Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Undercover Reporter: Resurrection (4/17)

“Hold it, Fly-boy. I said ‘later.’ Let’s not spook them if they’ve got eyes on the place that we can’t see. Meet me back here around 11?”

Her answer was another enthusiastic loop.

Maybe he was always looking forward to seeing her. It was an endearing thought.

“Good,” she said with a slow smile, “It’s a date.”

She grinned at the complicated barrel roll that answered her before he winked out of sight. It left her with a feeling of warm anticipation. She just wished that the warm feeling could hang around a little longer. She’d noticed that she’d started to feel strangely bereft when he wasn’t nearby. They needed to have a more serious talk about how much time they were spending together. ...and how much time they weren't, she thought longingly, missing him already.

Letting her arm drop away from her face, she pushed her thoughts aside and arranged some of the trashed pages of the Star over her legs. Spring might have come to Metropolis, but it was still chilly enough against her torn pants and thin coat. Focusing back on the Luxe Soap building, she shifted into a more comfortable position and let her simple daydream about flying elevate itself into another Clark-focused fantasy.

Day bled into dusk.

A pick-up truck drove by her directly, and she quickly committed the license plate to memory, but it ambled on down the alley and didn’t return. Otherwise, her little alley was quiet.

Night descended quietly, blanketing Lois and the warehouse she watched.






“Anybody home?”

He popped his head through the kitchen door of the familiar farmhouse. At once, he was soothed by the lingering smell of apple pie and the sound of the light creak in the door that had been present since he was a kid, though it was too low for human ears, he’d since discovered.

“Clark, honey!” Martha was at the sink, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her voice as bubbly as the soap lathering the pan in her hands. “We saw the plane that you landed in Colorado! We were so proud!”

She shook the soapy water off her hands and reached for a dish towel.

“We figured you’d be late, so I saved you a plate,” she said, moving toward him with a warm smile.

“Thanks, Mom,” he said, accepting her fierce hug, at the same time glancing back through the window to ensure no one else was near enough to see it.

Martha pulled back, and gestured upstairs toward Clark’s childhood room. “We’ve still got some of your old clothes upstairs, if you’d like to get comfortable while you eat.” Without waiting for his reply, she went on, “Let me get that plate out of the oven for you!”

It wasn’t a subtle hint, and he fought to hold back a sigh.

At first, he’d appreciated his parents’ attempts to give him back bits of the life he’d known. Their intent was sweet and caring. But the longer it had gone on, the more it had started to wear at him. And his mom just didn’t seem to understand. He was Superman full-time now. And Superman wore super-suits. There was no Clark Kent. It was a big enough risk visiting Clark Kent’s parents as frequently as he did. As much as the spandex suit called for attention when spotted, he didn’t dare walk around in Clark Kent’s clothes anymore, even in the isolated farm house.

Just the thought was overpowering. He was again gripped by the fear that had been steadily cementing itself in his mind since that night in the casino.

Now, more than ever, no one could know.

He couldn’t risk anyone ever knowing that Superman had once been Clark Kent. All it would take would be one glimpse of him with freshly washed hair or wearing a Smallville t-shirt, and someone could start piecing together how a dead man might have survived those shots to the heart at point-blank range.

And then his parents would be bargaining chips. Hostages. Maybe even collateral damage. Their lives would be nearly as forfeit as his was.

Not to mention Lois and the trouble he couldn’t even begin to imagine her getting into.

He couldn’t risk it all now, just for the achingly familiar comfort of eating a nostalgic slice of pie at his family’s worn dinner table in a faded pair of jeans.

Too dangerous, his fear whispered.

Which reminded him that he needed to be cautious on this visit, to be wary and aware. It was the opposite of what he's wanted for his family, but all of his visits held a potential for putting them in peril. He glanced out the kitchen window again, extending his vision and hearing. A car was rambling down Route 84 at the edge of their back field. Two boys were boisterously making their way along Patterson’s Creek a few miles off. An airplane was passing steadily overhead. No one was close enough to see or hear them in the farmhouse, not yet.

But that didn’t mean that someone wouldn’t get close enough.

Being ensconced in the welcoming farmhouse kitchen, feeling the warmth of his mom’s hugs, and hearing the familiar creak in the screen door had always allowed him to revert to the peace and safety that had been the predominant feature of his childhood home. But now he couldn’t afford the luxury of that feeling, no matter how much he yearned for the simple mundanities that he’d never be able to indulge in again as Superman. It would only take a second of his guard being down to overlook approaching danger. If he missed the signs, if someone got to Lois or his mom or dad – he felt his fear spike again.

He couldn’t let that happen.

Not again.

He'd nearly lost Lois in that casino.

He'd lost himself instead.

He gripped the edges of his cape in a subconscious gesture, as if it could protect him.

“I can’t stay,” he said aloud, his voice exuding an outer calm that masked the whirling pain of his inner tempest.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be there. It wasn’t that he didn’t miss them. It was just that it was dangerous.

Plus, the conversation inevitably always came back around to resurrecting Clark Kent.

The man who didn’t exist.

It was bad enough when Lois brought it up – a fight she pointedly instigated once a week. He couldn’t argue with his parents about it, too. The farm had always been his sanctuary, and he needed that more than ever these days, even if he only allowed himself to indulge in it for short bursts.

As she stood up from the oven door with a full plate, Martha’s initial flash of disappointment gave way to a sharper look. “Have you eaten at all today?”

“I’ve eaten,” he assured her.

It wasn’t a lie, he told himself.

The sun here was food to Kryptonians.

Then again, his mom always could spot a fib of any kind.

“Clark,” she said in a caring voice, “you know how much your father and I –”

“Sorry, Mom, I’ve really got to go.”

“Honey,” she tried again, with a sympathetic expression.

“Really, Mom, Lois is waiting for me. I’m late as it is.”

For a second, he thought she was going to push him on it, the way she used to push Clark to open up sometimes when she could tell something was bothering him.

He was almost disappointed when she didn’t.

Instead, she followed the example he’d set over and over again lately.

She let it go.

And with her reluctant yielding to his feeble excuse, he felt himself sink inexplicably further into his Super facade.

Dropping his warm plate on the counter, she handed him a chocolate chip cookie instead, and kissed his cheek. “Jonathan’s in the barn. Be sure to say ‘hello’ on your way out. And hug Lois for us.”

He gave her a quick smile and turned to leave. He didn’t need super powers to feel her concerned gaze on him all the way out the door.