PART SIX
Lois tried not to resent Kilmartin dragging her away from Clark before she was ready to leave, but she couldn't help it. Knowing that she might never have been ready didn't help. Nor did knowing that Kilmartin was doing his job the only way he knew how.
Neither spoke for long seconds after they reappeared in the Enclave. Lois followed after Kilmartin as he headed through the cloisters and along a maze of corridors, heading for what, for want of a better word, passed as his office.
Once there, he gestured for Lois to sit down. She'd visited Kilmartin's room countless times before, but she suddenly felt as she had the first time she'd been brought here. She glanced around at the shelves crammed with ancient leather-bound books. Through the window set high in the wall opposite the door, she could make out the top branches of a tree, its boughs covered in the fresh green foliage of a temperate spring. Behind them, the sky was a perfect pastel blue, dotted lightly with tiny candy-floss clouds. In all the time she'd lived in the Enclave, she'd never known the season or the weather to change.
She'd been scared that first day, she remembered. She'd been confused and hadn't had even the remotest idea of what to expect of her new life. Kilmartin had put her at her ease, doing his best to reassure his newest pupil.
That had been then. This was now. And, somehow, she didn't think Kilmartin was going to ply her with tea and comfort this time.
In fact, from the looks of things, he was in need of comfort and reassurance himself.
Kilmartin sat down and sighed. Then he rubbed his face with his palms. And sighed again. Finally he said, "I've never seen anything like that before."
Lois waited, not knowing what she was supposed to say. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to say anything.
"I don't think I've ever even heard of anything like it. Even where Watchers have got involved with their assignments--"
He took in Lois's gasp of astonishment and said, "Oh, yes. It's happened before. It's rare, of course, but it does happen. You aren't the first and, I daresay, you won't be the last to get emotionally entangled with an assignment. However, I've never heard of a mortal gaining access to an angel's thoughts. In fact, I've never even heard of a mortal hearing a Watcher who doesn't want to be heard, even when they have built up some kind of relationship."
"What does that all mean?" Lois asked. "For the assignment, I mean."
"I'm not sure. One thing is certain, though. You can't go back. You won't be able to even get near him without him knowing that you're there. The question is, will anyone else? And what should we do about what he knows of you and us? We could blank his memory, but..."
Lois felt as though someone had sucked her insides out then put them back upside down. Nothing felt right. Everything felt unsettled and twisted.
She'd failed her first assignment. The one that every angel remembered and waxed nostalgic about. She should care desperately about that, but it paled into insignificance when she realised that Kilmartin was saying that she could never see Clark again.
That maybe no angel would ever be able to get near Clark lest he noticed them, too.
That nobody from the Enclave would ever be able to give Clark the help and comfort that he so obviously needed.
That Clark was perhaps beyond all angelic help because he was different to other mortals.
The implications of what Kilmartin had said chased each other around her head. She felt sick.
No! It wasn't fair! She would not allow it!
She was on her feet and Kilmartin was staring up at her. "What do you mean, you won't allow it?" he asked. "It's not in your power to prevent it." Only then did she realise that she had voiced her protests allowed.
"I..." She held out her hands in a helpless gesture. "We can't abandon him! I won't let it happen! I'll..." She had no idea what she'd do. No idea what she -- anyone -- could do. She slumped down on the seat and looked at Kilmartin. "He needs someone so badly. We can't just leave him alone."
"We may not have any choice," said Kilmartin gently. "Now, you wait here while I go and talk to my line manager."
*****
Kilmartin was gone for a long time. Or maybe it just seemed that way to Lois. She never had been able to adjust to the way time moved in eternity.
He looked sombre when he returned and, when he spoke, his voice was weary. "The Council wants to see us."
"The Council?" squeaked Lois. "The full Council?"
"Yes."
"What, now?" Some small corner of her mind noted absently that her words were coming out an octave higher than usual. The rest of her mind resorted to panic.
"Yes."
She must have really stuffed up if she was going to have to appear in front of one of the most powerful assemblies in Heaven. "They're that mad at me? They're putting me on trial?"
"It's not a trial," said Kilmartin. For someone who seemed to want to reassure her, he wasn't very good at it. He didn't sound as if he believed a word he was saying. "Archangel Marcus says it'll just be an informal inquiry at this stage."
"Archangel..." Lois's eyes grew round. If someone as prominent as Archangel Marcus was involved, this was serious. Had to be. This wasn't, whatever Kilmartin had been told and was trying to tell her, an informal enquiry.
No wonder Kilmartin didn't sound confident.
Rumour had it that Marcus had been a crusader in his youth. Lois didn't know whether that was true, but from what she'd heard about him, she thought it more than likely. According to gossip, Marcus lacked the quiet humility of some of his fellow councillors. He radiated power, confidence and leadership.
Whatever mercy he had in him was tempered with justice. By angelic standards, he was harsh, almost ruthless, in his judgments.
"Come along, Lois," Kilmartin said. "We'd better not keep them waiting. And bring your notes with you."
Lois took a deep breath, stood, and followed her mentor.
*****
The Chamber must have been designed to intimidate. Enormous and ornate, it was round in shape, with a high, domed ceiling. Every tiny noise bounced around so that, when someone sneezed, Lois couldn't begin to work out where the sound had come from. She felt terribly small and insignificant, and she felt very afraid.
Next to her, Kilmartin whispered, "Don't worry, Lois. You'll be all right." But his words were empty of anything other than compassion. Neither could quite bring themselves to believe that they were true.
They took their places in the centre of the chamber, facing the dais upon which the Council would sit.
Neither spoke. Neither could think of anything else to say. The seconds crawled by. The gallery seats filled. Lois wondered how come she'd never before noticed that angels were not immune to the lure of spectacle.
Then, finally, the Council filed in.
The Council was made up of the great and the good -- which, given that they were all angels, meant the greatest and the best that history had to offer. Lois was sure she recognised several saints.
Lois had never been one to feel awed by power, authority or celebrity.
She was awed now.
A reverential hush fell when Archangel Marcus took his place in the throne-like chair and opened the proceedings.
Lois tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry and her throat wouldn't work. Her palms were damp; she tried to dry them surreptitiously on her robes.
Marcus didn't need to call for everyone's attention. He already had it by the mere fact of his presence, so he began to talk without preamble. "This extraordinary meeting of the Council of Angels has been called to consider the activities of the alien mortal known as Clark Kent Superman.
"The Council has been concerned about the actions of this alien for a while now. For most of his life, he behaved like other mortals. He kept his differences hidden and used his unusual powers sparingly. However, two years ago, the alien began to operate more boldly."
Lois scowled and muttered under her breath, "His name is Clark. Not alien or mortal. Or even alien mortal. His name is Clark!"
Kilmartin softly shushed her.
"For this reason," Archangel Marcus continued, heedless of Lois and Kilmartin's exchange, "we recently asked that he be Watched. His presence upon Earth was an accident, and we wanted to know what impact his activities might be having upon on the Grand Design.
"At this early stage, all we wanted was for someone to Watch him. There should have been no contact of any sort at all, and the Council is concerned that Angel Lois overstepped her bounds."
A frisson of fear ran up Lois's spin and chilled her. Her scalp crawled. Here it came. The chastisement. The inevitable judgment. Lois had done wrong, and now she was going to be made to pay.
"While some sort of disciplinary procedure is undoubtedly warranted for her breaches of etiquette, that is not the purpose of this current inquiry. What we need to decide is how to put right the damage that has been done if, indeed, damage has been done."
What? She wasn't going to be punished? At least, not here and now? Lois turned, open-mouthed, towards her mentor.
Kilmartin got slowly to his feet. He looked every bit as perplexed by this unexpected turn of events as she was.
Archangel Marcus looked at him and said, "The Leader recognises Angel Kilmartin. You may speak."
"Thank you, Leader." Kilmartin sketched a little bow. "I seem to have been under a few misapprehensions, both about the assignment I gave to my trainee and to the purposes of this gathering. I wonder, then, if you might clarify a few matters for me.
"I will try," said Marcus.
"Thank you," said Kilmartin. "First, am I to understand that the Council was not at any time concerned for Clark Kent personally? That your only interest in him stemmed from your wider concerns with the Grand Design?"
"That is correct, yes."
"And the purpose of this current meeting is likewise primarily concerned with Clark Kent's possible impact on the workings of the Grand Design?"
"Yes."
"And nobody saw fit to mention this before? For example, when the assignment was originally posted?"
"Of course not. Why should we have done? The use to which material gathered by Watchers is put should not affect the collecting of that information. Watchers are detached and impartial."
"I quite agreed that they should be," agreed Kilmartin. "However, without information to the contrary, Angel Lois's assumption that she was to focus on Clark Kent and not on how his activities were impacting upon the world more widely was perfectly natural. That is, after all, the purpose of most assignments. And, seeing as the errors of judgement she made stemmed from her concern for him, the Council must surely also hold some measure of responsibility for the current situation."
Marcus stared at Kilmartin, their eyes locking. Lois watched the interplay with the same kind of sick fascination with which a mortal would watch a train wreck. She was impressed that Kilmartin held the Leader's gaze; she was sure that she would have collapsed under his unremitting scrutiny.
After a long few seconds, Marcus said, "I shall take your comments under advisement. But, just as we are not here to discipline your protégé, neither are we here to apportion blame."
"Perhaps not," said Kilmartin. "However, you must see that the concerns that Angel Lois noted with regard to Clark Kent's well-being stem directly from this misunderstanding. I suggest, therefore, that the focus of discussion should be broadened accordingly."
Again Marcus took a few seconds to consider Kilmartin's words. Then he said, "I won't promise anything. However, for the moment I will allow some leeway in the discussion."
Kilmartin nodded. "Thank you, Leader." He sat down.
"Angel Lois," Marcus said.
Lois reluctantly got to her feet. She felt her skin warm as hundreds of pairs of eyes settled on her. The last time she'd felt this self-conscious had been when...
Wow. That long ago?
If anything, Lois's embarrassment increased as she remembered the occasion when, aged twenty-three, she'd walked into the Daily Planet's newsroom only to discover that her senior partner, Claude Vantard, had not only stolen her story but had told the newsroom in the most explicit terms imaginable in what ways she had failed to satisfy him in bed.
"Please tell the Council what you observed while you were Watching the alien."
Lois cleared her throat nervously, then said, "Clark Kent is a good man. Caring and--"
Marcus held up his hand and interrupted her. "I did not ask for your impressions, Angel Lois. I asked for your observations. Stick to the facts, if you will."
What did he mean, stick to the facts? As far as Lois was concerned, it was a fact that Clark was a good man, honest, hard-working and kind. If that wasn't the kind of information Archangel Marcus wanted, then what did he want?
Lois's confusion must have shown, because Marcus looked at her and said condescendingly, "Tell us what he did and where he went. Consult your notes if you must."
Right. If facts were what Archangel Marcus wanted, then that was what she would give him. In full, glorious and tedious detail. For all the good it would do.
Lois opened her notebook with a pronounced flounce. Then she began to recite with painstaking exactness everything she had recorded over the last few days. After twenty minutes, however, even Marcus had had enough.
"Angel Lois, you might learn to show some selectivity in your reporting. The alien's shoe size is hardly relevant."
Lois suppressed a smirk, feeling that she had won a small victory. Perhaps deliberately antagonising the Leader of the Council wasn't the best idea she'd ever had, but on some level she'd enjoyed it.
Still... Marcus had a point. She was boring even herself.
Lois summarised the rest of her observations, concentrating more on Clark's actions than on his possessions or lack of social life.
Finally, she drew to a halt. She looked up from her notes to find Archangel Marcus looking at her with something approaching thoughtfulness on his face. Then he said, "Angel Lois. Do you have anything that you would like to add at this point in time?"
Lois looked around her. Then defiantly she said, "Yes!" The word came out louder than she intended, and it reverberated around the hall.
"Go on, then," said Marcus.
Lois forced her voice under control, and when she spoke again, her words were quieter, more suited to her surroundings. "Clark Kent does more good down there than the Hosts of us combined," she said.
Marcus slowly and deliberately raised his left eyebrow. "And is that your observation or your opinion, Angel Lane?"
Lois lifted her chin defiantly and said, "That is my opinion based upon my observations, Leader."
"I see. Anything else?"
"Yes. Clark Kent does great deeds. He believes in what he does. He's a good man. However, through no real fault of his own, he has become distanced from the humans he used to live and work with. He's isolated and alone. And, dare I say it, he's also lonely. And..."
"And?" prompted Marcus.
"And he's... bending. Nobody can survive unscathed under the kind of emotional pressures he experiences day after day. I saw him after the incident in Namibwe. He was devastated. And he needed someone to help him."
"Namibwe?" Marcus muttered quietly. "Oh, yes. That little incident was most unfortunate. However, thanks to the national and international outrage his actions provoked, I daresay President Rwinde will be overthrown in the near future. No lasting harm was done."
Suddenly Lois felt a surge of outrage. Bad enough that Archangel Marcus saw Clark as nothing more than an accident of fate, an inconvenience to be investigated in case he upset the Grand Design, but this... Was Marcus really so cold?
"No harm done?" she shouted. "No. Harm. Done? Four hundred people died down there. And Clark Kent was devastated because he couldn't prevent those deaths! And you say that no harm was done? Tell that to the victim's families! Tell that to the people who died! Tell that to Clark Kent!"
Marcus stared at her as though he'd never seen her before.
"I meant," he said, "that no ultimate harm was done to the Grand Design. Of course those deaths were regrettable. However, Rwinde will be removed. And life will get better for the people of Namibwe. The loss of a few hundred lives on that plane was tragic, yes. But think of the thousands of lives that will improve because of it."
Lois gaped at Marcus. "So that makes it all right, then? I don't think so, because I believe that all life is precious and all death is tragic. Life isn't an exercise in accountancy! Life and death is not a profit and loss account!" Then, more doubtfully, she added, "Is it?"
The thought scared her. Bad enough that she'd come across that kind of attitude amongst the suits at the Superman Foundation. How infinitely worse if similar attitudes existed here. Shouldn't every individual, alien or human, be as precious as the next?
"No," said Marcus, and, to her surprise, he sounded genuinely compassionate. "Life is not, as you put it, a profit and loss account. And the ultimate removal of Rwinde does not make everything all right. I'm sorry if I implied that it did. However, something positive will come out of this eventually. That is something, no matter how small, to be grateful for." He almost smiled at her. "Sometimes even angels have to look for silver linings in their clouds, Angel Lois. Life isn't fair and it isn't perfect, even here. No matter how much we try to make it so. No matter how much we want it to be. I am sorry if you took my attempt at optimism to be callousness."
Lois tilted her head on one side, suspending judgment for the moment at least. If nothing else, Marcus's words gave her a lot to think about.
"Now," said Marcus. "You were telling us about Clark Kent. You said he was bending, I believe."
"Yes," said Lois. "He needs someone to help him through when terrible things like that happen. He needs a confidante. He needs someone to hold him and to comfort him. It goes beyond his merely wanting someone to share things with.
"I find it hard to believe, just because he was born on another planet, that we shouldn't automatically give him the same level of care that we give to the natives of Earth. Clark Kent is an alien, yes, but he's also a person. A wonderful person, who cares deeply for the people around him. Don't judge him by where he came from. Judge him according to who he is and what he does for humanity.
"The world needs Superman. We -- the angelic Host -- need Superman, too. Think how much he does for us! How much he saves us having to do!
"And Superman needs... someone." Then, more softly, shyly and unable to stop herself, she said, "He needs me."
Marcus sat up straighter in his chair. His eyes narrowed. "Are you seriously suggesting, Angel Lois, that you should be made his Guardian?"
"No!" Kilmartin's voice, magnified by panic and fear, reverberated around the council chamber. "She doesn't know what--"
Lois twisted around and stared. The usually imperturbable Kilmartin had risen out of his seat and looked more shaken than she'd ever seen him. The colour had fled from his face and his eyes were round with something akin to horror.
"Please be quiet," said Marcus in a tone that made it clear his words were not a request. "I do not want to hear what you have to say at this time. This is a matter for your trainee alone."
"But she--"
"If you are not quiet, I will have you removed from the chamber!"
Lois watched as Kilmartin's discretion warred with anger. To her relief, discretion won. She had already created enough trouble for both of them. There was no need for him to create his own.
Lois turned back towards the dais.
"Well?" Marcus demanded. "Are you honestly saying that you would be his Guardian Angel?"
She could do that? After being told that she'd never be allowed to go back to him? This was unbelievable. It sounded too good to be true, tempting beyond words.
She could fell her heart pounding in her chest at one all-consuming thought. She would be able to see him again.
"Well, why not?" she asked with a defiant shrug. "Nobody else seems to want to help him, and it sounds good to me."
Gasps -- hissing intakes of breath -- broke out around the room and continued to echo around the dome long after silence had fallen among the crowd below.
Only Lois could hear Kilmartin's shattered whisper. "Oh, Lois... What have you done?"
*****
TBC
