They stayed at the restaurant long enough to have two cups of coffee each. Then they carefully re-entered Perry's sedan and headed out to Richard and Lois' house. Clark's abilities made sure that they avoided traffic tie-ups, so that they wouldn't be any later than Richard would expect for Metropolis rush hour traffic. No one said anything on the trip, but Perry, looking in his rearview mirror, saw that Lois sat next to Clark, clinging to him tightly, holding his hand. And Clark in turn looked at Lois with loving concern, keeping her next to him, holding her gently.
When they got to the house, Lois extracted her hand from Clark's, and led the two men to the front door, not speaking. Clark picked up the case of water bottles from the front seat, and Perry followed him up the front porch steps. Lois gestured them in.
"Mommy! Mommy!" Jason came running, hugged Lois around the waist. She reached down and hugged him back, almost desperately, Perry thought.
"Hiya, Uncle Perry! Mr. Clark!" Jason continued. "Daddy's in the kitchen. He's making pasta!" The boy scampered off. Obviously it was a thrill for him to have people to the house for dinner.
Perry and Clark followed Lois down the hall to the kitchen. Richard stood near the stove, stirring a bubbling pot. He came to Lois and hugged her, giving her a peck on the cheek. She hugged him back, too, and Perry couldn't help but think, She's hugging him so hard because he's normal. Not some space alien, not a reformed drunk, not a metahuman with weird powers. He's just a normal guy and that's what she wants right now.
"Perry, Clark," Richard said, greeting them in an even tone. The two made mumbled responses. Then there was a moment of awkward stillness. Perry could sense the tension between Richard and Clark. Jason still chattered, oblivious to unspoken undercurrents.
Clark set the bottled water down on the table, then stood, hunched and gawky-looking. Lois cast her eyes rapidly between Richard and Clark, but seemed unable to say anything. The silence grew until Perry stepped in.
"Ah, Richard, you mind if I give Clark a little house tour?"
Richard gave an almost-inaudible sigh of relief, Clark relaxed slightly, and Richard said, "OK. It'll probably be about ten, fifteen minutes or so before dinner is ready." He pointed to a bottle. "Clark, you want some wine? We've got water and lemonade too. Perry?"
"Uh, maybe later," Clark mumbled. Perry declined for right now too, both of them wanting to get out of the kitchen.
Perry gestured Clark down the hallway, pointing out the surroundings with a minimum of description. "Here's the office….there's the stairs going up…." Clark took in his surroundings with an even face.
"Pretty nice home here, Perry," he said. "Maybe I should be agitating for a raise?"
Perry snorted. "Like you'd have a chance of getting it. Clark, it's only because of the trust fund from Richard's mother that he and Lois can live here." They had made their way to the sun porch that faced the water. Richard's seaplane bobbed at anchor, in view past an immaculately manicured lawn. "I'm the Editor-In-Chief at the Planet, and I'm not making anywhere near what it would cost to have this house at this location, not to mention the seaplane."
"Ah, well, then," Clark murmured, a tiny smile on his lips.
Perry led Clark down another passageway. "Did you really mean that about being Lois' bomb squad?" he blurted out.
Clark stopped, turned to look at him. "Yes," he said softly. He seemed to realize that Perry was agitated and wanted more. "Perry, you don't have to worry about Lois."
"I don't?" Perry repeated.
"Perry, she found out she was meteor-infected thirteen years ago. And she agonized about it for months. She'd done a lot of research, you know."
"I know. I saw the Wall of Weird she put up back at the office of her high school newsletter."
Clark smiled. "That is so Lois." His smiled dimmed. "Anyway, after she found out about herself, she got even more interested in the meteor-infected. As you might expect. And so we got together and did some figuring." He shrugged. "Perry, you know that the meteor-infected tend to get some strange powers."
"I've seen it myself. Heck, it just happened to me today," Perry shivered, remembering the strange glow that had encompassed him – and healed him.
"Do you know what percentage of the known meteor-infected use their powers for ill?"
Perry smiled. "That sounds so melodramatic when you say that."
Clark smiled back, just a little. "I know. But editorial considerations aside, do you know?"
"No," Perry admitted. "I figure there's some reporting bias – I mean, only the dramatic or the damaging makes the news."
"That's true," Clark allowed. "But because of my abilities, and Lois' investigative savvy, and growing up in Smallville, the two of us are aware of a lot of metahumans who don't make the news."
"So what did you find out?" Perry asked. This seemed important to Clark.
"Eighty-two percent," Clark said.
"What?" Perry asked. "Eighty-two percent of the meteor freaks – sorry, the metahumans – " he couldn't finish.
"Yep," Clark confirmed. "If you have some strange power, you've got less than a one-in-five chance of using it for good. Statistically speaking."
"You sure about that?" Perry queried. "I mean, again, what about sampling bias? There must be people with meteor powers who don't use their powers, or use them discreetly, right? I mean, I thought you were meteor-infected before, and I didn't say anything because I knew you were a good guy."
"Good point, Perry," Clark said, ignoring the comment about himself. "Lois and I could only count the people that showed themselves." He seemed grim for a moment. "Lex Luthor, I think, had a way of detecting the latent metahumans at one time, and he tended to swoop down and throw those people into an evil laboratory. Unauthorized and coerced human experimentation."
"The story that got Lois her Pulitzer," Perry acknowledged.
"But it doesn't change the fact that most people, presented with power, make a hash of it," Clark said somberly. "Some of them really are bad people, but I think most of them didn't mean to hurt anyone – they just did things and got deeper in and couldn't get out without doing harm."
Perry nodded slowly.
"So you can see why Lois is so upset," Clark said. "She had worked through all this years ago, but then I took it from her. Then this afternoon she gets back all those memories in a moment. And she uses her power for the first time in ten years, incidentally outing herself. Of which she is deathly afraid, although not as afraid as I am about my own secret being found out."
"I won't tell," Perry said awkwardly.
"I know," Clark replied. "But she's facing all this, and she has to come to terms with it." He looked especially somber. "I went through five years of isolation on my trip to Krypton and back. It was hard, but one thing I got out of it, Perry, was that I know who I am. What I am. What I stand for. What I'll do and what I won't do." He looked carefully at Perry. "I think, going to AA, you've been through a lot of the same. You've stripped yourself of your pretensions, gotten away from the lies. You know who you are."
"And Lois?" Perry couldn't help asking.
"She figured out who she was years ago," Clark said quietly. "I took it from her. She's a different person now. But now things have changed. It's back, and she has to come to terms with it again." He turned away from Perry, began moving again. "What I think is really bothering her is, how will she tell Richard? Or what will she tell Richard?"
"Oh," Perry said. Much thought in that. He remained silent as they went back downstairs. He couldn't let the topic go. "I don't think Lois will use her power for evil."
Clark sighed. "I don't think she would either. Firstly, she's just not that type of person – you know that and I know that. And using her talent isn't easy….she has to take on the pain of the one she heals."
"Oh," Perry said faintly.
"And I promised her long ago I wouldn't let her go bad," Clark said. "And she promised me the same."
That stopped Perry in his tracks. Superman….going bad?
"You?" he couldn't help but whisper. Bad memories of the rogue Kryptonians raced through his head.
"Uh, yes," Clark admitted, obviously not wanting to bring this up, but realizing he had to. "There were a few times in my earlier days…hypnosis, mind control by the Fortress AI….red kryptonite…." He trailed off. "Anyway, Lois has a piece of kryptonite in her file drawer just in case." Clark carefully didn't look at Perry. Perry figured the other was probably picking up on his racing heart and respiration. "I should probably get you your own piece," Clark said. "You're one of the few people I trust to take me down if I ever need it."
Perry gradually calmed. "Well, thanks….I think." The thought of Superman going rogue profoundly disturbed him, but at the same time he was aware of the trust that Clark reposed in him to tell him of Clark's weakness and even offer to give him the key to his vulnerability. It was awe-inspiring, really.
Clark touched his arm. Perry stopped.
"I mean it, Perry," Clark said softly. "I trust you."
Perry swallowed, unable to speak. He nodded.
They moved into the den. Perry saw Clark looking at the various pictures on the wall, which included two federal Duck Stamps, both framed and matted in such a way that an actual stamp was next to a larger print of the painting that appeared on that year's stamp; a reproduction of Frederic Remington's Dismounted: The 4th Troopers Moving; a copy of Edwin Landseer's painting of a stag, "The Monarch of the Glen"; and, in what Perry figured gave a hint of how Richard had managed to attract Lois, a large replica of the famous "Dogs Playing Poker".
Clark looked at the painting, chuckling at the bulldog passing an Ace of Spades under the table to his partner.
"I'm guessing that Richard is an outdoorsman," he said.
"Yes," Perry replied. "Actually, he was mostly brought up by his grandparents – his mother's parents. When my brother and his wife were killed in the car accident, his grandparents got custody." He paused; remembering his brother's death, as always, sent sadness through him. "His grandfather was always going on hunting and fishing trips, and Richard went on a lot with him. I actually didn't get to know Richard well until he was in his twenties, when he started working at the Planet." Sardonically, Perry added, "Of course, I was in my drinking days when Richard was young, and I was letting a lot of things slide back then."
"That's interesting," Clark said absently, as he paced down the room. It had a very hunting-and-fishing décor, from the wallpaper border to the leather-covered furniture. A taxidermied trout on a plaque adorned one wall, and animal-themed sculptures were scattered on end tables. Clark ran his hand over a quarter-scale replica of a Remington sculpture, "The Bronco Buster". Perry had always liked that one for its verve and action captured in metal. Clark stopped at a large gun safe and got that unfocused look in his eyes again.
"Hm...Remington Model 870….two of them…..looks like Richard, or his grandfather, has a fondness for Remingtons – the artist and the firearms…that must be the bismuth shot next to the stainless steel and the lead….a bunch of Rugers….oh, wow, he's got some really nice Schuetzen rifles!" Perry didn't know what to say to this. Clark continued his musings. "…lots of ammo….hey, that's unusual….did Richard ever go on safari?"
"Not as far as I know, but his grandfather did," Perry said. "Why?"
"I can see a double-rifle Purdey .600 back in there, and there's a large-caliber Holland & Holland, too," Clark said, not taking his glance away from the safe. "The ammo for that is the size of a mini-Maglite. I wonder if his grandfather shot any Cape buffalo – there's a whole bunch of safari rifles in there. You don't see those every day." Silence. "Richard's grandfather must have been pretty wealthy."
"As he told me once, rather snottily, I may add," Perry said, "he was a Smith of the Amalgamated Consolidated Smiths."
The two men both laughed.
"Well, I don't know if Richard's using the guns or not – I don't think those ones in the back have been used for awhile?" Clark asked.
"I think he does a little duck hunting with friends at times," Perry said. "Do you hunt?"
Clark became momentarily still. "I used to, with my Dad, when I was a kid. But when I got to be about fourteen or fifteen, and started getting my abilities….after that, it wasn't sporting."
"Oh," Perry said lamely.
Clark turned back to the safe. "Hey, quite a few handguns in there too."
"Those are probably Lois's", Perry said. "She doesn't like to carry, but she keeps up her marksmanship. I think she prefers the unarmed combat, though. She told me once that people don't expect it from someone her size."
"Hmm….Colt .45….Ruger .22 Standard….Smith & Wesson Military and Police Polymer…Glock .40….wow, looks like Lois practices with a bunch of different models."
"She's prepared," Perry said. "She's made a lot of enemies over the past few years."
"Yeah, she's got about six months worth of ammunition in there, too," Clark said. "I hope they keep this locked."
"Huh?"
"There's a Glock right there in front, and it's loaded and ready to shoot. The safety isn't on. Gosh, I hope they keep Jason away from that."
"Well, the safe is locked," Perry said, checking it to be sure.
Further speculation was interrupted by Jason, who scampered into the room. "Daddy says to tell you to come in for dinner," he blurted out, then ran back to the kitchen. Clark looked at Perry and sighed. Perry shrugged.
