Today had completely changed his outlook; everything from this morning was now different. He had a job, the Planet was reopening, he could fly, and Lois was working with him on the Luthor story. Even the knowledge that Inspector Henderson knew who he was couldn’t erase the skip from his step. He was desperately curious what Henderson wanted to talk to him about, and how he had figured it all out but could hardly go barging into the precinct, especially with the remnants of the cage being stored there.
He wasn’t sure if Henderson had been testing him, speaking so softly that he would need his superhearing to understand, or if he’d been reluctant to say the words, but as soon as he’d mentioned the cage, Clark had been overwhelmed with a flood of memories: the pain, the hopelessness, hearing his own screams echoing in the cellar, ringing through his ears. The memories had hit him like a physical force, making him stagger on his feet. If Henderson hadn’t guessed who his alter ego was before, Clark assumed Henderson would be more concerned after he’d almost collapsed in front of him. Instead, Henderson had given him instructions to return to the Jeep, and to meet him, as Superman, later that night. Clark had to resist glancing at the clock for the umpteenth time since he’d arrived home, despite it being early afternoon. Trying not to watch the minutes tick by, he observed Lois as she read through what he had on the bombing.
She lifted her head up after several minutes, and met his eyes squarely, before standing abruptly, the chair scraping on the floor. She took her half empty coffee cup to the sink, dumped it out, and made herself a new cup from what was in the pot. Clark waited, knowing she was on the verge of a verbal tirade.
“Were you ever going to tell me this?” She demanded.
Clark couldn’t answer her. Had the wedding continued, had Luthor survived, he doubted very much that he would have been alive to tell her. Even if he had escaped in time, the chances of him as either Clark or Superman being able to approach Lois Luthor would have been very slim. As he’d lain dying in the Kryptonite cage, he’d hoped that Henderson would act on all the information they’d unearthed. If he’d died, Lois hopefully would have been told the truth, and could have sought protection from Luthor once he’d been arrested.
“If Luthor discovered what we were doing, we would have been eliminated,” Clark said quietly as Lois glared at him. “I’m convinced, if Luthor found out you had any knowledge of our investigation, or his criminal dealings, he would not have hesitated to dispose of you too.”
“But that day, you told me to investigate. You already knew what he had done by then!”
“I was angry, and frustrated, and I potentially put you in a very dangerous situation. If that car had been bugged, if he knew you were looking at him suspiciously…” Clark swallowed. He’d been stupid, and had berated himself after for not checking the car first. As nothing had happened to Lois he assumed it hadn’t been bugged, and Lois was safe. “After that conversation, there was no way for me to talk to you without risking your safety, to warn you. I had to trust the police would use the information we had, and arrest Luthor. It was the only way to keep you safe.”
He watched as Lois’ eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Clark. I’ve been such an idiot.”
Clark stood, approached Lois, and after removing the hot cup of coffee from her hands, enveloped her in a hug, holding her as she cried softly into his shirt. As the sniffing ceased, and Lois began to pull away, Clark surreptitiously reheated her coffee with his heat vision, before handing it back to her.
“Lois, don’t blame yourself, it doesn’t help. I’ve been doing the same thing for weeks now. If only I’d insisted more, and earlier, maybe you wouldn’t have been hurt. If only I’d thought to look deeper into the Planet’s bombing right away, if only I had…”
“Ok, I get your point. But still…”
They needed to stop this never ending hamster wheel of guilt. The ‘if only’ scenarios would take over and neither of them would be able to move on. Clark needed to write this series of articles, just as much as he suspected Lois did, so they could both heal, and move past the traumatic few weeks. If they couldn’t get past what they could have done to help themselves and each other, at the very least their reporting wouldn’t be as great, and at the worst, their friendship and partnership would never rebuild.
“We can’t do this, Lois,” he said, sinking into the couch. “We can’t keep going around and around blaming ourselves for what happened…”
“I’m not blaming you,” interjected Lois, indignantly.
“I know you’re not. But I blame myself. If I’d put the pieces together sooner, Jack wouldn’t have been incarcerated as long, Jimmy wouldn’t have lost his apartment, you… you…”
“Wouldn’t have run off to LNN at the first job offer?” Lois stated quietly, joining Clark on the couch. “Clark, you know none of this is your fault. We were all redirected, distracted, and lost. I took a job offer, a job I never thought I’d see myself doing. Sure, it wasn’t bad at first, but there were issues. Shady researching, shaky sources, manipulative reporters, and I felt more and more uncomfortable as each day went by. Finding out I’d been fired was a shock, but with it, a huge sense of relief. Do you know where Jimmy’s stuff is?”
Clark, momentarily confused by the sudden change in the discussion, frowned. His frown deepened as he listed to Lois describe her encounter with the movers, finding out that Lex had pre-arranged for her apartment to be cleaned out while she was on her honeymoon. He watched as Lois stood, then paced, as she detailed her termination from LNN, including her discussion with Dave, the HR guy.
“In both cases it was Mrs. Cox,” Lois concluded. “I have a copy of the paperwork from the movers with her signature approving the expense, and Dave dug up the original paperwork for my termination. I don’t have a copy of that, so it’s my word against those at LNN, but she sent the instructions to end my job. Now, she didn’t do that alone. She was told to, and like a good personal assistant, did whatever her boss wanted.” Lois paused as she sank into a chair at the kitchen table.
“Clark, the blinders are off now. I know what he did to me, to my friends. There’s no loyalty or compassion left for Lex. I just want to tell the story, expose him for what he was, and move on with my life.”
Despite their working relationship and growing friendship over the last year, Lois had a carefully constructed wall around her, that on rare occasions, slipped. There had been a moment in front of the Planet where he had called her beautiful, and the look of complete surprise and delight from her had given him hope, and surprised him. After this rollercoaster week for both of them, Clark suspected her wall was in a pile of rubble around her feet. She’d wanted to talk to him earlier, was this the moment to talk to her? He was sure it was about the same delicate subject, the one they really hadn’t addressed yet, the conversation in the park. What should he say? Should he pretend that he’d only said it to stop her marrying Luthor? He cleared his throat as he hesitated and jumped when the phone rang sharply in the quiet apartment. He watched in dismay as Lois blinked, broke eye contact with him, squared her shoulders, and stood.
“That will be Henderson,” she said, in an abrupt tone. “If you answer it, I’ll go grab the cordless in your room.”
****
Henderson had been very forthcoming about details into the Luthor investigation; they’d been on the phone for well over an hour. Most of the information wasn’t new to Clark, though Henderson had a few more details, some that he couldn’t share yet, and promised to contact them as soon as any information could become available. After the phone call, he and Lois had easily made a great start on the first two articles that would appear in the new weekly edition of the Planet. Once Lois left, Clark had taken to the skies over Metropolis, finding a few small emergencies to help with, to the obvious delight of the first responders. He knew his disappearance over the last week had caused concern, hoping that the few reporters that he saw tonight would help ease some minds.
Reluctant to go home, he’d flown around the US helping wherever he could, before returning to Metropolis for 1am. He’d hovered over the old city building, waiting nervously, and when Henderson arrived on the roof via the fire escape, he landed, raising an eyebrow as Henderson let the door close behind him.
“Aren’t those usually alarmed?” Clark asked in his best, stern, Superman voice.
Henderson shrugged. “Usually.”
Clark peered through the door, surprised to find the door was latched properly from the inside. Henderson was now stuck on the roof with him.
“I hoped you could give me a ride back down,” Henderson explained. “I know how to disable that door for a few minutes, but thought we might be out here for a bit longer.”
Clark nodded in acknowledgement, unwilling to say more. Normally, he’d begin the conversation with a remark that implied Clark had passed a message along. With Henderson, he now felt slightly foolish to try, given that they both knew who was in fact standing on the roof. Instead, he waited.
“Are we being watched?” Henderson mouthed.
Clark glanced around, scanning for cameras, and bugs, before shaking his head. He took a few steps closer as Bill sat on some brick steps that had once led to a chimney.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to say earlier, or how to get hold of you,” Bill began. “Once we got it out of there, I had the guys cut it up into small pieces, no more than a foot each, and it’s in several boxes in the evidence lockup.”
Clark nodded his understanding. He knew what ‘it’ was, semi relieved that Henderson had gone straight to the point.
“What do you know about it?”
“It?” Clark queried, confused.
“The stuff it’s made from.”
“Very little. I’ve encountered it once before.”
“I’m not sure what to do with it now,” Henderson continued, holding something out to Clark.
Clark reached for it, and almost dropped it, recognizing the remote to the cage instantly. He could feel his heart start to hammer away as he turned it over, noticing the back had been crushed. For good measure he gave it a few blasts of his heat vision, feeling the panic start to fade. As he stared at the melted remote in his hand, he remembered Luthor dropping the cage from the ceiling. It hadn’t been until Luthor had powered up the cage that he’d felt the Kryptonite, suggesting it wasn’t made of Kryptonite, but perhaps painted or coated somehow.
“Lead,” Clark blurted out.
“Excuse me?”
“Put the pieces in a lead box, then I can take it away.” That first chunk of Kryptonite Wayne had given to his father for safekeeping had been in a lead box. Clark hadn’t felt a thing until his dad had opened the box. Even if the bars were inert without a power source, he didn’t want to take a chance.
“Ok, I’ll let Clark know when it’s ready?”
Relieved Henderson didn’t ask any questions where the remnants of the cage would go, Clark nodded.
“Well, that’s the pressing business taken care of. Why don’t you have a seat?”
Clark smirked and floated into a sitting position. At Bill’s eye roll, he laughed, earning him a rare smile from the consistently stoic Inspector. It was a rare moment for Clark. Here he was, sitting on a roof in downtown Metropolis, laughing in a very un-Superman like manner with the one person who knew who he truly was, other than his parents. Instead of fear, or the instinct to separate each identity, for the first time he felt free to be himself.
“Are you done showing off?” Bill drawled as Clark settled into his floating seated position. “I’m glad to see you’re looking well. I was… concerned.”
“I’m fine, I really…”
“I saw what was in that cellar, I saw you immediately afterwards, and later that day.” There was a long pause and Clark waited for Henderson to continue.
“My father was a Vet. The years he served he relived in his nightmares for the rest of his life. I’ve also watched too many good cops fight, and lose.” Clark watched as Henderson pulled a business card out of his pocket. “Here.”
Clark accepted the card, glancing at it briefly before tucking it into the collar of his suit.
“He’s good. Not local, but that’s not an issue for you. Deals with a lot of hostage related PTSD patients. Call him up, tell him I sent you. Don’t let this thing eat you up, make sure you talk to someone, even if it’s not him. Don’t bottle it up.”
Clark nodded, unable to speak, touched by the concern.
Henderson stood, walked past Clark, and after patting him briefly on the shoulder, walked to the opposite edge of the building. Clark ceased floating, and walked over towards him.
“This Luthor case…” Henderson paused, looking out over the city. “We’re turning up connections to cases we thought were closed, people are in jail for their parts in some of these cases, and we’re finding out now that Luthor was behind them. What did he have on these criminals that they kept their mouths shut when they were incarcerated, taking the fall for him?”
Clark shrugged. He’d wondered the same things himself, but wasn’t sure Henderson was looking for a conversation, or just asking rhetorical questions.
“He gave millions to various charities all over the US, especially here in Metropolis. LexLabs does most of the lab work for the hospitals around here, there’s emergency vehicles, and helicopters that bare his name because he gave the city the money to buy them, not to mention the various medical facilities. You go see the orchestra, or a play? You’re at the LexCorp Concert Hall. How about the new wing of the Metropolis Muesuem, the LexWing, housing the visiting displays, currently an art display that I took in myself several weeks ago? It was great, I particularly enjoyed the Group of Seven exhibit.”
Clark watched Henderson run his hand through his hair, more agitated that he could remember seeing the consistently unflappable Inspector. He kept quiet, giving Henderson space to air his frustrations, recognizing that this was likely the only time the Inspector would, to the only person he could.
“He almost killed you, and I have no idea why. You?”
Clark shrugged in lieu of a verbal response. It wasn’t a topic he wanted to delve into at the moment, maybe ever.
“Every time I look over this skyline, I wonder what else he was involved in, where else his money corrupted.” Henderson sighed, ran his hand through his hair again, and ceased pacing. “Of all the cases I’ve investigated, this one… this one… it hurts. This is my city, my home. I’ve spent my entire career here, trying to make this city a better place, and for what? For a power hungry, multi-millionaire, to run multiple illegal operations and commit all sorts of crimes under our noses.”
Clark stayed silent, pondering Bill’s words. He’d been wrapped up in his own thoughts and emotions, as well as Lois’, not expanding his view to those that Luthor had deceived: business associates, politicians and so forth. It wasn’t as though Luthor had a lengthy list of friends, but he did have beneficiaries, charities he supported, people that depended on him in one form or another.
“How do you do it?”
“Huh?” Clark was wondering if he’d missed something as Bill asked his question.
“I heard you were out and about today. How do you do it? Some nutcase manages to obtain the only substance, not commonly known, to kill you, and as soon as you’re recovered, you’re back out there helping people.”
“Same as you, Bill,” Clark responded thoughtfully. “I could no more ignore a cry for help than you could.”
This time, Bill shrugged in response. “I do what I can.”
Suspecting that Bill needed some encouragement, Clark continued. “I’m just someone with a few extra abilities, using them as best I can to help people. You’re the same. You’ve got skills that you use to help people too. As much as I get called a hero, I think you guys are the real heroes. The only difference is I can’t get hurt.”
“That and you can fly,” Bill remarked dryly, though Clark knew he was touched. “Speaking of which, it’s getting a bit cool. Can you give me a lift down?”
Once at the entrance of the apartment building, Henderson extended his hand out to Clark. “Thanks. I think we both needed that,” Bill stated.
Clark nodded in agreement, shook the Inspector’s hand, and after ensuring Bill was safely inside, flew off into the night, thinking. For the first time in his life, he’d had a conversation with someone, a peer, perhaps a friend, who knew who he was. Bill hadn’t asked any prying questions, and Clark hadn’t felt the need to ask Bill to keep his secret. It felt incredibly liberating, and gave him hope that some day he could share his identity with a few select others. He grinned at his thoughts as he lazily flew once more around Metropolis before calling it a night and heading home.
****
Clark took his time flying to the farm on Sunday evening. The weekend had been full and he was glad to have some time to think as he flew lazily around the summer storms that dotted the prairie skies. His parents were expecting him sometime this evening, he hadn’t been too sure when he could get away as there had been several emergencies earlier on, plus being able to get out of his house without Jack and Jimmy asking too many questions had been challenging. Thankfully, Jack had redirected Jimmy fairly efficiently, leading Clark to consider having a conversation with Jack sooner rather than later. The young man clearly could keep his mouth shut, and while Clark was convinced Jack knew his secret identity, perhaps confirming it would put his mind at ease… or not. He was undecided.
He and Lois had easily completed and submitted the first in their series of Luthor articles, and finished the second piece. She’d pushed to finish the second so he could enjoy his week in Kansas, and not have to worry about flying back just so they could complete it. He’d wanted to tell her it wasn’t an issue, but she had already insisted on driving him to the airport that evening, he didn’t want to risk having her question the cost of flying back and forth to Kansas every week.
The airport ride had been thwarted by Ellen Lane, to Clark’s surprise. While Lois was in the bathroom the phone had rang, and Clark, expecting it to be Perry, had answered. He’d been on the end of a verbal tirade from Mrs. Lane wanting to know where Lois’ so called friends had been during the wedding disaster, when Lois, returning from the bathroom, had wrestled the phone from his hands, and calmed her mother down. With Ellen placated by informing Lois she’d be over shortly, the conversation had ended, and Clark had assured Lois he was fine for the evening. It turned out the spa Ellen had been staying at was in reality a rehab facility she had used before. Lois explained that growing up, she and Lucy had frequently referred to their mother’s trips to rehab as the spa, mostly to keep prying people out of their business while they were younger. During the wedding aftermath, and the panic her mother had been in to get away from the snooping reporters, Lois hadn’t been able to ascertain which kind of ‘spa’ her mother had gone to.
Clark was glad that Lois and her mother could clear the air this evening, and relieved he wouldn’t have to come up with a reason that he didn’t have luggage at the airport.
As he approached Kansas he reflected on the last harvest at the farm. He’d helped his dad with the wheat harvest, then packed a suitcase, and relocated to Metropolis, never imagining how much his life would change. He’d hoped for a good job, new friends, and a place to call home. Never would he have dreamed of being partnered with the spitfire that Lois was, writing for the best newspaper in New Troy, and moonlighting in red and blue spandex.
It hadn’t all been good, he remembered grimly. The cage continued to haunt his nights, though less frequently as the days passed. Henderson had been shockingly swift in arranging for the remnants to be secured and released to him, and last night he’d hurled the lead boxes through the Earth’s atmosphere, watching as they burned brightly until completely disintegrating. As awful as the last few week had been, Luthor was no longer a threat to him, Lois, or the citizens of Metropolis.
Lois.
She was the best thing to happen to him in the last year, and he’d almost lost her. Now, with their friendship reviving, he promised himself he would treasure it for what it was, despite his longing for more. She had made her feelings known and in the last week they hadn’t broached that subject. Clark was content to leave it that way and not dredge up unpleasant memories and invite awkward conversations just yet. However, he reluctantly remembered as he touched down on the farmhouse porch, Superman couldn’t get off the hook that easily. He would have to apologize, preferably before he would inevitably have to rescue her.
Spinning into his comfortable clothes he opened the door, content. He’d almost lost everything in that cellar. He wasn’t going to take anything for granted anymore.
“Mom! Dad! I’m here,” he announced as his parents rushed to embrace him.
****
The final chapter! Thank you for reading. Comments and feedback are always welcome
here. 
