TOCChapter 31:"Have a seat, Superman. I'll be with you soon and then we can talk - I mean…"
Inspector Henderson stepped aside, so that Superman could enter the interrogation room. The usually so gruff inspector looked decidedly flustered. He shifted his weight and chewed on his lower lip, not quite able to meet Superman's gaze.
Henderson cleared his throat. "I'm sorry about this, but there have been serious accusations regarding your actions and -"
The inspector let out a breath and his gaze drifted toward two heavily armed police officers who followed them, though Superman had accompanied Henderson willingly. They were obviously assigned guard duty, leaving little doubt how much the people's trust in him had been eroded by Luthor's actions. One of his guards even carried a lead box. The sight immediately sent a shiver down Superman's spine. He had a fair idea what would be inside that box. His hands clenched into tight fists and he fought hard to keep his outward reaction to a minimum.
Superman gave a tight nod, hoping his voice wouldn't let on what was going on inside him. "I understand completely."
"The guards are more or less standard procedure," Henderson muttered. A blush tinted his cheeks. “And since you’re, well… invulnerable.”
"I won't give you any trouble," Superman promised. He couldn't help it, his gaze once more drifted toward the lead box.
His instinct screamed at him to get as far away from here as possible. But he already had trouble remaining on his feet as it was. Henderson's precautions wouldn't be necessary even if he had plans to escape.
"I know. I didn't think you would, even though Ms. Lane said something about-" Henderson looked at the guards and clamped his mouth shut.
Superman lowered his eyes. "She was right. But I'm okay now and -"
Henderson raised a hand to keep him from saying another word and Superman was thankful for the reprieve. It would be hard enough to explain what had happened to Henderson. He didn't want anyone else to know.
"I'll need a few minutes." The inspector turned to leave, then reconsidered and looked back at Superman. "Oh, and I will get Ms. Drake, the Assistant DA. So you won't have to give your statement more than once if we can help it."
"I'd appreciate that."
Henderson studied him carefully, his gaze coming to rest on Superman's forehead, where Clark felt uncommon beads of sweat.
The inspector's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure you don't require medical attention?"
"I'm fine," Superman said tightly.
With another look at the lead case in the police officer's hand, he turned and went into the interrogation room. He felt the stares of the other men in his back. As the door fell shut behind him, he flinched.
The room was windowless, illuminated by the harsh light of a neon tube that flickered now and again. Clark forwent taking a seat on one of the chairs that lined the table in the middle of the room. Instead he dragged his heavy feet to the far side, where the flickering light didn't hurt his eyes quite so much.
A dull pressure behind his forehead seemed to pulse in tune with his heart. Every single muscle in the back of his neck was stiff, protesting against any movement. His shoulders ached, certainly from the many hours he'd been cuffed to the radiator.
No, that wasn't right, he reminded himself.
Luthor's body had been cuffed to that radiator. A sudden rush of panic filled him. He looked down at his arms which were covered in blue spandex. His hands searched his face and felt stubble on his checks and familiar, thick locks of hair.
Still not quite trusting himself, Clark turned to the mirror lining one wall. He saw himself, his face deathly pale and dark circles under his eyes. But otherwise it was the same face that had looked back at him for the past twenty-eight years.
The wave of relief almost made him lose his footing and he stumbled back to the corner on the other side of the room. The true nightmare was over, now all he had to do was convince Henderson that Luthor had stolen his body.
Clark caught himself against a wall. He'd managed to keep it together on their way toward the precinct. But now that he finally was alone, his legs just refused to carry his weight another moment. Every single cell in his body was screaming for sunlight. He collapsed into a heap and rested his feverish head against the cool floor.
Henderson would be back soon. He'd just left to set up the interrogation and call Mayson Drake so that Superman wouldn't have to repeat his statement. Small mercies.
Clark wasn't sure what he was going to tell them. Part of him wished Lois were by his side. But he didn't know how to face her after he'd kept everyone at arm's length. He knew Lois, Henderson, and the paramedic had just been trying to help.
Perhaps he'd even be feeling better if he'd let the paramedic treat him. But giving his blood, particularly with Gretchen Kelly's bedside manner, had been way too close to his adolescent nightmares. He hadn't felt able to face just another moment of this. Even thinking about having anyone examine him again sent shivers down his spine.
A sudden jolt of unease had Clark blink his eyes open. He scanned the intimidating room with trepidation. White walls surrounded him. The mirror that covered most of the wall on his left-hand side surely was a two-way mirror. In two corners of the room, Clark spotted the tiny red lights of cameras.
He was being watched.
His breath caught in his throat and he scrambled back to a sitting position, scared that if he continued to show weakness the paramedic would be all over him before he could protest. Once more his body reminded him of his aches and pains.
Most of all he was sore from kryptonite exposure. But he also felt the phantom ache of the burn on his shoulder, the tight muscles in his arms and neck. His ribs still felt broken and gave him trouble breathing.
Of course that was all in his mind. This body hadn't suffered but for the scrapes on his knuckles. It was a laughable scar, compared to the injuries Luthor had sustained during their fight. Was Luthor also still feeling the phantom pains of kryptonite though it had been long since removed, though his body couldn't even be hurt by it?
Clark buried his face in his hands and breathed deeply. He was back in his own body. The ordeal was over and he'd get through the rest of it, too. He'd saved Earth from Nightfall, he'd escaped a kryptonite cage, he'd fought against SuperLex. Everything else should be a piece of cake.
Still, his head was pounding from the ache behind his eyes. He leaned against the wall and closed them. His heart was racing and he tried to calm himself down, breathing in through his nose and out of his mouth. And after several minutes of repeating that exercise, exhaustion won over fear and Clark nodded off.
***
"I need to talk to him." Lois' voice startled Clark awake.
"Lane, you know as well as I do that you can't," Henderson replied firmly. "This is a pending investigation and you're both witnesses." His voice softened a bit as he continued. "Go home. It's late and the way you look you didn't have much sleep."
"You expect me to sleep after everything that happened?"
Clark flinched slightly as he recognized that particular tone. Lois was in full Mad Dog Lane mode.
Surprised that he could even hear her, he blinked his eyes open. It took a moment before he adjusted to the harsh light. But at least he was feeling better.
The door stood slightly ajar. But before Clark could hear what Henderson replied, the inspector shut it. The conversation outside was now muffled. He couldn't understand a word. In fact he couldn't even make out how long they were talking. Now and again a louder voice reached his ears, but mostly he heard his own heart thumping away.
The door remained closed for quite a while.
Knowing Lois, she didn't go easy on the inspector. Clark wasn't sure if her tenacity was reassuring or disconcerting. A furious Henderson wouldn't be more willing to listen to him, he feared. But it felt good to have her support at least. Things would have been a lot worse if she hadn't believed him. He might be able to deal with the rest of the world hating him. But Lois? That would destroy him.
Clark realized that sitting slumped on the floor might not be wise if he wanted to avoid further scrutiny. Getting back to his feet proved to be easier than expected. He swayed a bit once he stood, but the dizziness passed and he managed to cross the room without suffering another dizzy spell. Still, when he made it to the chair, he sank down gratefully.
As he leaned against the backrest, he was surprised to find that even the short walk had rendered him breathless. His throat was so dry that his tongue was stuck against the roof of his mouth. He was in desperate need of something to drink. That was an unexpected feeling, even after two day's experience of being human.
As Clark finally heard the door, he flinched.
Henderson came in first and behind him Mayson Drake. She eyed Superman with the same wary, mistrustful expression that she seemed to have reserved just for him. It was completely different from the way she looked at Clark. He wondered if her expression would be any different if she knew who he was.
He should have told her some time ago there was no hope for a relationship between them. But he'd still been thinking about a way that would hurt less than Lois' rejection of Clark. And he didn't want to make the same mistakes he'd made when he'd let down Lois as Superman.
He was afraid that his hurt feelings were going to rule that conversation. Because even though he didn't love Mayson, her rejection of his Superman side did hurt. A lot.
Clark tried to school his features and did his best not to flinch when he spotted the lead box in Mayson's hands. She sat it down right in front of him and for an agonizing moment he thought she was going to flip open the lid. But the box remained shut, just a threat looming over him.
Henderson pulled a tape recorder from one of his pockets and set it on the table. "I’m going to record this interview. The tape will remain confidential unless it comes to a trial."
Clark's heart was beating hard in his throat. He nodded, flustered and stared at the recorder, wondering what he would have to give away. As he tried to swallow against his dry throat he was painfully reminded of his thirst.
He hated to ask, but he knew he had no other choice. "Before…before we start, could I have some water please?"
Henderson's expression reflected surprise as well as guilt. He got to his feet, muttering an apology before he went to the door and ordered whoever was outside to fetch something to drink. As he returned, his eyes were cast down, his checks slightly flushed as if he regretted that bringing Superman water hadn't even crossed his mind.
On any other day, Clark might have been able to shrug it off, but today it was a painful reminder that people still regarded him as an alien who didn't need such mundane things. Usually, they'd even be right. But today - Clark tried to lock that sense of unease away to deal with later.
For now, he just wanted to get this over with. He longed to change into a different attire and become Clark again.
Not long after Henderson sat down, another police officer entered the room with a bottle of water and a plastic cup. Henderson poured Clark a drink, who emptied it eagerly. It took three refills until his thirst was quenched and the lightheaded feeling that had ailed him faded.
"Are you ready to begin the interview?" Henderson asked.
Clark set the cup down and nodded. He looked over to Mayson. Her expression was a carefully schooled mask, which made it impossible to read her.
"Please state your name, place of birth and your birth date," Henderson began.
"I'm Kal-El, born on the Planet Krypton." Clark replied. His voice trembled slightly as he added, "I don't know the date."
Both Henderson's and Mayson's eyes widened and for a moment Clark expected a follow up question. After all, the reply was a dead giveaway that he had been here far longer than anyone believed. Would they be able to guess who he was when all this was over? Clark felt a nervous flutter in his stomach.
But Henderson just gave a shrug and sat straight. "Can you tell us what happened in the past few days leading to the events in the old hospital today?"
Clark let out a breath. Though he'd expected the question, it caught him unprepared. The truth was that he'd never really allowed himself to think things through until this point. Sure, he'd asked for this interview; he had offered to go with Henderson in the hopes of clearing his name after what Luthor had done. But in his mind, he'd never really considered anything beyond the battle with Luthor.
"Superman?" Mayson reminded him that they were still waiting for his answer.
"I'm sorry." Clark pinched the bridge of his nose. "I was just wondering where I should begin."
That at least was true. So much had happened and it went way back. Things had started months ago, when Luthor had tumbled to his death, or earlier even, when he'd created the clone.
"What I'm going to tell you is hard to believe," Clark said. He heaved a sigh. "And unfortunately I don't know how to prove my story. But for what it's worth… two nights ago I helped someone and while he thanked me with a handshake, I felt a prick in the back of my neck and lost consciousness. That someone was Lex Luthor. He held a stone in his hand while he shook my hand, a stone he'd gotten from his Indian valet Asabi. This stone can transfer souls from one body into the other and-"
"Are you expecting us to believe any of this?" Mayson chimed in. "This is the most outrageous-"
Henderson silenced her by lifting his hand. "Let's hear him out, okay? It's standard procedure to let the people you interview talk before you grill them. I want to hear the whole story. Then we can question his sanity."
Mayson pursed her lips, but nodded.
"Go on, Superman," Henderson said softly.
Clark wondered if they agreed on some good cop/bad cop scenario, though Henderson didn't seem like the likely choice for the good cop. But then, neither did Mayson.
He stifled a rueful sigh. "I know how this must sound, Ms. Drake. I had a pretty hard time believing it myself."
For a moment they looked at each other. Mayson's jaw worked and the frown on her forehead indicated that he wasn't going to get her on his side. If Clark was completely honest with himself, he hadn't expected it. Several times of meeting her under better circumstances hadn't served to change her opinion of Superman. Why would this time be any different? He'd better continue with his story, before he made things even worse.
Clark cleared his throat. "The next thing I remember is waking up in Luthor's hideout. It must have been one of the abandoned subway tunnels under Metropolis. I was nauseous and disoriented and bald. At first, I had no idea what had happened to me or how I had lost my powers. Soon after waking up I had some sort of attack. I couldn't breathe and it felt like there was a huge weight on my chest."
Clark couldn't help but shiver at the memory. He took another sip of water and tried to calm his racing heart.
"I believe I would have died there if Gretchen Kelly, Luthor's personal physician, hadn’t injected Luthor's body with something."
"Do you know what she gave you?" Henderson asked.
"A serum of some sort." Clark took a deep breath. "You remember my clone? Lex Luthor created him because he wanted someone who'd have a chance to beat me in a fight."
Clark spotted Mayson shifting in her seat. She eyed the lead box and then her gaze drifted over to Superman. Clark could sense her discomfort, her fear of him and he realized that the reminder of his strength and invulnerability didn't sit well with her. He had the sudden urge to reassure her that he was no threat, least of all now when even sitting on this chair seemed to eat up his energy.
But he decided against it. "The clone died, but there were still some cells left that Dr. Kelly found somewhere while she was trying to save Lex Luthor's life." Clark focused his attention on Henderson. "You saw him fall from Lex tower. He didn't survive that and he sustained injuries that would have been impossible to heal."
"Yeah, I know," Henderson replied gravely. A shadow crossed his face at the memory. "Yet we found his body in the old hospital alive, if barely so."
That seemed to catch Mayson's interest. She frowned and looked back and forth between the two men. Clark knew that she'd started working for the DA's office after Luthor's fall from grace. Perhaps she wasn't familiar with all the details of his demise, particularly since there had never been a trial.
Clark forced himself to concentrate on his statement rather than the past. "Dr. Kelly told me that she managed to create a serum of these cells that transferred the clone's healing abilities as well as his powers to a human being. That way she could heal Luthor's body despite his extensive injuries, enough for him to wake up. But he was still too sick to remain alive for long and Gretchen Kelly didn’t have enough serum left to fully restore his health."
He watched the two people in front of him, trying to gauge their reaction. Henderson's expression gave nothing away, no hint of surprise or disbelief. He was jotting something down, his lips moving as he wrote. But Clark could not make out any words. Mayson, however, stared back at him, twiddling with a strand of her hair as she sometimes did when she was pondering something. It seemed like his explanation for Luthor's mysterious resurrection had at least given her some pause.
Clark suppressed the surge of hope that suddenly filled him. If he wanted to convince her of the truth, there was still a lot of work to do.
He heaved a small sigh and resumed talking. "This is why they targeted me. They wanted my blood to heal Luthor's body completely."
Henderson put down his pen and looked up from writing. "Dr. Kelly was giving Luthor blood when we entered the building. It was yours?"
Clark nodded. The room had gone eerily silent and Clark heard the blood rushing in his ears. Henderson had picked up his pen again and tapped it on his notepad. Mayson chewed on her bottom lip and the frown on her forehead softened a bit.
But then her demeanor shifted drastically. She pushed back her chair and stood up. Her whole body went rigid, her lips became a tight line and she leaned onto the table.
"This is a very dramatic tale, I give you that." Her eyes bore into Clark's. She'd never looked at him with such disdain, even while he was Superman. "But what I really want to know is what happened at the docks. Are you telling us that Luthor blew them up in your body? And then he remembered his good manners and rescued all those people on the cruise ship?"
Henderson pursed his lips. "That's a very suggestive question. How about you let me continue this investigation, Ms. Drake?"
Mayson looked back at the inspector and the tension between them was palpable. Neither of the two seemed to want to give an inch. But then Mayson yielded and relaxed a bit.
Clark's heart fell. How could he have considered, if only for a moment, that she would believe him? Mayson had already made up her mind about Superman and what had happened in the past few days was only going to confirm her prejudices.
He gritted his teeth. "It's a bit more complicated than that." Involuntarily, he balled his hands into tight fists. Then he realized that it might look like an aggressive gesture, so he released them again. He really didn't need another nail in his coffin.
Clark took a steadying breath. "Luthor must have realized what he could do with my powers, how much more influence he could gain on the world."
Mayson's eyes widened, though Clark could tell from the tightening of her jaw that she was fighting to maintain a poker face. The mere idea of someone like Luthor with superpowers worried her, that much was obvious. Her gaze flitted toward the lead box and then back to Clark.
He almost enjoyed her reaction. It gave him some perverse pleasure that for once Mayson seemed to realize things could be much worse if someone else had these powers, that all things considered, having to deal with Superman might not be so bad.
Clark pushed the strange thought away and focused back on the things he needed to tell. "Luthor decided to keep my body. But maintaining the connection wasn't as easy as taking my body. From time to time we switched back, but never for long. To keep my body indefinitely he would have needed to kill me. That's what Asabi told me during one of those switches."
Mayson pushed back her chair and stood. Then she folded her arms in front of her chest and paced up and down the room. Henderson briefly looked over his shoulder, watching her for a moment. His jaw twitched.
Then he turned back and picked up his pen. "What happened at the docks?"
Strangely enough, his voice was almost gentle. So unlike his gruff attitude that Clark knew so well from their previous encounters during one investigation or another. Once again, he had the strange notion that they were playing some good cop/bad cop game to unsettle him. Well, they were doing a thorough job of it.
Clark shifted his position and struggled to continue. It took him a moment to find the words. And by the time he finally felt ready, Mayson stood, tapping her foot.
Clark swallowed hard. "I managed to contact Ms. Lane during a switch and asked her to come to a place near the docks that she would associate with me and that Luthor couldn't have known about. I met her there in Luthor's body and told her what had happened."
Mayson pursed her lips, the frown on her forehead deepening once again. "And she listened to you? As Lex Luthor?"
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Henderson shot her a warning glance, but she threw up her hands and huffed her frustration.
"It wasn't easy to convince her," Clark conceded. "I told her things only the two of us would know."
Suddenly he questioned the wisdom of keeping his secret to himself. Emphasizing Superman’s fondness of a particular female reporter didn't seem like a good idea, not even in front of Mayson and Henderson.
But it wasn't like they didn't already know.
"Yeah, I've heard you're pretty close," Mayson muttered under her breath.
Clark was beginning to understand why Lois hated her so much. He fought to keep his expression neutral. It wouldn't help if he lashed out at her.
"Of course she was reluctant to believe me." Despite his efforts, he felt his anger rise. "Don't you think I know this is a wild story? Starting with Luthor being back from his grave and ending with souls switching bodies? I couldn't make that up if I wanted to."
Clark realized that he'd brought his face closer to Mayson. His whole body had gone rigid and he was trembling. He leaned back and wiped his face with his hand. It wasn't Mayson's fault he was so out of sorts. Now that he no longer was in Luthor's body, things were more difficult to explain.
He felt Henderson's gaze on him, studying their exchange with interest. Superman's mask was clearly slipping. But no matter what he'd pondered earlier, he didn't want to let on that he knew Mayson far better than she thought. Clark focused his attention back on Henderson and tried to swallow down his anger and hurt feelings.
A lot calmer, he added. "After talking to me for a while she was ready to believe I wasn't who I looked like. Then I felt that another switch was coming and we parted. I didn't-"
He caught himself just in time before saying that he hadn't wanted Lois anywhere near Luthor. Henderson had asked him to give an account of what had happened during the past two days. He straightened on his chair, adopting his Superman stance, lest the mask slipped any further than it already had. Superman was aloof and professional, always.
Clark tightened his jaw. "After the switch, when I once again found myself in Luthor's body, I ran toward the docks. Because of the switch he knew where to find me and he'd tried to kill me before, right after I had managed to escape."
Henderson took some notes, then looked up. "Why the docks?"
"They were close, for one." Clark shifted on his seat, knowing that the next part would only serve to increase Mayson's misgivings. He looked at his hands. "Some of the containers there have lead paint on them. X-ray vision can't penetrate lead. It was the only place where I had any chance to hide."
His heart clenched again, remembering the fear he'd felt, how desperately he'd worked his way into the container.
"What happened next?" Henderson asked.
Clark pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting against memories that were threatening to overwhelm him. It had been the first time he'd truly been terrified of his own abilities, worse than when he'd grown up.
He took another sip of water, barely keeping his hands from shaking. If he still had his powers, the cup would have been crushed under his tight grip.
"I climbed into one of the containers and closed the door," he continued as he set the glass down. "Luthor in my body arrived and started looking for me. When he didn't find me, he got really angry. That was when he lost control of the heat vision."
Mayson's gaze seemed to burn a hole into his skin. "He lost control?"
Clark averted his eyes and studied his hands. "My powers are linked to my emotional state," he admitted quietly. "When I was a teen, they would emerge when I got angry or sad or happy. I had years to learn to control them. Luthor had these powers only for a few days."
Mayson's lips had become a tight line. She watched Superman closely, almost as if she expected him to explode right in front of her.
Clark couldn't stand to have her look at him like that. "I've been living among people my whole life, Ms. Drake. I've never hurt a single person. Since I revealed myself to the world, have there ever been reports of injuries that I caused?"
She looked back at him, her eyes widening slightly. Then she bit her lip and shook her head. Was she feeling guilty, at least a bit? Clark wasn't sure.
"So, you're saying Luthor caused the explosion at the docks?" Henderson interrupted his musings.
Clark nodded. He tried to read Henderson's expression, but the inspector still gave nothing away.
"How very convenient to blame it on the dead man," Mayson muttered. "Let me guess, you saved the ship."
Clark heaved a sigh. "As a matter of fact."
Mayson folded her arms in front of her chest and shook her head "Henderson, really, what's the point of this?"
The inspector turned to her, his former poker face now contorted with anger. "Ms. Drake. You're known as a person who is very adamant about abiding by the law. I have heard you're one of the most passionate ADAs working in this state. What happened to innocent until proven guilty?"
She narrowed her eyes on Henderson, but said no more.
The inspector relaxed his stance and focused back on Clark. "What happened this evening?"
Henderson's tone was still neutral, but compared to the way he'd addressed Mayson, he sounded almost friendly. While Clark was grateful that the inspector wasn't going hard on him, he was also reeling from the unexpected attitude. They'd locked horns over Henderson's handling of Samuel Platt's death during their first encounter.
Clark couldn't say that he had much experience meeting Henderson as Superman. But he'd never thought the inspector was one of those hero worshippers who got awestruck as soon as they met him. Whatever Clark had expected to happen during this interrogation, Henderson's almost mellow way of treating him sure wasn't it.
Upon Henderson's expectant look, Clark pulled himself together and tried to sort his thoughts.
"During the rescue of the ship, I overexerted myself and my powers failed me." As Clark noticed Henderson's raised eyebrows, he decided to elaborate on that. "Asabi later mentioned something about the foreign souls hurting their host body. I guess this is what happened there, but I'm not entirely sure. Anyway, Superman's body was stuck in Rhelasia during the night there. I need sunlight to recharge."
Once again Clark couldn't help but see the slight frown on Mayson's forehead and the tiny winkle on her nose. He had to admit that the way he'd put it, it almost sounded like he was some sort of Ficus or rosebush or a solar-powered machine. Was she disgusted with him? Or was his troubled mind just reading too much into her expressions?
She'd never made it a secret that she didn't think much of Superman. But was that only because she thought he was a vigilante who considered himself above law. Or did she harbor some deeper-rooted anxieties because of what he was? Would she take comfort in knowing that his powers wouldn't miraculously return in this windowless room? Clark didn't know. He just didn't know.
Henderson cleared his throat, reminding Clark that he'd once more stopped talking.
"Sorry, Inspector." His cheeks flushed. "Briefly after leaving the ship, I switched back into Luthor's body. While we were safe from Luthor's retaliation, Ms. Lane and I prepared to fight him. Lois managed to get kryptonite from S.T.A.R. Labs. I don't know how. But it was an emergency, and she really doesn't deserve to get in trouble for that."
A small smile played around the inspector's lips as if he found Lois' involvement amusing. Clark had no idea what to make of that.
Then the inspector sobered again and tapped his pen on the notepad. "What was Dr. Kelly's role?"
"I'd talked to her during the switch that happened right before Luthor's attack on the docks."
Clark studied Henderson's face, wishing that there was a way to tell what the man was thinking. But his expression was as impenetrable as ever. Mayson, on the other hand…
Clark averted his eyes and concentrated on his statement. "She offered her help in exchange for my blood. It turned out she's loved Luthor since her teens. But she couldn't accept him in the body of an alien."
Involuntarily Clark's gaze drifted back to Mayson, who'd schooled her features back into a professional mask.
"At first I refused, but after the events at the docks and my efforts to rescue that ship, I realized that I didn't have a choice but to seal that deal. Luthor's body was failing again. If I hadn't accepted her offer, Luthor would have become Superman for good."
Henderson nodded, though Clark wasn't entirely sure if that meant he agreed with Clark's decision or if he merely indicated that he was listening.
The inspector flipped through his notes, then looked back at Clark. "What were Asabi and St. John doing there?"
"I'm not sure about Asabi," Clark conceded. "St. John had found Lois and me while Luthor was stuck in Rhelasia. He was supposed to capture or kill me. But while he was holding us at gunpoint, he talked about money that Luthor had put into an account to Ms. Lane's name. He forced her to go with him and retrieve the money."
Mayson furrowed her brows. "Why didn't he leave with the money?"
Clark couldn't help but smile as he thought about Lois' quick thinking. "Ms. Lane found a way to ensure that St. John wouldn't get anything until Luthor was back in his own body and in police custody."
"What a fascinating tale," Mayson remarked drily. "Too bad you can't prove any of it."
She almost sounded happy about it, as if she'd been longing to catch Superman at an impasse where he couldn't get out despite his powers. Mayson seemed to enjoy that she had the upper hand. He could see the gleam in her eyes. In her mind she was probably already planning the summation.
Clark rubbed his tired eyes. "I know you don't believe me. You still think I blew up the docks and came up with some fantastic tale to save my skin." He let his hand drop and sought Mayson's gaze. "I know you don't think much of me. You made that very clear the first time we met. And you're right, I don't have a license to chase after criminals. I don't have insurance or read people their rights. And I have no way of proving what I just told you."
Clark couldn't stand to remain on his seat a moment longer. He got up, pacing up and down the length of the room to calm down the rage that was burning inside his chest.
When he turned, he spotted Mayson shifting in her seat, her eyes wide and her hand drifting toward the lead box.
"Don't look at me like that," Clark growled. "I can barely stand on my feet. I'm not a threat to you or anyone right now." He loosened the bandage around his arm and showed her the cut on his forearm. It had stopped bleeding, but the laceration was still visible. "I'm vulnerable and weak. If you think I’m so dangerous just keep me out of the sunlight, and I won't regain my strength. You don't need the kryptonite unless you want to add torture to your interrogation methods."
Mayson stared at him, her face a bit pale now. It seemed like he was finally getting through to her, at least a bit.
"Sit down, Superman," Henderson said softly.
Clark clenched his hands into tight fists. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "These past two days…" He flashed Henderson an apologetic smile and came back to sit on his chair. A lot calmer he added, "I believe you have already guessed that I'm not Superman full time. I have another life, I have parents. I trust you both not to make that public knowledge. The truth is, if I did something like blowing up the docks, I'd lose everything that is dear to me."
Clark rubbed his eyes again and wondered how much he should tell them. "I didn't come from Krypton two years ago. I was sent here as a baby when my planet exploded. I grew up on Earth and I have nowhere else to go."
He shifted in his seat, knowing that he was walking a dangerous line here. Yet, the look on Mayson's face was finally curious rather than skeptical.
"Before I became Superman, I was leading a nomad life." Clark still remembered those times. As much as he'd loved exploring the world, it had also been the time he'd been the loneliest. "Sometimes I would move on because there was a huge risk someone had seen me use my powers. Sometimes I couldn't stay because of the things I couldn't do."
He swallowed and his throat felt unnaturally tight. Those had been the worst moves because they'd left him feeling like a coward. Part of the pain was that he hadn't felt able to talk about those instances with his parents. Knowing that his father was likely going to tell him that he'd made the right decision by not interfering only increased the sense of guilt.
As he looked up again, he saw surprise on the faces of both Mayson and Henderson.
"Can you imagine what it's like to see people suffer, even though it's within your power to make it stop?" Clark asked quietly. "Do you know what it's like to hear every scream and cry when people are in danger? Not just in your immediate surroundings, but in an entire city and beyond?"
Mayson shifted in her seat and Henderson adjusted his glasses. Both looked decidedly uncomfortable.
Clark swallowed down the lump in his throat. "That's Superman's secret agenda. I'm not looking for power or influence. I want to lead a normal life when I'm not in the suit. I want to sleep at night and be able to look in the mirror and like who I see. And I was beginning to think that I could have all that. I wouldn't destroy that for anything."
"You're making a strong case on your behalf, Superman," Mayson said. A blush tinted her cheeks and she couldn't quite look at him. "I must admit that I never wasted much thought on these things, I mean what life might be like for you. How lonely you might feel being the sole survivor of your planet."
"Yeah, sometimes I feel lonely," Clark admitted. "But how much lonelier would I be if people were scared of me? It was terrible when everyone believed that I was causing this heat wave. I know that what I told you sounds unbelievable. But if you believe anything of what I told you, believe this - I wouldn't do anything to endanger the life I'm leading now. I've never been happier."
Henderson rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. "Perhaps there is a way to prove your story," he mumbled. "Superman, you said you were the one saving the ship. I have seen pictures you've drawn. You're pretty good. Can you draw images of the crew of the cruise ship?"
"The captain and his first officer, sure." Clark replied. "I don't know what that would prove though."
"Well, can you remember anything, anything at all that happened while you were in Luthor's body? Perhaps something that other witnesses could confirm?"
Clark frowned at him. He'd done his best to stay out of sight. There was a gleam in Henderson's eyes as if he knew something that Clark didn't. It was unsettling and Clark wreaked his mind what he might have seen that anyone else would know about. And then it struck him like a ton of bricks. The robber who’d almost run him down, the police man who’d looked right at him, staggering for a moment as if he’d recognized Luthor’s face. Could it be that Henderson knew about this incident? But how?
“I saw two police officers chasing after a robber,” Clark said hoarsely. “I believe I could draw you a picture of the robber as well as one of the officers.”
Henderson nodded and pulled several sheets from his notepad. He laid his pen on the sheets and pushed them toward Clark.
Then he turned toward Mayson. “Ms. Drake, may I have a word with you while Superman draws the pictures?”
With a strange mix of unease and anticipation Clark watched Mayson and Henderson leave. Then he closed his eyes, recalling the faces of the four people he’d seen. He saw them clearly before his eyes. His eidetic memory, it seemed, wasn’t a super power. Even in Luthor’s body it had worked just fine. Still, his hand was shaking slightly as he started to draw.
***
It took a while until Henderson and Mayson returned. Clark had finished all four pictures. Now and again, he heard voices outside. But the door remained closed. He drank the rest of the water and rested his head on his hands. After telling his story, after going through that emotional roller coaster, he felt wiped out.
He had no idea what kind of future lay ahead of him. Would they keep him in a room without light until he had to face a trial? Would his identity remain a secret or would Henderson or Mayson guess the truth? Would Asabi or Kelly reveal what they knew about him?
Well, his fate was no longer in his hands. He’d done what he could to convince Henderson and Mayson that he wasn’t responsible for the explosion at the docks. Perhaps, he’d at least managed to let Mayson see that he wasn’t a monster. But would that be enough?
Finally, Clark heard the door again. Mayson and Henderson returned. The inspector still wore the same unreadable expression that seemed to belong to his face like the tainted glasses and the salt and pepper hair. Mayson, on the other hand, looked visibly relaxed.
They sat down opposite of him and Henderson pulled the portraits toward him. He pulled papers from his jacket and handed the sheets over to Mayson.
“What do you say?” Henderson asked her. “When the pictures match, will you be convinced that things happened the way Superman told us?”
She bit her lip, seemed to ponder that for a moment, then she nodded. Clark couldn’t claim he understood what was going on. He watched Mayson with trepidation as she stared at the pictures, one after another, comparing his drawings to whatever Henderson had pulled from his jacket. He wished he had x-ray vision right now. Never in his life had he been this tempted to take a peek. His breath caught in his throat and his stomach dropped. He couldn’t help the feeling that a lot depended on these pictures.
Mesmerized, Clark took in every small change in Mayson’s expression. Every tiny wrinkle on her nose, every fine line on her forehead that disappeared or reappeared, every small motion of her eyes as Mayson compared the pictures, nothing escaped his notice. But it didn’t help to settle his confusion.
After what seemed like hours, though it couldn’t have taken more than a few minutes, Mayson put the sheets down. “No doubt, they’re the same persons. My apologies, Superman. I believe I treated you pretty badly.”
Clark stared at her, flabbergasted. “I…uh… thanks, I guess.” He opened and closed his mouth a few times before he could add. “May I ask what changed your mind?”
Henderson’s lips split into an unfamiliar grin. “Well, sometimes help comes from unexpected places. One of my officers followed Asabi to the hospital. Unfortunately, he died from his intense injuries. But before he passed away, he regained consciousness and demanded to speak to the police. Apparently he wanted to clear his conscience and told the officer a fascinating tale of a stone that has the capabilities of transferring souls from one body to another. Needless to say, my colleague thought he was a nutjob. But he called in the statement nonetheless.”
Clark blinked. “Asabi gave a statement to help me?”
Henderson shrugged and flipped through his notes. “Gretchen Kelly was apprehended shortly after Luthor died despite her efforts to save him. She demanded to know if we could confirm that you were really you. She went on endlessly about Luthor having been in your body and that perhaps his soul was still alive. She was desperate to talk to you. From what my colleagues told me, it was impossible to keep her calm.”
Clark let out a breath. “So before coming to talk to me - you already knew that my story was true?”
The world seemed to be spinning around him. Suddenly, Henderson's mellow attitude made a weird kind of sense. Clark’s mind was reeling with the implications. Could it… could that really mean they believed him? Could this awful nightmare finally be over?
Henderson pursed his lips. “Let’s say I had two weird statements that didn’t make any sense. But as you told me your side of the story, everything fell into place. We’ve had some strange things happening in this city. I must admit that souls switching bodies wasn’t something that I ever expected to hear about. But after everything Ms. Lane told me about what was going on with you, things started to make sense. Of course she didn’t tell me about the soul switching, which was good, don’t get me wrong. I might have gotten her admitted to a psychiatric hospital if she’d said something like that.”
Clark still didn’t quite know if he should dare to take a breath. “What happens now?”
“You’re free to go if Ms. Drake agrees. All charges will be dropped.” He looked over at Mayson expectantly.
She nodded. “I have no further questions. All crimes have been solved and the perpetrators are all dead. I consider the case closed. You can go, Superman.”
“What about Lois?” Clark asked quietly.
“We will talk to her later,” Henderson replied. “I need her statement to answer some last questions. But I don’t think she will get in any trouble. A Dr. Klein from S.T.A.R. Labs called the police and told us that he handed over the kryptonite after a very convincing speech of a certain reporter. I might be mistaken, but having a very persuasive personality is not a crime, as far as I know.”
***
Dawn was breaking by the time Clark stumbled up the steps to his apartment. He’d borrowed a few clothes and enough money to get himself a taxi home. Even without his glasses on, he doubted anyone had recognized him with his haggard features and the dark circles under his eyes. Clark sagged against the door and breathed a huge sigh of relief.
He could hardly believe that he was back, back home, back inside his body and finally Clark Kent again. His secret was still safe and if Henderson had somehow guessed the truth, he was fairly sure that the inspector wouldn’t tell another soul. Probably not even Clark himself.
Clark doubted he’d ever been this dead on his feet. But he gathered the remainders of his strength and pushed himself off the door, tentatively making his way down the stairs. He headed straight for the bathroom, desperate to clean himself. The stubble on his cheeks would have to remain until his powers were back, but other than that he wanted to get rid of everything that reminded him of this nightmare.
After he’d stripped out of his borrowed clothes, Clark stepped under the shower and let the warm water wash over him. The tension eased out of his muscles and the water seemed to rinse the last shadows of Luthor away. The phantom aches vanished and only left the lingering soreness from the kryptonite exposure.
When he dried himself off, Clark felt better. He was alone in his body. The shadow of Luthor was nothing but a dark memory now. He might suffer from a few nightmares, but since Luthor had died for good, he’d forever be safe from him.
With that knowledge, Clark put on a shirt and some boxers before he slipped under the covers of his bed and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
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