DISCLAIMER: I claim none of the characters. They are all DC's; a good majority of the characters are from the Superman comics, but there are a few of them from the Supergirl comic series. In short, they're not mine; I'm just borrowing them. I'll return them, I promise!
- - - -
Perry sat in the car, drumming his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel of Jimmy’s car. He had moved there shortly after Jimmy bolted to go after Linda, which was over an hour ago.
“They’re going to get themselves killed,” he muttered. “If they’re not already dead.” He sighed, feeling like a worried, angry father. “I’m going to kill them myself.” And he meant it. “If they’re not dead, I’m going to kill them myself. What in Sam Hill were they thinking, running off in the middle of the night in Suicide Slum?” He sighed. “And what was I thinking by letting them go?”
He knew Jimmy had told him to stay put and watch his car, but Perry valued his ‘kids’ more than any car. Besides, he was the managing editor of the Daily Planet, and he didn’t take orders; he gave them. Determined to find Jimmy and Linda, even at the expense of Jimmy’s car, Perry was reaching for the door handle when he heard the passenger door opening behind him. His defenses up, he turned around, expecting to see the wrong end of a gun or knife. Before he could utter a single syllable, Supergirl got in beside Perry and closed the door behind her.
“Great shades of Elvis!” Perry gasped, his hand over his chest. His eyes were wide, and his face was so pale, Supergirl thought for a moment he was going to pass out.
“Are you okay, Mr. White?” she asked. She heard his breathing and heart rate slow down. “Sorry I scared you.”
Perry waved his hand dismissingly as he glanced over at the young heroine. Supergirl looked completely worn out. He leaned over slightly, furrowing his eyebrows. He wasn’t sure if it was the light or the tension in the air causing his senses to go into hyper-drive, but there was something déjà vu like with Supergirl in the car, almost like he had been in that position with her before.
“Mr. White, I need you to listen to me, okay?” Supergirl said, looking at him seriously. “I want you to leave Suicide Slum and take the long way back to your place, okay?”
“But, Supergirl, what about Jimmy and Linda?” Perry asked. “They went to investigate something at the Red Horse Garage; that was over an hour ago, and I have this bad feeling they might be hurt.”
“Mr. White, I can personally assure you that they are fine,” she said. “They got a lot of information, and they have a lot of stuff to talk to you about, but for now, they’re resting. There’s nothing else that you can do here. The best thing you can do is to go home, rest, and meet them at the Planet in the morning, okay?”
Perry nodded. “Okay,” he answered.
“And be careful too,” Supergirl added. She got out of the car.
“Supergirl, what happened -”
“Mr. White, just do it, please.” Supergirl shut the door and stood by the car. She waited as Perry started the engine, put the car into gear, and gave her a worried glance before driving off. She watched as the car disappeared from view then leapt into the night sky.
- - - -
Supergirl quietly landed on her balcony and glanced around as she always did, making sure no one was watching, as she quickly darted into her apartment. She closed the balcony door behind her quietly and looked over at the bed. She stopped in her tracks when she saw it was empty.
“No,” she whispered as she hurried over to the bed, feeling it, having to touch it to know it wasn’t an hallucination. She stood up and looked worriedly into the living room. “Jimmy?”
“Down here,” came the mumbled response. Supergirl looked down and saw Jimmy laying on her living room floor on his back. Wide-eyed, the young woman was kneeling by his side in a flash. She could see his brown eyes were kind of dull, something she knew was common from head injuries as she helped him sit up.
“Are you okay?” she asked. She glanced around and registered the toppled chair next to him for the first time. “What happened?”
Jimmy looked sheepish as his cheeks turned pink. “I, uh . . . nothing.”
“Jimmy,” Supergirl warned gently. “Tell me, or I’ll probe.”
“Probe?” Jimmy asked, concerned.
“Your mind,” she answered.
“Oh,” the young photographer said, sighing with relief. He glanced up. “You said you wouldn’t do that.”
“No, I said I *haven’t* done that,” she replied. “Two different things. Now, tell me what happened.” She smiled. “Please?”
Jimmy hesitated, but he sighed. “Well, I, uh . . . I saw some boxes of decorations behind the couch that CK and Lois left here,” he explained slowly. “I rummaged around and, uh, I, uh . . .” He trailed off.
“What?” Supergirl prodded.
“And, uh, I saw some mistletoe sticking out one of the boxes.”
“Mistletoe?” Supergirl asked slowly. “What is mistletoe? A type of footwear?”
Jimmy chuckled softly, then he winced as his head started throbbing again. He touched the back of his head carefully and hissed when his fingers brushed against the bump forming. Supergirl carefully helped him to his feet.
“Forget about the mistletoe, okay?” she said. “You are going to get some rest. “Which is what you should have been doing in the first place instead of hanging footwear from my ceiling.”
“Wait,” Jimmy said. He pointed up. Supergirl glanced up and saw a small, green sprig with some white flowers hanging from one of the wooden rafters.
“That’s mistletoe?” Supergirl asked, her eyes sparkling with interest and confusion at the same time, her head tilted to the side.
“Yeah,” Jimmy replied. His head was killing him, but he couldn’t help laughing at her, his eyes dull but still twinkling. He wasn’t mocking her; he just found it really adorable that she knew some kinds of things, but when it came to other things she was completely clueless.
“It’s a plant,” she said.
“Yep,” Jimmy grinned. “It’s supposed to go in a place where a lot of people go, like an entry way or a window.” He chuckled softly again.
Supergirl glanced down at him. She was a little confused by his behavior, and part of her wondered if he was behaving this way because of his injury, but she could tell quickly that he was acting . . . well, normal. “What is up with you?” she asked, smiling.
Jimmy shrugged, smiling. “I just kinda like it when you’re discovering stuff.”
The young woman smiled wryly and said, “Oh, I bet you like me having to come to you for information.”
“Yeah, a little,” Jimmy chuckled. His grin changed to a soft smile. “But I also like *seeing* you like this. The way you tilt your when you’re curious.” He shrugged. “I like the way I can tell you’re captivated by a new idea - by learning. And I like how, when you like what you’ve learned or when you’ve just mastered something, your eyes get bright, almost like . . . .” He trailed off and shrugged. “It’s dumb.”
Supergirl smiled. “I still want to hear it, Jimmy,” she said. “Now, you wouldn’t want me to have to get rough with you, do you?”
“No, but I’m still not telling,” Jimmy replied, smiling.
Supergirl put her hands on her hips in a semi-threatening manner, grinning. “Jimmy, need I remind you I can bench press cars?”
“Okay, okay,” Jimmy chuckled. He winced, and Supergirl led him over to the couch and made him sit down; she sat down beside him. Jimmy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He glanced up. “You sure you won’t think it’s dumb?”
Supergirl laughed softly. “I promise. Now talk.”
Jimmy looked reluctant, but he tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes in a friendly sort of way, gazing at her. He reached out, tucked a blonde lock behind her ear, and said, “It’s just that, well, when - when you’re happy - I mean, really happy - your eyes . . .”
Supergirl raised her brows, not knowing what was coming. She saw Jimmy’s hesitance and nodded for him to continue.
Jimmy started to look sheepish, but he didn’t falter; his voice softened and lowered, blushing. His voice was tender but unapologetic. “. . . well, your eyes light up . . . I mean, it’s like - well, it’s like . . .” his voice dropped to a whisper. “. . . it’s like there’s a new star behind them.”
Jimmy’s word’s touched Supergirl, causing her to melt; no one had ever told her anything like that in her life - ever. She would have kissed him if he hadn’t been injured, so she smiled and reached for his hand instead, squeezing it gently.
Jimmy could see her hesitation, and he knew why she wasn’t being more affectionate with him. He smiled, cupped her face gently, and pressed his lips to hers. For a moment, the pain in his head was almost nonexistent as he pulled her close.
Almost.
Supergirl wrapped her arms around his neck, and Jimmy winced and pulled away, breaking the kiss. He tried not to grimace, but the young woman was horrified.
“Jimmy, I’m so sorry,” she said.
“Ah, it’s not your fault,” he replied. He grinned. “We just kinda got caught up in the moment.”
Supergirl looked a slightly puzzled for a moment, but she smiled. “You better get some rest.” She nodded toward the bedroom.
Jimmy looked a little uncomfortable. “Uh . . . I’ll take the couch,” he replied.
“Why won’t you take the bed?” she asked. “I’m trying to be the perfect hostess here.”
“Because it’s your bed,” Jimmy answered. “I don’t want to impose. I’ll take the couch. Honestly, I don’t know why you won’t let me sleep at my place.”
“For starters, you’ve got a head injury,” Supergirl replied as she got to her feet. “I don’t want to leave you alone.” She walked into her bedroom and over to her dresser, where she removed her powder blue baby doll t-shirt and her pair of cloud printed shorts. She talked as she headed into the bathroom. “Secondly, there are a bunch of government people who know who we are, and they might be looking for us - I don’t want you left alone in case they go to your place first; at least I’ll be able to hear them coming before they show up here.” She came out after finishing that sentence, having changed into her nightclothes, her hair pulled pack into a loose, ponytail, her glasses secured, the Supergirl costume on its hanger.
Jimmy’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he stared at Linda. As much as he was used to seeing her dress a certain way as Supergirl, he had never seen Linda dress in anything like what she had on at the moment.
Linda saw Jimmy’s expression, and she tilted her head to the side. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Jimmy opened his mouth, but he couldn’t seem to form any coherent words. “Wr-wr-wrong?? N-no, n-nothing's wr-wrong . . . .” He trailed off as Linda walked through the bedroom, past the kitchen, over to the wine case. Jimmy had nicknamed it the soda case, because Linda kept all kinds of bottles of soda in the racks - not just from America, but around the world; she would always tell him that Supergirl would get them for her, and he felt a slight twinge of hurt from the lie, but he pushed it aside.
“Uh, I’m not thirsty,” he said as she reached for the wine case.
“I know,” Linda replied. Jimmy watched as she gently pulled the wine case - and the whole case rotated clockwise until a secret panel behind the case was revealed, along with a few Supergirl costumes on hangers.
“So, that’s where you keep them,” Jimmy smiled.
Linda smiled and hung the costume in her hand with the others. “What?” she asked as she pushed the case back to its original position.
“Nothing,” he replied. He chuckled. “Actually, I always thought you had just one costume. And I thought you always wore it.”
“Martha made several in case I needed spares,” Linda explained. “Such as with last night’s costume needing to be washed.” She smiled. “I was up until five getting the stains out of the yellow - that’s the hardest part to wash. Not to mention the boots; leather is a real pain to clean.” She crossed her arms. “Now, you are going to get some rest.” Jimmy opened his mouth, but she stopped him. “My place, Jimmy; my rules. You get the bed.”
“And you?” Jimmy asked as he slowly stood up.
“Well, I’m not sleepy yet,” Linda replied. She stifled a yawn.
“Uh, huh,” Jimmy smiled.
“I’m not usually this tired,” Linda protested.
“Well, you had a busy night,” Jimmy replied. “X-raying, superhearing, interrogation, punching heavy metal grates, flying . . . not to mention that thing you did with the boys.”
Linda became serious. “Which I have *no* idea how that happened,” she added. “Or even if I can do it again.”
“You look just as worn out as I do,” Jimmy replied. “And that’s pretty bad, considering *you’re* supposed to have all those spare reserves or whatever you call them.”
“I’m solar-powered,” Linda said, slightly defensive, as she marched over to the refrigerator and opened the freezer portion. In a blur of speed she pulled out some ice cubes, grabbed a plastic sandwich bag from one of her cabinets, filled the bag with the ice, closed it, and was standing beside Jimmy less than two seconds later. She held out the homemade ice pack. “Here. For your head.”
“Thanks,” Jimmy replied. He glanced in the bedroom and he cleared his throat. “Look, uh . . . I’ll take the bed. I don’t want to, but I will.”
“Good,” Linda smiled.
“On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“Will you stay with me?” Jimmy asked softly. “You know, until I fall asleep?”
Linda smiled. “Sure,” she answered. She helped Jimmy into the bedroom and over to one side the bed, sitting him down. As he took off his shoes and socks, she went over and pulled out one of the drawers under the sitting area near the windows. She removed a folded up quilt and closed the drawer with her foot. She unfolded the quilt - it was big enough to cover her queen-sized bed - as she sat on the opposite side of the bed.
“Martha made this for me,” she explained, showing off the patchwork. She rubbed part of the quilt gently against her cheek and smiled. “Sometimes, on the weekends, when I don’t have anything to do, I boil some tea, wrap up in this quilt, and read a book; I always feel warm and safe.” She glanced at Jimmy. “You don’t think that’s stupid, do you?”
Jimmy smiled. “Not at all.” He carefully lay down, positioning himself and the ice pack against his pillow, and Linda leaned over and covered him with the quilt. Their eyes met for a moment, and they just stopped and stared at each other.
After a few seconds Linda blushed and pulled back into a sitting position, leaning against the bed’s headboard. She curled her knees up to her chest and stared out the windows, keeping her eyes and ears peeled for the slightest disturbance, trying to understand why she was starting to feel so tingly being next to Jimmy.
“What are you doing?”
Linda glanced down and saw Jimmy was looking up at her. “I’m keeping an eye out for the bad guys,” she replied. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”
“I can’t sleep with you like that,” Jimmy said. “You’re too tense.”
“I’m guarding us,” Linda replied.
Jimmy sighed. He really liked her, but sometimes she just downright frustrated him. He propped himself slowly up on his side, looking up on her. “Linda,” he said gently, “just relax, okay?”
“How am I supposed to relax when there are people after us, huh?” Linda asked.
“Very easily, actually,” Jimmy answered wryly. He gently pulled Linda down by her arm - a little surprised she wasn’t resisting him - until she was laying on her back, and he was having to look down at her. “There.”
“I’m still not relaxed,” Linda replied stubbornly.
“Just close your eyes and breathe,” Jimmy said. She gave him a look. “Come on, Linda, just try it, okay?”
“But what if -”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” Jimmy interrupted. “If they were going to come after us, after already knowing about us, they would have done so already.” Linda looked unconvinced, but she took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she closed her eyes. Jimmy shifted until he was laying next to her, still on his side, watching her. “Just breathe in and out, slowly.”
Linda followed the instructions; it was hard, feeling Jimmy’s breath tickle her ear, but she could feel herself relaxing - slowly. Her toes, then her legs, then her torso and arms, then her neck. She yawned, and the last thing she remembered as she drifted off to sleep was turning on her side, her finger’s brushing Jimmy’s hand, and she got a brief, tingly sensation again.
Jimmy watched her as she fell asleep. He didn’t think it was possible, but every time - every time - she allowed herself to be . . . well, vulnerable, it was, in his opinion, when she really shined. Not when she flew or melted things or picked up tanks with no effort; it was when she smiled or cried, laughed or shouted, or learned something for the first time. She snored slightly, and the young man couldn’t help chuckling softly. He reached over and carefully removed her glasses, setting them on the nightstand behind him, then he gently covered her with part of the quilt, settled gently on his side, and watched her as she slept.
- - - -
Paul Westfield was fuming as he paced the length of the conference room. He was the only person standing. The others - the Guardian, Dubbilex, and the five directors of the Project - John Gabrielle, Dr. Anthony Rodrigues, Dr. Patrick MacGuire, and Dr. Tommy Tompkins - were sitting at the table. None of them looked happy.
“This is all your fault!” Westfield exploded. “All of you!”
“How so?” the Guardian asked, folding his arms.
“Well, for starters, *Jim,*” Westfield replied, “you’re Security Chief; this place is supposed to be under lock and key at all times - *all times*! Yet, because of those brat kids -”
“Those brat kids are our sons,” Tompkins growled.
“They’re nothing more than your personal fountains of youth, Tompkins,” Westfield retorted. “Which is why you and the other directors are here: your little pet projects were never approved by our people, nor was Donovan’s . . . experiment.” He glared at Dubbilex briefly. “They’ve all been trouble from the moment they were released from their test tubes, and now they’ve really done it.”
“So, what are you going to do, Paul?” the Guardian asked. “Find Miss Lee and Mr. Olsen? Kidnap them?”
“They know about the Project,” Westfield answered. “And they happen to work for the Daily Planet *and* they’re friends with Supergirl.”
“Which is exactly why we should wait before we do anything,” the Guardian said. “I interrogated Miss Lee; she knows something, but I don’t think she knows enough for us to risk exposing the Project by going after her and Olsen.”
“If they didn’t know something that could expose this place,” Westfield replied, “then what the hell were they doing snooping around the Red Horse Garage?”
“I don’t know,” the Guardian replied. “But they wouldn’t have found anything, anyways. We were checking the garage to make sure it was still secure, that no one had found anything. It was in perfect condition, the way it was designed to be.”
“Then how did they get in through the front door?”
The Guardian sighed. He still didn‘t know the answer to that one; his men had assure him that the building was secure, but Miss Lee had managed to turn the doorknob and it broke off. Now, either she was a lot stronger than she looked, or the Project’s engineers were getting sloppy in their work; the latter was a more likely possibility, and he was going to have a talk with those in charge.
Westfield crossed his arms smugly. “Washington sent me here to make sure their money wasn’t being wasted or squandered. They don’t know about the clones or Dubbilex, and I’m sure that we can all agree that it would be in *everyone’s* best interests that they remain secrets.”
“What are you getting at, Paul?” MacGuire asked warily. He and his colleagues knew that whenever Westfield started making comments like that, they were all in for a bumpy ride.
“I will not tell Washington about your clones or Donovan’s pet project,” Westfield replied. “I’ve had ample opportunities to expose them, but I’ve given everyone the benefit of the doubt. It’s all over. Miss Lee and Mr. Olsen are liabilities that must be dealt with - immediately.” He turned to the Guardian. “Assemble a team of no more than twenty of your best men, Harper.”
“For what reason?” the Guardian asked.
“I’m going to deal with these liabilities personally,” Westfield replied. “Without *your* interference. If you interfere, either by trying to stop me or by warning our former prisoners, I’ll be on the phone with Washington, telling them all about the Dubbiliex here and your ‘boys.’ All of you are dismissed.”
The group of seven quietly got up and left the conference room, walking down the empty corridors.
“So, what’s our move?” Rodrigues asked the Guardian. Everyone looked at him expectantly.
“We stay out,” the Guardian answered. “We don’t interfere.”
“Jim, you can’t be serious,” Dubbilex replied.
“Dubbliex is right,” Gabrielle added. “Knowing Westfield, he’ll go overboard and possibly expose the Project while going after two people who may or may not know anything, let alone be able to prove anything to anyone.”
“I know,” the Guardian replied. He sighed as he turned to Dubbilex. “Dub, were you able to sense them at all while they were here?”
“Yes,” Dubbilex answered. “Two very strong minds, but they were scared at the same time.” He gave his friend a wry grin. “You really left your impression, Jim.”
“Is there any way you could contact them and let them know that Westifield’s on to them?” the Guardian asked. He saw the surprised look on his friends’ faces. “What?”
“You’re going to try to warn them?” Johnson asked.
“I don’t think they’re a threat.”
“But Westfield said for us to not interfere,” Gabrielle said. “If he finds out -”
“Paul only said for *me* not to interfere,” the Guardian interrupted. “He said nothing about Dub interfering.” He turned to the telepath. “Dub?”
Dubbilex stopped and touched his head, closing his eyes, as everyone watched. After a few moments he shook his head slowly as he opened his eyes. “No, Jim. They are too far away for me to contact them.”
The Guardian sighed. “And I guess there’s no way to find out what Westfield has in mind, is there?”
“No,” Dubbilex replied. “Not without him knowing it was me.”
“Okay,” the Guardian replied. He sighed. “Well, I’ve got work to do. You all try to get some rest. And don’t interfere with this. The last thing we need is for anyone to find out about the boys or Dubbilex.” He turned to the directors. “Speaking of which, how are the boys?”
“In a word - incorrigible.” MacGuire rolled his eyes and sighed in frustration. “They’re stuck in their rooms, but that doesn’t seem to bother them - I could still hear them cheering at each other for ‘thwarting a grave injustice.’ Of course, the idea of remorse for breaking the rules hasn’t crossed their minds.”
The Guardian chuckled. “Sort of like four boys *I* used to know,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “Always doing their best to stop injustices where they saw them - even if they got into trouble at the same time.” He sighed, becoming more serious. “Look, go check on them again and make sure they’re not causing any more trouble; don’t want Westfield to have any more ammunition to use against us.” The five directors left the Guardian and Dubbilex alone in the corridor.
“Are you really planning on staying out of the way while Westfield takes over, Jim?”
“I don’t want to, Dub; he’s putting the Project at risk, and if the public were to find out about what was really going on down here - even if I don’t agree with it all - then it’s putting you and the boys in danger. I’m not going to let that happen. Besides, I’m counting on Superman and Supergirl to help me out.”
“Oh?” Dubbilex made it a point to not read others’ minds unless the situation called for it, so he was very curious about what his friend had in mind.
“If Westfield tries anything with them, I have a strong feeling that Superman and Supergirl will keep them protected.” He gave his friend a wry glance. “Ironic I’m hoping they *will* interfere this time, don’t you think?” He sighed wearily. “I’m going to go to go assemble the troops, Dub. I’ll see you later.”
Dubliex watched with concern as his friend walked down the hall and turned down one of the corners, disappearing from sight. The had known his friend for many years, and he always trusted his judgment, but he couldn’t remember the last time his friend looked and sounded so tired - physically and emotionally. He wanted to say something, but he thought better of it as he quietly made his way to his quarters.
(End of Chapter 17)
