The Many Shades of True Heroes
by
L Mouse
Chapter 5/9
* * * * *
One of the seven wonders of the modern world was Giles using a computer, Buffy thought, as she let herself into Lois' apartment. Clark hadn't gone in the building with her although he'd seen her right to the door. He'd said something about checking on Jimmy Olsen -- she had not misunderstood the flash of guilt in his eyes. Guilt for what, not getting there fast enough?
Clark was a big boy; she figured he didn't need a chaperone to go visit a friend in the hospital. Particularly since she had a good idea that this visit would be strictly clandestine and probably conducted without anyone's knowledge, given the late hour.
In Lois' living room Giles was hunched over the keyboard. He typed one finger at a time, slowly. The monitor reflected blue from his glasses and he looked like he had a headache. However, he was voluntarily using the computer.
They'd finally convinced him that computers were a necessity a few years back -- Willow had gotten tired of printing out Watcher's Council emails for him and had basically demanded he learn, *or else.* So he had, reluctantly, and with great grumbling. He was now more-or-less competent at the basics of research.
Buffy walked over and asked, "What's up?"
"Somebody new on Practicing Magic," he said, without looking up at her. "Look at this question -- Andrew sent me a message about it."
He scrolled the screen up to display a post on one of the internet's better known "Real Magick" bulletin boards. It was a board populated by actual witches, warlocks and the odd demon, plus a good assortment of crankpots. The Council monitored it and occasionally found some good leads on new Slayers or new troubles that way.
The poster was called "Illyria," and the post was rather short. One sentence, actually. Illyria stated,
"Tell me about dimensional Keys."
Buffy felt her blood run cold and her hair stand on end. She wished she had Clark's powers of flight; she'd be on Dawn's doorstep in minutes. "I'll call Dawn ..."
"It's midnight, her time," Giles said, mildly. "This is probably just some harmless crank."
"What are you telling her?" Buffy reached for the mouse and scrolled past several other answers to Giles' response.
Giles' response, which he typed as she watched, was simply, "What would you like to know?"
Well, that was harmless enough -- and maybe even useful, if this Illyria gave any sort of a response to "R. Giles'" post. Buffy bit her lip and tried to convince herself that Illyria probably meant something other than Dawn. She'd said "A Key" not "The Key" implying there was more than one. Her Slayer senses were buzzing, though, and she failed at persuading herself not to worry.
"Do you think we should get her out of school?" Giles asked. "Tomorrow?"
Buffy shook her head. Dawn was taking summer classes in Cleveland, retaking a couple of courses she'd bombed during the school year. "Illyria" would have no idea who Dawn was -- Buffy could count on the fingers of one hand the number of people who knew that Dawn wasn't just her kid sister and she trusted every single one of them with her life and Dawn's. Dawn was -- probably -- safe enough. "I'll call her in the morning and warn her, though."
* * * * *
Clark glided slowly up to the fourth floor window; his x-ray vision had let him determine which room Jimmy was in from the outside. It had also shown another figure in the room -- Lois, apparently taking his suggestion to just "sneak in." It was well past visiting hours.
She was seated in a chair by the window, her back to him, curled up under a blanket. She looked so young -- even though she was ten years older than "his" Lois, she looked almost childlike and very vulnerable.
Jimmy by contrast didn't look very good at all -- Clark honestly didn't recognize him despite years of friendship in his own world; it had been Lois' presence in the room that had helped him identify the man. His face was swollen and he was surrounded by beeping, ticking machinery. He wasn't on a ventilator, which Clark took to be a good sign, at least. But he was too still, too pale.
He must have made a noise, or maybe Lois' "Slayer senses" alerted her -- she leaped up and spun around suddenly and stared through the window at him. Her eyes went wide and she dropped into a defensive, combative, crouch.
He gestured at the latch on the window, suggesting she open it. Her eyebrows lowered and she frowned at him. To his surprise, however, she did open the window. It had a catch on it and she could only push it out a few inches.
"How's Jimmy?" He asked, voice low.
"What the **** are you?" She asked. He was surprised by the language, and mentally reminded himself that this Lois had lived a much harder life than his wife.
He considered the question a moment, then decided with a mental apology to the other Clark that she might as well know everything. Keeping the secret of his identity from her was only going to piss her off; he seriously doubted that Buffy could be persuaded to keep quiet -- and the vampire, Spike, was a lost cause. The odds of this Lois finding out that Clark was Superman were high -- no, considering that this *was* Lois he was dealing with they were probably nearly 100% definite.
"Meet me on top of the parking garage." He didn't offer to fly her over to the big concrete structure. He wasn't about to flirt with her, or even do anything that might *imply* flirting in her head. Though she was looking at him with less hero worship and more grim suspicion. His Lois had never given him a look like that, but then, his Lois had not been fighting actual bonafide monsters for years. She was probably contemplating the unpleasant prospect of trying to take him *out* if he turned out to be a bad guy.
It took her twenty minutes to reach him. Long enough for him to worry about her and contemplate going in after her; the knowledge that likely the worst she'd face would be a hospital security guard kept his feet on the ground. He listened carefully and heard nothing other than normal night noises. She appeared suddenly, moving with startling silence in the shadows. He wondered if she'd been watching him for awhile.
"How is Jimmy?" he asked, stalling for time.
"He had a stroke," she said, quietly. "In the aftermath of the attack."
Clark's stomach churned. *He had caused this.*
"How bad?" Clark asked.
"Bad enough. -- Do you know him?" She asked, head tilted to one side and regarding him with curiosity.
"Actually ..." He took a deep breath then exhaled sharply. "Lois, I wasn't exactly truthful with you when I told you about Superman."
She stared at him in complete bafflement. "What?"
It took him a moment to realize that Superman had never met this Lois before. She'd never spoken to "him" before -- only Clark. He shook his head, "Not me. I mean, yeah, me, but not this me. Lois, I wasn't entirely honest when I was talking to you in your apartment. Earlier."
This was not going well. Lois was staring at him like he'd grown tentacles, scales, and a second head to go with the Suit and super powers. He decided to get this over in as few words as possible. "Look, Lois, I'm Clark."
"... Kent?" she said, incredulously. She peered at him, clearly trying to spot Clark in Superman's features. Her eyes widened suddenly in recognition. "*Good* disguise."
She stared at him a moment longer. He gave her an embarrassed smile. "Does Buffy know?"
"Yeah."
"Which is probably why you're telling me ..." She gave him a dark look. "Secret's out, hmm?"
"Actually, I wanted to apologize to your for misleading you. In person. I had my reasons -- most of which don't actually apply to you." He ran a hand over his hair and regarded her for a moment with an expression that was somewhat less than happy. "Maybe it's best that you know from the beginning if we find my double, anyway. Things might be less ... complicated."
"Does your Lois know?" She asked, suspiciously. "And that's assuming I want anything to do with your double, which is an assumption I don't necessarily like."
"My Lois knows. Has, for awhile." He decided not to touch on her reaction to meeting his double; anything he said would probably make her react even more negatively and he had utterly shameless hopes of playing matchmaker. But he knew Lois would need to think any sort of relationship with him was completely her idea.
He walked wall to the edge of the roof and sat down on the thigh-height concrete. A hot breeze ruffled his hair and cape as it blew off the road behind him. "I feel horrible about what happened to Jimmy, Lois. I really screwed up there."
"What do you mean?" She hugged herself and stared up at him. "It was a vampire. Right?"
"A vampire that I let go was the one who attacked him ... I didn't want to kill her. Lois, I'm not a killer. I'm just ... can't." He confessed. He looked up, at the stars, and willed the tears of grief gathering in the corners of his eyes not to show. He swallowed hard and said, "But because I let her go Jimmy was hurt."
"I -- I don't know what to say. What do you want me to say?" She asked him hesitantly. Then anger flared in her eyes and she stepped closer to him and poked him in the chest. "Did you learn something?"
He looked away and nodded. "This world isn't mine ... Lois, I'm completely adrift here. Vampires, magic -- you! You're some kind of superhero yourself! -- it's not my world. And I don't know what to do here or what the rules are I should follow and I'm lost."
She didn't sound very sympathetic when she said, "Well, then, it's a good thing we're sending you home soon."
He winced. She'd struck a nerve that he hadn't even known existed. Lois was talented that way, apparently regardless of the dimension. That realization amused him a bit. "Lois ... I want to help while I'm here. I was given these powers for a reason and that's to do good."
She said, short and ticked, "Then next time, kill the vampire."
"And what if it's a good vampire?" He protested. He raked a hand through his hair. "How do I know the difference? The answer is I can't, and I'm not sure I have the right to make that judgment call!"
"They're *all* evil!" She was indignant. She was beautiful when she got ticked off; he kicked himself for noticing and reminded himself that this was *not* his wife.
"What about Spike?" He said. "Buffy said he's a good guy."
"Never met him. And he's dead." Lois shook her head, denying his point. "And he had a soul."
"Which he chose to get," Clark returned. "Do you see my point?"
"It's a moot point; he's dead. The only other vampire I know about who's good is Angel and he had his soul forced on him." Lois said. "Buffy gives every Slayer Angel's photo and makes them memorize it so they won't accidentally slay him if they run into him. I can show you if you'd like. Otherwise, it's safe to assume that all vampires and most demons are evil."
Clark ran a hand over his head. "I'm not sure I can ever agree with that. And about Spike ..."
She cut him off, "This is a war, Clark. You might be right -- on very rare occasions, Slayers may make mistakes in who or what they slay. But we have to look at the big picture, the greater good. Not killing vampires because one in a million might be the next Spike -- well, there'd be an awful lot of people hurt and killed in exchange for that one good vampire you saved."
He actually saw her point. It made sense. So why did it feel so very wrong?
* * * * *
"R. Giles -- that would be Rupert Giles," the clerk in the Metropolos Shoppe of Magicks said. He gave the blue-haired woman a glance that wasn't surprised, just curious. He was used to oddballs showing up in his shop. He blew a sharp whistle out and said, "He's a heavy hitter these days. Runs with Watcher's Council. We go way back."
The woman claimed back the printout of the exchange she'd had with Giles. "The Shell remembers Giles. He was Buffy's Watcher. His response implied knowledge of the Key. I seek him."
"Well, you're in luck. He's in town -- he was buying supplies here this morning," the shopkeeper said, conversationally.
"I seek him." She regarding the shopkeeper with glittering, inhuman, blue eyes.
"Well, try Lois Lane. Though I'd recommend watching your step around her; she's the local Slayer and she doesn't have much tolerance for demons." The shopkeeper warned her.
"Slayers are of little consequence." The woman informed him.
After she'd left the shopkeeper muttered, "She must be new on this plane of existence ..."
