[Chapter 4: Suspect]Reports of gunfire from within the Metropolis Police Station had spread quickly, and soon those listening in on police coms knew Superman had arrived and that the threat, whatever it was, was now dead.
Within minutes, the media hurried to the scene, although answers remained elusive as the police locked the entire area down.
Listening to her police scanner at her desk, Lois jotted down notes beside her half eaten lunch and cold coffee. A report of a child being injured came as a hazmat team announced they were en-route, and then word that the minor required no aid soon followed. The conflicting reports, while normal in developing stories, were particularly frustrating, but for Lois it was even more so, especially when it had sounded as if a doctor from the Foundation was there.
“Look!” Jimmy shouted, pointing at the T.V. screen.
Lois frowned when the news reporter on the television turned as three police cars left the station parking lot with lights and sirens blazing. The camera focused on the cruisers passing by, and immediately a person the entire world could recognize was within view.
The man was reclined back and his eyes were closed, but his hair, face, and cape-covered shoulders were unmistakable. The few seconds the camera had captured was more than enough.
Superman was in the back of the second police cruiser.
Lois gasped, and she knew she wasn't the only one who noticed how unwell he looked.
The reporter fumbled for a split second, before verbally repeating what he had seen.
What on earth had happened?!
She was very tempted to rush down to the Foundation, but knew she would be better off staying at the Planet and that going would not help her learn what had happened. If anything, it would hinder her because the area around the Foundation would likely be swarming with reporters by the time she arrived, just as the police station was at that moment. She could try calling his cell, but that seemed risky. If he was unconscious, what would she do if someone other than him answered? Granted, everyone there knew they were friends, and she was on his short contact list. However, what if they needed to focus on him? Potentially distracting them felt very unwise.
With a heavy sigh, she refocused on the police scanner, which then stated the National Guard was on its way to secure the transport of the body.
What?
How was that not overkill?
But then she stilled as her thoughts went to Nor. Had he sent someone to try to hurt or kill Kal?
She felt sick.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed.
It was the Foundation.
She clamored out of her chair and bolted for the empty conference room, all but slamming the door behind her before locking it.
"Hello?" she asked, her heart thundering in her chest.
"Hey, it's me," Kal said.
His voice sounded strained to her ears but the fact he was awake and talking made her sag in relief.
"Oh, thank G-d! I was so worried when I saw the news. Are you okay? What happened?!" she asked, gripping the phone so tightly that it was a good thing she didn't have super strength.
"I'm okay, or will be," he said with a quick correction. "As for what happened, Nor sent an assassin. Melissa. . . . She was there for a school project when Bill caught onto the assassin, and when the assassin ran . . . he threw her
through a wall! That monster–" Clark grit out before he took a deep breath. "It was bad, Lois. Very bad. I almost didn't–"
"But you did, right?" she asked, wanting to stop him from going down a path he didn't need to travel.
"Yeah. I did. It was close, too close, but I healed her," he said, and she could hear him releasing some tension.
"Is your aura . . . ?"
"I held it together, somehow. I threw up, but I'll take that over the alternative," he admitted.
"You threw up?!" Lois asked, surprised.
"Surprised me too. Bernie is not missing an opportunity though," Kal said, exasperated, and Lois wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or cringe.
"Don't tell me. He's already planning tests," Lois deadpanned.
She loved Dr. Klein for what he did for her husband, but sometimes he was a bit too weird.
"Several. I'm just hoping he doesn't want more samples cuz he's going to be disappointed," he said.
Lois laughed before refocusing. "But you're okay, right?"
"Bernie has me under all the lamps they have," he assured. "I'm already up to 96 degrees."
"How low were you?" she asked.
"I don't know, but when Bernie arrived, I was 93," he said.
After Nightfall, he had dipped to 85 degrees. Although, when he had been in Spain, after tearing his aura, it had been 93.
"If it makes you feel any better, Bernie is watching me like a hawk and he said he won't let me leave until I'm at least 98," he said, as if reading her mind.
His normal was 100.4°F.
“Good. Is he with you now?” she asked.
“Well . . . no. I asked him to give me a moment after I sort of . . . slipped.”
Lois blinked. “Slipped?”
She didn’t know how, but she was pretty sure he was blushing. She knew he was nervous due to the sound of his voice.
“I cut myself off in time, but I’m pretty sure he suspects I have a girlfriend now since there wouldn’t have been a reason to attempt to correct myself otherwise.”
“What did you say exactly?” she asked.
“ ‘I need to call my – uh . . . my parents,’ ” he obediently recited. He even included the startled inflection as he caught himself she imagined he would have had.
“Yeah, that’s pretty obvious,” she stated with a wince.
“Yeah. . . .”
“Well, is it all that bad for him to know you’re seeing someone?” she asked.
“No, of course not, but we hadn’t really discussed it and I . . . well, isn’t it something we should have discussed before I pretty much spilled the beans?” he asked uncertainly.
“Well, yeah, but it was an accident, and it’s not like you’re hiding what had happened,” she pointed out. “And this is Dr. Klein. You told me you trust him with your life. That pretty much means you trust him with mine, right? Now, I’m not saying to tell him
everything but I don’t think it’s all that bad that he knows you’re hitched now, do you?”
She knew she was babbling now, but considering what had happened before he ‘spilled the beans’ she felt she was allowed to be a little frazzled and could excuse his slip that was ultimately also caused by the assassin’s attack.
He exhaled. “Oh. No, I suppose not. You’re right.”
“It sounds like you were more concerned about this than being a target of an assassin,” she stated.
She narrowed her eyes and wasn’t sure if she should be amused or insulted. She was certainly exasperated.
“Am I scarier than that assassin or something?” she suddenly asked.
“What?! Of course not! The assassin was hideous! You’re nowhere near as scary!” he quickly declared.
“So I’m not as scary as an assassin?” she asked.
He paused for a long moment. “. . . It almost sounds like you want to be scarier now.”
She didn’t reply, now wondering if she should mess with him.
“A little, okay?” he admitted.
“A little?” she questioned, keeping her tone flat.
Not being within range of his aura certainly gave her the advantage here, she decided, now grinning.
“But that’s a good thing!” he stressed.
“So I’m 'a little' scary?” she asked.
“To me, yeah, but to the world you can be the scariest thing there is,” he clarified.
Dang his super-hearing. He heard right through her tone.
“You’re dang right I am,” she decided, throwing him a win.
“It’s why I love you,” he added. “Well, one of the many reasons.”
She basked in his love.
“I love you too,” she said, sighing in contentment before her thoughts returned to what she had been thinking about before he had called.
“So Nor did what Zara had warned about?” she asked softly.
“Yes. The assassin called me Kal-El and made it pretty clear he was there to try to kill me,” he said.
“Do you think there will be others?” she asked.
“I don’t know. From what I know of Nor, I don’t imagine him giving up easily, although if the new government of New Krypton is worth anything he should be stopped soon, if he hasn't been already. Granted, he could have arranged back-up assassins when he had hired the first, so even if Nor is handled by Zara and Ching, there might be more. In either case, we’ve updated Burton and the UN about what has happened. And I'll send a message to Zara soon, but it'll take some time to reach her.”
“Do you think they’d be able to do anything?” she asked. "Burton and humanity in general, I mean."
“The police were doing a fair job on their own by the time I arrived, if I’m honest. They likely would have taken him down on their own within the next five minutes. There probably would have been more people hurt, but they would have done it. I hate to say it, but hopefully, if there are any others, they will be just as vulnerable to bullets as this one was,” he said. “But Burton is working on some things as well, as you know. Just in case.”
“The world will be as ready as we can be,” Lois agreed. “But I think I should let you rest now. I can hear how tired you are.”
“Alright.”
“Do you think you’ll be home tonight?” she asked.
“I think so. I’ll try to be. I would really rather sleep at home,” he said.
"Me too. You, at home, with me, I mean."
He chuckled. "Yeah. I know what you mean."
With that, they bid each other goodbye, and for Lois it was just in time as Jimmy started pounding on the door.
The Foundation was about to make a statement.
O o O o O
Clark left the Foundation under his own steam that evening. He was still pretty tired, and a little sore, but he had convinced Bernie that he would recuperate faster at home.
He ignored the amused and intrigued look Bernie gave him as he left, and Clark accepted the likelihood that Bernie would fail to completely hide his curiosity about his 'lady friend' the next time he saw him.
He supposed it could be worse.
And it wasn't like people couldn't know he was in a relationship. It would certainly be nice to be no longer 'available'.
He knew he would eventually tell the world, but he wanted to space it and his marriage to Lois out as much as possible while being as vague as he could get away with.
Let people assume he was merely dating for a while, and then admit later of being married without specifying when that actually happened. That way there was no way any correlation could be made with his actual wedding or his relationship with Lois.
He smiled. It was a good plan, and he was looking forward to discussing specifics with Lois.
But right now he really just wanted to rest.
He landed on the back balcony of their suburban home and quickly closed the door behind him. Spinning out of his uniform, he was sorely tempted to immediately fall into bed, but the smell of food coming from downstairs snagged him.
He extended his senses.
“Clark?” Lois called.
He heard her coming up the stairs.
“I’m here,” he said, turning to the door as it opened.
She entered with a tray of steaming food and a bottle of wine. His eyes widened in surprise.
“What’s this?” he asked with a smile.
“How do you feel about having dinner in bed?” she asked.
He grinned. “That sounds great,” he said, easing onto the edge of the bed as she approached.
“Go ahead and take off your shirt. As soon as you’re settled, I’ll turn on the sunlamp,” she said.
He did as she said without question.
“I wasn’t sure when you’d be home, so I placed the plates in the oven to keep the food warm. I hope things didn’t dry out,” she said, glancing at the lasagna in some concern.
“It all looks amazing. Mav tried to get me to eat, but nothing sounded appetizing then, though I’m hungry now,” Clark admitted, getting into bed the rest of the way.
She beamed. “I ordered it from Vetri Cucina. I know you love that place.”
She set the special bed tray on his lap and then hurried to the lamp.
"Do you want this on max?" she asked.
"Probably just medium, since you'll be eating with me, right?" he asked. "I don't want to give you a sunburn."
"It'll mostly be on you, but I can always put on sunscreen," she suggested.
"I think medium is fine. To be honest, Italian food and the smell of sunscreen don't quite go well together. Especially not today," he said sheepishly.
"Do you still feel queasy from earlier?"
"I'm not sure, but adding in intense, chemical smells with my senses right now. . . ."
"Alright, medium it is. I can always increase it later," she decided, turning it on.
He relaxed under its rays and she watched in satisfaction. Nodding to herself, she went to the door.
"I'll be right back. I'm going to grab my tray and a movie," she said. "How does the movie, Clue, sound?"
"That sounds perfect," he said.
A few minutes later they were both cuddled up in bed, enjoying a very fancy Italian dinner as they watched the movie.
"This is really nice," Clark said as he finished off his plate. "I'm curious, what made you think of this?"
"Well, you're always bringing us home amazing meals, so I wanted to have a go,” she said, shifting off the bed and gathering their trays. “And beyond that, you've had a hard day. I can baby you, can't I?"
"You can do whatever you want," he said, putting his fork down, smiling as he briefly extended his aura around her.
She sighed contentedly and put the trays on the side table out of the way before climbing back into bed to continue watching the movie, now while cuddling up against him.
"I'm glad you're okay," she said after a moment, now not really watching the movie.
"I'm sorry I scared you," he said.
"I heard the statement from the Foundation. I'm glad they're not identifying Melissa," she said, not wanting to dwell on what had happened to him. What could have happened to him.
"Me too. There's no reason to reveal that to the public," Clark agreed. He closed his eyes. "I didn't tell anyone how bad it was. And I'm so glad no one was brave enough to ask."
"From how you sounded on the phone and now, I think I understand. No one would have been able to help her. No one except you," she said.
The movie now merely background noise to her, Lois pressed herself against his side and trailed her hands over his bare skin, silently encouraging him to relax.
He didn't need much encouragement as she began to massage him, and soon his aura fully enveloped her as she kissed along his neck and collar bone.
He hummed softly, melting under her touch.
"Just enjoy," she advised as his aura shivered in anticipation.
O o O o O
"Thanks," Bill said, taking the soda Clark offered.
"Things going okay?" Clark asked.
"Yeah, all things considered," Bill said, happy to be in a secluded corner of the restaurant. "I get back to work tomorrow. They had offered to extend my leave if I needed, but Melissa is ready to return to school, and there's really no need to postpone that. We took her to the family doctor and later a psychotherapist." He took a deep, calming breath. "She's perfectly fine. Physically better than she has ever been. She has no scars, and her ankle, which she broke in third grade, has lost every sign of it ever being broken. Emotionally, she's doing better than Donna and I, and while there's been a few nightmares, the therapist says that's to be expected."
Clark nodded in understanding.
"The Foundation has communicated with us, and Superman's doctor even called and spoke with Dr. Lopez, her doctor," he added.
"Wow," Clark said, relieved things were as good as they were.
"Yeah. The Foundation sent all the information they had learned from the other individuals Superman healed, which was reassuring."
"Oh?" Clark asked.
He knew Dr. Klein had reached out, and, while he had ultimately answered a few questions concerning Melissa's grievous initial condition, he hadn't been privy to specifics on what Klein had done with the information.
"Melissa was the most serious . . . patient, I suppose you could say, that has been healed by Superman – and the youngest. She was also the only person he's healed since his aura recovered. I guess Dr. Klein wasn't sure how that might impact things.
"But anyway, we'll be taking Melissa in for check-ups every three months. They don't expect there to be any issues, but they want to keep track of her vitals, growth rate and development in case anything has been impacted."
Clark's eyes widened. He hadn't thought of that.
"So she feels just like she did before though?" Clark asked.
Bill grew still. "Well . . . she has commented on flavors and smells being slightly stronger, and some other sensory things, but that's it."
Clark blinked.
"We're not sure what to make of it, but considering how many colds and such she had as a child, maybe her sinuses were healed too!" he said with a chuckle.
Clark smiled, relieved there was nothing to be really concerned about.
He couldn't know Bill's relief, but he knew his own. He wasn't sure how he would have handled it if he had failed to save her, especially because she had been hurt by a monster who had been after him.
Indirectly or not, being the reason anyone was put in harm's way was already hard enough.
“I wonder if Kal has returned to the precinct yet,” Bill said after a moment.
“Oh, uh, I haven’t seen him there,” Clark said, technically saying the truth as he tried to hide his surprise.
"I can't believe that some people expressed outrage over him healing," he continued, and Clark didn't need his aura to know Bill was disgusted as he added, "Some people are despicable."
Bill suddenly smirked. "But Kal's response to that one reporter's question was epic, as usual."
Clark inwardly grimaced. A few days after it had all happened, and right after a minor rescue, a reporter had asked him how he felt about critics 'expressing concern' and about some even dishing out scorn over his healing of a minor while refusing to heal children with cancer or grievous conditions.
Clark had responded . . . .
.
.
"So you're telling me there are individuals who find issue with me healing a child about to die directly in front of me because I didn't heal children a few months before who are receiving treatment for their serious ailments and are in the process of obtaining more specialty care with the help of my organization?" he asked.
He couldn’t prevent the anger that spiked within him, and only later learned he wasn't completely successful in preventing his eyes from faintly flaring red for a fraction of a second.
The reporter slowly nodded, probably wondering if he should have worded the question a little differently as the camerawoman held her breath. A crowd, as usual, began to grow a distance around them.
Kal continued, forcing himself to calm. The reporter was just asking a question, and, really, asking an uncomfortable question in a respectful way was better than being silent. After all, it was best to be offered a chance to face things directly and sooner rather than later.
"I appreciate you bringing this to my attention, as those ‘expressing concern’ have not shared their thoughts with myself, my Foundation, or even to the U.N. to my knowledge. But that aside, I must admit I can't honestly say I care too much about the opinions of people who pass judgment on others while not knowing the full story and who likely would have been just as vocal if I had allowed a child to die in front of me or, worse, would have preferred that simply so I would have appeared more 'consistent'."
The reporter swallowed but, credit where it is due, didn't waver as he kept the microphone as still as he could in front of Superman. He was a professional and Clark respected that. He went on.
"I try, and will forever attempt to try, to make the best decision in every moment I am in a life or death situation. I'm not above critique, I'm not perfect, and I want to be called out if I do something irresponsible, but the lack of compassion and good faith by those 'expressing concern' in this instance, perhaps believing I'm playing-god, is so disappointing though not surprising.
"I wish I could do more than I do, and sometimes I even doubt myself. Could I have arrived sooner? Was there another way I should have reacted? 'What if I…?' 'Could I have…?' 'Should I have…?' These are questions that can make you go crazy. They can continue forever, but because I want to be able to continue serving the world, I have learned to stop myself from being swallowed by such thoughts. After many sleepless nights, I have learned to accept there is only so much I can do. Otherwise, I will be no good to the people of Earth and will have to stop being Superman.
"I healed that child because I was there and knew there was nothing anyone else would be able to do, even if they were there. So, I made a split-second decision, deciding the risk to myself was worth the chance to save them. Was it the right decision?" He shrugged. “I think so. They’re alive and I recovered before too long. Perhaps in time, if I really get a handle on my aura, I’ll try to help those in less dire situations. Until then, I’ll continue to weigh the risks and try to make the best decision I can in whatever situation I’m in. If people don't like it, too bad.”
He took a deep breath and glanced at the crowd before looking back at the reporter who had just received a far more in depth reply than they had likely expected.
"I hope that answered your question."
.
.
Looking back, Clark wished he had worded things a little differently, but in the end he supposed it hadn’t been a bad response. The public immediately rallied around him and many who had voiced criticism reconsidered their stance, a few even legitimately apologizing.
Clark didn’t really dwell too much on the aftermath. He knew he would never be able to please everyone, and in the end it ultimately only came down to whether or not he knew he had done all he could in a given situation. People were allowed their opinions. Even ones he didn’t like or agree with.
O o O o O
Lois could not believe the condition of the building she was walking through.
The water damage was substantial. The leaks had been throughout the structure, resulting in the baseboards becoming warped and discolored.
She was wearing a respirator and had already sworn to herself she would take three showers when she returned home.
“Wow, this is awful,” she muttered to herself as she took a picture. “No wonder it’s condemned.”
The building was barely three years old, but it was the fourth like it in the city – that she had found so far. The construction company, Haner Construction, she had been investigating had built it. Like the other three buildings she had checked over the past month, the primary issue was the shoddy plumbing, and she suspected it was coupled with questionable wiring. A different building had partially burned down the month before, built by a Haner subsidiary.
The only reason why no one had died was because of Kal.
How there wasn't already a formal investigation encompassing more than one building was also a story in itself. She now suspected the corruption did not stop at a handful of inspectors and contractors.
The progress on the investigation was going slower than she would like, but reading through city records required time and cross examining pertinent information demanded diligence on top of more time. She had plenty of diligence, but not time. Between the normal stories she was reporting on and life in general, the remaining time was what it was. Little.
But she would continue digging. Hundreds of people had been directly impacted by this greed and she wasn’t going to let the people responsible get away with it. She had already presented the evidence she had to Mayson Drake, but she was holding off on taking it to the city officials because too much of it could be considered circumstantial – particularly in regard to the people involved. They also had to be careful because they didn’t yet know who else was linked to the company.
Fortunately, Mayson was working her magic to get a warrant to obtain bank statements and the like. Hopefully with that, more links would be made and Justice would soon follow.
She left the building and called a taxi after stuffing her respirator into her backpack.
A few hours later, she was home and in some fresh, clean clothes, enjoying much deserved chocolate. She wondered when Clark would get home so they could spend some . . . quality time together.
She smirked. However, before she could continue down that vein, she was startled by a thought.
They had not been all that careful the last few times in the bedroom. For the first few months after their wedding, they had been extremely cognitive of making sure to use protection, but not lately.
What if she got pregnant? Were they ready for that? Was she? What if she already was?!
She stilled and felt sick. She wasn’t ready to be a mom! What if she became her mother?! She did not want to bring a kid into the world to grow up in that environment!
She shook her head. She couldn't let herself think like that. She was not her mother. And Clark was nothing like her father.
He would eat kryptonite before cheating on her.
But what if she was pregnant?
She frowned as something else came to mind.
Could she get pregnant?
Could they even
have a baby together?
The interview Clark had given as Superman before they were married instantly came to mind.
.
.
"And having children?"
"I hope it will be possible, but if not, perhaps adoption. Of course, such decisions will be made with my wife, but either way, I'll be open to whatever is available to us," Superman said..
.
He had no doubt thought about this more than her, and now it was time for them to really begin the conversation. They had briefly discussed it of course, but it had always been in a distant sort of way.
She suddenly felt uncertain, nervous, as she thought about how she would start the conversation, but before she could think on it more, she heard him land out back and enter.
“Hey, Lois,” he said, entering the kitchen to find her almost done with her chocolate fudge.
“Hey,” she said, suddenly numb and raw all at once and she didn’t know why.
He tilted his head and she felt his aura brush against her before it wrapped around her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“It’s silly,” she started.
“Is it?” he questioned.
She sighed, knowing there was no point trying to deflect, and at least he had given her an opening. “I just realized something, and, well, I suppose we should talk.”
Confusion and concern trickled through his aura.
“Okay,” he said slowly, taking a seat across from her at the table.
“We haven’t really been using protection lately . . . you know?” she began before hastily adding as his eyes widened, “I don’t think I’m pregnant! But I just . . . well, that thought sort of just led to other things.”
He straightened after calming his initial reaction of shock, wonder, and . . . was that disappointment? Other emotions soon followed before settling on uncertain curiosity. She was both relieved and overwhelmed by how his aura gave her a window into what he was thinking and feeling. At times it was extremely useful, but at other times it was all she could do to identify what was his and what was hers.
“What did you think about?” he asked finally.
She took a deep breath. “Well, after briefly fretting over imagining myself turning into my mother, I realized we don’t even know . . . I mean, is it even possible?”
Clark stilled, and a whirling mix of hope, trepidation, and longing rose.
“I don’t know, but I could ask Dr. Klein?” he proposed.
She nodded, reassured that they now had a plan.
O o O o O
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