Chapter 8
As I leave the nightclub for the last time, it’s terrifying and freeing at the same moment. The wedding is in a few days and I need to be available for whatever comes up, at any time of the day or night. My plan is to stay as close to Clark as possible, which will mostly involve hanging around outside of his apartment building in the hopes I can see him coming and going.
Pamela wanted to know what my plans were when I told her yesterday evening that I needed to leave. I was sorry to leave her with very little notice, but she was more curious about what I was up to and what was happening to Jack. I wish I could have given her some information but I’m reluctant to. To the best of my memories, I never see her again and as much as I want to encourage her to leave the nightclub as soon as possible so she isn’t caught up in my investigation down the road, I restrain myself. She was gone in my own time, I have to trust that she’ll have moved on in this time too.
It’s a cool night thanks to a thunderstorm that has just passed over and I’m grateful I brought a light jacket with me. Unfortunately, it doesn’t have a hood on it so I comb my hair with my fingers and try to get it to drape over my face a little. I want to stop by the strip club and see if Jimmy is still there and don’t want to risk being recognized. I’d been walking past the strip club regularly after my shift and Jimmy was there every night it seemed. Without waiting outside of the juvenile detention center, I had no way of knowing if Jack was free yet and my best indication was Jimmy. If Jimmy wasn’t there, I had to hope both he and Jack had gone to Clark.
My heart sank in disappointment before I turned the corner, as I can hear Jimmy’s voice calling out while trying to entice people passing by to stop inside.
“Girl, girls, and more girls!”
There’s a surprising amount of foot traffic given it’s almost midnight and mid week, but it gives me a moment to stop and watch while blending in with the crowd. When the Planet reopened, Jimmy had been one of the first hired back by Perry, though it had taken some work to track him down. He’d been couch-surfing, having lost his apartment when he couldn’t afford the rent. I hadn’t spoken to him until that first morning back in the newsroom when I’d chosen a new desk, and even then our exchange had been barely cordial.
Our easy friendship had never returned and I believed he’d blamed me for Clark’s refusal to rejoin The Planet. It had taken years of working together for a purely professional working relationship to turn into a friendship, though it never was quite the same friendship we had enjoyed. Once I decided to leave the Planet, I’d spent more time investing in him, working with him to fine tune his reporting, and investigative skills. Sadly, the new editor hadn’t given him much of a chance and it had taken years for Jimmy to have the opportunity to shine.
We’d kept in touch, and I had tried my hardest to pull him out of the Planet but he firmly believed he was meant to stay there. When the editor finally retired, Jimmy saw his opportunity and took it, becoming one of Metropolis’ best photo-journalists in no time. When I’d received his invitation to the Kerth ceremony, I’d been delighted that he was finally receiving the recognition he so deserved.
It’s hard to reconcile that Jimmy with the bedraggled young man I see across the street trying to hand out flyers.
As I’m about to continue my walk back to the Apollo, a movement catches my eye.
Jack!
As Jimmy recognizes Jack, I feel a wave of dizziness and try to fight it off, but this is unlike the other episodes I’ve encountered. I don’t feel as though I’m going to faint, but I certainly feel weak. I can still see and hear but if I had to walk closer, I don’t think I would have the strength to move a muscle. Instead, I lean against the bus stop hoping I look like someone who is waiting for a ride, not someone that’s having some time travel related medical emergency. While I’m absolutely terrified of what is happening to me, I’m relieved that I’m on the right track, and just in time. There’s only a few days until the wedding.
I watch as they talk, Jimmy gesturing to the strip club repeatedly but Jack is insistent. Eventually, they leave, Jimmy shoving the remaining flyers into the closest garbage can. I breathe a sigh of relief as they disappear into the night, and my strength starts to return. It’s disconcerting, but at least I have a constant reminder that this is the right path.
****
I feel less out of place as the morning drags on. I arrive at Clark’s apartment just after dawn hoping he wouldn’t have been up and out any earlier. I wasn’t able to follow Jimmy and Jack last night, but I walked by Clark’s last night. All the lights in the apartment were off and I assumed they hadn’t gone there. It had been late, and I had reasoned they’d arrive first thing this morning.
My cup of coffee finished hours ago, I sit on the bench at the bus stop down the street and pick the paper cup to shreds while I wait, staring at the entrance. Now, with more people moving around, I begin walking up and down the street, trying to blend in and hoping no-one is watching me get my steps in by walking down one side of the street, crossing and walking down the other in a large rectangle, for at least an hour now.
As noon approaches, a cab pulls up to the apartment building, and to my delight, Perry steps out! I haven’t meddled with Clarks’ timeline, and certainly not with Perry’s, which means these events are the same. My elation is dampened by a flash of bitterness as I realize Perry had been in Metropolis but hadn’t come to the wedding. I have to remind myself that Perry had been working behind the scenes investigating Lex, and now I believe that Clark had much more to do with that investigation than I originally believed. I’d never asked for the details, wanting to bury that part of my life, and over time, everyone forgot.
Perry hadn’t told me about his involvement with the investigation, that tidbit had come from Henderson. When I’d returned to Metropolis after Lex’s death, I’d been interviewed a few times, mostly to find out if I knew anything about Lex’s dealings, criminal or otherwise. I had believed Henderson had known about Superman’s disappearance, but he’d never said anything. Sadly, several weeks after the investigation had closed, Henderson had been shot and killed. The murder was unsolved but generally believed to be a retaliatory hit from the fallout of the death and subsequent investigation into Lex. I always wondered if that British butler of his had anything to do with it as he was never caught, though had been linked to several crimes committed on Lex’s behalf.
I feel myself sway on my feet and lean against the nearest light standard, my energy suddenly depleted. As I look around wondering what has brought on this episode I spot Jimmy and Jack, wearing the same clothes as they were last night, approaching the main door to the apartment. I watch as they follow another resident in and wonder if I should try to follow. The dizziness lifts, but some of the weakness remains and my stomach growls in protest. Jack has a story to tell, and possibly Jimmy too. I theorize it’s unlikely they’ll leave the apartment right away, giving me time to go grab a bite to eat and return. I can’t spend the whole day following them on an empty stomach, though next time I’ll pack snacks.
****
The piercing wail of a building alarm interrupts my thoughts and I look down the street towards the bank. Tossing a few bills onto the table to cover my meal, I grab my purse and head to the bank, inexplicably curious.
As I approach, there doesn’t seem to be any indication of a robbery or other crime in the area, though a small crowd is starting to gather. As I hear sirens wailing in the distance, some eagle eyed person calls out and points to the sky.
“Superman!”
There’s a collective gasp as Superman lands, and I nervously pull my sunhat lower, trying to ensure most of my face is hidden. I want to leave but my feet won’t obey and I’m frozen, partially out of fear of being recognized, and overcome with awe. After all these years of not being anywhere near Superman then to hear him regularly and be so close to him twice in the last few weeks, is overwhelming.
The crowd begins to disperse and the distant sirens silence, but I can’t hear what Superman and the security guard are saying. I watch with curiosity as Superman reaches for his head, and appears to buckle as though he’s in pain. The guard reaches out to steady him as a woman in cream-coloured suit fixing her makeup, steps into my view. As she walks away, Superman appears to recover from his brief headache and takes to the skies.
I quickly spot the woman in the suit and gasp as I recognize her.
Mrs. Cox! Lex’s personal assistant. While I was hiding in the Welsh countryside and the police were closing in on Lex, Mrs. Cox had tried to flee the city, only to be caught at the airport. Once interviewed by the police, she’d turned on Lex and had given the investigation just enough information to secure a warrant for his arrest. I’d never bothered to find out her fate, though I presume she spent several years incarcerated for her part in Lex’s various crimes.
I watch as she folds up the mobile phone she used very briefly, and pulls on a chain around her neck until a large jewel, previously hidden beneath her shirt, is revealed.
It’s green and glowing, unlike anything I’ve seen before.
My vision obscures and I see Superman lying on the ground with what appears to be a bullet hole in his shoulder that heals as I stare at it. I look at my hands and I’m holding a bullet, which is also glowing that sickly green colour.
“Kryptonite,” I whisper as I stagger backwards.
“Hey, you ok?”
My vision returns as I stumble against a pedestrian who helps steady me on my feet.
“I tripped,” I mumble. “Thanks.”
I look around but I’ve already lost Mrs. Cox. Thanking the man who stopped me from falling and assuring him I am ok, I begin to walk briskly back to the Apollo, trying to stop the racing thoughts.
What had just happened? The dreams were eerie enough without something else happening. Wells had said I would know once I was on the right path, oddly the same thing I’d said to Jack when I’d visited, that he would know when the timing for his escape would be. But what did the vision, if that’s what it was, and the kryptonite have to do with helping Clark?
Inside the relative safety of my room, I sink onto the bed and try to sort through what I had just witnessed, both in reality and whatever the daydream was. It felt so real, like a memory but what was I doing with a kryptonite bullet and when did that happen?
As I try to recover my equilibrium and think rationally, I’m reminded of a woman I’d encountered a year or two after Lex’s death. She’d moved to Metropolis, had hunted me down at the Planet, stating that she was living in my old apartment building and urgently needed to speak to me. I gave her a brief interview as you never know what story could come out of anyone, but she was clearly nuts. She claimed to be psychic and something had gone terribly wrong with my life. I’d scoffed at her. Anyone could figure that out from reading the news.
She’d been persistent. Persistent to the point I’d had a restraining order placed against her, which she’d promptly ignored by dropping by the Planet with a letter for me, promising to never contact me again. Most of this was a fuzzy memory now but there had been something in that letter about trusting the visions.
And now I find myself just having what I can only describe as a vision and while I still don’t believe in psychics, if you’d asked me a month ago about time travel I would have told you to go have another drink.
If I take this vision as reality, then I’ve just witnessed Mrs. Cox in possession of kryptonite, a substance that was theoretically the only thing that could hurt Superman, but had never been discovered.
But what if Lex had? There was no way Mrs. Cox had stumbled over that rock by accident and thinking over the scene in front of the bank, she’d tested it before immediately calling someone on her mobile phone. Lex had to be behind this! But what did Lex want with kryptonite?
The answer is obvious but it makes my stomach roll at the implications.
I’d blamed myself for Superman’s disappearance.
I’m sure it wasn’t the disastrous evening in my apartment with that horrendous nightgown, which I’d tossed the following morning, but it would have been easier if that had been the reason.
No, I’d been positive it was how I had treated Clark.
While Clark had never admitted to being friends with Superman, I had known they were. In a way I was glad that Superman had someone to talk to, though at the time I would have rather been that someone. But we had been stuck in a strange triangle. I wanted Superman, and Clark wanted me, and in the end, no one got what they wanted.
Superman was nowhere to be seen for weeks after my almost marriage to Lex. It wasn’t until after Lex’s death that he’d reappeared, but the friendly hero, always ready for a kind word to the press, had changed. While there had been many opportunities for Superman to speak to the press, he’d stopped, only talking at press conferences and official events. While his facial expressions remained neutral, for months I thought he looked haunted and sad. I had wondered if he had shut Clark out too.
Slowly, his appearances in Metropolis declined while his worldwide events increased, and I never had the opportunity to speak to him again.
I’d thrown myself back into my work, chasing down stories with no regard for my own safety, perhaps a little more recklessly than I had previously. I thought I could look after myself much like I had done for years, but whether it was age, injury, or an increase in fear, I eventually stopped taking so many risks.
I’d intentionally not gone looking for Clark, especially once social media really took off. I didn’t want to torture myself with pictures of him, or the knowledge of where he worked, but I didn’t have that option with Superman. He was on the news, on the breaking news alerts sent to my phone, in newspapers, magazines and on my media scroll. I’d had to learn to block it out.
It hadn’t really worked. I’d just buried it deeply, along with my feelings for Clark, and now I was faced with them surfacing all at once. I felt like a nervous wreck.
There’s no doubt in my mind that Lex, in this time, has possession of the only known substance to hurt Superman, and I’m positive I haven’t done enough to change that from my own timeline. Superman’s sudden disappearance for weeks, and the haunted look in his eyes when he reappeared after Lex’s death could be attributed to that rock. But I’m still guessing. I have no idea what the kryptonite could do to him, other than the brief vision I’d experienced. It would explain why he wasn’t around for weeks as he was possibly recovering from the kryptonite exposure.
If Lex had kryptonite, it was also likely he would have to get close to Superman for it to do any damage, closer and for longer than Mrs. Cox had today. If I can help Superman not be exposed to the kryptonite, maybe he can help Clark?
I should feel relief that it wasn’t my words and actions that drove Superman away, but I don't. Instead, I feel a nervous anticipation of what is to come as the wedding is only two days away.
****
Yesterday, after I returned to my stakeout, revealed nothing. I’d missed everyone leaving for the day and while Clark returned while it was still daylight, it was dark when Perry arrived, followed by Jack and Jimmy an hour later. When all the lights turned off in the apartment, I made my way back to the Apollo.
As soon as I’m awake, I walk to Clark’s apartment, not wanting to miss anything. The wedding is tomorrow and I’m feeling very much out of time. I can’t say why, but I’m convinced I have to break into Clark’s apartment. Perhaps I had a vision in my sleep, but it’s what drove me to get up early and start watching this building shortly after dawn. At least this time I’ve got more snacks.
I’m pacing on the same route I had paced yesterday when all four of them exit the building. Jack and Jimmy head off in one direction, while Perry gets into a waiting taxi. Clark starts walking briskly in the opposite direction. I hesitate for a few minutes in the event someone has forgotten something, as Clark did frequently when he was with me. I give it ample time, and more as I have to wait for someone to inadvertently let me into the building while I pretend to rummage around in my purse for a forgotten key.
Once at Clark’s front door, I check for hidden keys. It’s not above the door frame, or the plant pot I had to move to reach the top of the door frame. I’m sure he had one out here, I remember teasing him about it. Though in retrospect it was more mocking than teasing.
Ha! It’s under the mat.
After another cursory look around, I slip the key into the lock and open the door.
Much like walking into my old apartment, stepping down the stairs into Clark’s apartment floods me with a wave of sadness. I’d spent more time here as we’d become closer to friends over the year we’d worked together, and it looks the same as my memories. I wander over to his books and idly touch the trinkets he has collected from his travels around the world.
I’d barely known him, but I’d known him better than anyone else. He also understood me, in ways that I can’t describe, and no matter how much he teased or competed with me, I could never stay irritated with him for long.
I pause when I spot a photo of him and his parents, remembering the few times I’d seen them. I’d contemplated contacting them at one point to ask about Clark, but had been too afraid. They were warm and kind people, but I hadn’t wanted to find out how far that would extend to me. I don’t think they would have welcomed me with open arms, but part of me had wanted to find out if I could talk to Clark. The other part that had stopped me every time was the fear that Clark would not respond. For some reason living the rest of my life not knowing was better than having Clark refuse any attempts at communication.
A rustle at the window startles me out of my wallowing and I hastily back away to the archway leading to his room. What if it’s Superman! I had no idea how Clark could always contact Superman but it had seemed like they had become good friends. Did Superman have a habit of dropping by with tips and quotes?
I waited, afraid to breathe in case Superman heard me, but after a few minutes, I peer toward the window to see a fat pigeon sitting on the ledge. I shake my head at my own jumpiness as another pigeon landed too close to the other and they began to flap their wings at each other. Leaving the birds to fight over the best spot on the ledge, I step into the bedroom.
I feel compelled to gather some clothes for Clark. Opening the closet, I roll my eyes at what was hanging up, spotting the large pile of laundry in the corner. I’d forgotten how wildly coloured some of his suits were, and how awful the tie collection was. As I flipped through the hangars I spot a yellow shirt. Staring at it, I have another very brief vision, but this time it feels like I’m there, that it’s a memory. His arms are wrapped around me and my head is resting on his chest, and he’s wearing this yellow shirt.
The vision fading as quickly as it came up, I find a suit that would perhaps match the shirt and grab the least offensive tie I can find. Selecting a pair of shoes, I head to the kitchen and stuff the clothes into a plastic bag before making my way out of the apartment. As much as I want to, I don’t look around one last time. If everything works out, hopefully I’ll be back here soon.
I lock the door, slip the key under the mat again, and leave.
Halfway back to the Apollo, I run into Clark. He doesn’t notice me, but I stop and turn to follow him, running into another pedestrian who mutters for me to watch where I’m going. I follow Clark as closely as I dare, only having the small baseball cap with me to hide my face and not the giant sun hat. Clark pauses at a payphone and I hesitate to remain too close. I’d love to hear what’s being said or get a glimpse of the notebook he’s carrying around, but fear him recognizing me if I get too close.
As I move my gaze around, trying to not be obviously gawking at Clark, I spot a flashy silver convertible waiting at the red light. I’m shocked as I recognize my younger self driving, remembering when Lex had insisted I drive this car.
Had my meddling in time created this moment where Lois and Clark are within one block’s distance from each other, or had I been in this area but hadn’t spotted Clark?
The traffic light for Lois turns green and I watch as Clark hangs up the phone. She’s going to drive right by and they won’t notice each other. Perhaps this is one last opportunity for them to talk.
I take a chance and pretend to stumble over the curb, and into oncoming traffic. I hear a loud honk as I land awkwardly on the ground.
“Are you ok?”
“Did that car hit you?”
I grasp the hand that’s offered and accept the help to stand while brushing off my pants.
“No, the car didn’t hit me. I’m just clumsy,” I offer as an explanation, yet still a little shaken at how close that car had been to me.
Now that I am standing and on the sidewalk, traffic begins to move and I notice with satisfaction that Clark is now walking in full view of Lois. I hear the horn honk and watch as he turns and approach the car. I brace myself for the oncoming dizzy spell I’ve become accustomed to every time I mess with the timeline, only this time nothing happens.
“Are you sure you’re ok?”
“Did anyone get the license plate?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” I want to get rid of the concerned people that stopped to help so I can get closer to Lois and Clark. There’s also the possibility of a dizzy spell seeing as I’m messing with the timeline and I’d rather not worry those who have just helped me.
As I watch Clark approach the convertible, I’m puzzled. Even when Clark gets into the car, I feel no physical side effects. As I thank those that helped, and assure them one more time that I’m absolutely fine, I watch as they’re clearly arguing. Clark gets out of the car, and turns to lean heavily on the door. He says something to Lois and walks off, Lois stepping on the gas and zooming back into traffic.
What did I miss? As Clark disappears out of my sight, I hope that the best case scenario is I haven’t changed the timeline in the wrong direction.
****
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