So, I hope this makes sense and is at least a little interesting. Thanks, Beth, for all your help!
As a note, Beth gave me some great feedback on Lois and John's interaction. So, if you like it, please give her credit. However, there's a fair amount here she hasn't seen, so if you don't like it, you can blame me.
One other note – This story is finally winding to a close. I'm not sure exactly how many chapters left, but my guess is somewhere between two and four. So, I've been thinking about my next story. I actually have one started (written ages ago now) but it's something I definitely could use more than a little help on. It is going to be quite long – I'm hesitant to say just how long, but definitely much longer than this. It's an alt-universe story (although I have more than a bit part in mind for one of characters of our universe). Things in this universe will be much the same as we've seen in original, but there will be one major change that should impact pretty much everything else. So, I'm hoping to get a team of betas together to help with all the usual beta stuff, but also to let me know if I'm writing anything even remotely interesting or just re-writing something already done by the original writers of Lois and Clark.
It's likely to be the end of January at least before I'm ready to start sending things out to people (I'd like to get a fair amount of writing done before I let others see it), but I want to start seeing if anyone is interested in helping me now. My hope is that this won't be too much of a burden on any one person since others will be sharing the work.
Please just send me an email at anonpip@gmail.com if you're interested.
Clark saw it just before he landed. He almost turned right around, but then his sensitive hearing picked up the sounds of people down below watching the tornado making its way towards their homes. Perhaps if he went quickly enough he would be able to get them far enough away to be safe before he started to feel the effects of the kryptonite. If only he was not still feeling weak from his last exposure.
With one last groan, Clark swooped down and landed in front of the nearest family. “I'm sorry,” he said in an authoritarian voice. “I'm not going to be able to save your home. But I can get you to safety.”
The father of the family said, “Thank you, Superman,” gruffly while the mother cried and hugged her young children to her.
Looking at the father, Clark asked, “Do you think you could carry your son?” The man nodded and his son came into his arms sobbing against his shoulders. Clark placed a warm hand on the woman's shoulder. “Would you be willing to carry your daughter?” he asked, his voice compassionate.
The woman nodded mutely, sniffling. Clark wrapped one arm around the man's waste and another around the woman and took off. He landed a few miles away near a center set up for the displaced victims of the tornado.
With a warm smile to the family, he raced back to the site where he had been to help the next family.
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Clark made slow circles over Belize, taking in parts of Mexico, Guatemala, and Honduras in his flight path. Everywhere he looked, the earth was tinged with green. Someone had sprinkled kryptonite dust all over the area. Clark wondered if it had been there before, if someone was sprinkling it everywhere, or if they had known about the oncoming tornado and thus guessed he would be there.
With a sigh, Clark turned back towards San Diego. He could not fly around here anymore. He was already quite weak and if he landed here with the dust everywhere, he would not be able to recover.
Clark could feel himself losing altitude as he made his way west over Mexico. He was forced to land in Tijuana. There had been no kryptonite as he flew over Mexico, but then he had started seeing it again the closer he got to San Diego. He wondered what was about to happen in this area and he wondered if he would be able to help when it did.
Clark sank into the sand on a beach while he decided what to do. One option was to find someone to take him back to an area that did not have kryptonite so he could recover. But he was still in his super-persona uniform which meant it would look strange to ask for a ride. And he was not sure how long it may take to recover. He would not have expected to still be feeling the effects of the dust in Australia this morning, but that was the only explanation for the sense of lethargy that he had been feeling.
Finally deciding that he was best off taking the chance that he would be okay at Lois' and the dust would not be around north of the Mexico border, Clark took to thinking about the best way to get there. He walked north for awhile, although he did not think that he would be able to walk all the way to Lois'. Then he started walking west, out into the ocean. Once he was past the point of walking, he floated in the salt water of the Pacific, kicking his legs every once in awhile to make sure he continued to move west.
Within a few minutes he could feel the difference. While he was still weak, Clark thought he could probably manage to fly for a short distance. Lifting himself up, he flew low to the ocean in case he fell and made his way north. He stopped, exhausted, once he reached Coronado and landed on the beach far enough away from the Hotel del to be away from the eyes of tourists.
Moving back into the water, he peeled off his suit. Putting the red underwear back on, he hoped they would look enough like Speedos to be passable as a bathing suit. Not knowing what to do with the rest of the suit, though, he left it in a small crevice made by a crack in the wall of the hotel.
Then walking to the front of the hotel, he asked for help getting a cab. The doorman looked at him strangely and Clark hoped that the look was caused by the strangeness of a man asking to be taken somewhere in a bathing suit more than any resemblance he may still have to Superman.
Luckily, the Hotel del Coronado prides itself on being the kind of hotel where guests can get whatever they wish, so the doorman got him the taxi without question.
Clark gave the driver Lois' address and leaned back against the seat glad to finally have a chance to relax. He hoped she would be home and wondered how he would pay the driver if she was not.
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Lois laughed lightly as they walked. John had come back into town this afternoon and they had decided there was no time like the present so had gone out to dinner tonight.
And so far, it had been fun. John was as attentive as always, the conversation was easy, and the food had been great. He had chosen a small Mexican restaurant with a French influence called Candelas. The food had been wonderful and the ambience great. It was lively when they first arrived, but it was the end of the dinner hour in San Diego and soon it had quieted down. The somewhat dark interior lent a feel of intimacy to the place and the many wine bottles lining the walls had made Lois feel like she was in a wine cellar.
She and John walked back towards her apartment ignoring the young people coming into the Gaslamp District for the bars. Earlier, John had let Lois know that his mother was fine and while the doctor had suggested a couple more days spent resting at home, she would be back in the swing of things in no time.
This had led to them discussing the few high school friends John had seen during his brief visit to his parents and this had led to stories of John's exploits during high school. Conversation had progressed from there and now Lois and John were talking about shared experiences from college. While John had gone to college in California and Lois in Metropolis, much of their coursework was similar and even some of their textbooks were the same.
“Did you use Winelock for The Art of Journalism?” John asked her.
Lois thought for a moment, “Winelock?” she asked as she tried to remember.
“It was a blue book with yellow writing,” John prompted.
“Oh, right!” Lois said, laughing, “A real journalist does not get involved with their stories. It's best to have no emotion at all,” Lois paraphrased from the book.
John laughed, “Exactly!” he said. “As if we can turn our emotions on and off like that.”
“Oh, I don't know, John,” Lois said, mock seriously. “I'm capable of acting like a robot.”
“I'd hate to challenge you on that. You just may do it!” John teased as Lois put the keys in her lock.
They were still laughing as they walked up the stairs. “Do you want to come in?” Lois asked on impulse.
John smiled, “I'd love to.” His voice was husky when he replied and Lois wondered if she had made a mistake. She had forgotten to think of this as a date. She was having so much fun, but she was not yet sure exactly how she felt about John.
Deciding that the decision had already been made, Lois opened her door. When she did not immediately enter, John placed a hand on her back to look inside. In doing so, he could hear Lois' breathing sounding slightly labored in a way it had not from coming up the stairs.
Lois was frozen to the spot, unsure what to do. The man sitting on her sofa was clearly Clark and yet there was something off about him. First off, he was sitting on her sofa. When he had been in her apartment last time she had come home with John, he had hidden in her bedroom. Secondly, he was staring blankly ahead, seeming to be unaware that the door had opened. Lastly, he was wearing glasses. Lois had not seen Clark wearing glasses since the day he was shot.
Lois entered slowly afraid of startling him. She could feel John following her, but could not move her eyes off of Clark. Neither she nor John said anything for a minute and then John asked tentatively, “Isn't that Clark Kent?”
Lois did not answer right away trying to think of the right thing to say, but wondered how John would even know what Clark looked like, when another voice came from her bathroom.
“Sure is, Emerson,” Perry White entered the living room, a washcloth in his hands.
John took a slight step back in surprise although Lois felt frozen to the spot. “Perry!” John finally exclaimed.
“Hi, John. Good to see you,” John and Perry shook hands.
“And you, too, darlin',” Perry said as he swept Lois up in a hug.
“I'm guessing both of you have been away from the news for a couple of hours?” Perry asked. When they both nodded, Perry continued, “Clyde Barrows died this evening,” with a nod at John, Perry explained, “He was the last living member of the gangster ring Lois and Jimmy cracked open so long ago.”
When neither Lois nor John seemed to make the connection between this and the man sitting on Lois' couch, Perry continued, “See, the press had us all believe that Lois' partner, Clark here, died that day. But in reality, Clark has been alive and well, living as part of the Witness Protection Program. Clark had lucked out and lived through the attempt on his life as he had been wearing a bullet proof vest at the time, on my orders. But when he was shot, Clark had thought it would be good to pretend to be dead for a little while. When he came forward, there were numerous threats on his life from the clan of revived gangsters, so while he provided evidence for the trial, he's been living in the Midwest as a store clerk under an assumed name all this time. But now that they have all died, Clark is free to join the ranks of the living again.”
Lois sank heavily onto the couch. When had Clark had time to make up this story? Would John even buy it?
“That's… well, that's fantastic,” John said with another curious glance at Clark.
“Yeah, well, he's sort of in shock, right now,” Perry explained. “He came straight to Lois when he got word and then started calling the rest of us. Luckily, Alice and I were vacationing in Los Angeles this week and he got me on my cell, so I came right down. Made me awfully glad we'd all kept in touch with the Kents over the years. Jimmy's on his way, but won't be in from Metropolis until tomorrow.
“I think he finally realized he could get his life back shortly after the calls, and he's been in shock since. I was hoping a cool compress might help,” Perry said, as he ran the washcloth over Clark's forehead and cheeks.
As he pulled it away, Lois bit the inside of her lip to keep from crying out loud. It was less noticeable on Clark's face, but the green tinge on the white washcloth was clear as day. “Maybe we should get him into bed,” Lois suggested her voice soft.
“That's a good idea,” Perry said.
“I should go,” John said softly.
“Right,” Lois said, distractedly. “I'll walk you out.”
John walked out behind Lois and closed the door softly behind him. “Are you okay?” he asked.
Lois nodded, unsure what to say. Her head turned around to glance at the door.
John chuckled at her obvious desire to get back inside. “Good night, Lois,” he said, softly.
“Good night,” Lois replied, turning back to her door.
“I'll call you when things have settled down,” he said softly.
“Hmm…” Lois said as she turned back towards him. She looked surprised to see him still there. “What?” she asked.
“Come on, Lois,” John said, misunderstanding Lois' reaction. “The man gave up his life for you. It's understandable that you may want to think things through before the next time we go to dinner,” John said.
“Okay,” Lois said, turning back to the door. As her hand was on the knob, though, she realized what John had said. She turned around to see John nearing the stairwell. “He didn't really,” she called to him.
John raised his eyebrows at her, “Didn't really what?”
“He didn't give up his life for me. He was alive,” Lois explained thinking this was obvious.
John's eyebrows continued to be raised, “You mean because he wasn't dead?” He chuckled at her nod. “Lois, he gave up his name, his career, his family and his friends. Isn't that what life is?” John asked, “I saw the clip from the club. I came across it a few days ago when looking for something and watched it as your name was on it. Clark got shot trying to protect you.”
A small part of Lois was aware that this was how John had known what Clark looked like, but a bigger part was focused on what he had said. It was similar to what Martha had said as well, but Lois had not totally understood until now. She was angry at Clark for lying to her and making her think he had given his life for her all this time when it turned out he was not dead. But he had done that. John was right – Clark had given up everything for her. And maybe he should have told her he was not dead, maybe what he had done was wrong, maybe she was justified in being angry. But he had done so much for her and she had not appreciated it, had not really thought about all he consciously gave up for her.
Lois nodded at John about to tell him that maybe it would be best to just be friends. But then she remembered the green-tinged washcloth. She really needed to get inside.
“Maybe you're right, John. Thanks for being so understanding and giving me time to think.” She moved over to him and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. Then without another word she went back into her apartment.
