Sorry, it got late, but it's still Monday here in California <g> Next part on Friday (got to cook that Turkey)
Reflections
Part 5
[** The south of France, three years ago. **]
He landed at the rear of the warehouse, and started to walk around to the front. Halfway there, he heard the labored breathing of someone who was injured. Speeding up, he reached the entrance of the warehouse in a second. Looking in, he saw a figure lying on the ground.
He rushed over to find Lena... Monique with a bullet hole in her chest, and blood pooling around her. He immediately took off his coat, and at super speed tore it up to fashion a makeshift bandage. He knelt down beside her, and pressed the material into the wound, to try to stop the bleeding. Monique opened her eyes and saw him kneeling over him. She still had enough energy to place her hand on the hand he was using to hold the bandage in place. He could see blood trickling from her mouth, and as she tried to speak, her body was racked with coughs. Finally she got out, in a labored whisper, "He cheated."
She cough violently again before continuing. "Had someone come back to get his money. I guess you weren't scary enough, Kansas. " Knowing that she had only a moment left, her eyes grew very sad. "You know, I wish I could have really been Lena for you. If I could have loved ... anyone... it would..."
But she expired before she could finish. Tears were running down Clark's face freely, and he cradled her in his arms, oblivious to the blood. She may have lied to him, but she didn't deserve this. He had left her here, unprotected, never thinking about the danger she could have been in.
Within minutes, the police arrived, investigating the tip they had received from Clark. As they saw him, holding Monique in his arms and weeping, they immediately got out of the car and drew their weapons. Just as they were about to order Clark away from the injured woman, a second police car pulled up besides them. A plainclothes detective jumped out of the car, and took in the sight of Clark holding Lena. He walked around to get a better look, silently instructing the uniformed officers to cover him.
A look of recognition appeared as he saw Clark's face, and he instructed the officers to holster their weapons as he squatted down besides him. He could tell that Clark was still unaware of his presence. After giving him a few moments, the detective put his hand on his shoulder. Clark turned his head slowly, and looked blankly at the detective. The detective could see only despair the eyes of his friend.
"Mon ami, what happened here?"
"François?"
"Oui. Clark, you must tell me what happened here. You knew this woman, no?"
"Yes." Then after a beat, "I left her here. I didn't think she would be in danger. I was angry at her, and I just didn't think. I could have... I could have..." He dropped his head, unable to continue.
"You could have done nothing, mon ami, but get killed yourself."
Clark snapped his head up. "No, you don't understand!"
Francois looked sympathetically at his friend. "I do understand, believe me. But it's not your fault what happened here. No one can see the future, or be everywhere at once. I know, I've tried." He smiled sadly as he made his last comment.
"Come, you must leave her, so that the medics can do their job when they arrive." Francois saw the conflict in his friend's mind - Clark knew what he had to do, but couldn't bring himself to let her go just yet. Gently Francois said to him, "One more minute, then say your goodbyes. You must let me do my job if there is any hope of catching who did this."
Clark nodded his head without looking up. He brushed her hair reverently from her eyes, and then wiped the remaining tears from his own face. No matter what she had done to him, in the end he believed that part of her feelings for him had been real. He didn't feel it within himself to judge her now. Maybe given time, she would have changed. He knew that he was a fool to believe it, but that didn't stop him from having that hope. A hope that was now too late to have. Softly he whispered his final goodbye, and gave her one last kiss on her forehead. He laid her head back down on the street, and stood back up, turning to face the police detective and his men. He walked over to them and said in a subdued voice, "Any time you're ready, Francois, I can answer your questions."
Three hours and many questions later, the police detective dropped Clark off at his hotel. Clark had basically told him the truth, leaving out his part in capturing the arms dealers. As he entered the room, he stripped off his blood soaked-clothes and threw them directly in the trash. He then took the hottest shower that the hotel could provide, and fell heavily into bed - the combination of heartbreak and guilt had completely drained him.
He slept well into the next day, then checked out of the hotel. He flew directly back to Kansas, falling into his mother's embrace as soon as he walked into the farmhouse.
*****
Martha hugged her son tightly, waiting for Clark to tell her what was wrong. As she held him she thought to herself. 'I hope that girl didn't break his heart already.' She knew that Clark had been keeping company with some girl in France from the snippets he had dropped while picking up the occasional breakfast-to-go at the farm. Her husband was still at the seed auction in Kansas City, so it was up to her to tend to her son alone. She knew that he was the strongest man in the world, but sometimes he had such a delicate heart. Fearing the worst, she took him into the kitchen and sat him down at the table.
With a broken voice, he told his mother what had happened. She listened without comment, and when he had finished, she got up to make some of her herb tea for the both of them. They drank their tea in silence, Martha patiently waiting for Clark to say the next thing. Thirty minutes later, she was finishing her second cup, and still Clark had said nothing further. He had barely drunk a quarter of his cup of tea. He was obviously obsessing again, so she broke her silence, placing her hand on his forearm as she spoke. "Clark, you may not want to hear this, but you're not God. People will sometimes make their own bad choices. I know you felt something for her, despite what she did, but she chose her life, and it got her killed. You couldn't protect her every second of the day, no matter how many wonderful abilities you have. I know it hurts, and it doesn't feel like it now, but someday you *will* get past this pain. I just want you to remember that no matter what, we'll always be here for you honey... anytime you need us."
Martha waited for him to respond, but Clark just stared into his cup, not saying a word. Sighing, she picked up her own cup and brought it to the sink. Just as she finished rinsing it, she heard him say softly, "You know, at the very end, I actually thought she really did have some honest feelings for me. And now I can't even say for sure how I felt about her. What kind of person does that make me?" He bowed his head, and buried his face in his hands. Martha went to him immediately, and stood by him, hugging him to her chest. She whispered gently into his hair, "It just makes you human, like the rest of us honey, that's all."
He ended up staying at the farm for the better part of the next three months, barely ever leaving the house. Then, one day, his parents awoke to find him gone, leaving a note behind. It simply said it was time that he moved on.
[** Metropolis, the present **]
Clark continued his leisurely flight, soaking in the sunshine, and trying to clear his mind. He wondered if he could have done anything in another way three years ago, but he was beginning to realize that there was nothing he could have done differently - other than to be smarter about women. Monique... Lena (she would always be Lena to him) had made her choice, and had paid for it. He would always feel a small amount of guilt for what happened to her, but he had started to put the events of the past in their proper perspective. If anything, she had taught him not to let his emotions get the best of him, and to be more careful with whom he could trust. He definitely would never put himself in a position of revealing his true self to anyone, especially to any woman, ever again.
He tried to put thoughts of Lena aside by focusing on where he had met Lois Lane before. The way she carried herself, the sheer self-confidence that radiated from her, reminded him of someone he had met once. As he flew slowly, trying to remember, he picked up another cry for help. Zeroing in on the voice, he launched himself in the direction of the person in distress. He was relieved to learn that it was something that didn't involve life and death decisions. It might not be the most important emergency to attend to, but rescuing the little girl's kitten would make a nice cap to the morning. Then maybe later he could write up that human-interest piece he had picked up on the day before yesterday. Might make a good ice-breaker for that job interview he was going to today. That decided, in a flash of blue and red, he broke through the cloud cover, on his way to rescue yet another damsel in distress.
[** Daily Planet, later that afternoon. **]
"Chief, it was him, I'm sure of it. I knew I wasn't crazy about the man who saved me last year. It was that... that... super person, but he didn't have his costume on then. I didn't get a good look at his face at the time, but I'm sure it was the same guy."
"Now, Lois, you know you can't write something just on your 'feelings', as much as I trust them. So you think this guy was operating undercover for a while?"
"I'm sure of it. I collected all of the 'miraculous' rescue stories recorded over the last five years. A lot of them match what this guy can do. He must have been testing himself before going public."
Lois was standing in the modest office of her editor, pitching the idea for her next story on the elusive super hero. He had her article draft in one hand, and a red felt tip pen in the other.
"Like I said, honey, I trust your instincts, but any connection you draw now is just conjecture on your part. I can't print the story until you get me some hard facts. You know that. You need that interview."
Lois knew that he was right, but hated to admit it. There was no doubt in her mind that she was alive today because of that man... that super hero. Her thought drifted back to that fateful day last year, in the Congo...
[** The Congo, approximately one year ago **]
Lois pressed herself as flat as she could behind the crates. Well, she had found the hideout of the gun-runners all right. It was two in the morning, and she had mistakenly thought that no one would be here. But true to form, the gun-runners had appeared at the hideout five minutes ago, trapping her in a small hiding place in the back of the room. It sounded like the whole gang had arrived, and only the crate she was hiding behind kept her from being killed right then and there. She thought again how she got into this situation. As usual the lure of getting the story (and that next Kerth), had over-ridden her common sense. At least they didn't know she was here, and if they left soon, she could get away with enough information to break up the gang, and get another Kerth-winning story to boot.
She focused in on their conversation. Luckily for her, many of them were Americans, so they tended to stick to English when they talked. She could hear them making plans to move the boxes of stolen rifles tonight, aboard the Libyan ship docked in the harbor. Just as she leaned in, straining to hear even more, a mouse scampered up her leg. Without even thinking, she flinched and swatted the erstwhile rodent off of her. Unfortunately she smacked against crate as she did so, making a loud sound.
This, of course, brought the attention of the gang members in the room, and she quickly found several pistols pointed at her. She meekly moved from behind the crate, her mind churning on how to get out of her current situation. Changing her expression, she said with a bright voice, "Hi! I'm sorry, I'm in the wrong place. I was supposed to stay with my tour group, but I got separated. When I heard you come in, I got scared, and hid behind that crate. I see that I must be interrupting something, I'm so sorry. You look like you're all reasonable men, so I'll just be going now. You don't have to show me to the door, I'll just..."
BANG. One of the gang members put a bullet in the wall, not two inches from her head. He screamed out, "Shut up!" He started talking to some of his fellows in some local, native language, obviously discussing what to do with her. The Americans stayed in the background, one of them purposely covering his face to Lois. Without uncovering his face, he said something to one of the nearby gunmen and then left the room quickly. The man turned back to Lois, a grim expression on his face.
"Sorry, Missy, it's just business," he said solemnly, raising his pistol to shoot her. Lois threw up a hand in front of her and screamed, "NO!", as she backed up to the wall behind her. She was sure that in that moment she was going to die, but instead, to her surprise, a sudden gust of wind whisked by her, and the pistol in the gunman's hand disappeared. Just as quickly, all the guns that were being carried by the gang members also disappeared.
Before they could react, the lights winked out, leaving only the moonlight streaming through the window to illuminate the room. She heard a gust of wind again, and in the room's dim light, she could see the gang members being tied up almost instantaneously, and deposited in the middle of the room. When every one of them had been secured, the whirlwind stopped, and became the figure of a person. From what she could tell by the moonlight, it was a man, on the tall side with a large build, but his face was hidden in the shadows.
Lois heard a deep voice speak to her. "Are you O.K., miss?"
She only nodded in response, still in shock at what the man had just done in front of her. She saw him turn his body to the door, and a moment later could hear him say, "Damn, he got away."
Finally, Lois found her voice again. "How did you do all this? I never seen... I mean... what you did shouldn't be possible."
He turned back toward her, not responding to her at all. Lois then started to ask, "What are you, some kind of...
"You know, I don't think they bought that 'lost tourist' story of yours," the stranger interrupted in a wry tone.
Lois shrugged. "It was worth a shot... if you pardon the expression."
"What you did was very dangerous. Getting this story wasn't worth being killed, not to mention, you ruined a month's worth of surveillance for me."
"Hey, listen buddy, I appreciate the save, but I didn't ask for a commentary on my life."
"It wasn't a commentary, just an observation in the use of good sense."
"And who made you... Wait a minute, how did you know I was here to get a story? Are you some kind of cop, or are you a reporter too?"
"I'm someone who wanted to catch that man who just got away. And I knew from my sources that there had been a female reporter snooping around. Snooping that could have cost you your life tonight. In the future you should be a little more careful. I can't be everywhere."
That last comment seemed totally out of left field. What was he, her guardian angel? "What do you mean by that?"
She didn't hear anything for a moment, as if he was thinking about what to say. Then he said, "Never mind. Are you sure you're all right?"
Lois crossed her arms, and said, "Yeah, I'm O.K., why?"
"Good, because I have to go now. I've called the authorities, and they'll be here any minute. Take care of yourself." The figure turned to leave the room.
Go? He couldn't go. She had a million more questions for him. And he never told her how he just pulled off this little rescue of his. "Wait, don't go. Who are you?"
The man stopped, and without turning back said, "Just a friend." Then, in a gust of wind, he was gone.
'Just a friend...'
'Just a friend...'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Daily Planet, the present
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"So go with what you got from your meeting with him today, and hint at a future interview." Perry's voice snapped Lois back to the present. "Oh, and one more thing, if this guy won't give you a name, you need to give him some kind of tag. Something the public can identify with, other than 'that guy', or 'the superhero'.
She had been thinking the same thing, but had hesitated to do that in her article before getting advice from Perry. She wasn't sure whether it would be a good idea for the Planet to create a moniker for 'that guy'. She'd had the idea for a couple of months now, and it was reinforced when she had met the superhero. She would include her idea in her rewrite, to see how Perry liked it. That 'S' he wore on his chest must stand for something, so it might as well be for his name.
"I'll have the rewrite on your desk in an hour, Perry." She turned around and left the office, returning to her desk in the bullpen. She flipped the switch on her computer and called up the alternate version of her story - the one she had also written, and knew that she now knew Perry would approve of. She moved the cursor to the beginning of the article and typed in the new title that she had thought of while in Perry's office. When she was done, she looked it over and was satisfied with how it came out, setting the tone for the rest of the article:
** Superman to the Rescue Again. **
By Lois Lane
'I want to help, anyway I can,' says the superhero.
It did look good. She did some more last-minute edits, then sent it to the printer. No one had yet convinced Perry to touch a computer, so he still edited everything by hand with his famous red pen.
The thought of interviewing 'Superman' sent visions of a Pulitzer through her head. 'Funny,' she thought, 'he's not as imposing as I thought he'd be. And he acted pretty stiff, like he didn't know how to be natural. Maybe he just doesn't like reporters. I definitely need Jimmy with me next time, to snap a few shots. Yeah, next time, like he really was just going to show up for an interview. I wonder, how does someone get him to appear? Maybe I should go to the roof and scream for help.' She chuckled at her last thought. While she didn't really think that he would come when she screamed, it would be nice to have a superhero at her beck and call.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
All in all, that had been a very satisfying rescue, he thought, as he cruised leisurely through the clouds. After the rescue of her kitten, the girl got her mom to take a Polaroid shot with him (of course signing it for her). He loved interacting with children when he was in the suit. They were the best, less in of awe of him, and more just wanting him to interact with them. The little girl, as soon as she had got her kitten back, had taken charge of the superhero, telling him that he needed to go to her house for a picture and an 'afternoon tea'. He declined the tea, but gave in on the picture. It was amusing how the little girl told him what he *had* to do for her, not being bothered by the fact that he was probably the most powerful person on the planet. Oh well, she was pretty cute, how could he resist?
Suddenly he stopped in mid air... he had it! It was her – that crazy woman from the Congo last year. He had always wondered about her. He had assumed, at the time, that she worked for one of the international news agencies. But the woman he had saved... the last person he had rescued without the suit, had been Lois Lane. Wow. Considering some of the stories she had written since then for the Planet, it was a miracle that she was still alive. He chuckled to himself, amused by the thought.
Speaking of which, he was going to be late for his job interview. The trail of his investigations had led him to Metropolis. He knew now that a major figure in the illegal arms trade was based out of here, but it was going to take a while to ferret him out, even with his special abilities. If he was going to continue his investigations, he needed to establish himself here with a long-term job. Freelancing just wouldn’t sustain him in the long term.
He zoomed back to his room at the Apollo, and retrieved his portfolio, and the story he had just completed on the tearing down of that old theater. With his work in hand, he flew to the Daily Planet building, landing on the roof. He changed into his business suit, and flew down to the alley behind the Planet, after checking to make sure it was deserted. Exiting the alleyway, he made his way to the front entrance of the Daily Planet building, and checked in with the front desk for his interview.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Walking over to the printer, Lois picked up her article and brought it back to her desk for one last proofread. As she sat down, she saw a phone message from Mitchell sitting on her desk. She shook her head in amusement - that boy just didn't get the hint. She would have to be very blunt with him the next time they talked. Of course, that left her going alone to Luthor's ball again this year. Seemed like all the good men were snapped up before they met her, and all that was left were the "B" and "C" selections. No "A" selections seemed to make it her way. Claude had potential, but he turned out to be a jerk, and she dumped him before the third date. And her sister kept trying to fix her up with what Lois considered the "D" selection pile.
Nope, she'd just wait for the right guy to come along. "Yeah, right," she said aloud with a snort. Then to herself, 'I believe in love and finding the right guy, but I don't expect 'Mr. Right' to suddenly walk into the room and sweep me off my feet.'
Just at that moment, the elevator chime sounded and the doors opened to the bullpen. Lois saw a man walk out, and survey the newsroom. He was a little over six feet tall, and wore a business suit with a very unusual-looking tie. He looked to be in his late twenties, and his face had strong, sharp features. His clothes were tailored, making it easy to tell that beneath the suit he was in good shape. He wore a set of old-fashioned glasses that seemed to be out of place on him, and at the same time seemed like the most natural thing for him to wear. He spotted Perry's office, and started toward it.
Lois looked to the ceiling and whispered, "Very funny.” As he passed by Lois she noticed that he had no ring on his left hand. She looked up again and said, “Tell you what, if he's not taken, or an idiot, I’ll listen to my mother and start attending church regularly again."
-- End Part 5 --
