[Chapter 2: Communication]Fire and smoke roared up and out from the middle of the multi-story high school, and the lack of wind was both a blessing and a curse. While it prevented the fire from spreading as quickly, the black billows pouring from the windows just encapsulated the structure further, choking those trapped within. The fire crews were working diligently, spraying water down from the fire truck ladders into the broken windows.
Superman x-rayed the structure, quickly finding clusters of teenagers barricaded in two rooms with their teachers, all on the floor, trying to stay beneath the smoke. The hall on the other side of their classroom doors was engulfed in smoke and much of the roof there had collapsed, bringing down burning debris with it. The teacher had been correct to keep the door closed.
He scanned the rest of the school, finding they were the only ones still within and determining that the cause of the fire had likely been a gas explosion, due to the severity of the damage and the lack of evidence for other causes.
His eye quickly located the fire chief, who was directing efforts on the ground outside, before he shot down and landed beside the man.
"Chief! There are twenty-six students and a teacher near the heart of the fire on the second floor in a classroom. I’m going to cut in through the east walls to get them out and bring them to that parking lot. Then I will return to blow out the fire and smoke directly. While I get them out, please make sure everyone is clear of the structure!" he directed, speaking loudly to be heard over the din around them.
The chief nodded and Superman disappeared in a blur.
Breaking through the walls, he made it to the first classroom within seconds. Extending his aura, he began zipping them out of the building three at a time in a bear hug, knowing his aura would enable him to go far faster than he had ever dared to go with anyone two years before, let alone three at once.
In less than a minute, all of them were out, unharmed.
He didn't pause as he returned to the inferno and blew it out before whirling around the building and siphoning all the smoke up to disperse high in the atmosphere.
With the fire and smoke extinguished and cleared, he reentered the school and opened the storage closet to find one of the main support columns leaning slightly with a cracked water line beside it spewing water everywhere.
Glancing along the I-beams supported above, he decided against moving it back because it would likely disrupt things further, but he could at least take care of the waterline.
While normally he would just close the shut-off valve, the crack was unfortunately further up the line, so he resorted to an alternative solution.
Using his right eye, he focused a red beam of hot power on the crack while squeezing the pipe with his hands to bring the serrated edges together enough for them to be welded.
It took him a little longer than he was used to, but it still worked, and at least this time his left eye hadn't gotten uncomfortably warm.
With that done, he quickly dried himself and went out, landing beside the fire chief in the frigid air.
"That was awesome!" several students exclaimed as more voices followed and overlapped.
"I can't wait to tell my dad!"
"His aura is unreal!"
"It's epic!"
"And his eyepatch is so cool!"
"Shhh, he might hear you!"
Kal had his back to the teens a dozen yards away and looked at the chief, who was trying his best not to laugh. Kal smiled, amused as well.
“The fire is out. Does anyone need to be transported to the hospital?" Kal asked.
"No, there were a few with some smoke inhalation but they just left to Metropolis General," the chief said, clearly relieved the injuries had been limited to that.
"Okay. I did a quick scan of the structure and I suspect the fire was caused by a gas leak from a line in the ceiling to the third floor chemistry lab,” Kal explained. "The support beams are holding, but I don't think it's all that safe to enter without stabilizing equipment, especially the main column near the north stairwell. That area took notable damage, along with the waterline there. The pipe had cracked, but it's closed now."
"Could you show me?" the chief asked, before quickly adding, "But, please, only if you have time."
"Sure, it's no problem," Kal assured, glad to see an example of a first responder treating him like they occasionally had before and willing to make requests of him.
"Thanks," he said, before talking into his radio and giving the teams an update as well as getting the ball moving on obtaining the equipment the city would need on site to begin an investigation. He then grabbed a can of spray paint before indicating he was ready.
Walking away from the crowds and exterior cleanup efforts, the chief and Kal entered the school. They made it to the damaged section before too long, sloshing through the pooled water and charred debris.
“I see what you mean. That will definitely need to be reinforced before more people enter here,” the chief said before popping the lid off the paint can and giving it a shake. “Do you see where there’s issues with the support beams?”
Kal nodded and began pointing out the weak areas of the ceilings and walls as they continued.
“Alright, that’s all the questionable supports I see,” Kal said as they came to the end of the hall and stopped, side-by-side.
"Thanks again, Superman. I don't want to imagine how this day would have gone without you," he said, before clapping his large hand on Kal's back in gratitude.
Time slowed.
And it was as if, in that moment, Kal had two minds, two bodies.
One was at ease, happy at the human contact. Ever since the New Kryptonians, to have anyone casually touch him while in the suit was rare, and before that it had never been common.
However, the other side of him didn’t feel the connection to humanity, didn’t sense the man’s gratefulness, or even the warmth of his hand.
He felt pain. Remembered pain.
It shot up along his spine from his center and to the place of contact. Just how it had felt in that abandoned factory in the desert.
He flinched hard with a pained gasp, barely restraining his desired reaction, which was to scream. In a blur, he shifted a foot away from the experienced fireman, suddenly breathing heavily as he closed his eye. He braced his hand against the ash covered wall as he went down to one knee, forcing himself not to think back and instead to concentrate on the dry, charred wall against his fingertips and the damp floor beneath his knee.
Somehow, he stayed upright, but the pain held for a long moment as his other hand pressed against the center of his chest in an attempt to calm his racing heart.
Finally, the pain went away and he opened his eye to stare at the floor.
“Those monsters really did a number on you, didn’t they?” the chief asked, his empathetic voice soft and without judgment.
Kal swallowed, peripherally finding that the man had knelt down to his level but had kept his distance. He glanced over at him. "I'm sorry."
"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touc–"
"I want people to, though," Kal interrupted, even as his breaths continued in quick gasps. "I need contact."
Slowly, he stood up.
The fire chief rose and remained silent for a long moment, staring at him. Finally, he spoke.
"I have a few good, trustworthy friends in the other departments, not just in other firehouses. Police, paramedics, even hospital workers. If you wish, I can let them know to initiate contact with you when there's not a lot of people around, or whatever you would prefer."
Kal's eyebrows went up. "Thank you. I'd appreciate that. I'm working on this at the Foundation and with a few other people. A number of the volunteers know what I'm doing and why. This is actually the first time I've . . . reacted. Since waking, I had known it was a possibility given the situation so I've been trying to ensure it won't become a bigger problem."
The chief nodded in understanding. "I think those earlier efforts helped you here. I've seen consequences of unaddressed trauma. I'm glad you're being proactive. Anyway, I have twelve people in mind. Is that okay?"
"Yeah," he said, now standing straight and breathing normally.
"Okay. I'll contact the Foundation once I've talked to them."
"Thanks."
"Honored to help. And you know, I could also give you their pictures once I talk to them so you can initiate contact yourself as well. Of course, if people see you initiating, they will be more apt to do the same - but since that’s what you want, that’s the way I’d do it. Many people don't know that you're okay with being touched, let alone want it. You can appear physically aloof at times, if I may be so bold."
Kal blinked. "I never thought about it like that. I've just been so afraid of scaring people I've restrained myself. Not that I'm a hugger like my mom, but. . . ." He shrugged.
The chief laughed as they began to head out of the school. “Our moms would probably get along then.”
Kal chuckled. “Probably,” he agreed, bringing his hand up and gripping the chief’s shoulder in appreciation.
It was nice, and he couldn’t help but feel he had just taken a vital step toward something exceedingly important.
O o O o O
"Got the gifts?" Lois asked.
"Yup," Clark said, holding up the bag.
They were heading to the Hendersons for an early Christmas dinner. It was about a week before Christmas, but they had all wanted to do something before they each did Christmas with their families elsewhere.
“This is my first Christmas dinner like this. It’s weird,” Lois admitted.
“It’s certainly different. It’s been a long time since I’ve gone to a friend’s house for any holiday, let alone friends with kids.”
“You think Melissa and Paul will like their gifts?” Lois asked, suddenly concerned.
“They will. Every kid likes arts and crafts. As for Melissa, she’ll love what you got even if it’s unorthodox, and we already cleared it with Bill. Though, I think Bill might kill me for the mess Paul will likely make with his gift,” Clark admitted.
“Oi! You see, we should have gotten something safer!”
“I can run out and get some stuffed animals if you really want. I know Melissa likes elephants and Paul is obsessed with ants,” Clark offered, though she could tell he wasn't really serious.
Lois sighed. “No, I guess it’ll be okay, but we’ll do the stuffed animals next time,” she relented. “At least I know Bill and Donna will like the wine set. Few people can get vintage wine from Le Musigny vineyard.”
Clark smiled. “It’ll be fine. You’re just stressing. I get it. The last time we visited them together was before Ta'peel and before Melissa was . . . well, before everything. I want this evening to go well too. This past year especially has been particularly rough. We could both use a relaxing evening with friends, and I’m sure Bill and Donna feel the same.”
Lois smiled softly. “Yeah, you’re right. Okay, let’s go.”
They left their house and drove to the Hendersons, passing by Christmas lights and an occasional snowman tilting due to the bout of temperatures just above the 40s. They were expecting a cold front by the end of the week, but until then, the reprieve from freezing temperatures was nice.
Parking out front, they walked up to the Hendersons' front door and knocked.
O o O
Melissa helped Paul set the table while her mom finished up the last of the dishes. Her dad had just set the turkey out to rest and had said he thought he had heard the Kents pull up. Keeping her ears open, she indicated to Paul where to put the forks.
“Hey!” her dad greeted, opening the door. “Just in time, Donna has just finished the stuffing.”
There were some noises of the Kents setting things down and hanging their jackets.
“Good grief, Clark, how’d you get this?!” her dad exclaimed as he examined one of the gifts the Kents had brought.
“I have a friend at the vineyard,” Clark said simply.
“Well, thanks, we’ll open it tonight once the kids go to bed.”
As soon as they finished setting the table, Melissa couldn’t help but hurry to the front room to see Lois and Clark, and her eyes immediately shot to the two wrapped gifts on the side table. Paul came to a stop beside her.
“They can open them now or later. We don’t have a preference,” Clark said lightly, looking at her dad.
Their dad smiled appreciatively. “After dinner then,” he decided, much to Melissa’s joy. Paul appeared indifferent. “Alright, the kids set the table. I’m pretty sure it’s time to eat.”
They quickly took their seats.
Her dad was at the head of the table with Paul to his left and Donna to his right. Clark was at the other end of the table with Lois to his right and herself to his left so Paul was between herself and their dad.
Melissa was pleased when she ended up sitting directly across from Lois, and she glanced at her mom. She knew her mom knew how much she adored Lois.
Before she knew it, all of them were settled, and, after a simple prayer, they dug in.
“Wow, Donna, this is all great,” Lois complimented.
“Thanks, most of the dishes are from my grandmother’s recipe book,” her mom said. “I think she’d forgive me if I shared some with you.”
Lois smiled shyly. “Thanks, I’m not the best cook, but maybe I just haven’t found the right recipes.”
“The recipe certainly makes the difference,” her mom assured.
“So is winter break here yet?” Clark asked, looking to Melissa and Paul.
“It starts tomorrow,” Melissa said happily, before taking a bite of mashed potatoes. “We are free until the 3rd.”
“That’s about how long mine was,” Clark commented, clearly reminiscing.
“You grew up in a small town, right?” she asked curiously.
“Yeah, Smallville, Kansas,” he answered.
“‘Smallville’? Hm, that’s easy to remember,” she commented.
Clark beamed. “It is, isn’t it?”
She smiled back, meeting his eyes, and she suddenly got the strangest sensation.
She quickly looked back down at her plate, an odd feeling coming over her, a sense of . . . familiarity? No, that wasn’t quite right. And why would she even go to that? Of course Clark felt familiar! He and Lois had visited multiple times. They were her parents’ best friends.
Her dad asked Clark a question and she failed to follow it.
“Any good stories?” she asked Lois, trying to ignore the obscure sensation that continued to linger, almost tug, at her center and in the back of her mind.
“Actually, yes,” Lois said.
Thankfully, the topic soon pulled her attention away from her confusion and the mysterious feeling. For the rest of the meal she focused on Lois’ awesome retelling of how she had recently brought down greedy people willing to put people in harm’s way for a quick buck. Her dad chimed in occasionally, reinforcing Lois’ epicness.
Clark laughed at Lois’ merciless descriptions, and while the odd feeling spiked whenever her attention strayed to him, she was able to quickly zero back on Lois’ voice.
Dinner ended too soon, but then she remembered the early Christmas present they each had gotten.
After cleaning up, they gathered in the living room and she and Paul knelt on either side of the coffee table while her parents and the Kents sat down on the couch and side chairs.
“Go ahead, you can open them,” her mom prompted.
Her brother opened his and found he had received a set of soft pastel sticks and large, thick sheets of paper, while she got two books, one called ‘The Journalist and the Murderer ‘ by Janet Malcolm, and another called ‘Working’ by Studs Terkel.
“You might be a little young for these books, but if you’re serious about journalism, they will help you. They’ve certainly helped me,” Lois said.
“Wow, thanks!” she said, hugging the books to herself.
"What do you say, Paul? Someone gave you something," her dad reminded.
Paul looked up, though not to the Kents, his box of pastels already half open.
"Thank you," he said, his voice without any inflection, but it was progress.
"You're welcome, Paul," Clark said simply, unperturbed.
Melissa definitely liked that about Clark. People were barely ever patient with or truly accepting of her brother. The most she had seen from pretty much anyone was polite tolerance.
Paul resumed his efforts and before too long began drawing a lopsided ant.
“Well, the gifts are certainly a hit,” her dad said appraisingly with a smile.
“We're glad," Clark said with a glance to Lois, as if to say, 'told you'.
With Melissa’s gaze on Clark, the feeling came back with a vengeance, gnawing incessantly at her.
It wasn't threatening or upsetting, just . . .
there. As if there was something to see, something to know that she wasn't recognizing. Though it did go deeper than that. As if it had substance rooted in her physical body, and was not merely an aberration created by her mind.
What was this?
She looked down as her parents and the Kents began talking about adult things. Her eyes returned to Clark, who was seemingly oblivious to her staring, which was just as well.
With a deep breath, she forced herself to ignore what she was feeling and opened the first book as she hunkered down in the lounge chair off to the side. She began reading.
An hour later, her mom took Paul up to bed, and Melissa fervently hoped her parents would let her stay up past her 10 o'clock bedtime so she could continue reading without worrying too much about the clock. Fortunately, she got her wish when her mom brought out a mug of hot cocoa and offered it to her a bit later.
"I deem it winter break now, so you can stay up," she said.
"Yes!" she quietly cheered, mindful of her now sleeping brother.
"Chores are still on, though," her dad gently warned, which meant she would still be required to do her morning chores no matter how tired she was the next day.
Melissa hid her disappointed face behind her book, earning a chuckle from the Kents as her dad popped open the wine bottle.
They resumed their grown up talk a moment later and she happily sipped her hot cocoa and turned a page.
O o O
Clark did his best to appear normal, even to Lois, but it was growing increasingly more difficult.
At first, it hadn't been much of a concern, and he wondered if he was imagining it. However, as dinner wore on, he couldn’t ignore how . . . antsy his aura had become. The sensation was very distracting. Fortunately, he got it to settle after focusing on Lois’ heartbeat, but whenever he noticed Melissa was looking at him, he would feel it again.
He suddenly couldn’t help but wonder if his aura was trying to tell him something.
Was something wrong?
Was she really okay after what had happened? Sure, Bill reassured him (both as Clark and Kal) that her check-ups were all normal and that she appeared to be coping well after recent events. She was clearly resilient and handling it all better than what could be expected, but she was still just a kid. Was she really okay?
He subtly listened to her heart rate and her breathing. She sounded alright.
Or could it be something else?
Did she suspect something? Had she figured it out?
Admittedly, part of him had been concerned about whether or not the special contact for his eye would be able to maintain his identity, but after returning to work and no one being the wiser, he relaxed. He hadn't even given much thought to Melissa potentially recognizing him after being so close to both sides of himself, since Bill didn’t seem to suspect, nor Mayson, but now. . . .
He glanced at Melissa, finding her deeply engrossed in her reading as she finished her hot cocoa.
Maybe she really was okay. Maybe it was actually
him. It wasn’t impossible that whatever was going on was just in his head.
If he was honest, it was still hard to recall what had happened to her without remembering his desperation and fear. Even now, knowing what had almost happened to her made him feel queasy, and, now that he allowed himself to think about it, this was the first time he had really seen her since it had all happened.
He promised himself to somehow bring this incident up to Dr. Wilson.
He looked back at Lois and Donna, who were chatting happily while Bill was enjoying the light buzz from his wine.
Lois was done with her wine, and since he was finished with his as well, he decided to get up. Maybe some movement would help him.
"Would you like some water, honey?" he asked, getting up from the chair beside her.
"Yeah. Thanks, Clark," Lois said, handing him her glass.
He headed toward the kitchen and paused by Melissa, noticing the mug in her hand was empty as well. He quickly re-positioned the wine glasses so he had a free hand, happy his aura seemed to have settled as he concluded he had been right. He was still coming to terms with what had happened to her because of that assassin trying to come after him, and now that he had recognized why he was feeling the way he was, he could now work on processing and getting through it.
"Are you done with your mug?" he asked, silently indicating he was on his way to the kitchen so could put it up for her.
Melissa startled and looked up from reading.
"Oh. Yeah, I'm done," she said, quickly holding it out for him.
He smiled and took it, his fingers lightly brushing hers as he took hold.
His center abruptly tilted.
She gasped loudly, the tail end of it gaining in pitch.
Through the brief touch, it was as if his aura was wrapped around her, even though he knew it was still carefully contained within his frame.
Time seemed to freeze as he instantly knew her overall state of being before a rush of other information immediately followed.
She was astonished and he knew the moment true recognition and comprehension of that recognition materialized into understanding.
At the same time, on top of everything else, his awareness automatically searched her body for any defects. He instantly recalled every muscle tear, bleed and broken bone that he had healed all those months before, from the brain bleeds to her fractured spine and skull. He remembered every single one. And the sound of them healing.
His awareness meshed with the present until it solidified firmly with reality.
The damage was all gone, without a shred of scar tissue or blemish. She was still completely, mercifully whole.
He was suddenly out of breath, overloaded with too much information, too much feedback.
"Superman!?" she breathed, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on him as her wisp of a voice seemed to echo loudly through the room.
He wasn't quite sure why he stumbled back, though it did feel like time had finally returned to normal. He caught himself on the wall, and his hearing instantly picked up on everyone's increased heart rates as the wine glasses and mugs somehow remained loosely held in his hands.
His gaze remained fixed on Melissa, his heart racing.
/Clark?/ Lois questioned with a thought.
He took a slow, deep breath, and, after a long moment, risked turning to Lois.
Donna was sitting motionless across from Lois on the sofa and, peripherally, he could tell the buzz had completely evaporated from Bill.
Lois gave a gentle nod; though, of surrender or encouragement, he didn't know.
"Superman?" Melissa whispered again uncertainly, but her uncertainty was not due to questioning her conclusion.
The truth was out.
He exhaled and resigned himself to whatever came, relaxing his shoulders. He looked back at Melissa.
"Yes?"
Her eyes widened, perhaps astonished that he hadn't denied it or maybe that he had responded at all.
When he began to wonder if the silence would last forever, Bill broke it.
"Are you both okay?" Bill asked, standing up and approaching them.
"I'm okay," Melissa quickly assured.
"Um. What just happened?" Donna asked, her eyes bouncing between Melissa and Clark, baffled.
"I think, for some reason, Clark's aura reacted to Melissa," Bill stated calmly, coming to a stop in front of Clark.
"What?" Donna asked, dumbfounded.
"I'm not sure why it did that," Clark admitted, feeling as confused as Donna looked.
"Wait. So you're really . . . ?" Donna questioned, slowly grasping what the last minute meant.
Clark nodded apologetically, before looking at Bill.
"You don't look surprised," Clark noted.
"I've suspected for a while, but I wasn't completely positive until just now," Bill said. "So are you okay? You didn't answer."
"Yeah, it was just a little overwhelming for a moment," Clark said.
"So it was your aura?" Bill asked.
"Uh, guys, maybe we all should sit down and then continue this discussion," Lois interrupted, glancing pointedly at Donna who was just gaping at Clark.
"Oh, of course," Clark said, walking back.
He quietly placed the empty wine glasses and mug on the coffee table and sat back down in the chair beside Lois’. Bill motioned for Melissa to join him and Donna on the couch, facing Lois and Clark. She did so without question.
"So, uh . . . hi," Clark began.
Bill snorted while Melissa and Lois laughed. Donna smiled before giving in to a chuckle.
Clark beamed, though was still clearly nervous and apologetic.
"I know this is a bit of a shock," he put in once they had quieted.
Bill shook his head, amused, as he squeezed his wife's hand on Melissa’s knee.
"I don't know what to say. This is unbelievable," Donna said. "You're . . . Superman, but . . . "
"You're wondering about this, huh?" he asked, motioning to his left eye that appeared perfectly fine. "Custom Contact. I could lose the eye patch now, but I don't because having it on helps remind me not to use my abilities in that eye and because my doctors don't know if that eye will eventually begin to turn in or not, and I'd rather not have Superman and Clark develop a lazy eye at the same time."
"Ah, that would be a problem," Bill agreed.
Donna nodded slowly, taking that and more in.
"So you find missing people as a job and then rescue others from immediate danger in your second job," Donna said.
He nodded.
"Wait a minute. When you saved Bill . . . did you even have a bulletproof vest on?" she asked.
Clark laughed. "No, and I'm really glad Bill didn't check or make me get checked."
"I don't know what would have been more shocking: finding no vest or finding spandex," Bill put in.
"Spandex, definitely," Lois chimed in.
"You guys are merciless," Clark complained good-naturedly as they all laughed.
With the ice utterly broken, the real questioning began.
O o O o O
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