Thanks to Beth, Carol, and Kelly for all their help making this fit for your eyes.
From Chapter 3
I sighed, “Sorry, I just… well, I'm just sorry. I need a few minutes to finish up the lead-in, though.”
“Of course,” Clark said as he turned to go back to his desk. “Lois?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I take you to lunch or something? No pressure, it just seemed like maybe you could use a break from this place or something when you finish the lead-in,” Clark asked me.
I smiled. A lunch out of the office would probably help me relax. “I'd like that,” I admitted, smiling slightly as I went back to writing.
Chapter 4
“So, you don't need to tell me about it, but…” Clark trailed off as he tried to find the right words.
“It's nothing,” I said, sighing as I dug into my salad. A minute later, though, words starting coming out of my mouth without thought. “It's my mother. She's coming for a visit.”
“You don't get along with your mother?” Clark asked.
“No,” I said, resolved that this was all I would tell him, and to make sure I did that, I shoved a forkful of food into my mouth. Clark laughed as salad dressing dripped off my chin. He handed me a napkin and I could not help but laugh with him.
“So,” Clark said a moment later. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“What?” I asked, although I knew perfectly well what he meant.
“The reason you don't get along with your mother.”
“No,” I said again and Clark nodded in understanding. For several moments we ate in silence, but strangely the silence was comfortable. Clark had only been with the Planet for a few weeks, but I was already completely at ease with him in a way I had never been with someone besides Chad. That's the only explanation for what happened next – how despite my resolution to share no more, despite the fact that aside from Chad and his parents, no one outside my immediate family knew this, I started talking. “My mother was… is an alcoholic.”
Clark put his fork down, startling me, but when I looked at him, I could see that he was not shocked, but he was looking directly at me. I had his complete attention. Something about that look, with his brown eyes warm and compassionate, made me keep talking.
“She doesn't drink any more, but, you know, we had years of not getting along. My dad moved out when I was a kid and wasn't really around after that. And my mom started drinking years before that. By the time Dad moved out, though, I was taking care of myself. And my little sister.
“It was okay, I guess. I mean, Mom always worked enough for me to be able to buy groceries and stuff, but she wasn't that much of a mother.” I paused for a moment, stunned that I had told him so much about my childhood.
“I'm so sorry you had to go through that,” Clark said, his voice nearly a whisper.
I felt tears in my eyes, but ignored them. “Anyway, we got into this huge fight the first time I brought Chad home. I was sixteen and had never had a boy over before and she came home drunk and sort of freaked out. She yelled a lot and called me a slut and… well, like I said, I was sixteen. I was pretty mortified.”
“I don't think you need to be a teenager to be embarrassed about something like that,” Clark said and I smiled slightly. He was clearly right about that, as I was still embarrassed about it.
“Chad was great about it, though, and shortly after that I guess his dad ran into my mom somewhere and by the time I was a senior in high school, the Andrews had virtually adopted me and Lucy.”
“That's a long time, though,” Clark said. “By the time you were a senior in high school, your relationship with your mother was probably too established for that to help much.”
I nodded. “Exactly. And then when I went to college, Chad and I got a place together and Lucy moved in with us. Mom never said anything about it at all. Lucy is great about things like that, and it never seemed to bother her that much, but I mean, how could she not care that her fifteen year old daughter had moved out? What kind of mother does that?”
Clark put a hand on my arm. “It sounds like your mother is really troubled. Not that that excuses her behavior,” he hastened to add off my look. “But I doubt she meant to hurt you or your sister.”
I swiped angrily at my cheeks. I hated to cry in front of anyone, even Chad. “No, I don't think she did, but…”
“But it still hurt,” Clark said, softly. “Of course it did.”
I gave him a weak smile. “Anyway, so it's hard to get excited when she comes for a visit.”
Clark nodded. “Any way I can help?” he asked.
“Like what?”
“I don't know. You could claim you have some errand you need to run with Chad and if your mom complains about being left alone, I'll spend some time with her,” Clark suggested.
I looked at him with wide eyes. “Are you crazy? Why would you offer to spend time with my mother?”
Clark laughed, “Well, I'm not offering to have her stay with me or anything. Just if you need an afternoon off from her or something.”
I smiled, “That's a really nice thing to offer, Clark.”
“Well,” he said, smiling broadly. “I'm a pretty nice guy.”
************
“Lois,” Chad called as I came in the door two weeks later. My mother had cancelled her visit, thankfully, and things had been pretty quiet until today.
“Hi,” I smiled at him, knowing precisely why he had run out to see me, even though I could smell garlic sizzling in the kitchen. “You saw the news, huh?” I asked.
He nodded. “So, were you there? Did you see him? What was he like?”
I laughed. “When did you become a girl?” I asked.
Chad pulled a face. “Come on, Lois. Tell me.”
“Okay,” I agreed as I walked with him back into the kitchen. “I only saw him for a minute,” I warned Chad. “And it's not like I talked to him at all.”
“But you and Clark were there?” he asked.
“I was there. Clark… I can't recall why Clark didn't come with me in the end, but he didn't.”
“I bet he was disappointed,” Chad said.
I nodded, “He was, but he wasn't quite as much of a girl about it as you're being.”
Chad stuck his tongue out at me.
“He seemed nice,” I returned to Chad's original question. “I mean, not full of himself or whatever just "cause he can fly and freeze things and catch bullets and whatever else he can do,” I said, thinking back to the strange encounter.
“So, you don't think he's some sort of evil alien?” Chad asked, making Twilight Zone noises.
I giggled, “No, he seemed much more of the I-come-in-peace variety.”
“Perry must be going crazy,” Chad said.
“Not yet. I think he's still in shock. I'm still in shock. I mean, rationally, I know I should be dying with curiosity, running out to get the first interview with him, but I can't seem to wrap my mind around it. A man who flies is in Metropolis. Anyway, Jimmy got some good pictures at the robbery, and I called the story in on my way back to the newsroom, so the Planet was the only paper to get something in the evening edition on it. That will probably appease Perry for the night.”
“So,” Chad said, walking towards me until our bodies were touching. “His suit looked… rather… tight,” he finished, a question in his eyes.
I smiled, “Well, he was pretty cut. I mean, he had the nicest body of anybody I've ever met.” My smile widened when Chad backed away looking hurt.
“Really?” he asked, still trying to look hurt, but it was clear he was teasing.
“Honey, don't be ridiculous. I barely even noticed.”
Chad raised his eyebrows at me.
“I said I barely noticed. Of course, I noticed, but it wasn't an interesting or important fact.”
Chad looked at me suspiciously. “Honey!” I said. “Stop it!”
Chad leaned down to kiss me and we promptly forgot about the flying man.
************
“Clark!” I said in exasperation. He was acting strange today, subdued. He needed to be on his A-game. Perry had come out of his shock and was on the warpath this morning. Anyone and everyone needed to bring him stories with news about Superman. Including a name, since Superman was just the name one of the interns had come up with yesterday.
Clark sighed, “I'm sorry, Lois. I had a rough night.”
“I don't care,” I said, my voice soft to show that I did feel somewhat badly. “We need to get something to Perry. Help me think of a name at least.”
“Superman works for me,” he said, sounding listless.
I sat down at the conference room table beside him. “What's wrong, Clark?” I asked, hoping that maybe I could help him work through whatever was going on and we could move past it and get some actual work done.
“Nothing,” Clark said in a voice that made it perfectly clear that it was not nothing.
“Okay,” I said, placing a hand on his arm. “But I hope that you consider me a friend and would let me know if I could help you with something.”
Clark nodded his head. “I do. Thanks, Lois. And really, I think Superman is a good name. We're not going to come up with something better.”
************
“Hi,” I said as I opened the door.
“Hi,” Clark said, sounding just as listless as this afternoon in the conference room. Honestly, he had not been that much fun to be around today. “Am I interrupting something? Is now a good time to talk?” he asked.
“Of course,” I said, moving aside to let him in. “Chad's doing the overnight shift tonight, so this is perfect. Are you hungry?” I asked, holding up the piece of pizza in my hand.
“No, thanks,” Clark said. He looked around my apartment for a moment. “This is a nice place,” he said.
“Thanks,” I watched as he moved over to pick up a picture of Chad and me on our wedding day from the bookshelf.
“Chad looks nice,” he said to me.
“Well, this may surprise you, but he actually is a nice guy,” I teased him, but I only got a small smile in reply before he put the picture down.
I motioned to the couch, sitting down myself, and Clark sat at the other end, looking nervous and a bit sick to his stomach.
“Are you okay?” I asked, suddenly worried that whatever it was was serious. “Is it Rachel?”
“No,” Clark shook his head. “Rachel's fine.”
“So, what is it?”
Clark's hands gripped my couch cushions. “I can't believe I'm even thinking of doing this,” he said softly. “I can't… I shouldn't…”
“Clark, what is it?” I cut in, feeling alarmed.
Clark got up. “Forget it. I don't know what I was thinking.”
“Clark!” I called out as he reached my door. “What is it?”
Clark stared at the floor so fervently I was surprised there wasn't a hole in it.
“It's nothing. I shouldn't have come here,” he said, but he made no move to leave.
I watched him from my place on the couch and was amazed. He looked so nervous, so agitated, and so frightened. I had never seen Clark looking like he was not in complete control of his emotions. Of course, until today, I had never seen him upset before. I guess we had really only known each other a few weeks, but for me, who got upset pretty easily, this was a surprising realization.
I thought back to the last time I had been upset over something serious (rather than just because it was raining out when I wanted to wear my favorite skirt to work). It was the afternoon I had told him about my mother. He had been so helpful – it had almost been like talking to Chad. I realized I wanted to be that kind of friend to him, too.
“Clark,” I said softly. “I hope you consider me a friend.” I realized as I said it that I had used the same words with him that afternoon with little result, but of course, I hadn't realized how upset he was at the time. Maybe this time they would help.
He looked at me, but his eyes were full of panic.
“You can tell me anything that is bothering you,” I said, my voice still soft.
“Not this,” he said, his voice even softer than mine. “I can't tell anyone this. I don't know why I'm here.”
I felt my heart rate speed up slightly at his words. Did he mean that he hadn't told anyone this before? Whatever this was? What about Rachel?
“Clark, are you in trouble?” I asked.
He looked at me with wide eyes that belied the shake of his head. I felt myself start to panic. How well did I know Clark Kent really? He could be in trouble with the mob or something and I would have no idea. Still, I couldn't just let him leave without doing something to help. Well, assuming he wasn't really in trouble with the mob. He looked so lost and frightened, like a little boy, and it brought out my maternal instincts or something, I guess.
“Clark, you can tell me whatever it is,” I said, my voice soft and as soothing as I could make it. I could see from his eyes that he wanted to tell me, but was conflicted.
Finally, his eyes showed some calm, but he shook his head again. “Thank you, Lois,” he said, his voice softly hoarse. “But I really think I need to take care of this on my own.”
He turned to leave again and I called out, “Can't you talk to Rachel?”
Without turning around, he shook his head. “No, not yet. I can't. She wouldn't… I don't know that she would understand.”
My heart rate picked up again. What would his girlfriend not understand? That he was enjoying living here in Metropolis? But that wouldn't make him so nervous, would it? I moved to stand next to him and placed a hand on his arm. “What about your parents?”
He shook his head. “They're so proud of me. I don't want to disappoint them.” His voice was so soft, I wasn't sure those words were for me.
He brought his hand up to the doorknob, but now I felt committed to finding out what it was. If he really felt like he could not talk to anyone else, than I would be here for him like he had been there for me. I moved to take his hand and tugged on his arm. He looked at me questioningly.
“Come sit down, Clark. You don't need to talk about it. Just sit with me for a few minutes.”
He followed me to the couch and sat down. I went into the kitchen and brought him a piece of pizza, which he took, but ate without seeming to really taste it. After a few moments of silence, I reached over and turned the TV on. I flipped past LNN, thinking Clark could use something more soothing and went to a mindless comedy.
After a few minutes I stole a glance in his direction and realized he wasn't watching, though. I turned back, thinking that perhaps just sitting here was still helping.
It must have worked as after a few minutes of the television playing, Clark started talking again, although so quietly I had to turn the TV off to hear him.
“If Chad were to have a secret - I don't know what it is, but - something that was newsworthy, but it could get him hurt if you printed it, would you?” he asked me.
“Like what?” I asked. I immediately knew I was getting bogged down in meaningless details, but that was a bad habit of mine.
Clark looked off in the distance for a moment before saying, “Pretend that some big crime boss came into the hospital for plastic surgery and Chad somehow knew about it, so he could tell people what the guy looked like later, but if you wrote the story, everyone would link it to Chad.”
“And then the mob would come after him,” I said, realizing where he was going, even if the scenario was pretty unlikely. “Of course I wouldn't write it,” I said. “I love Chad. I wouldn't do anything to hurt him.”
Clark nodded. “What if it wasn't Chad? What if it was… Mr. Wilkins?”
“How would Mr. Wilkins know about the plastic surgery of a crime boss?” I asked, trying to imagine any scenario where the guy who owned the coffee cart in the Planet building would be privy to that kind of knowledge.
Clark smiled slightly. “He wouldn't. But he accidentally saw some crime happen and was threatened not to tell, but you found out about it.”
I sighed. It was a hard call, but I don't think I could live with myself if I purposely printed something that would get someone else killed. “I wouldn't do it,” I said, although with decidedly less conviction than I had used when talking about the scenario with Chad.
“What…” Clark paused and gripped my couch cushions in the same fashion as when he had first shown up, “What if it was me? And I wasn't the one who got hurt, but Rachel and my parents and maybe even you?”
“Clark,” I said, hearing the panic in my voice, but not caring. “What sort of trouble are you in?”
“I'm not in any trouble,” he said, sounding miserable.
I felt myself calm down. I hadn't realized how overly dramatic Clark could be. I laughed a little. “Come on, Clark. You're a farm boy from Kansas. You can't have anything to tell me that would be interesting enough to print in the Daily Planet or get anyone you know in trouble.” Then I realized how harsh that sounded, so I added, “Nor do I. Our lives are too boring.”
“But if I did, would you print it?” Clark asked me, his eyes wide with an emotion I could not identify.
“No,” I said simply, knowing as I said it that it was true. In reality, I barely knew Clark, but I already felt like he was someone I trusted and I wanted him to trust me, too.
“I'm Him,” he said, and he said “him” with enough importance for me to know that it was someone important, even though I had no idea who he was talking about.
“Him who?”
“The guy… the guy who can fly. Superman.” he said.
For a moment, I said nothing and then I laughed. “Really Clark, you are an incredible actor,” I said. “I thought you really had some big secret.”
“I do. I am him,” he said, his voice still serious.
“Come on, Clark!” I said. “I've seen you. You bump into walls and trip more than anyone I know. Superman didn't seem like that at all.”
Clark did not say anything in response, but then stopped my laughter cold. He was floating two inches off my couch.
