Thanks again to my betas – Kelly, Carol, and Beth!
From Chapter 4
“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.
Chapter 5
I could not find any words. None. They were all gone. I was a journalist, I made my living with words, but Clark had made me speechless.
Clark stopped floating and looked embarrassed. “I told you,” he said, but his tone was sad rather than accusatory.
I nodded. “I know. I just…”
“You didn't believe me,” Clark supplied.
“Do you blame me?”
“Of course not,” Clark said, finally lifting his head to look at me. “I knew it would be hard to believe.”
I closed my eyes, trying to get my jumbled thoughts in order. “Clark,” I said softly, opening my eyes. “Why did you tell me?”
“I needed… someone to talk to,” he said, his voice stricken.
“But Rachel…”
“Rachel doesn't know. She can't know,” he said urgently.
“Wait,” I said, understanding dawning. “She didn't know you could fly before you became Superman?” Clark shook his head. “So, she doesn't know you're Superman?” Another head shake. “Clark! How could you not tell her?”
“Would you want to learn you were dating some sort of freak?” Clark asked, his tone bitter.
“Clark, you're not a freak. What you can do, it's amazing, a gift,” I told him.
“But what if Rachel doesn't think so?” he asked. “I can't… I can't tell her.”
“Ever?”
Clark took a deep breath. “No, I mean if we get married or something someday I'll tell her, but… we already have enough problems for one relationship.”
“Okay,” I said, realizing that I should be focusing on the issue at hand, which was clearly not Rachel. “So why not talk to your parents? I mean, I assume they know? Didn't you say something about your mother making your costume?”
That comment earned me a smile, even though it was a slight one. “Yeah, they know. And Mom did make the costume. But Lois, they're so proud of me for finding a way to help people and live a normal life. That's always been my dream, and they are so happy that I seemed to have found a way to do that. I can't disappoint them by telling them that I'm not sure I can.”
“You… Clark, are you thinking of quitting being Superman? Or Clark?”
Clark nodded. “You don't know, Lois. It's so hard. I had no idea it would be this hard.” He looked out my window, wringing his hands together.
Watching him like that, it was easy to see his anguish. It was easy to see that he meant what he said – he really needed someone to talk to. And I was proud that he had chosen me, that he had been willing to trust me with such a big secret. Now, I just had to show him that by helping him.
“Tell me about it,” I said, my voice soft.
Clark turned to me, his eyes holding a haunted look. “It's complicated.”
Unbidden, my mind flashed to a memory from high school. Those were the words I had used. Chad's response had been, “Break it down into parts, Lois. It will be easy.” I told Clark that now (minus the easy part, as I didn't think he'd appreciate that). Chad had been talking about a geometry problem at the time, but I hoped the advice would work for Clark anyway.
“I'm dealing with things…” Clark paused for a moment, staring out the window again. Finally, he spoke again, his voice so soft I had to strain to hear it. “I witnessed a ten year old getting raped today.”
I gasped. It was a completely inappropriate response, but it was instinctual. No matter how hard bitten I liked to think I was from years of reporting, the idea of watching someone get raped was too horrifying not to react to. And a child of all things!
Clark turned to me, his face grim. “Exactly,” he said and I realized my gasp was not really the wrong response. It had echoed what Clark was probably feeling.
“She hadn't even been crying for help,” Clark said. “I was in the neighborhood responding to a fire. On my way out, I heard some yelling and when I peered into the house I was passing…” He trailed off once again, but I knew now to be quiet and wait. He would start talking again.
“It was her father,” he whispered. “I've never had to deal with something like that before. I didn't even know what to do. I pulled him off of her and he kept screaming only at me now rather than at her. She was crying. I wrapped her in a blanket and scooped her up and brought her to the police station, but I don't know. Is that the right thing to do? She was so frightened.”
“You couldn't leave her there, Clark,” I said, cringing when I thought of what might have happened if he had.
“I know,” he said softly. “But that's the point. I'm not prepared to deal with those types of things.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling myself moving into reporter mode. Not that I was going to write any of this up, of course. But it was clear Clark was too emotional to think through these things right now, and if I was going to help him, maybe listening wasn't going to be enough. I picked up a pad of paper and a pen that was on the end table next to me and wrote, “Training on dealing with crime victims” on the paper. Below that I wrote, “Training dealing with criminals”.
“We'll tackle that later. Let's not worry about solving any problems yet. Let's sort through your emotions first.”
“Are you a counselor in your spare time?” Clark asked and for the first time in days a real smile graced his lips.
“No,” I said. “But you know…”
“You probably have to do this with Chad a lot,” he guessed.
“Sort of, and Chad does it with patients. So he learned a few things about how to deal with them and told me what he found worked. He thought it would be useful during interviews. And then, you know, he gives me lots of chances to practice when he's had bad days.
“So, anyway. You said it was complicated. Is there something else besides not feeling prepared for dealing with some of the crimes?”
“It's also… I mean, it was okay at first. No different than before, but now…”
“Before?” I cut him off to ask. “Before what?”
Clark took a deep breath. “This isn't the first time I've helped out. I've done it lots of times before. It just… well, it never interfered with being a normal person before. Well, sort of.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know I traveled the world before I came to the Planet?” Clark asked. I nodded my head. He had mentioned that before.
“I told you that Rachel had come with me for part of that time, but got sick of moving around so much and ended up going back to Smallville,” Clark reminded me, and I nodded my head again. I was starting to see where this was going.
“We didn't intend to move around so much. That was part of why Rachel was so upset. It was just… something would always happen and someone would need help. I couldn't… How could I refuse to save someone's life when I knew I could do it with little detrimental effect to me? But afterwards people would get suspicious and I'd need to leave.”
“Rachel didn't ask why? Didn't she start to suspect?” I asked him, wondering if Rachel knew more than she let on. Or was a bit thick.
Clark shook his head. “She did ask why and I'd just tell her I was unhappy where ever we were. And after the second time, I'd learned my lesson. I'd leave right after I did something, before she'd hear more rumors about me doing things I shouldn't have been doing.”
He paused for a minute and then sighed before starting the story again. “It was hard on her, though. And so she left. I kept traveling, leaving each place as soon as I needed to. It was easier without Rachel to some degree, "cause I could just fly on my own and leave that night, but on the other hand, I missed her. And not just because I love her, and of course I miss her when we're apart. It made it easier to move around so much when I had this one constant in my life.” He paused again, but I didn't say anything. I wasn't sure what to say.
“Anyway, eventually I decided that I couldn't live like that. So, I went to Smallville for a few months and that was fine. No one really needs my help much there. I mean, I help my dad on the farm, but it's very rare that I need to do anything that would expose who I am.
“But then I decided to come to Metropolis and find a way to stay here. And I thought Superman was the answer, but now I'm not so sure.”
He said nothing for several moments and finally I whispered, “Why?” just to prod him on.
“It's different. When I helped out during my travels, I only helped out for big things – life and death things and things I was aware of because they were happening right in front of me. But after I was here for a few days and people started to realize I was staying… They call for me. All the time. Even now, I can hear someone calling for me. And I feel awful that I don't respond, but I just can't. It's too hard to be him all the time. I'm afraid… it's only been a few days and already I feel like he's taking over. Like in a few more days they'll be no Clark Kent left, just Superman.”
“Oh, Clark,” I said, feeling my eyes well up with sympathy for him. I moved closer to him on the couch, wrapping my arms around him. He hugged me back, but a few moments later pulled away.
“You don't need to answer every call,” I said to him, softly. “It's okay to want a life as Clark Kent.”
“But how can I…?”
I cut him off, knowing what he was going to say. “It's better to only answer some of the calls, but be Superman for years than to burn out in a few days. No one really expects you to show up for every call for help. Certainly sometimes there will be more than one call at a time, so even if you were Superman full time, you couldn't answer every call.”
Clark nodded but I could tell he didn't really believe me. “It will be okay, Clark. When things get too rough, you can come talk to me about them. And I bet after a little while, you'll get more used to it, too. You'll figure out the boundaries between Clark and Superman.”
I made a mental note to put together an Op Ed piece for the paper tomorrow about how lucky Metropolis was to have Superman, even if the laws of physics meant he could not answer every call. Hopefully that would begin to set people's expectations, and if I was right, we'd get a ton of mail agreeing with me and that should help ease Clark's guilt.
“Thanks, Lois,” he said softly. “I guess I should get going,” he started to get up.
“Wait a second!” I ordered him. “We're not done yet. Sit down,” I said as I proceeded to get up.
“What are you doing?”
“We still need to work on the first issue. I'm looking for something…” I said, perusing the phone book. “Here,” I said, as I picked up the phone. I waited a few seconds, knowing that it was long after business hours and I would get a machine. Once I did, I left a message and hung up the phone.
“There's a program at Chad's hospital that trains people to help victims of crime. I did an article on it a year ago and it's exactly what you need. The volunteers help only during a moment of crisis: typically right after the crime happens. They do things like sit in the hospital with the victims.”
Clark looked at me quizzically. “Lois, I don't… I don't know how to say this, but I don't…”
“You don't want to volunteer. Of course not, Clark. You have plenty to do already. But to volunteer for this program, you need to be certified by the state to be a counselor for people in distress. They train people. I'm sure they'd be happy to train Superman.”
Clark smiled. “You're right. It's a great idea, Lois. Thank you.”
“No problem,” I said. “Now, I'm not as sure how to get training to deal with criminals, but jail social workers must get trained for that, so we can try to find something tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Lois,” Clark said, leaning over to squeeze my hand slightly. “I really appreciate you helping me with this.”
“No problem. Just one thing, Clark,” I hesitated, embarrassed that this had been the one question running through my mind since Clark had started floating above my couch.
“What?” Clark asked, and then took in the embarrassment on my face. “What is it, Lois?”
I took a deep breath. “Am I supposed to keep this from Chad? "Cause I've never kept a secret from him before and…” Clark's face fell and I had my answer.
“No,” Clark said to my surprise. “Of course I can't expect you to keep a secret from your husband for me.”
I took in his body language – clearly, despite what he was saying, he was not one hundred percent comfortable with the idea. “Can I ask a different question?” I asked. Clark nodded his head, so I asked, “Why is it such a big secret? Are you afraid of getting hurt?”
“No,” Clark admitted. “Not much can hurt me.”
“It can't?” I asked him, surprised.
“No,” Clark shrugged. “I fell from my tree house a few times as a young teenager, and nothing. And the same for cutting myself with a knife. And in the last few days I've established what I suspected – that I'm impervious to bullets and bombs as well.
“The only thing that seems to be able to hurt me is this green rock that my dad found in his yard. He thinks that maybe it came from the same place as me. I mean, he doesn't know. Maybe I'm not an alien and I'm sort of science experiment…”
“Clark!” I cut him off firmly. “Whatever else you may be, you are not a science experiment. You're barely even an alien, even if you come from outer space. More than anything else, you are a man.”
Clark's face lit up at that, and I knew I had been right – I had heard more than a hint of self-recrimination in his words.
“Anyway,” he continued as if none of that had just happened, “Dad thinks the rock must be a meteorite that landed with my ship.”
“Your ship?” I asked. I couldn't help it. I was a reporter. Clark seemed to realize that at the same time as I did, so I was fast to add, “It's just a question, Clark. I promise none of this will make its way to a story unless you give me permission. Maybe,” I said, thinking out loud, “we could write one together tomorrow. That would get all the other reporters off your back.”
Clark nodded, realizing that that made sense. “So,” I tried to bring him back to our conversation, “you came on a ship?”
Clark nodded. “My parents found me in a field. My mom is a bit like you, I think. They'd seen something fall from the sky and when they investigated, it was a space ship. I was about three months old.”
“Wow!” I said, finally making the obvious connection. “Superman is a farm boy.”
Clark laughed at that. “Yes, I am,” he said.
“So, anyway,” I said, trying to sort out all the thoughts in my head. “There is some sort of meteorite that can hurt you, and your father thinks it comes from the planet you are from.”
“Well, it doesn't look like any Earth thing. It's green and glows.”
“What does it do to you?” I asked.
“Makes me feel sick and saps my powers out of me. I'm not really sure. Once we realized it made me sick, Dad put in a box and buried it. And as far as I can tell, nothing else hurts me.”
“So, if you're not worried about getting hurt…”
Clark sighed, “I guess I am afraid of getting hurt, but not in the way you were thinking. I mean, if something happened to my mom or dad, or to Rachel…” his voice trailed off. He didn't need to say anything else. His words reminded me of his tone when he first walked in here. He did not need to convince me that he could be hurt; I had seen it first hand.
“Okay, so you don't want people to know who you are as then they could use your parents or Rachel to get to you,” I summarized.
“Or you, or Perry, or Jimmy,” Clark said, and I smiled. Clark had seemed to make friends in Metropolis very easily. It amazed me. I had never been all that good at making friends, and at this point Clark had nearly as many friends at the Planet as I did.
“But,” Clark said, bringing me back from my thoughts, “that doesn't mean I expect you to keep this from Chad. That wouldn't be fair.”
I could still hear the uneasiness in his voice, and while I felt a twinge of guilt at saying it, I did it anyway. “Look, Clark, if you want me to keep this a secret from Chad for awhile, I can. But just for awhile, maybe?” I said. “I really meant it when I said I'd never kept something from him before. Well, I guess not since we first started dating and I didn't tell him about Mom right away.”
Clark nodded, “You don't need to do this.”
“I know,” I said, “but I'm not crazy about the idea of making Superman uncomfortable.” I smiled at him. “I think Chad will understand. But I did mean just for awhile, Clark. Maybe you could meet Chad, come over for dinner or something, and then you'd feel more comfortable with him knowing?”
Clark nodded. “That seems more than fair,” he smiled at me. “Thank you, Lois. I'm really lucky to have you as a friend. I know we don't really know each other long enough for you to do a favor this big for me.”
I shook my head. “Nonsense, you were there for me when my mom called and you even offered to entertain her if we needed you to. You've been a great friend to me already.”
“Still, Lois. Thank you.”
“You're welcome. Now, here's the thing. I'm an atrocious cook. I actually don't do it. We order in on my nights. But Chad is great. Tomorrow is his night and it's a good one to come over. He's off all day tomorrow to recover from tonight's shift. So, he'll be well rested and probably eager for some company. Does tomorrow work for you?”
“It sounds perfect,” Clark said.
