Author's note: The background of this story is that of the movie "Superman Returns". That is, Superman went away to visit Krypton for five years and came back to discover that Lois Lane had moved on and had a son. And Clark Kent has just found out that he is the father of that child...
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The Delmar was a small diner two blocks away from the Daily Planet building. When Perry had a choice, he met all his AA buddies there. The place was clean, the waitresses friendly, and the coffeepot bottomless. He'd run into other Planet workers there numerous times. Perry figured that the office grapevine knew that he came here for coffee. And, in the knowing-without-saying department, he figured that everyone at the Planet knew all about his AA meetings and buddies at this restaurant. It wasn't as if he kept it a secret. He just didn't say it out loud, so as not to embarrass his diner companions.
Perry slid into the booth a little late. As ever, a last-minute "emergency" had arisen that only Perry could handle. He'd dealt with it in short order, barking at his assistant who should have been able to manage the problem.
"Hi, Clark. Sorry I'm late," Perry said. Then he thought about how many times Clark Kent had been late, or absent. Guess I know why now. He was probably doing some Superman rescue thing or other. Perry smiled just a bit as he realized that he had the answer to the perennial newsroom question, why can't Clark Kent ever be on time?
"No problem," Clark replied, looking at Perry a bit oddly. Perry realized his smile seemed a little misplaced. The waitress came over and greeted them. She knew Perry well.
"Hey, Doris, how's the family?" Perry asked.
"Well, Marney's in her third year at Met U, and Bob's talking retirement, but he's not doing anything specific about it…." The waitress chatted on as she poured Perry's coffee. She didn't bother taking his order anymore – Perry was such a regular that all the staff knew to bring him a large mug of black coffee when he sat down.
"Sounds good, Doris," Perry said. The waitress moved on to the next table.
"Um, Clark?" Perry said, suddenly tongue-tied.
"Yes?" Clark asked.
"Um, how are you feeling? I heard you fell on some earthquake debris." That was the official story. Now Perry knew the truth. Kent wouldn't have been injured by debris if he hadn't been lifting an expanding kryptonite continent and launching it into a solar orbit.
"I'm fine now, Perry," Clark said evenly. Obviously he didn't want to talk about it and Perry knew why.
Perry took a sip of coffee. He really didn't know how to start. Not only that, his heart was starting to pound again. Meeting Superman one-on-one….No. He couldn't think that way. He was meeting Clark Kent one-on-one. Clark Kent, a reporter who worked for him. Clark Kent, a man who had been to AA meetings with him, who had proven his character a hundred times.
An anecdote he'd heard once about the founders of Alcoholics Anonymous came to mind. Dr. Robert Smith, co-founder of AA, had been a rectal and proctologic specialist. He was a remarkably good surgeon – when he was sober. His colleagues knew of the doctor's drinking, but in the medical-professional world of the 1930's, covered for him, hiding his problem from the public. Amongst themselves, however, well aware of Dr. Bob's drinking, they snickered, "When you go to Dr. Smith you really bet your ass!"
Perry forced himself to take a deep breath. For some reason, he felt like he was betting his ass here. Things were going to change no matter what.
"I have two things to tell you," Perry began again.
Clark quirked an eyebrow. He was really very good about inviting confidences, Perry thought. Maybe that's why he got so many good stories. Aside from the Superman thing, of course.
"Jason is your son," Perry blurted out.
"I know," Clark said. He smiled. Perry saw joy, excitement, wonder, in the smile. Then Clark's smile faded and he looked weary.
"What? How did you know?" Perry asked, surprised. How did Clark know? He certainly hadn't known before.
"How did you know?" Clark challenged Perry.
"You have the same eyes," Perry said, startled into the truth. "And the body shape is the same…when you two are together, it's obvious."
"That's interesting," Clark muttered, lost in thought. "I never knew…" He took a sip of coffee, focused on Perry, and asked, "What's the second thing?"
Perry swallowed. He kept his eyes on Clark's, not looking away. "I know about…." He looked at Doris and the other waitresses not far away. "…about your moonlighting. About your second job."
Clark froze for just a moment. His eyes widened. "Second job?" he asked quietly.
Perry matched the quiet tone. "The one where you wear the blue suit."
Clark lowered his head. He took off his glasses, laying them neatly on the table. His fingers massaged the bridge of his nose, rubbed at the corners of his eyes. Then he looked up.
Perry found himself meeting eyes of startling blueness, piercing him with a gimlet stare. Clark smoothed his face into impassivity, squared his shoulders. At that moment, Perry saw Superman. Perry wondered how he could have ever missed it before. The Man of Steel sat opposite him in a diner, one hand caressing a coffee cup.
An uncomfortable silence lingered, and Perry's heart began to beat faster. Clark hadn't denied it, and Perry knew it was true. But what would Clark do? He'd obviously gone to some lengths to cultivate the dual identity. At that moment, Perry's journalistic instincts came to the fore. He pushed with the bulldog tenacity that had gotten him interviews no one else could get.
"And I figure you owe me an interview, at least." Perry gestured. "At least some sort of explanation…Clark." He concealed his agitation under his reporter persona, but he was uncomfortably aware that there was no concealing the racing heart, the quick breathing from his companion. Silence fell again.
Then Clark stirred. "Yes, Perry, you're right." He did something Perry didn't expect. He smiled. It was a smile Perry hadn't seen on Clark's face before. A wide, open, sunny smile. Instinctively, Perry found himself smiling back.
Clark looked behind him at the gaggle of waitresses. "But somewhere more private, I think?" he asked.
Perry nodded.
Clark gestured to their waitress. "Doris, can we get this coffee to go? Something's come up and we have to leave." He handed her a large-denomination bill.
"Sure, Clark," Doris said. A few minutes bustling and they were out on the sidewalk, Clark clutching "to-go" cups of coffee. Clark strode carefully to an area of the street that Perry realized was out of view of most of the shops and buildings.
Clark turned to speak to Perry. "I don't think this is really appropriate for the Daily Planet either, Perry." Already, Clark used a more confident tone contrasted with the usual diffident high-pitched voice that he usually employed. He advanced a little toward Perry. "I can take us somewhere…"
Perry saw the tall man approaching. Suddenly fear overcame him. He flashed back to when the three rogue Kryptonians in his office grabbed him. They loomed over him. He was powerless, he was a toy in their grasp. Why did they do bad things to him? Because they could. And Superman could too. He shrank back from Clark.
Clark caught the subtle withdrawal. He stopped. Perry saw a flash of understanding in his eyes, then a deep, sad weariness. Clark continued as if he hadn't noticed, "…or we can just walk around town."
Perry felt ashamed. "I'm sorry, Clark," he said roughly. "No, I'll go with you." He'd hurt a good friend, he realized that now. This dual-identity thing confused him. Sometimes he saw Clark, employee, friend, and equal in the fight against addiction. And then, flickering in, never staying, disconcertingly, would be glimpses of the stern and majestic Last Son of Krypton.
Clark gave him a searching glance. "Are you sure?" he asked.
Perry straightened his shoulders. "I'm sure," he said. He carefully didn't ask where they were going. He figured he'd forfeited that right.
"OK, then," Clark said quietly. He gave Perry one cup of coffee to hold, keeping the other in his own grasp. Then Clark looked all around. Checking for witnesses, Perry realized. Apparently everything was clear, because he advanced to Perry and wrapped his arm around the older man's waist. It felt odd to Perry to have this close contact with another man.
"Look at me," Clark advised. Perry turned his head toward Clark, inward, his head at the taller man's chin.
The world blurred.
Clark released his grip. Perry looked around. No sign of the tall buildings, the full streetfronts of Metropolis. Instead, open fields, marked off by careful fences, met his view. A nearby barn glowed reddish-brown in the evening twilight. Perry turned around to see himself standing at the front door of a yellow-painted house. He took a deep breath, steadying his weak knees by sheer force of will. His hand trembled, sloshing the coffee in its covered cup.
"OK?" Clark asked, reaching out to grasp one arm to steady Perry.
"Yeah," Perry breathed. "I knew you could do that, but I didn't really know it till now," he said, "if you know what I mean." The editor in him castigated himself for redundancy, but he couldn't say anything more. "Where am I? Where are we?"
Clark smiled. "You may not recognize the Kent Farm, Perry." His expansive gesture took in a great deal of acreage. "I think it's been quite a few years since you were here."
Vague memories arose. "I think I got thrown out the last time I was here."
Clark laughed out loud. "Nah, not last time. The first time you were here. Well, you're invited in today." He reached for the doorknob. "Come in."
Perry found himself in a sun-filled room. He sat down weakly at the kitchen table, coming to grips with the undeniable fact that he'd been whisked to a destination ninety minutes from Metropolis in a few seconds.
Clark pulled a mug from a cupboard, and pouted Perry's cup of coffee into it. He put the coffee in front of Perry. The editor stared at it, seeing the logo of a Craftsman-style home embossed on the side of the mug. Underneath the logo of the house was the motto: "I drank at Dr. Bob's." On the other side of the cup was the AA logo, the triangle within the circle. Perry picked up the mug and took a small sip of coffee.
Clark moved slowly and carefully. He began making small talk, seeming to realize that Perry was in a minor state of shock.
"Yeah, my mother asked me to take care of the house for a few days." He pulled up a chair and sat on one side of the table. "She came to Metropolis while I was…when I was sick." Perry caught a glimpse of pain behind that careful statement. "Then, when I got better, she wanted to spend a few days in the city, so I said I'd keep an eye on things. She'll get a few days vacation."
Perry croaked something.
Clark continued cheerfully. "And it's not like it's a tough commute for me. And I still don't have an apartment in Metropolis - "
"You don't?" Perry interrupted.
"Well, Perry, I've been kind of busy," Clark said gently. "I'm just happy I can drop by here at times." He sipped his coffee. "Of course, I've got to get my own place pretty soon. I'm a little old to be living with my mother." He seemed in a playful mood.
He took Perry's coffee cup from the older man's unprotesting hands. "Coffee getting cold?" Perry saw Clark pull down his glasses, saw Clark's eyes take on a reddish tinge. Then the aromatic scent of hot coffee filled the room. Clark pushed the cup back to Perry, whose fingers flinched at the first touch of the heated cup.
"Why are you doing this?" Perry blurted.
"What?" Clark asked.
"Showing off everything. Doing what you're doing."
Clark gave Perry an even stare. "Well, Perry, you've figured out my secret. The cat's out of the bag now. I guess I just want to do things for my friends." Then, in a serious voice that belied his playful expression, Clark said, "And I want to talk to you."
Aha! cried the inner reporter part of Perry. It was the part that recognized scoops, sifted out self-justifying shadowings from truthful fact, teased out hidden stories from mouths previously silent as the tomb. Perry suddenly felt more confident. They were on familiar ground.
