Author's note: Events in this chapter make reference to the movie, "Superman Returns".
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Perry just happened to be there, a few days later, when Lois Lane really looked at Clark Kent.
Actually, the set-up was perfect. Superman had just lifted off from Metropolis Stadium, carrying the damaged airplane whose deposition in the stadium a few days ago had marked the Man of Steel's dramatic return to Earth. Perry was amused to see Clark, in his Kryptonian guise, solemnly shaking the hands of the head of NASA and the Commissioner of Baseball. The source of the amusement was that Clark, at Perry's advice, had held out for a doubling of the bounty offered for Superman to remove the plane.
Actually, it was the Daily Planet editorials that had led the way – Perry had only to point out how much the Metropolitans took in during only one game, how much they would lose if the plane stayed there, how much NASA would learn by a quick delivery of the lobotomized plane to its laboratory, and contrasted that with the numerous good works done by the Superman Foundation. Once he'd shamed the government and the baseball lords into upping their previous (insulting, Perry thought) offer, Superman had graciously agreed to remove the jet from the playing field and ferry it down to Cape Canaveral.
Clark had laughed when Perry told him about the editorials.
"I'd do it for free, you know that, Perry," he'd said.
"Yeah, I know," Perry had replied. Clark – the real Clark, not the bumbling façade Clark – was a pretty funny guy. And a pretty good friend. "But we owe you. You saved a lot of people that day, Clark."
Clark only nodded, as if to say, Ho-hum, just another day.
Perry continued, channeling the discussion from the newsroom. "And face it, Clark, Superman isn't their errand boy." Perry found himself referring to Clark's other identity in the third person again – he tried to do that. He figured if he trained himself, it would make inadvertent slips less likely. "He doesn't have to do this. He's got better things to do." He slipped back into addressing Clark as Superman directly. "If you give in on this, people will take advantage of you left and right – "
He stopped at Clark's grin and apologetic shrug.
"All right, they're already taking advantage of you left and right," Perry said. He had to chuckle. "But I want them to pay for it. Because they can. They can afford it. And to make the point that Superman's services are a privilege. Not a right. And not to be used as a convenience."
Perry brought his thoughts back to the present as he saw the NASA guy and the Commissioner present the giant check to Superman, stiff smiles on their faces. The check, oversize in both physical dimensions and amount, made even Perry raise his eyebrows. The Superman Foundation got donations every day, but few were of this magnitude.
As for the stiff smiles on the faces of the presenters, Perry knew very well why they were stiff. On the one hand, it was hard to give away that amount of money. On the other hand, it was just part of the cost of doing business for Major League Baseball, and no doubt they'd already made it up in free publicity. Perry figured the NASA guy didn't care – it was only taxpayer money, after all.
But being that close to Superman – that tended to make one a little stiff, a little unsure, a little wary. Perry had been that way on the few times he'd met the Man of Steel – before he knew, of course. Now he silently reminded himself that if he should run into Superman, he shouldn't display the ease that he now felt in Clark's – no, Superman's, remember that, Perry – presence. Suddenly Perry understood, deep in his gut, Clark's assumption of a human identity, and why Clark protected it so assiduously.
People acted differently around Superman. They couldn't help it. They were stiff, they were diffident or starstruck, they put on their party manners. Perry remembered back a few years, when he (and everyone else) thought Clark was Superman's media contact, and were asking curious questions about the Man of Steel.
In Perry's presence, Jimmy Olsen had happened to ask Clark about Superman. "He's above us like a god, or something. Does he ever talk about that? Are we just ants to him, or something?"
Perry remembered now that Clark had paled, and had answered the question with intensity.
"No, Jimmy, never. I've talked with him a lot about that. He doesn't feel that he's above us. He thinks of himself as a regular guy with special abilities."
Jimmy had raised his eyebrows in apparent disbelief but had dropped the topic. Thinking back on it now, Perry understood. Superman was a regular guy with extra abilities. But Superman didn't have friends. He wasn't someone who would go out for a beer after work with you.
But Clark Kent could, and did. Perry suspected that Clark, keeping his secret, was deeply lonely. And those stolen moments of camaraderie, quickly dismissed by others, would be cherished and remembered by Clark. For a moment, Perry actually pitied Superman. The man had everything – and nothing.
A burst of applause from the newsroom broke Perry out of his reverie. The video at Metropolis Stadium focused on the wingless airplane, apparently levitating itself in defiance of the laws of physics, Superman's figure hidden by the bulk of the airliner. The baseball team had excellent (and numerous) cameras throughout the stadium. Numerous camera angles captured the amazing strength of the blue-clad figure. Perry inhaled sharply at the evidence of Superman's sheer power, demonstrated once again.
A matching inhalation next to him caught Perry's attention. Lois Lane stared at the rising airplane, puzzlement on her face. The newsroom and Lois watched as Superman got the airplane into a safe altitude and cruised away with his burden, towards Cape Canaveral. The live-action video stopped when the airplane got out of sight, and the news channels turned back to the previously recorded clip of Superman accepting the charity donation.
Perry watched Lois. After Clark had told him that he had "turned off the disguise" for Lois, Perry had kept an eye on her. He had a mean little hankering to see someone get as boggled as he had when he realized. And it looked like some thoughts were percolating in the back of Lois' head….
Perry caught her shaking her head decisively. She turned to him and said, "Chief?"
"Yes?" Perry replied.
"Do you know where Clark is?" she asked. "We were going to go over some of the Luthor files."
Perry raised an eyebrow at her. "He's your partner, Lois."
"I know, Chief," she replied. "But he just left me some lame message on my voice mail this morning. I was wondering if he gave you any more information."
Perry's head automatically swiveled to the television monitors where a tiny blue-clad figure could just barely be seen under the bulk of the plane. He mentally kicked himself. Way to keep the secret, Perry.
Lois followed his gaze. "If he's off getting a Superman exclusive and not telling me…" she muttered under her breath. "Well, if you see him, Perry, tell him that I want to talk with him." She stalked away.
"What am I, your secretary?" Perry asked himself. He'd have ripped a new one in any other reporter that said what Lois had. Only Lois Lane could treat him like this and get away with it. She'd earned it. He chuckled and went back to his office.
He kept an eye on Lois that morning. She didn't seem to be getting a lot of work done – instead, she kept on staring into space. Perry found her expressions fascinating. I think she's figured it out.
Later that day, Clark entered the newsroom. Perry, sensitized to Kent's arrivals and departures by now, looked up automatically. Clark spun his fedora on the hat rack (I can't believe he actually wears that hat, thought Perry, that's taking things into the realm of parody) and waved Lois a cheerful "Hello."
She automatically waved back. Then Perry saw her stand up, go to Clark, and just stare at him. Clark wore the expression of a mouse trapped by a very large cat. Lois studied Clark's face intently, saying nothing. Then she took Clark by the arm and sweetly said, "Conference room."
Perry was impressed. If this was it, and it looked like it was, Lois had kept an impassive poker face out there in the newsroom. As she marched Clark off to the private conference room, Perry saw Clark's face. Perry was struck by the mingling of eager hope and (in Perry's opinion) well-deserved fear on the face of the invulnerable Man of Steel. Even if Lois had known before, according to what Clark had told Perry, Clark certainly did have some explaining to do. Perry caught Clark's eye and grinned through the glass walls of his office, giving Clark a thumbs-up gesture as Lois and Clark filed past. Clark managed a weak smile in return.
Perry mentally laid bets as to how long they'd be in there together. Lois' fiery personality made her unwilling to put up with crap and Perry hoped that she'd restrain her anger with Clark long enough to let him explain.
Based on his own experiences, Perry figured that Lois would have to deal with the whole "Clark Superman" revelation first. Even though, according to Clark, they had a tremendous past together, Lois wouldn't remember it until Clark started talking to her about it, stimulating the return of the lost memories. Perry had spent enough time with Clark in the past few days to get a feeling as to how many memories he had actually lost due to the Kryptonian mind-veiling technology, and it was a lot. And Lois? She must have lost months, years – a whole high school, college and first-years-on-the-job friendship with Clark lost, replaced by falsity.
So Perry guessed that Lois would be mad about Clark's deception first. Mad? Try anger at a nuclear-meltdown level. Or would she be understanding, even with her memories gone? After all, she was a reporter. She knew as well as Perry the danger in exposing Superman's identity to the world. Would she forgive Clark long enough to let him talk?
The conference room door slammed open and Lois stormed out, not caring that the swinging door almost knocked over Clark, following her. He was making little calming gestures with his hands and she was ignoring him. Blatantly and obviously. She wouldn't look at him, turning away when he circled around her. Her entire posture screamed her disdain.
Yep. She found out, all right. Perry shrugged his shoulders.
The tense drama attracted the attention of others in the newsroom, and a gradually increasing area of silence grew around Lois and Clark. Clark seemed to realize it first, looking around, and hunching back up.
Careful, Clark, thought Perry, you had the Superman posture there for a while. You didn't look Clark Kent-like at all.
Clark cast one more imploring glance at Lois. She refused to return his gaze. He sighed. He walked back to his own desk, shoulders slumped. He sat down and aimlessly sharpened a pencil. The newsroom stopped gaping at the Lois-Clark silent quarrel, and the murmur of conversation resumed.
Then, Perry was interested to see, Clark's ears metaphorically pricked up and he got the blank expression in his eyes that Perry had learned meant that Superman was needed somewhere. He unfolded his lanky frame and gave Lois a nod. She ignored that too, obviously and ostentatiously. Clark set out at a steady pace for the exit. As he passed by Perry's office, he caught Perry gawking. He shrugged his shoulders and made a "thumbs-down" gesture.
Just a little guess that that whole talk didn't go well at all, thought Perry. He decided he'd give them two days. After that, it was time to start the ass-kicking.
Clark didn't come back till late that afternoon. Lois had gradually gotten back into the swing of work, and typed at her keyboard with an excess of vigor. Clark's careful arrival back in the newsroom, and the delivery of a placatory cup of coffee to Lois' desk, was marked by no diminution of the furious clatter of keys. She sneered at the coffee cup, and, after Clark had returned to his own desk, ostentatiously poured it into the plant pot on her desk. Perry winced. That wouldn't do that aspidistra any good.
Lois' silent rage was interrupted by the cry of "Mommy!" Lois looked up, and for the first time that day, smiled, as she greeted her son. Perry was unashamedly eavesdropping now.
"Honey! What'd you do in school today?" Lois asked Jason.
"We read some books, and we did some math, and we drawed!" Jason gabbled out. He'd obviously inherited Lois' fast-talk gene. "I made a picture for you!" Jason pulled a folded crayon drawing out of his backpack.
Richard caught up, and leaned over to kiss Lois. "Hey, hon," he said. "Have a good day?"
Perry could only imagine what Lois could say to this.
"Oh, nothing too exciting," she said coolly. "Found out some new things." She turned so that she faced Clark, who was watching her and Jason. "Thought I might print them in tomorrow's Planet."
Perry saw Clark go pale.
"Or maybe not," Lois added.
Whoa, Lois. Just twisting the knife there, aren't you? thought Perry.
"Well, I'm sure you'll have a page-one story any day now," Richard said. It was the absolute truth. Lois averaged a page-one story every week – at least. He leaned over and kissed Lois again.
Perry saw Clark grit his teeth. Subtly, though.
Jason, bored, said, "I wanna go see Mr. Clark!" He headed down the aisle towards Clark's desk.
Clark looked hopeful.
"Oh, no, Jason, Mr. Clark is too busy to see you right now," Lois said, grabbing Jason's arm and bringing him back to her desk.
Perry saw Clark sigh and close his eyes.
"But I have a picture for him, too!" Jason persisted.
"You can give him the picture tomorrow," Lois said. "You can't see Mr. Clark right now. We've got to go home." She punctuated her phrases by gathering up her purse, grabbing Richard's and Jason's hands, and practically leading them out the door.
Ooh, low blow, Lois, Perry thought.
Clark just sat at his desk, shoulders hunched, eyes down.
Perry turned back to his work. It was up to Lois and Clark to settle this between them. He only hoped they got it together before the newsroom imploded.
