And I'm back with a new part! Sorry it took so long, but there was a few days where my brain just wouldn't cooperate with me.
As always, thanks to my betas, LaraMoon and Saskia, for making this betterer, and to Cape Fetish, for kicking my heiny to get it done.
And remember; not everything is as it seems.
**
Part Five
The man sat on a hard, wooden chair, wondering if perhaps the prison's administration had placed them in the visiting room to remind both visitor and prisoner that this was indeed an actual prison. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he waited, the legs of the chair creaking under his weight, wanting this visit to be over as soon as possible.
A guard came in, escorting a woman who looked almost regal, even in her orange jumpsuit. To give them a modicum of privacy, the guard stepped into the hall, while still keeping a vigilant eye through the glass.
“I hope that you did not wait too long,” the woman said as she gracefully took a seat.
The man harrumphed as he shifted in his seat once more, wondering just how she could appear so comfortable on a chair that was undoubtedly as uncomfortable as his own. “Not long at all,” he lied. Truth was, he had been waiting here for her for nearly an hour.
“What is it that you were sent here for?” she inquired.
The man slapped a newspaper article down on the table before sliding it across to her. “Lane’s alive.”
She cast a cursory glance at the paper before arching an impeccable eyebrow. “So? That is not my problem.”
“It is if they find out who the body really belonged to,” he grumbled as he fiddled with his pocket before pulling out a battered cigarette box. He was silent as he removed one from the pack and lit it up. “The Boss ain’t pleased,” he said as he took in a long drag. “Says that the body could be traced back to the company.”
“Oh?” the woman said. “And how could that be?”
He shrugged as he offered her the pack, then shrugged again when she declined. “Dunno. But he says it’s too much of a risk.”
Her nostrils flared with nearly unrestrained rage. “I held up my end of the bargain. I supplied him with my husband’s research. I gave him access to Lorna. Are you telling me that he will go back on his word?”
“That was my basic understanding of it,” he replied. He really hated being a messenger boy, but the pay sure as hell beat working at McKrafties.
The woman stood quickly, causing the hardwood chair to slide against the floor. Even with her hands cuffed in front of her, she gave the impression of being a well-off woman. “Without me, that alien do-gooder would still be flying around Metropolis, being an utter nuisance.”
He didn’t like the fire in her eyes. This was what they got for partnering up with a woman. “What are you implying?”
Her eyes narrowed. “As much as I despise the very thought of being in the same room as that woman, if your Boss dares to go against me, I will go public with what I know. One way or another, I will get out of this despicable place.”
Flustered, he stood up as well. He tried to remain cool, as his boss had told him, but this broad was just too infuriating. “I’ll pass that along.” Without waiting for a reply, he headed towards the door.
“Tom?” her voice carried to him, causing him to pause just inches from the door handle. “Also remind him that without my husband or myself, he would not have reached the position he holds today.”
-
Sitting so close to her, alive and well, was getting to be difficult. Especially since he could not take her in his arms and hold on tightly, never letting go of her again, when that was the only thing that he wanted to do. He was acutely aware of every move she made, and even though he had lost his powers, he could have sworn that he heard the soothing sound of her heartbeat.
“So, what do we have so far?” Her voice, although she hid it well, showed that she was as nervous as he was. If he hadn’t known her so well, he would have missed the underlying anxious tone.
“We know that Biomedic Industries is headed by Michael Reynolds,” he began as he read off a sheet of paper that they had scribbled notes on. “There is also some information from an unknown informant,” he cast a teasing glance at her over his glasses, already having given her a hard time for her incomplete notes, “that indicates that the company has performed some rather invasive and very illegal drug tests on human subjects.”
He paused as he stared at the sheet, trying desperately not to think of those three months that Lois had been unaccounted for. Could a battery of illegal drug tests be what eventually caused the loss of her memory? Unbidden, a barrage of images flooded through his mind’s eye. He could see her, strapped down to a gurney, struggling with defiance as some unknown being in a white lab coat jammed a needle into the smooth flesh of her arm.
“Too bad we can’t contact Superman,” he vaguely heard her say. “He would probably have more information.”
What could it have been that they were trying to get from her? There had to have been a good reason why they had wanted the world, why they had wanted him, to believe that she was dead. And during these three months, anything could have happened.
There was a rasping sound that was steadily getting louder, and it wasn’t until he felt a hand on his arm that he realized it was the sound of his own breathing. The paper in his hands was threatening to rip in two if his grip got any tighter.
“Clark?” Lois’ voice seemed to come from far away.
How many times would they have forced drugs into her system? Would they have waited for the effects of one to wear off before they tested another, or would they have wanted to see what would happen when they injected cocktail after cocktail into her defenseless system?
The room began to swim in front of him as he stumbled to his feet. He tried to get his breathing under control, but all he could do was gasp shallowly as dozens of imaginary needles danced before his eyes. A bitter, acrid taste traveled up his throat and he tried to swallow it back down, but it remained in a stubborn lump just at the back of his throat.
“Damn it, Kent, what the hell’s wrong with you?”
Was it that same of voice she had used on her captors, angry and defiant? Did she fight them until the end?
Or did they succeed in breaking her?
It was that thought that sent him running to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him as he just barely made it to the toilet.
-
Lois crinkled her nose at the sound she heard coming from the bathroom. For the life of her, she could not figure out what had set him off. He hadn’t looked sick to her, but then again, jetlag had a way of affecting people differently.
She picked up the sheet of paper that he had succeeded in crumbling into a tight ball and smoothed it out. The words ‘invasive and illegal drug tests on human subjects’ leapt out at her.
Of course, she thought. If I thought that my significant other had been subjected to that, I’m sure I’d toss my cookies as well.
She sighed as she eyed the bathroom door, unsure what she was supposed to do. She could either stay put and wait until he came back out, or go in there and figuratively pull back his hair. And if she did go in there, what was she supposed to do then? Assure him that nothing of the sort had actually happened to her? For all she knew, it had happened. In fact, she had vague recollections of people wearing sanitary masks asking a barrage of questions about… something.
Shaking her head, she reluctantly moved towards the bathroom. She felt a wave of relief as she heard the sound of the toilet flush. Lois knew from personal experience that watching other people retch was a sure way of joining them in the activity.
Knocking on the door, she didn’t wait for an answer before she pushed it open. Clark sat slumped on the floor, his head resting against the cold porcelain of the toilet. Lois took a moment to marvel at how well his glasses had seemed to stay in place during his little episode.
“Well, that sure reminds me of a couple times in college,” she feebly quipped. He didn’t seem to hear her, apparently content with keeping the toilet upright.
After a moment of awkward silence, she began searching for a washcloth. Finding one in the linen closet, she soaked it under the faucet with warm water. Wringing it out, she went to kneel beside him. He lifted his head at her movements and stared blankly at her. Thrusting the washcloth into his limp hand, she removed his glasses, almost expecting him to flinch away.
Standing up, she turned back towards the sink to run the lenses under some warm water. Some of the water from the toilet had splashed up, splattering the glass. She glanced over at him and noticed that he hadn’t moved. Sighing to herself, she wiped the now clean glasses dry with the edge of her cotton shirt.
Going to kneel beside him again, she took the washcloth away and washed his face. She felt rather foolish, cleaning off a grown man, but he almost seemed to be in a state of catatonia. The way that he seemed to accept her taking care of him as though he were a small boy made her wonder exactly what their relationship was, and just how dependant on her this man really was.
“You know,” she said after awhile. “You should really think about getting contacts or something. You don’t look half bad without your glasses.”
For some reason, that got him to move. He looked down, and she could have sworn his cheeks flushed into a dark red.
Avoiding her gaze, he took the glasses from her hand and put them back on, mumbling out a form of thanks.
She stood up to retrieve a glass of water for him, but he was suddenly clinging to her. His arms wrapped almost too tightly around her waist, and his head pressed firmly against her chest. Her entire body tensed and warning bells shot off in her brain.
Too close! Her mind screamed at her. He’s too close!
It was one thing for her to hug him. It was quite another for him to come and invade her personal space like this. Just barely, she resisted the urge to twist around and flip him onto the floor.
“Okay,” she said after a couple seconds. “You can let go now.” For a brief moment, she thought that maybe she would need to pull a crowbar out from somewhere to pry him away. Then something in his brain seemed to click, and he suddenly released her.
She was not expecting the sudden movement, and teetered at the unexpected loss of support. She fell backwards, flailing her arms as she tried to catch onto something. Clark managed to catch her before she fell, though she had no idea how he could have possibly stood up so fast. His hands gripped at her upper arms, pressing against the same spot that the strange man in the alley had, and she gasped as he squeezed the tender bruises still there.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he helped her steady onto her feet.
“I’m fine,” she grumbled, irritated that she had almost fallen flat onto the floor, disgruntled that she had ended up needing his help. “Can I have my arms back now? Before you tear them off?”
His hands were off of her before she could even finish the sentence, and she took a moment to rub at her sore limbs. She felt a moment of deja-vu.
Suspiciously, she eyed him. Even with his shoulders hunched, he seemed to be about the right height. The same build. And he wore a ring.
She shook her head swiftly. It was impossible. He had been in Kansas when that incident had occurred. There was no way that it would be possible for him to have been in Metropolis that night, then back in Kansas without anyone having missed him. And then there had been the inhuman speeds at which the strange man had moved. Clark seemed perfectly normal, moving at human speeds.
But he caught you in the blink of an eye, her inner voice whispered.
Before she could question this, the phone rang. And rang. It was Clark who finally moved to answer the phone.
-
Clark cursed silently to himself as he moved past her to answer the phone, careful to avoid touching her. Stupid, he thought. That was a ridiculous move, Kent. She’s not the woman you married.
He snatched the phone from the cradle. “Hello?” he barked out, more roughly than he had intended.
“Clark? Is that you, son?” Perry’s surprised voice seemed to boom out from the earpiece.
“Yeah, Chief. It’s me.”
“Great shades! I tried to find you before we ran the article, but we couldn’t find you anywhere!” the editor’s voice filtered through the earpiece, concerned. “Where have you been? How are you?”
Clark felt a momentary pang of guilt. He had begged his parents not to let anyone know that he had been hiding out at his childhood home, not wanting anyone to know where he was. “It’s okay. I wasn’t available.”
“How are you adjusting?” the editor asked.
Clark chuffed out a short breath that could have been a laugh. “I’m adjusting to the adjustment,” he commented wryly.
“Now, son,” Perry began after a moment. “Now that you’re back in Metropolis, I need to let the bigwigs upstairs know when you’re coming back.”
Clark sighed heavily. He had tried to convince Perry to just let him go, but the editor had insisted that all he had needed was time. So, when he had handed over his notice several months back, the editor had just tucked it in his desk. He had said that he would wait a while before turning it in, and placed the reporter on a leave of absence. “What about Lois?”
It was Perry’s turn to sigh. “When we thought – well, there were slots to fill. But I think that this new girl isn’t cut out for the Planet.”
Clark cast a glance over at Lois, who stood in the bathroom’s doorway. “I don’t think Lois would like it if someone had to get fired for her to return.”
“Trust me, son. It wouldn’t be like that.” There was a brief shuffling sound on the other end as Perry was obviously flipping through some journalists’ articles. “How about this? You guys take a couple more weeks to adjust. If, by the time you’re both ready, this new girl still isn’t working out, we figure it out then?”
“I’ll talk it over with Lois,” he said. The last thing he wanted to think about right now was work. Investigating Biomedic Industries was another matter, one that would hopefully uncover what had actually happened to his wife.
“Alright. Give me a call when you’ve decided.” There was another shuffle and the sound of a muffled curse. “Kent, give my love to Lois. I have to run before this under-age pimply-faced snot-nosed kid completely screws up today’s advertisements!” Without waiting for an affirmative, the chief hung up, leaving Clark with the dial tone.
“Perry sends his love,” he stated as he hung up the phone, wondering just how badly she would kill him if he gave his love, as well.
“Okay,” she answered before giving a jaw cracking yawn.
Clark glanced at the clock. “It’s getting late,” he commented lamely. “Why don’t you take the bedroom? I’ll take the guest room.”
“I couldn’t do that,” she started to protest.
Before she could finish he cut her off, trying to sound nonchalant. “Please, take the bedroom.”
He failed miserably at nonchalant.
-
He heard the cries of the helpless day and night, even in his dreams. The first time he had woken, a woman had been attacked. When he had arrived to the scene, it was too late to save her. However, it had not been too late to bring justice to the one who had committed the atrocious crime.
He scoffed at the idea of Superman doing what actually needed to be done to make sure that people were safe and actually stayed safe. The pathetic fool had spent all of his life suppressing what it was to truly be Kryptonian.
However, I know freedom. I know what it is to not be restrained by the moral ethics of these people. I know what it is to truly protect these weak creatures that can not protect themselves. The only way they can truly be safe is if I do what needs to be done. To follow my nature. No doubts. No heart. No mercy.
He kept to the shadows, straining his hearing for sounds of trouble.
In the distance, he heard the sounds of a man shouting for help as he was being robbed.
Almost excitedly, he took to the air, ready for some action.
-
Lois awoke with a jolt the following morning. Her breath was rapid, and she could feel her pulse thrumming swiftly at her neck.
She had had nightmares before, especially after her parents had divorced, but this one had been pretty intense. The problem was, she didn’t remember most of it. All she could remember was that people were demanding answers from her, injecting her with something, and she desperately forced herself to keep from telling them whatever it was that they wanted to know. There had also been this strong feeling that there was someone she was protecting, someone that she would sacrifice everything for to keep safe.
Pulling her knees up tightly against her chest, she tried to bring her breathing under control. Lois was surprised when, as she rubbed her hands across her face, she smeared tears across her cheeks. With a shuddery breath, she pulled the unused pillow to her chest and buried her face in it, trying not to let any more fall.
It was a losing battle, and there was soon a damp spot on the pillowcase.
She suddenly had a flash from the nightmare, remembering thinking that she had to forget something. She had to do everything in her power to force something so important away to the back of her mind so that she could no longer call it up. She had pushed it so far away that, even now, she couldn’t remember.
It was then that she realized that it hadn’t actually been a nightmare at all.
With a shuddering breath, she gently placed the pillow back into its place and stood up. There was a robe hanging on the back of the door, and she pulled it on before leaving the room.
Softly, she padded through the hall to the spare bedroom. Tentatively, she knocked, not really sure why she was going to Clark. Maybe it was because he would know more about what it was that she had forgotten…
When no answer came, she pushed the door open, and was surprised to find the room empty.
Maybe he’s an early riser, she thought as she turned to head down the stairs. But the rest of the house was just as empty.
A half-hour later, as she was pouring her third cup of coffee and buttering some toast, she heard the sounds of footsteps coming down the stairs. Confused, she went to the kitchen door to see Clark almost stumble down the stairs, apparently exhausted.
“Where have you been?” she asked curiously.
He blinked at her for a moment, furrowing his brows. “I was in bed,” he answered.
She shook her head. “No, I checked on you awhile ago. Your bed was empty.”
“Lois, I’ve been asleep all night,” he answered, his voice edgy. “I haven’t even gotten up to use the bathroom.”
Lois harrumphed as she let him enter the kitchen, doubting that she could have missed a man-sized lump under the covers. “Coffee’s on if you want some,” she said tersely as she went back to her toast.
“Lois,” he started, drawing out her name in equal parts exasperation and contrition as he came up next to her. Then he paused, and she could hear his sharp intake of breath. “Did… did I do that?”
At first, she had no idea what he was talking about. Then she remembered that she had worn a tank top to bed last night. Glancing down at her arms, she saw that the bruises were rather noticeable under the florescent lighting of the kitchen. “Not unless you travel in alleys wearing really dark and ridiculously tight clothing,” she muttered.
“What?”
She sighed. “No, it wasn’t you.”
His relief was palpable, and she wondered why he thought that the grip he’d had on her last night would leave any sort of mark. Granted, it hadn’t felt very comfortable, but it was nowhere near as tight as the grip that her attacker had had on her.
For the first time since he had entered the kitchen, she took a good look at him and froze.
“If you weren’t out this morning, why do you have dirt on your face?” Slowly, the cogs in her brain began to churn.
He caught you in the blink of an eye.
-end Part Five
