22
“Yessir. That is correct. The treaty outlines all of these points we just reviewed, and both sides have the full support of myself, the United Nations, and NATO.”
I stand tall at the front of the large, brightly lit conference room, my arms crossed over my chest. My iconic blue, red, and yellow suit contrasts starkly with the muted colors worn by the other men in the room, effectively drawing their attention toward me. Representatives from the Syrian government and the rebel forces as well as Russian officials nod as they flip through the folders in front of them, reviewing the terms of the peace treaty prepared by the UN General Assembly.
I sneak a quick glance at the clock on the wall. My jaw tightens as I fight exhaustion—not physical exhaustion, but mental exhaustion. For the last five hours, I’ve been communicating with these powerful, stubborn leaders, sometimes switching among three languages and constantly having to carefully measure each word I say, manage my facial expressions, and hold myself with complete confidence and poise. And I’m tired. But I hear murmurs of approval throughout the room. The leader of the rebel group stands, his gaze shifting around the room. His dark eyes land on me, and he holds his head high as he speaks in heavily accented, but clear, English.
“Mr. Superman, on behalf of my people and what we stand for, I thank you for mediating for us,” he says. He takes a deep breath and lifts a pen into his hand. “I will be the first to sign this accord. This shall usher in a new era of peace to Syria, which we hope will continue to spread throughout the world.”
He scoots his chair back out of the way and moves to the front of the room, where the master document sits on the table in front of the President of the UN General Assembly. He signs his name on the document and then nods to me and returns to his seat.
“Thank you, sir.”
I carefully maintain a straight face as his first step is followed by the Syrian and Russian Ministers of Defense, who each also stand and sign the document. All three men then shake hands, first with each other and the President of the UN General Assembly and then with myself. I thank them again in their respective languages, and they begin to exit the room. After a few more minutes of discussion, peppered with many words of gratitude from UN representatives, I am escorted out of the room as well and down the wide corridors of the Russian Parliament building toward the entrance.
As we step out into the bright mid-afternoon sunlight, crowds of people gathered outside the Parliament building chant “Мир, а не война” — “peace, not war”. Hand-painted signs with similar slogans and phrases are scattered throughout the gathering, and I hear shouts of “Thank you, Superman!” in English, Russian, and Arabic. With a final nod to the men escorting me out and a wave to the crowd, I raise myself up into the air and fly off to the west, toward home.
I take a deep breath for the first time in several hours as I fly along at a leisurely pace across the Atlantic Ocean, the Sun now at my back. I speed up slightly as the eastern seaboard of the US comes into view, my earlier exhaustion forgotten.
And a smile grows on my face as I realize I can still make my morning run with Lois.
This is looking to be a great week.
23
And it is. Superman’s work on the peace talks is very well received around the world, and I feel a renewed sense of hope from the people I help on my daily patrols. The Kents head home on Tuesday after we share another meal, this time at Lois’s favorite Thai restaurant, and Lois and I interview Lex Luthor at his penthouse in New York on Wednesday. Thursday and Friday are relatively slow news days, allowing us to make progress on our investigation into Luthor and Intergang, and Superman gets a much-needed break from any major rescue efforts until Saturday morning, when a heavy rainstorm hits the region. I am forced to skip my run that morning to clear traffic accidents all along the east coast, which Lois doesn’t mind, since she is not terribly fond of running in the pouring rain.
Mid-morning on Saturday, after I’ve worked several hours as Superman and the highways are now mostly clear, I land on the roof of the Daily Planet building and hurry down the stairwell to the third floor, spinning into my regular clothes. The rain still pounds down outside, and I am thankful I was able to avoid getting soaking wet on the short flight from my apartment. I push open the door to the newsroom and adjust my glasses as I scan the room for Lois. With a grimace, I see most of my colleagues, including Lois and Jimmy, exiting the conference room, and I recall Perry had scheduled an important staff meeting for that morning. Lois looks up from her conversation with Jimmy and smiles tightly at me.
“Kent, there you are!” Perry White’s voice booms over the commotion from the crowd exiting the conference room, and I turn my head abruptly toward the sound as I jog down the ramp to the bullpen.
“Yessir. Sorry I’m late, sir, I—”
“Oh, no problem, Kent. Lois told me you were out covering the pile up on Highway 57 with that overturned 18-wheeler,” Perry says, pushing his glasses up his nose.
He motions me toward his office, and I glance sideways at Lois as I follow. She shrugs at me and continues toward her desk, a folder in her hand. Although I certainly appreciate the secret identity thing, which I didn’t have on my world, I do sometimes miss just having everyone understand why I randomly disappear or miss meetings and not having to worry about coordinating stories to explain my disappearances. I trail behind Perry and into his office. He shuts the door behind us and then moves around to the other side of his desk and sits heavily. I notice for the first time that he looks exhausted—dark circles under his eyes suggest he hasn’t slept well in several days.
“Mr. White, sir, is everything okay?”
He runs a hand through his thinning hair with a deep sigh.
“Well, son, that depends on your definition of ‘okay.’ Actually, well, you see, Alice, she, uh…well, she left me last night, Clark, and I, well, I’m not really sure what I’m going to do without her, son.”
“Oh, wow, Mr. White, that’s terrible, sir,” I stammer, not really sure how to respond. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
Perry shakes his head and then takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose.
“Nah, son, I just have to figure out how to win her back, you know? I—I can’t imagine my life without her.” He gets a faraway look in his eye, and I remain silent as I let whatever memory he’s reliving play out in his head. A moment later, he blinks several times, and deliberately replaces his lost, lonely expression with his more typical look of impatience and sternness. “Now, that’s not why I needed to talk to you, Kent. So, now, look, son, I got a call this morning from a publisher friend of mine, and well, she made a pretty strong offer.”
His words don’t make much sense to me, and I hesitate, waiting for a better explanation. When it doesn’t come, I swallow anxiously and ask, “Offer for what, sir?”
“Right, sorry. A book. They want you to write a longer and more detailed memoir of your journey to New Krypton with Superman.”
He pulls a page out of his notebook and hands it across his desk to me. Confused, I take the page and then lower my eyes to his messy handwriting scribbled at the top of the page. My eyes widen in surprise.
“This has to be wrong. One million dollars? Mr. White, that’s…”
“That’s just the advance, Clark. They expect more than double that in royalties after publication, son.”
He gives me a sort of crooked, knowing smile, but I shake my head. It’s not right. I can’t make money off the tragedy of his death. No chance. Money or not. Unless… I swallow hard and raise my eyes back to Perry.
“Sir, I-I have to speak to Lois about this. I…I have to—I mean, when do they need an answer, sir?”
“What’s to think about, Clark? You’d make millions of dollars. You and Lois could be set. Son, don’t underestimate the benefit of financial stability in a relationship, trust me on this one,” he insists, settling back in his chair and watching me carefully. “Elvis once said—”
“Mr. White, thank you for this,” I interrupt him, holding up the page with the offer. I fold it up and stuff it into my pocket. I’ve heard several of his Elvis stories in the last month, and while I appreciate his concern, I’m really not in the mood for a lecture right now. “But I can’t make any decisions without consulting Lois first, sir.”
“Ah, well, you’re right about that, son. Okay. I’m sure they can wait a few days for an answer. Sharon—her name is Sharon Anderson. Her number is on that page.” He points toward my pocket. My hand still grips the paper, and I nod in acknowledgement. “Give her a call when you make your decision.”
“I will, sir,” I confirm. “Thank you, sir.”
I turn and exit the office, quickly scanning the room to locate Lois. She sits at her desk, typing furiously on her computer. Her head is tilted to hold the phone between her shoulder and ear, and she periodically nods and mumbles into the receiver. Although I’m not deliberately using my superhearing, I understand tidbits of her conversation—she is talking with her sister Lucy, and my name comes up, along with the words “please stop asking” and “none of your business.” I tense as her body language shifts from relaxed and joking to irritated; the tone of her voice changes, and her mouth tightens in a frown. Her eyes narrow, and she stops talking abruptly as she notices me watching her. She turns away from me, and I hear her mutter, “I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.” She hangs up the phone as I approach her desk.
“Everything okay?” I ask casually.
She tucks her loose hair back behind her ears with stiff, rigid movements and ducks her head. Her heart hammers in chest, and her breathing is quick and uneven. I settle on the edge of her desk and try to stay calm as I await her response. Have I upset her in some way? My hands clasp nervously in my lap.
“Yeah, yes, everything is…” Her voice trails off, and she lowers her eyes to the desk, where her fingers fiddle absently with a paper clip. “We need to talk, Clark.”
“O-okay, sure, yeah, uh—” I twist my head and peer over the top of my glasses through the wall to the conference room. It is empty. “The conference room is free.”
She nods, stands, and takes my hand as she weaves through the maze of desks toward the conference room. Her hand feels warm, her skin smooth and soft. Not distracting at all. Nope. I push away those thoughts as I follow obediently, my hand holding hers tightly, and we enter the conference room together. She releases my hand and closes the door behind us, then turns toward me stiffly.
“Clark, I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up,” she blurts out.
Her eyes brim with tears, and her lip quivers slightly. Confused, I reach out toward her and take her hands in mine. She is shaking now, and I gently pull her in closer to me.
“Keep up what, Lois? Tell me how I can help,” I say quietly.
She doesn’t answer right away; instead, she collapses into my chest, her arms reaching out and wrapping around my waist underneath my jacket. I return the embrace and rub her back with one hand as I murmur softly into her ear. However, she suddenly shakes her head and pushes me away.
“This, Clark. I…I can’t keep pretending that you’re him anymore. You look like him and act like him and feel like him and even smell like him. But you’re not—you’re not him, and I miss him so much. And, I just—I just…”
I stand perfectly still and listen to her. She’s started to pace the room, her hands motioning animatedly as she talks. I wonder what Lucy said to her that set her off. Then I realize that is the wrong way to look at it. She’s held herself with so much poise and confidence for the last month, but she is still hurting, still grieving.
I question, as I often have in the last four weeks, whether we’ve done the right thing by pretending to be a ‘happy couple.’ I wonder whether maybe she would be better off if we stage a ‘break up’ so she doesn’t have to be constantly reminded of what she can’t have by being forced to act like I am her loving, doting fiancé.
But I have been selfish; I crave her closeness too much. I mentally kick myself.
She stops abruptly, her back to me, and wraps her arms around herself almost protectively.
“Lois… I’m so sorry,” I say.
I feel a strong urge to comfort her, and I step toward her, my hands reaching out and gently touching her shoulders. When she doesn’t flinch away, I allow myself to move closer. My hands slide down her arms, and she turns toward me and once again buries her head in my chest. I embrace her and let her cry into me. She needs me as much as I need her, I think. But I can’t presume this is what she wants.
“I’ll do whatever you need, Lois. If…if you need me to move away, give you space, I…I can continue working as Superman without staying here as Clark. If—if that’s what you want and need. Just tell me.”
She raises her chin from my chest, and our eyes meet. Hers are slightly puffy and red from crying, but filled with sadness and longing. She shakes her head weakly, and a wave of relief washes over me.
“No…” Her voice is shaky, and I can feel her struggle as her eyes study mine. Finally, she closes her eyes and leans forward into me, her forehead resting on my cheek. “No, you can’t leave. I need you to be here. I… It’s just so overwhelming at times.”
She lifts her eyes to mine again, and I see her confusion and uncertainty, mirroring my own feelings. I wish I could comfort her.
My hand reaches up of its own volition and cups her cheek, my thumb wiping away a stray tear. Then, inexplicably, an odd sensation fills my chest, and my vision blurs briefly as a bright light seems to momentarily engulf me. A painful ache spreads across my sternum, causing me to inhale sharply, and I feel his sudden presence, which is so strong that it nearly pushes me back a step.
Then, I panic silently and watch helplessly as I lose control over my actions.
My hands slide down her bare arms and back up again, stopping when they reach her shoulders. My right arm then lowers and curls around her waist, tugging her closer to me. There is a familiarity in how our bodies fit together—the curve of her breasts and hips, how my hand rests at the small of her back, how her knee edges between my legs. My left hand drifts back up to her face again, and I caress her cheek tenderly.
“Lois. My lovely Lois. God, I’ve missed you.” His thoughts overpower my own, and I scream silently,
No, no, no! Her eyes widen as I lean in toward her and brush my lips against hers. Her lips are warm and inviting, and the sensation spreads through my body like a flame.
Incredible. I almost allow myself to enjoy the experience of kissing her. However, my mind screams at me again.
No, no! What is happening? I try again to pull away, but I cannot overcome his will. The kiss deepens, and I hear her moan as my tongue enters her mouth, tasting her. Coffee and chocolate. And something uniquely Lois.
God, this feels good. No. This is wrong. Kal, please stop! Rather than listen to me, he grows stronger, and his feelings of love and longing amplify even more as the pain in my chest also increases. My hand on her cheek slides down her neck and shoulder before joining my other hand on her back, and her arms wrap up and around my neck as she moans again and threads her fingers through my hair.
Oh, God. In the history of kisses, there cannot have ever been another kiss that felt this good. My arms tighten more around her, pulling us even closer together.
But this is wrong. Kal! Clark! You’re not here—get out of my head!I finally feel a slight hesitation in him, and his hold over me falters just enough for me to regain control. Carefully, so I don’t hurt her, but decisively enough to avoid allowing him to overpower me again, I push myself away from her and move to the other side of the room. I breathe heavily from the effort, and my chest still aches, the pain radiating from the center of my sternum…where that dangerous black blade had pierced into him in the visions I’d had. My hand clutches at my chest as the pain begins to subside, and I look up abruptly at her. Her eyes are wide, her lips full and red from the kiss.
God, that kiss.
I almost lose my control again, but I force him back somehow. I swallow hard and shake my head as she lifts her hand to her lips, an expression of disbelief and confusion in her eyes.
“Lois, God, I’m so sorry. I-I—that wasn’t me. I don’t know what—it wasn’t me,” I stammer. My right hand reaches up and shakily adjusts my glasses. Her mouth opens to speak, but no words come out, and she turns away from me for only a moment before spinning back
around.
“No, it—it wasn’t you,” she repeats, her voice trembling. Her eyes study mine intensely, and I fight the urge to look away. She inhales sharply, and a tear slides slowly down her cheek. “It…it was…him. It was him, Clark. How was it him? Oh, God, what just happened?”
Her hands reach up and cover her face, and my jaw clenches as I turn away from her and run a rough hand through my hair.
“I-I don’t know, Lois. I—”
I stop suddenly as a crazy thought lodges itself in my mind. I swallow hard, close my eyes, and do something I’ve not ever tried before. I deliberately reach out to him. Almost immediately, I feel the same strong, aching pain in my chest as I had earlier, and bright, warm light surrounds me. I feel confusion, desperation, and fear.
And a strong, steady heartbeat.
My eyes fly open, and I spin back around to face her.
“L-Lois, w-w-what did they do w-with—with…his…body?” I can’t help my stutter now. She narrows her eyes at me for a moment, and I hear her heart rate increase substantially.
“What?” She trembles as she speaks, forcing the word out. She backs away from me a step.
“I’m sorry, Lois, I wouldn’t ask if it—if it w-wasn’t important. P-please, do you—do you know?”
She lowers her eyes to the floor, and I grimace. This isn’t fair to her. But if I’m right, she will understand. If I’m right, she will be made whole again. If I’m right, I will have to… No, actually, I don’t want to think about that right now. She takes a deep breath and crosses her arms over her chest.
“The Sun,” she answers, her voice quiet and unsteady. Her eyes do not meet mine. She turns away from me. “They took him to the Sun. I didn’t want…” She sighs and then clears her throat. “Last year, we had someone try to make clones of Superman using a lock of hair he donated to a charity auction. I…I didn’t want that to happen again, so I asked Zara to—to take his body to the Sun rather than bury it here.”
The Sun… Of course. That explains a lot—the bright light, the warmth, and of course, the healing of a supposedly unhealable wound.
I raise my eyes to the ceiling and look through the walls of the building, through the pouring rain and layers of clouds in the sky, across the open emptiness of space, toward the bright yellow star at the center of the solar system. Although I can’t see as far as I need to, I sense him again; his mind is disoriented, particularly after his brief moment of controlling my body, and when he feels my presence, as I have been feeling his for these last four weeks, he sends out a strong, clear request.
“Please help me.” I inhale sharply and take an abrupt step backwards as I close my eyes.
This is really happening.
God. “Lois, I need you to meet me at your apartment in about fifteen minutes,” I say, unconsciously deepening my voice.
I open my eyes and look toward her. She has turned to face me, but she stares at her hands, which clench and open several times. She then lifts her sad, dark eyes to meet mine, and I silently plead with her to agree. She just nods mutely.
“Thank you. Although, if you want, I can just fly you there first and then, I’ll—”
“No, I’ll drive,” she interrupts curtly. Her eyes drop to the floor.
The walls are back up around her heart. I carefully control my reaction to her rejection. She doesn’t understand. Hopefully, she will soon.
“Okay, sure, of course. Please drive carefully. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I give her a weak smile, which she doesn’t return, and then get moving. My mind races ahead of me, and I focus on the heartbeat in the Sun.
His heartbeat. I shake my head and hurry toward the stairwell, ignoring the strange looks from my colleagues as I move at a pace slightly faster than a jog. No, she can’t understand what is happening. Hell, I don’t really understand it. But I can feel that it’s real.
He’s there. Waiting for me to help him.
And he’s alive. Somehow. He’s alive.
As I push open the door, I quickly scan the stairwell to ensure I’m alone and launch up the stairs as I spin into the suit. Then I burst out of the door to the roof and straight up into the sky, toward the Sun.
24
I’ve known for a long time that the Sun is the source of my powers. But this. Wow. Nope, I never knew this.
Energy. Power. Strength. All building up inside of me. I feel more full of life than I’ve ever felt before. And the intensity grows the closer I get to the huge yellow star.
My vision abilities are also amplified, and I can scan ahead through the Sun’s layers, although I am still millions of miles away. My focus narrows to the location of his heartbeat, still steady and strong, and I find him. His thin, pale body, curled up in a fetal position, floats in dense gasses measuring millions of degrees. He is still and unmoving in his unconsciousness, but as I reach out to him with my mind, he shifts slightly and groans. An intense pain fills my chest as he wakes, but I ignore the sensation and push myself faster toward him. Within only seconds, I close the final million miles between us, passing through the outer layers of the Sun, and stop next to him.
Intense light and heat surround us, and my skin starts to glow as I absorb the immense power. It feels incredible.
His eyes open briefly, but he doesn’t seem to see me as much as he feels my presence. He turns slightly toward me and opens his mouth as if to speak, but then flinches and groans in pain again. I reach toward him and grasp his shoulder carefully, aware of my increased strength. A wave of pain flares through me, and I almost pull my hand away. It is then that I notice the angry red scar on his sternum, about four inches long and an inch thick. I swallow as I feel Lord Nor’s sword pierce into my chest. I shake my head and try to block the vision. The pain pulses one more time and then subsides, and I exhale sharply.
Are you ready to go home? I direct my thoughts toward him. But he has drifted back into unconsciousness and does not respond. Uncertainty suddenly fills me, and I scan his injuries, revealing recently healed bones in his ribcage and sternum and regenerated heart muscle and lung tissue in his chest cavity. Despite the pain he feels, his injury appears fully healed.
Carefully extending my protective aura out around us, I remove my cape and wrap it around him. I then lift him into my arms and turn back toward Earth. With my newly enhanced senses, I can actually see as far as Metropolis, even from ninety-three million miles away.
Lois navigates her Jeep about three blocks from her apartment. I see her hands shaking on the steering wheel and a tear falling down her cheek, and I hear her ragged breath and incoherent mumbling as she blinks back more tears. She’ll be home in a couple minutes, and I want to be there when she gets there. I reinforce the protective aura around him, knowing that as soon as we leave the Sun’s radius, he will no longer be protected from the vacuum of space. And then I fly.
Miraculously, we cover the distance from the Sun to the outer atmosphere of Earth in less than a minute, and I realize with a start that we’d been traveling at several times the speed of light. Impossible, right? I’ll have to revisit that fact later. My college physics professor would never believe it.
My doppelganger remains unconscious for the duration of the flight, for which I’m happy. It is bizarre enough to see him this close and to carry him through space. I glance down at him as I slow to re-enter the Earth’s atmosphere. His face is nearly identical to mine, though his hair is shorter, almost in a military-style cut, and dark circles surround his eyes. And his skin is pale, his cheeks gaunt. Even in his unconscious state, I feel his confusion and distress, and I see the tension in his jaw.
I take a deep breath as we reach Metropolis. The rain has eased, at least momentarily. Lois pulls up to her building and stops the car abruptly.
Perfect timing, I think, slowing further as I descend toward the unlocked window of her apartment.
I keep one ear focused on her as she exits her car and jogs up the stairs to the building, and I push open the window and land softly in the living room. My slight glow from my bath in the Sun brightens the dimly lit, quiet room, and I move toward the bedroom slowly, watching as his chest rises and falls unevenly with his first breaths of air in about a month. He coughs and then groans, but still doesn’t wake. Behind me, the deadbolts to the front door unlock. I carry him down the hallway and into her bedroom, stepping lightly over her bathrobe and slippers, which lie on the ground at the foot of the bed. Keeping the cape carefully tucked around him, I set him gently on top of the lavender comforter covering the bed. I hear footsteps coming down the hallway, and I pull my arms out from under his unmoving body and push myself up to stand as a gasp breaks the silence.
I swallow hard and step sideways to give her room to see him. She stands in the doorway, both hands covering her mouth, and her eyes shift from him to me and then back to him again.
“He-he’s—he’s alive?” she asks shakily, taking a tentative step into the room.
“Yes,” I answer simply.
I back up another step and motion to her to come closer. She tries to move toward him, but her knees give out. Immediately, I am by her side, my arm supporting her around her waist. I help her over to the bed and don’t release her until she is sitting safely on the edge of the bed next to him. His breathing has stabilized now, and his lips are slightly parted as he sleeps. A trembling hand reaches out toward his forehead, but she pulls it back before touching him, and she turns to look at me.
“H-how, Clark? How is this possible?”
I just shake my head. I have no idea.
I mean, I
know the Sun healed him. But even that shouldn’t have been possible.
A tear slides down her cheek as she turns back to him and reaches out again. This time, she doesn’t hesitate, and she softly caresses his forehead as he stirs slightly and grimaces. His movement causes the cape to shift downward a bit, revealing the scar on his chest.
“Oh, my God,” she whispers, almost to herself. Instinctively, she reaches out toward the blemish, and my stomach lurches as I imagine the pain he’ll feel when he wakes. Pain which I have felt myself.
“Lois, wait.” My voice remains low, but firm, and I step a bit closer. “It’s very painful for him still.”
Her hand freezes above his chest, and she pulls it away and raises her eyes to mine, worry filling her expression. She nods and holds my gaze for another moment before turning back to him. Carefully, she leans over him and places a gentle kiss on his forehead. He seems to settle deeper into the mattress, and the tension in his jaw eases slightly, but he still doesn’t wake. I lower my eyes and step back toward the doorway again. She speaks to him in a quiet voice, her fingers softly brushing his cheek.
“Clark, I’ve missed you so much. I love you. Please be okay.”
He shifts on the bed, groaning slightly as he moves. But again, he just relaxes into the bed, mumbles to himself, and sighs as he sleeps.
“I’ll go make some tea,” I suggest quietly. Lois nods and sniffles, then twists to look at me, a weak but hopeful smile gracing her face. I smile tightly back at her.
“Thank you, Clark,” she murmurs.
I tip my head to her in acknowledgement, and she smiles before turning back to him and lowering her lips to his forehead again.
I exit the room and walk lightly out to the kitchen, where I pull out her teapot and start the water boiling on the stove. While the water heats, I quickly spin out of the suit and back into my work clothes, minus my suit jacket, which I fold and hang over the back of one of the chairs at the table.
The glow of my skin has faded, but there is a slight redness to my hands still, and I turn them over a few times as I study this change. It doesn’t hurt. In fact, I still feel the increase in my strength and senses. I absently wonder if the ‘boost’ the Sun provided me is permanent. Then my thoughts shift back to my current predicament, and I sigh as I settle with my back against the counter.
He’s home. He’s alive. And I’m very happy about that. It’s incredible, in fact. But I selfishly can’t help wondering where that leaves me…
I recall the visions I had where he fought against the enemy army, eventually reaching the top of the hill, where Lord Nor waited for him. Although I know he’d fought it at first, in the end, he’d given in to the inevitability of war and violence. He’d stopped trying to negotiate peace without loss of life. And he’d killed. Efficiently, swiftly, and without hesitation. I also remember his overpowering feelings of guilt, self-hatred, and self-loathing.
And because of this, I realize, he may never be Superman again.
The teapot whistles on the stove next to me, and I shift around to remove it from the heat as I shut off the burner. I add the tea leaves to steep and then look up toward the hallway as I hear Lois’s footsteps approach. She emerges from the hallway, her arms crossed over her chest, and her eyes meet mine. A soft smile, one I haven’t seen from her before, grows on her lips as she crosses the room toward me. I pull two mugs out of the cupboard and set them on the counter.
“He may sleep for a while,” I say quietly, pulling a chair out for her at the table.
“This is unbelievable, Clark. I…”
She sits at the table and nods a quick thank you to me, then lowers her head into her hands for a moment.
I sit next to her and tentatively reach out to rub her back. She turns her head and smiles at me. Again, I see a genuineness in her expression that has been missing the whole time I’ve known her. I expect to feel sad with the realization that I haven’t made her truly happy, despite my best efforts. However, seeing her smile now warms my heart.
“I’ve been feeling his presence for a while, actually,” I admit. My hand stills on her back as she tenses slightly. I shake my head and add, “I’m sorry I didn’t mention it, but I really thought I was just a bit crazy, and I didn’t want to upset you… I read in his journals that Kryptonians could communicate telepathically, but I’d obviously never experienced it before.”
“Ah, I guess that’s true,” she says. “I-I’m so glad you figured out what was going on.” She pauses again and smiles, her hand reaching up to brush against her lips. “Wait, so, that kiss earlier… How was that him? Telepathy is one thing, but…”
Her voice trails off, and I feel my cheeks flush as the kiss replays in my mind now. The feel of her lips. The smoothness of her skin. The subtle taste of chocolate and coffee when my tongue explored her mouth. The perfect fit of our bodies. I duck my head.
“I’ve felt his presence most when strong emotions are involved,” I start, feeling a need to explain everything to her. “I think he sensed that you were upset through his connection with me, and he sort of overpowered me. It was…disturbing. I couldn’t talk or move. I’m really sorry—I-I hope you didn’t think—”
“No,” she interrupts, moving her hand to cover mine. “It was definitely him. I know that’s weird to say, but as soon as you touched me, I knew. I felt him too.” Her eyes suddenly widen, and she blushes fiercely. “Did you—you said you couldn’t move, but you felt everything, didn’t you? Oh, God, Clark, I’m sorry!”
I drop my gaze to the table to avoid her eyes, and I nod weakly as I pull my hand away from her back. In an attempt to redirect the conversation, I add, “I think that effort was draining to him though. He is exhausted.”
“You can feel that now?”
I nod. “Yes, if I try to. But I don’t want to disturb him. He should rest.”
I stand up and move to the counter, where the tea still steeps. I strain the tea leaves and pour us each a cup. It is the same mix of Oolong and chamomile that I prepared for her the first night we met. She is quiet as I set her mug down in front of her and then sit again, and we both sip our tea as the silence grows. After a few minutes, I raise my eyes to watch her. Her fingers are laced delicately around the mug, which she holds up to her lips. She blows on the hot liquid, then closes her eyes as she takes another small sip. I lower my eyes again.
“I, uh, should go back to my apartment—err…his…apartment…”
Oh, God, that’s right… What am I going to do? My voice falters, and I screw my eyes shut briefly as I consider the implications of him being home again. If he can’t be Superman, but he can be Clark Kent, does that mean I have to be Superman only, all the time? Where can I live? How will I work to pay rent? I shake my head. Not now. I can’t worry about all of this right now.
“Um, I mean… I’ll go get him some clothes and things. I guess we have to talk about—”
She reaches over and places her hand on mine again, and I look up at her sharply. She has a kind, understanding smile on her lips. Her beautiful, full lips. The lips that kissed me earlier. I swallow hard.
“Clark,” she murmurs, squeezing my hand. “Nothing changes right now, okay? It’s your apartment—that’s fine for you to say. We’ll figure things out in time. Right now, there is no rush. Okay?”
She understands me, as always. She knows my mind is racing with questions. She knows I’m anxious about it all. And she knows how to reassure me. I nod in response.
“Clothes, though, yes—if you can get him some, that would be great. I think—”
“Breaking news! We are hearing now that a nuclear meltdown is imminent at the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant in Fukushima, Japan, a region hit by strong storms earlier today.”I push my chair back and stand up abruptly. I know this disaster. It happened last year on my Earth. And I almost hadn’t shut it down on time since I had no idea what to do. I step back from the table and spin into the capeless suit, frowning as I come to a stop. Lois raises her eyebrows at me.
“There’s a nuclear meltdown about to happen in Japan. I’ll be about an hour, maybe less. And I guess I need to stop and get a new cape first.” I grimace as I turn in a circle. “I feel almost naked without the cape. It’s kinda weird.”
She laughs and stands up with me.
“A nuclear meltdown? Is that dangerous? For you, I mean.”
The hint of concern in her voice surprises me.
“No, I’ve dealt with this before on my Earth,” I explain. “At least this time, I’ll know what to do. It was a bit stressful last time. I’d better hurry. I’ll grab clothes for him and lunch when I come back. If that sounds good?”
She nods and steps closer to me. A long sigh escapes her lips, and she smiles at me again as she wraps her arms around my waist for a brief hug. My eyes close as I allow myself to feel her comforting touch again.
I hope this is not the last time.
God, please don’t let this be the last time.
She pulls away and backs up a step.
“Be careful, Clark.”
I give her a tight smile and nod, then launch off out her window, to my apartment to grab a new cape, and then half-way around the world to cool the overheating nuclear reactor core. As I land in Japan and head straight into the reactor building to freeze the fuel rods and prevent the meltdown, I feel him awaken, disoriented and in pain. The stabbing ache in my chest almost stops me in my tracks, but I manage to continue on with just a controlled grimace. A moment later, I sense she is with him, and his mind settles as the pain in my chest disappears abruptly.
I take a deep breath and blow freezing cold air over the primary containment unit for the fuel rods. Similar to what I had encountered last year on my Earth, I see that a crack has formed in the steel of the reactor vessel inside the containment unit, and I know I must work quickly to seal the crack while keeping the temperature low. Focusing carefully, I blow more freezing air on the containment unit while at the same time welding the steel of the cracked reactor vessel with my heat vision.
It is then that I hear his voice in my mind, much clearer than ever before.
“You brought me home to her. There are no words to express my gratitude. The best I can do for now is thank you, Clark. I look forward to meeting you when you get back from Japan.” I don’t falter as I weld. Timing is critical. However, I can multitask. I respond by projecting my thoughts directly to him.
You’re welcome. And I look forward to meeting you as well. And then I feel our connection close. He is conscious and aware enough to manage it now, I realize. Which hopefully means no more random bouts of intense chest pain for me.
I finish the weld and continue cooling the reactor core with my freezing breath. The alarms sounding throughout the facility stop as my efforts successfully lower the temperature of the fuel rods. I back away from the primary containment unit and inspect my work. A few more steps to finish before I can head back home. I clear my thoughts and refocus on my task. Almost done.
