd seen her daddy do it. She pulled the tiny shirt down and looked up at Clark. "He's *my* brother," she said fiercely. "And as long as I'm here, *nobody* is *ever* gonna hurt him." She turned her attention back to the baby, not noticing the worried look on Clark's face at her comment.
~*~*~*~
August 25, 1999, 1:23 pm
Metropolis County Morgue
Henderson knocked, then entered the chief coroner's office. "Beth--Dr. Forrest?" he called.
"Just a second," came a voice from the direction of the cold room. A few minutes later, a petite blonde wheeled a metal table out into the area. She parked it next to the dissecting table and nodded in his direction. "Henderson."
Henderson shoved his hands in his pockets. "Do you have the results on Little Boy Doe yet?"
Dr. Elizabeth Forrest covered the face of the cadaver, wiped off her hands, then walked over to her desk. "I ran his finger prints through the database, and came up with an ID." She picked up a file folder and handed it over.
"Thank goodness for school fingerprinting programs," he muttered.
"According to the computer, his mother reported him missing four days ago." She blew her bangs out of her eyes with a puff of air before reaching for her case notes.
"So it was Joey Anderson?" he asked.
"Yeah. I'd say from the state of decomposition that he died approximately four days ago, between three-thirty to five pm--the parents have yet to be notified."
"Guess that leaves it up to me, huh?" Henderson asked.
"Better you than me--my job is to figure out how and when they died--you get to lovely job of finding out why and who did it," she smiled crookedly.
"Thanks, Liz," he said absently. "So what was cause of death?"
"Just what it looked like at the crime scene--blunt force trauma to the head. Bill, the kid was healthy. No signs of abuse, no other signs of trauma that can't be accounted for by the usual climbing and falling out of trees." She picked up a pencil and started tapping it on the desk.
Henderson walked over and gently took the pencil from her. "Is there any chance that it could have been an accident?"
Beth shook her head. "The trauma is pretty centralized, and the fractures show repeated blows to the same place--probably with a rock, or some other jagged object. I found some splinters of it in the wound as well--you find me the rock, and I can match it up." She turned to flip through papers on her desk. "I hate autopsying kids, but at least he wasn't a floater."
Henderson leaned against the desk. "I'd almost forgotten your... legendary hatred of floaters."
"Well, there's a reason for that," she said brusquely, pulling out her chair and slumping down into it.
"Care to let me in?" Henderson asked, curious.
"Trust me, you don't want to know." Beth smiled humorlessly. "Don't you have some parents to tell?"
Henderson sighed. "Yes. The boy's mother is still waiting at home for him to call, and his father has been working from home since Joey disappeared."
"Tell Zymeck I said hello," she said, pushing away from the desk and walking over to the autopsy table.
"Will do." Henderson headed towards the door, and held it open for the young assistant who was on his way in. Zymeck's youngest kid had been rushed into the hospital for an emergency appendectomy, so he'd been unable to come along to pick up the autopsy report.
Henderson left the morgue, wandered out to his car, got in, and started it. He radioed in to the station, got the Anderson's address, and headed toward the more upscale neighborhoods where they lived. "I hate this part," he muttered. It was bad enough that a little kid was found dead, but they the fact that they didn't have any leads didn't help any. It was set to be a long day.
~*~*~*~
September 5, 1999, 11:30 pm
348 Hyperion Avenue, Metropolis
Clark slipped into bed and held his arms out to Lois. Wordlessly, she scooted over and laid her head on his chest. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "Rachel's asleep again, and her nightmare didn't wake Jamie up," he said quietly.
Lois sighed and began to stroke his chest absently. "I'm hoping that the new shrink can help with those."
"Maybe he can," Clark said as he ran his long fingers through her hair. "Her nightmares aren't as frequent as they used to be, though. She'll be all right, honey."
"I know... I just worry."
Clark caressed her back gently. "I can't believe that we've had her for close to a year," he said finally.
"If anyone told us that we'd have two kids this time last year, I would have had them committed." Lois planted a kiss on his chest, then laid her cheek back against it.
He chuckled. "But Jamie *could* have been twins."
Lois grabbed her pillow and smacked him upside the head. "Cla--aarrk," she groaned. "One at a time is *enough*."
Clark laughed, then leaned in for a kiss. He kissed her gently, loving the way her soft lips clung to his. He broke off the kiss with a groan as he heard the cry for help. "A cattle car just jackknifed and turned over on the freeway," he said with a sigh.
Lois kissed him softly. "Go," she said.
Clark sighed, pushed himself out of bed, then spun into the Suit. Sometimes being Superman wasn't a lot of fun--the cattle were probably spooked, and it would take quite some time to clean up the mess. "I'll try and be back before Jamie wakes up," he promised.
"I'll be waiting," she said before grabbing his pillow.
Superman gave his wife one final glance before leaving through the window and heading towards the scene of the accident. He grimaced as the slow drizzle soaked into his cape, making it cling to him. A few minutes later, he landed next to the overturned trailer. The cattle were milling about, evading every attempt to recapture them, while cars slowly attempted to pass without hitting the animals.
Superman wiped water out of his eyes and looked around for the person in charge of the scene. The Emergency personnel hadn't showed up yet, but the trucker was watching the cattle with a puzzled look on his face. It was obvious that the man had no idea of how to recapture his cargo. He walked up to the trucker and tapped him on the shoulder. "What happened, sir?" he asked.
The man sighed and shook his head. "I guess my tires have gone bad. I thought they'd last one more trip. The streets are pretty wet tonight and well, I started hydroplaning, and then before I knew it, I'd turned over and the cattle got out." He looked at Superman worshipfully. "I don't know how we're going to round them up--Superman, can you help?"
Superman nodded, then carefully lifted the trailer and set it upright. He soldered the broken latch back in place with heat vision, then began to carefully catch the cattle, one at a time, and put them back in the trailer. He'd heard about something like this happening a few years ago in Texas, but he hadn't had to help with it. The corners of his mouth twitched as he remembered watching the news report; the cowboys from the local rodeo had ridden out and taken care of the problem.
Superman stopped after his tenth steer and glared at the rest of the cattle. He couldn't do it at superspeed, because that would spook the rest of the animals. The *last* thing he needed was to rescue people from cars that the cattle had managed to stampede over. It was bad enough that some of them had minor injuries due to some cars not having stopped in time. He knew that they were probably destined for someone's dinner table, but it didn't make it any easier to listen to their sounds of pain.
Superman approached the nearest one, talking to it in a soft voice. He picked it up, then walked back to the truck. Despite the fact that it was starting to rain harder again, traffic had ground to a halt, and a crowd of curious onlookers, or rubber-neckers as they were called, had gotten out of their cars to watch him work.
It was over an hour later when he caught the last animal and put it back in the trailer. He wiped the water out of his eyes again, then tossed his now sodden cape back before walking over to the trucker.
"Bless you, Superman," the man said gratefully.
"Please try to be more careful," he requested. The man nodded. Superman took off and headed towards home. The thought of a nice, warm bed with Lois in it was sounding better and better.
It was times like this, he thought grumpily as he fought with his cape, that he wished that he'd managed to talk his mother out of putting the blasted thing on his uniform. It was horrible to deal with when it was wet--it clung in spots, got tangled around his legs, and was generally a nuisance.
Superman landed on the patio quietly, then soundlessly went upstairs. He hung his wet, bedraggled suit on the towel rack and dried off before going back to bed. He slipped under the covers and smiled as Lois snuggled back up to him. He hugged her close to him and glanced at the clock. It was past one-thirty, which meant that Jamie would be waking soon for something to eat. He sighed and settled back into the pillows, happy to at least be at home.
Clark's eyes began to close, and he drifted off, only to wake a short time later to the cries of a hungry baby. Lois stirred beside him, and he kissed her on the forehead before slipping out of bed. "I'll get him, honey," he whispered. He hurried downstairs, pulled a bottle out of the fridge, and went to Jamie's room.
Clark picked his son up out of the crib and held him close as he walked over to the rocking chair and dropped down into it. He warmed the bottle, tested it, then stuck it into the baby's mouth. He kissed Jamie's forehead and started to rock. How would he manage it, he wondered, not for the first time. He'd already cut back on Superman's activities, but there never seemed to be enough time.
How could he manage two busy careers and still be there for his family? He didn't want Rachel and Jamie to grow up without him; he couldn't let that happen. He wasn't sure how he would manage, but he would, somehow. He didn't want to screw up the most important job he'd ever had--being Rachel and Jamie's daddy.
Clark smiled as the baby slowly stopped sucking and his eyes closed. He kissed his son again, then stood and put him back in the crib. He tiptoed out of the room and back downstairs to put the remaining milk in the fridge before returning to his and Lois's room.
Clark got into bed and sighed. It would be a long time before anything was solved, and for the moment, he was tired. He gathered Lois in his arms and closed his eyes. He hoped that they could work everything out, but he knew it would be a hard balancing act. A wave of tiredness swept over him and he slowly drifted off to sleep.
~*~*~*~
September 10, 1999, 12:00 pm
348 Hyperion Avenue, Metropolis
Outside, thunder rumbled and lightening flashed as yet another early September thunderstorm unleashed its fury over the city. Inside the house, another kind of storm raged as Rachel thrashed around, the nightlight in between her bed and the nightstand bathing the small child in an eerie light punctuated by the flashes of light from the storm outside. Mumbles of "no, no, please," came from the child's mouth as she was gripped in yet another nightmare.
Rachel cowered in the corner, hiding from who she knew was coming. Papa Gary had a new friend again, and together they would take away the only people that she could ever remember loving her.
"Hello, Rachel." The familiar voice said.
Rachel shivered and hid her face before a rough hand forced her to look at him. "Look at me, brat." Papa Gary stood in front of her with darkness at his back. He reached in and snatched Aimee from her, then dangled the toy from two fingers as if it were filthy. "So, you *do* like this dolly after all."
He released her face, then reached in his pocket for his lighter. Rachel backed further in the corner, not daring to cry out. She watched as he ripped the doll limb-from-limb, then lit it on fire. He dropped the toy in a metal wastebasket before walking over to Jamie's crib and pulling the baby out of it. "Do you like this toy, too?" he inquired, laying the baby on the bed before reaching in his pocket for a cigarette. She shook her head frantically as he lit up.
He smoked in silence for a few minutes, then flicked some hot ash on the baby, making him squall. Finding some courage that she didn't know she had, Rachel ran over to protect her brother from her personal monster.
"So you *do* care about him," he said with a smirk. Papa Gary stubbed his cigarette out on her arm. Rachel suppressed a cry of pain as he motioned to someone that she couldn't see, and the person who hurt the little boy came in and smiled at Rachel.
"What have you got there?" the person asked.
Rachel hid Jamie behind her and shook her head, refusing to answer. Papa Gary grabbed her arms and threw her towards the wall. His new friend came up to the bed and smiled. "A little boy... just what I was looking for."
Rachel sat up in bed, breathing heavily. She got up and hurried down the hallway to Jamie's room. She smiled in relief and wiped the tears out of her eyes when she saw that he was sleeping in his crib.
Rachel pulled herself over the bars and settled carefully next to him, curling her legs up in order to fit. She kissed him on the cheek before putting her arm around him. "I'll never let them get you Jamie," she promised.
"I can't tell Momma and Daddy what I saw," she whispered. "I can't tell what *he* did to me, either, because it would make Momma upset."
Rachel pulled an extra baby blanket over herself and cuddled closer to her brother. "I saw her hurt that boy," she said softly. "She *killed* him." Slow tears ran down Rachel's face. "Papa Gary would have done that to me, too. If he comes back, he could hurt you and Momma."
She kissed the baby again. "I won't let them hurt you, Jamie; if she finds out that I saw, she'd come and hurt us like she did the boy because she's a *bad* person." Jamie stirred in his sleep, his tiny lips smacking as if he were drinking.
"I'm scared," Rachel said in a small voice. "The bad dreams won't go away."
Jamie started to snore softly.
Rachel scrubbed the tears from her eyes. "If I tell, Momma'll cry," she said softly. "And Daddy will be sad, too." She buried her face in the blanket and smelled Jamie's clean baby-smell.
"I don't want to make them sad," she whispered.
Rachel sniffled, then relaxed next to the baby. "I'll protect you," she promised. "I keep *everybody* safe. If you an' me are the only ones who know that I saw, then the bad person won't come and hurt us. If you an' me are the only ones who know how Papa Gary hurt me, then it won't make Momma and Daddy sad."
She showed the sleeping baby a small, puckered, round scar. "He burned me there," she said softly. "He was burning my teddy bear and decided that it didn't hurt me enough."
Rachel pulled the hem of her nightgown up and showed Jamie a long, thin scar on her stomach. "Papa Gary was playing with his pocket knife, and he was mad one night," she informed him.
"There are lots of bad peoples, Jamie," she said, kissing her brother on the cheek. "You can't trust nobody but Momma, Daddy, our Grandpas, and Uncle Jimmy."
Rachel tugged her nightgown back into place and sighed. "Peoples are *mean*," she said. "They'll hurt us if we let them, but we can't act like we know that. If they know that we know, the hurting will get worse."
"I know," she whispered, "because Papa Gary got meaner when I cried. Other peoples will, too, because they're like *him*."
"You and me, Jamie. We'll take care of each other. And if Momma and Daddy have another baby, we'll take care of her, too." Rachel snuggled down into the mattress and smiled as Jamie moved slightly. She was beginning to get sleepy again, and she knew that with her beside him, nobody could hurt her baby brother.
Rachel closed her eyes and began to remember the story that Daddy had read her, just like the girl in the book; she'd protect her brother from the trolls.
~*~*~*~
TBC...
