How I Spent My Christmas Vacation -- One Year Later: 6/?
by Nan Smith
Previously:
He grinned faintly. "Okay. Didn't I say you're the boss?"
Lois stuck her tongue out at him. "And didn't I say way back when we met that I didn't want to be in charge? If this Utopia thing flops, I don't want all the blame."
"That was then," Clark retorted. "This is now. Can I help it if I like being bossed around by you?"
She sobered. "Do you -- really? I've heard a little more about Lana, now -- from other people who knew her. She bossed you around, and I don't think you liked it."
Clark's hand closed gently over hers. "That was a completely different situation. Lana and I weren't suited for each other. I've realized that pretty clearly since we broke up -- and even more since last year. If we'd married, it would have been a disaster. Your counterpart saved me from that, at least. And then I met you."
"I'm pretty bossy, sometimes," Lois said.
Clark chuckled. "'Sometimes'?"
She scowled at him. "I'm not bossy *all* the time!"
"No," he agreed amiably. "Just when you're awake. The difference is, I *like* it when you're bossy."
"Hmmmmph!"
They were approaching the intersection of Sycamore and Broadway. The traffic light, only partially visible through the cloud of flakes, flashed yellow and Clark applied the brakes well in advance in order to avoid the Jeep's tendency to slide. The driver of the Volkswagen behind them had apparently had enough. He squeezed out from behind the Cherokee, crossed the double line and accelerated past them in the opposing lane, blowing his horn as he did so. The driver of the oncoming car, apparently blinded by the snow, saw the approaching vehicle barreling toward him too late to avoid it. He slammed on his brakes and jerked the wheel sideways in a vain attempt to miss the other car. The Volkswagen plowed into his rear door, just behind the driver's seat. The cars skidded and spun, locked together, and came to a sudden stop against the curb. The drivers of other nearby cars slammed on their brakes, attempting to avoid the accident, skidding and sliding in all directions. By the time all of them had come to a halt, the street and intersection were completely blocked by several minor collisions, one rollover accident and a pickup truck with its nose buried in the shattered display window of Piltman's Bakery. The driver of the Volkswagen was slumped in his seat, while the driver whose car he had rammed was climbing unsteadily out the driver's door. From under the car, Clark could see a thin trickle of liquid beginning to pool in the muddy snow.
*********
And now, Part 6:
The Jeep was resting diagonally against the curb with its nose jammed against a badly bent parking meter. Clark winced at the sight of the broken headlight and the large dent in the hood and grillwork. If the driver of the Volkswagen survived, Lois was probably going to kill him.
He cut the Jeep's engine and opened the door. No matter how obnoxious the man had been, he had to get the guy out of the Volkswagen. If the other car was leaking gas, the results could be deadly.
Lois had shoved open the passenger door. She gave one furious glance at the damage to her Jeep and vanished in a gust of air. Clark blinked. A woman, clad in dark blue and red spandex, and a gold-lined, scarlet cape, had appeared out of thin air by the Volkswagen and without a pause wrenched the door from its hinges.
From somewhere, he heard the wail of a siren. Clark climbed out of the Jeep and hurried to the car that had rolled. A woman was attempting frantically to squirm out the broken window.
"Hold still a minute," he called. "You're going to cut yourself that way."
The woman paused. Clark knelt, trying to see in the window. "Is there anyone else in there with you?"
"No!" The woman's face was streaked with blood and tears. "Help me! The steering wheel's pinning my legs!"
Clark grabbed the door handle and pulled. There was a crunching sound and the tinkle of glass and the jammed door came partway open. He heaved, dragging it open a few more inches, peripherally aware that, even as a normal man, he was still respectably strong. Crouched on hands and knees wasn't exactly the most advantageous position for forcing open a stuck door. He braced his hand against the side of the car, trying to improve his leverage. The metal on the side of the car dented slightly under the force he was exerting, and the door moved another inch.
Lois was suddenly beside him, and she grabbed the door, wrenching it open. It came free of its hinges and she dropped it onto the snowy pavement.
"Are you hurt?" she asked.
The woman shook her head. "I don't think so. I had my seatbelt on. Get me out of here!"
Lois rocked the car upward slightly with one hand, releasing the victim's legs, and Clark leaned forward, assisting her to squirm free. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I think so." She made an attempt to get to her feet.
"Better sit still," Clark suggested. "The paramedics will be here in a minute. You should have them look at you before you try to move around."
"I'm all right." She used one hand on Clark's shoulder to help boost herself upright.
Lois had gone to assist the driver of the truck that had crashed into the bakery. The man had a deep cut on one cheekbone where flying glass had just missed his eye, but he was walking steadily when Lois helped him out of the bakery window. The paramedics had arrived in the short time they had been conducting rescue operations, as had several police officers and a fire truck, the crew of which was drenching the leaking fuel in foam. Clark found himself being interviewed by a young officer who looked to be barely out of his teens. He gave his name and his account of the accident, reflecting that the driver that had caused it was likely to see his insurance rates rise rather sharply after he got out of the hospital. Two paramedics were lifting the driver in question into their van, secured to a gurney, with his head strapped firmly to a backboard against possible neck injuries. He was just lucky, Clark thought, that Lois had been too busy to give him much attention following the mess that he had caused. He doubted that the guy had seen the last of Lois Lane, either. He had damaged her treasured Jeep, and if he survived his accident -- which now seemed likely -- Clark suspected that he would shortly wish that he hadn't.
Despite the heavy snowfall, reporters were collecting around the perimeter of the accident, he noted, and news crews with their cameras predictably focused not on the accident but on Lois. The appearance of a super powered woman was going to be big news -- as big as the appearance of Superman had been. Lois was about to get first hand experience of what it meant to be a superhero.
He saw her glance at the assembled news media, as the civilian authorities moved in to clean up the last remnants of the accident, and as suddenly as she had appeared, she vanished. A few instants later, Lois Lane quietly materialized beside him.
The police officer turned to her. "Were you involved in the accident, ma'am?" he inquired politely. "If you weren't, the Press is supposed to wait behind the barrier." He pointed.
"She was my passenger," Clark said. "That's her Jeep."
"Oh. In that case, I'll need a statement."
The woman that he had helped from her wrecked car approached while he waited for Lois to speak to the youthful officer, a bandage now adorning her forehead. "Someone said your name is Charles King?"
Clark turned. "Yes?"
She handed him a business card. "My name is Constance Hunter. I've read your articles in the Daily Planet, and I admire your writing tremendously. Thank you very much for your help."
"You're welcome," Clark said.
Constance smiled, nodded, and turned away.
Clark glanced at the card, and then took a second look. Constance Hunter, Attorney at Law, he read. He glanced around, but Constance Hunter had vanished into the crowd and the falling snow.
**********
"I guess I'd better call my insurance company," Lois said sourly as they climbed back into the Cherokee. She glanced at the dented hood of her Jeep and took out her cell phone. "Who was that woman?"
"Which woman?" Clark asked.
"The one that was talking to you a few minutes ago."
"Oh, her. Her name was Constance Hunter," Clark said. He showed Lois the card. "She's a lawyer."
"Oh. Did she offer to sue that guy for us?"
Clark shook his head. "She just wanted to say thanks."
"Amazing," Lois said. "A lawyer that isn't looking for business? I guess miracles will never cease."
Clark concentrated on driving carefully for the next few minutes while Lois finished the call to her insurance company. As he pulled up to the entrance to the apartment house's garage, Lois closed the phone. "They said to bring it by tomorrow morning so they can evaluate the damage," she said. "They're going to contact the police for the report. I guess they want the name of the guy that caused the accident."
"Probably." Clark pulled into Lois's parking spot. "Do you want to get some lunch before we head for Smallville or do you want to eat once we're there?"
"Let's eat once we get there," Lois said. "I want to get moving on this."
"Okay," Clark said. "Maisie's Diner is a good place. She's always got the latest gossip, too."
"You're hungry, aren't you?" Lois asked.
Clark paused in the act of opening the door to take stock of the vaguely familiar gnawing feeling in his middle. "Yeah, I guess I am."
"Welcome to the world of mortals, Superman," Lois said. "Okay, let's get going. We can stop at Maisie's and eat, and maybe we can talk to some of your old friends and see if there's been any unusual activity around Shuster's Field in the last months. Just remember, Charlie King doesn't know anyone in Smallville."
"Yes, but Clark does," Clark said. "How is anyone going to know if Superman brought one or two people with him?"
"You have a point," Lois said. She grinned suddenly. "'Superman' can leave Charlie and Lois at the diner, and come back later, I guess. The mysterious super powered woman doesn't need to make an appearance. That way we won't have to explain anything."
"Exactly" Clark said, "And I think you and I should control the information on her, too, don't you think? At least for now."
"Definitely," Lois said. "You -- Charlie, I mean -- can interview her when we get back."
"Sounds good," Clark said. He locked the Jeep's doors and pocketed the key. "I guess I'm ready."
Lois nodded and abruptly her form blurred and resolved itself into the costumed woman.
"Nice outfit," Clark commented.
"It's a little tight," Lois said.
"I know, but it cuts down on --"
"Wind resistance. Alice told me," she said. She approached him and put an arm around his waist. Clark took the opportunity to slide his around her waist as well.
"Anyhow, tight or not, I like it," he said. "And, believe me, no one is going to be looking at your face."
"Oh, you --" She swatted his arm lightly. Clark pretended to wince.
"Hey! No beating up on me just because you have super powers!"
"Then watch your mouth, partner," she said.
"You mean, you *don't* want me to notice?"
"We...ll ..."
He laughed. "Good thing."
"Now all I need is a name," Lois said, changing the subject quickly.
"I was wondering about that a while ago," Clark said. "There's always Superwoman, of course, but that might be too closely associated with Superman, and we don't want anyone to think that there's any connection between you and me. How does Ultra Woman sound?"
"Hmm. Not bad," Lois said, after a few seconds of consideration. "You're right about 'Superwoman' being sort of obvious. Ultra Woman's a bit corny, but I can't really think of anything that isn't. I think I'll take it." Her arm tightened slightly. "Are you ready?"
He could see that she was trying to hide her nervousness. "Ready."
"Okay, hold on tight. This is the first time I've ever done this, you know."
"You'll do fi ... ne." The wind whipped his voice away as Lois took off fast, probably to avoid observation, he thought. Bare seconds later, Clark found himself face down, with Lois' arm clamped around his waist, looking down at the city of Metropolis, which was shrinking as he watched. "You're doing great," he told her a little breathlessly. It was a new sensation, being held by someone else instead of providing the motive power on his own. He found it strangely disconcerting.
"Hang on," Lois told him. "I don't want to drop you by accident."
"I will," he said. The worst thing he could do now would be to let Lois know that the situation unnerved him slightly. "Just head west. We'll pick up on the landmarks as we go."
Lois nodded and Clark could feel the arm around his waist tighten again, and then slowly relax, as if his partner were forcing the muscles to obey her will. The city beneath them began to move toward the rear, and after a few moments had fallen far behind as Charlie King and the newly minted Ultra Woman flew west toward Smallville, Kansas.
**********
Smallville hadn't changed a lot from when he was a kid, Clark thought, as he and Lois landed quietly in the alley behind Maisie's Diner. It was a little bigger, but not much, and the Middle-America atmosphere was the same. The town was decked out for Christmas, with tinsel garlands and flashing Christmas lights that outlined the windows of the stores that lined Main Street.
The alley was quiet and sheltered from the brisk breeze that whipped down the streets, carrying a flurry of light snowflakes with it. In spite of the sunlight that glittered from the snow, there was an icy bite to the air that hadn't been present in Metropolis, he thought. He'd never really noticed it before.
Lois changed quickly from Ultra Woman to Lois Lane and paused to check her clothing. "Do I look all right?"
Clark pulled the fur hat down a little farther over his ears, automatically checking to be certain that the pink earring was still prominently displayed. "Yeah, you look fine. How do I look?"
"Better put on your pink glasses," Lois said. "Although I'm not sure what the people around here are going to think of Charlie King's taste in clothing."
"You'd be surprised," Clark said. He pulled the heavy coat more tightly around him. "Brr. Am I imagining things, or is it colder here than it was in Metropolis?"
"I think the air is dryer," Lois said. "Humidity always makes it seem warmer. Come on; let's get inside Maisie's."
The little town of Smallville was bustling in spite of the weather. Clark saw Rachel Harris, the town sheriff, busily writing out a ticket for a vehicle whose driver had apparently despaired of finding a parking place and left his car in a handicapped spot. He'd been casually acquainted with her during his time at Smallville High, and had even asked her to the prom when Lana had come down with the flu two days before the big day. As he had expected, however, Rachel had refused. Her father had told her to stay away from the Kent kid, he recalled, a little bitterly. Sheriff Harris had always regarded Clark with a skeptical air because of the history of the numerous foster homes in which he'd stayed. No kid, Clark had heard him say, with that kind of background ever amounted to anything, and usually wound up in trouble with the law, especially loners like Kent. Rachel hadn't agreed with her father but she'd kept Clark at arm's length all the same. It was too bad, he reflected, that Sheriff Harris had died six months before Clark's debut as Superman. Petty though it might be, showing the sheriff how wrong he had been would have been satisfying.
"Do you know her?" Lois asked, and he saw that she had followed his gaze.
"Yeah. That's Rachel Harris. She took over as the town sheriff after her father died a few years ago."
"Old girlfriend?" Lois asked, and he noted the deliberately airy tone to her voice.
"No, not really. Her dad didn't approve of me," Clark said.
"Why not?" Now Lois sounded genuinely surprised.
"I'd been in half a dozen foster homes by the time I got into high school," Clark said, deliberately keeping his voice casual. "Her father figured I'd be a deadbeat or a petty crook and didn't want me associating with his daughter."
"*What*?" Her voice was louder than she apparently intended, and she lowered it quickly. "Why that bigoted so-and-so!"
Clark shrugged, surprised at how much better her obvious outrage made him feel. "It was a long time ago. I don't think Rachel felt the same way, but she had to do what her dad said."
"I guess," Lois said. "What a jerk! He didn't even give you a chance!"
"You'd be surprised how many people felt the same way," he said, keeping his voice carefully expressionless. "Of course, now that I'm Superman, a lot of people think differently."
"I guess I can see how you sort of drifted to Lana," Lois said thoughtfully. "I guess it never occurred to me that it was as tough for you as a kid as it was for me. It's too bad we didn't know each other back then."
"Yeah. Moral support and all that. If your father had let me associate with you," Clark said. "Anyway, I think I've proven myself since then, but I guess it still rankles a bit."
"He wouldn't have had any say at all after he left, and Mother was so smashed most of the time that she'd never have noticed," Lois said. "Then, after I was in college, Dad paid for my education, but he never took much interest in anything I did after he found out that I wasn't going to go into medicine, so I could have associated with Jack the Ripper and he'd have never known. And you had to be more socially acceptable than he was." She took his arm. "Come on, let's go get some lunch."
**********
tbc
