Chapter Eleven
As Lois had known they would, they got more information from the freed hostages than the other reporters did. Clark’s trust-me smile and his ability to reach people on an emotional level let them open up to him. He was proving to be more of an asset than Lois had initially suspected.
He helped her calm one woman in her mid-fifties who had seemed to be as afraid of Superman as she had been of her captors. She was the one who described how Superman had grabbed an assault rifle by the barrel and crushed it, then had caught two bullets fired by a second gunman and aimed at another hostage. She also described Superman’s face as he disarmed the gunman who’d fired the shots as “hot enough to melt steel.”
Lois had sneaked a glance at Clark at that point. He’d actually gone a little pale, and his eyes were wide with something close to shock. There was something in his past that made situations like that difficult for him, and she hoped he’d gotten the message to control himself at all times.
Lois wrapped up the questioning and called in the story, and she made sure that Clark heard that his name would be second on the byline. As she hung up the pay phone, she turned to her partner and said, “Looks like our work here is done. How about some lunch? Assuming, of course, that Cat doesn’t mind.”
He frowned slightly. “Why would Cat mind if we had lunch together?”
“Well, you – I thought you might be interested in her. Personally, I mean.”
The frown faded into a small grin. “Oh. To tell you the truth, although I think she’s a very nice person and she’s obviously a good friend to you, I hadn’t planned to ask her out.”
Lois’ grin was tinged with a shade of relief. “That’s good. Because she’s got a date tomorrow night and I was concerned that you weren’t moving fast enough for her.”
His grin twisted with irony she didn’t think he knew was there. “I’m pretty fast, but I don’t think I’m in her league.”
She thrust the double meaning down and asked, “So we’re on for lunch? My treat.”
He smiled wider and nodded. “Sure. I’ll get the next one.”
She pursed her lips for a moment, then chuckled. “It all goes on our expense account, Clark. Didn’t Jimmy fill you in?”
He tilted his head. “Sure he did. I just wanted to see how far you planned to take the kidding.”
Her hand found his sleeve and she tugged him toward her Jeep. “Not that far. I’m not real big into hazing the new guy.”
“Thanks. I’m not either.”
She pulled out her keys. “That figures, you being the new guy and all.”
His laugh was Waterford crystal edged with ermine. “As always, your analysis is spot on. Where do you want to go eat?”
“You like Italian?”
There was that starlight smile again. “You have no idea.”
*****
Lois put her fork down and sighed as she gazed at the thinly scattered remains of her meal. “Mama Teglia has outdone herself this time. That was almost too wonderful for words.” She looked across the small table to her partner. “What do you think about this place? Isn’t it great? And the food is always terrific!”
Clark dabbed his lips with his napkin. “It’s at least as good as anything I’ve ever had in Rome or Palermo.”
She gave him a skeptical glance, then her face cleared and she nodded. “That’s right, you’ve traveled quite a bit. Sounds to me like you’ve just about circumnavigated the globe.”
“Yeah. Took me longer than it took Magellan, though.”
“But you made it back home.” He averted his eyes. “You did, didn’t you?”
He pressed his lips together and took a short, sharp breath. “I left home not long after I graduated from college and didn’t get back to Smallville until earlier this year.”
“Really? Even while your mother was making such a name for herself in the art world?”
He turned flat brown eyes to her. “Yes. Even then.” He hesitated, then continued, “I wrote lots of letters and managed to call her as often as I could, but no, I didn’t go home.”
Lois put her napkin on her plate and pushed it to the other side of the table. “Why is that, Clark?” she asked softly.
His hands kneaded each other in his lap. “You don’t want to add my troubles to yours.”
She reached out and rested her hand on his shoulder. “We haven’t known each other for very long, Clark, but I believe I can trust you. I hope you feel that you can trust me. Besides, a burden shared is a burden lessened.”
He lifted his head sharply and opened his mouth, then snapped it shut and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I almost said something insensitive and stupid.”
“But you didn’t. So there’s no need for an apology.” She moved her hand back. “If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. I can’t force you to, and I won’t try. But I am willing to listen if you’re willing to talk.”
He closed his eyes for a long moment, then opened them and looked at the table. “I guess, since you told me something about your life, you should know something about my background too.” He shifted on the bench, then wiped his mouth with one hand. “My father died when I was a junior in college. By the time I graduated, I was engaged to a young woman I’d known in high school. We’d talked about wedding dates, what music to use, what she wanted her dress to look like, that sort of thing. We were pretty serious about it.” He lifted his eyes to hers. “You know what I’m talking about, right?”
Lois smiled. “Claude and I got married in a judge’s office on a Friday evening. We wore our work clothes and spent our honeymoon at the Lexor. Three nights and two days, then we went back to work Monday morning and spent the day knocking people over with the news. I didn’t get a fancy wedding.”
“But you got Claude out of the deal.”
“Yes. That made up for not having the big frilly dress.” She laughed aloud. “On top of that, I didn’t have my mother’s idea of a wedding.”
He relaxed enough to grin slightly. “I guess that’s a plus.”
“It was. But we were talking about you, not me. What was this girl’s name?”
His eyes clouded over. “Rachel Harris. She was the sheriff’s only daughter.”
Instead of making perfunctory jokes about not keeping her out late or putting a hickey on her neck, Lois just nodded for him to continue.
“Anyway. We dated through college and just kind of drifted into being engaged. I wasn’t all that thrilled at first when people I barely knew came up to me and asked me about our wedding plans or where we’d live or how many kids we wanted, but I came to realize that being engaged to Rachel gave me a – a level of acceptance in the community I’d never known before.”
Lois frowned. “Why was that?”
“Because I was adopted. People used to talk about me when I was little, and I heard and understood a lot more than they thought I did. It made me feel like an intruder, an outsider, an interloper in their lives. Oh, I know they all didn’t feel that way, and the ones who did feel that way didn’t make it their life’s main focus, but I felt it all the same.”
He stopped and took a drink. The waiter approached the table and Lois gestured for him to wait. “When my dad died,” Clark continued, “it was great to see all the support the town gave my mom and me. And Rachel helped a lot, too. I think that’s when I really fell in love with her.”
Lois waited for a moment, then took a sip of her soda. As she put it down, she asked in a soft, matter-of-fact voice, “What happened?”
Clark flexed his hands twice and licked his lips. “After we both graduated – Rachel had a degree in law enforcement and went to work in the sheriff’s office with her dad – I took over as editor of the Smallville Press. We’d picked a wedding date in the fall and reserved the church and the room for the reception and the band and everything. And then – then she got caught in a hostage situation at the town bank. Three men from Missouri tried to rob the place.” He snorted and shook his head. “They thought they were the modern-day James gang, carrying on the finest traditions of Frank and Jesse. Idiots.” He stopped and swallowed hard. “And Rachel was out of uniform and wasn’t carrying a weapon. She couldn’t defend herself.”
Lois scooted closer to him and put her hand on his. “She got hurt, didn’t she?”
He seemed close to tears. “One of the thieves shot her in the back and in the leg. She recovered but she – she couldn’t be a cop anymore.” He stopped and suppressed a sob. “Those bullets destroyed her life’s dream. And I let it happen.”
She squeezed his hand. “No you didn’t.”
“You don’t understand! I could have done – I should have done something! I should have saved her!”
“Where were you when she was shot?”
He clenched his teeth together. “Right behind the counter in the bank, about twelve feet away.”
It was obvious to her that telling this story was taking a toll on him, but now that he’d started she didn’t want him to stop. He seemed to feel a need to share it with someone. “What were you doing there?”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I had sneaked in the back way. I saw it start and I got in before the police covered all the exits. One of the gunmen was in the back and I took him down silently. I was trying to figure out how to handle the other two when – when the bullets started flying.”
She understood. He’d been right there and hadn’t been able to help the girl he was supposed to marry. “Clark? Was there any warning? Did anybody yell ‘I’m gonna shoot’ or something like that?”
“No,” he shuddered. “A Smallville policeman outside the bank – not one of Sheriff Harris’s officers – opened fire first and the gunman emptied his assault rifle and – and Rachel almost died.”
“Then you didn’t ignore someone in danger, did you?”
“What? No! Of course not! What do you – “
“And you didn’t abandon her to them, did you?”
“No! I – “
“And you tried your best to help everyone there, didn’t you?”
He stopped and stared at her. She hoped she hadn’t tipped her knowledge of his Superman identity, because she still believed that he needed to be the one to tell her. But she also had to get through his defenses and into his mind and heart on this subject, this thing he was carrying around his neck like an anvil-shaped albatross.
Still staring, he almost whispered, “Yes. I did my best.”
“Then you couldn’t have done more. It wasn’t your fault.”
His gaze wandered off somewhere toward the ceiling. “Superman could have done more, could have saved her.”
She nodded and released her grip on his hand. “You know what, Clark? I think Superman is a great guy and he’s going to save a lot of lives and protect lots of property and catch lots of bad guys. But even he can’t keep everyone from getting hurt or dying. Even Superman has his limits.”
“But I was there, Lois! I was right there and I could have done something else but I didn’t!”
She sighed. “I’m not what anyone would call a religious person, Clark, but I do know two or three things about theology. First, I know that God exists. Second, I know that I’m not God.”
He lifted an eyebrow when she paused. “What’s the third thing?”
“The third thing is that you aren’t God either.”
The statement seemed to slap him across the mouth. His jaw loosened and his eyes widened, and he stuttered, “That’s – you don’t – but – “
“Clark. Look at me.” She waited until she had his full attention before continuing. “Did Rachel blame you for what happened to her?”
“Uh – well – no.”
“What did she say?”
“Before she found out she – that she’d never be a cop again – she chewed me out for being so reckless.” He sighed. “I could never make her understand that I wasn’t being reckless. She got hurt because I was being too careful.”
She knew what he meant. He was telling her that he’d never admitted to Rachel just how different he was. That they’d been engaged before he’d shared his biggest secret with her.
That was not a good thing, but she’d let him deal with that decision on his own. What she felt he needed to know now was that no one blamed him for Rachel’s injuries but him.
“Did her father blame you?”
He rolled his eyes. “He was even louder than Rachel was. According to him, I was reckless, unwise, impulsive, quixotic, and downright unreliable, and I had no more business trying to help than a snapping turtle in a beauty contest.”
Lois felt her jaw slacken. “He actually called you quixotic?”
He nodded. “He’s very literary.”
She allowed herself a chuckle, then got back to business. “So what I’m hearing is that nobody blames you for Rachel’s injuries, not the law, not her father, not the bank, and not even Rachel herself. Is that right?”
He leaned back a little. “Well – yes, I guess so.”
“So why do you think you’re the only one who’s right about this? Why do you think that you could have and should have resolved that situation with no injuries or damage?”
His mouth opened and closed once or twice. Lois thought it made him look like a fish.
Then he set his jaw. “There are things about me that you don’t know,” he insisted.
“Fine,” she conceded. “There are always things about other people I don’t know. That’s one of the reasons I became a reporter, to learn those things. But do any of those things I don’t know about you alter the basic question, which is this: did you cause Rachel to get shot?”
“Of course not!”
“Good. Then I can tell you that unless you can show me that you’re the one who guided those gunmen to that bank on that particular day at the time when Rachel would be in the bank and out of uniform without a gun, or that you’re the one who actually pulled the trigger on the gun that shot her, you’re not the one to blame for her injuries.”
“But – “
“No buts!” she insisted. “That’s the way life works, Clark. If we don’t physically perform the act which injures someone, and if we don’t knowingly put that someone in harm’s way, we’re not responsible. That’s not just the law, that’s a valid moral position.”
He sat back in thought for a moment, then his eyes flashed and he leaned forward. “Are you telling me,” he almost snarled, “that you’re not responsible for what happened to your husband? That Claude’s death wasn’t your fault?”
Her mind went on strike for a moment as she replayed her statements to her partner. In trying to convince him that he wasn’t to blame for Rachel’s being shot despite his special abilities, she’d also talked herself into a corner where she either had to admit that she wasn’t responsible for Claude’s death or retract everything she’d told him.
But she’d believed what she’d said when she’d said it. She hadn’t quite realized that she’d been quoting her therapist, but her logic had paralleled Dr. Friskin’s all the way. Of course, Lois had been far more abrupt and direct than the doctor had been, but the basic message had been the same. And if Clark wasn’t responsible for Rachel’s injuries, she wasn’t responsible for Claude’s death.
Now she had a choice to make. She could either agree with Dr. Friskin and declare herself not guilty, or she could keep her guilt and grief close where the pain was disabling but familiar and comfortable. And no one could do this for her. It had to be her decision and hers alone.
Epiphanies definitely and truly sucked.
She came back to herself and saw Clark frantically waving his hand in front of her face. “Lois! Are you okay? Come on, talk to me!”
She shook her head and frowned as she reached out to push his hand away. “I’m fine! What are you doing, flagging down a taxi?”
He exhaled deeply. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! You just shut down for almost half a minute! I was afraid that you were going catatonic on me!”
She smiled. “No. I’m okay. I was just thinking.”
His eyes narrowed back to normal and he relaxed. “That must have been some kind of dynamite thought.”
“It was,” she conceded. “It was very informative. And to answer the last question I heard you ask before that little side trip through my psyche, I’ve decided that I’m not responsible for Claude’s death.”
He frowned and sat back. “The way you’re saying that – it sounds almost as if it’s the first time you’ve spoken those words.”
She nodded. “It’s the first time I’ve said them and meant them. My therapist has been trying to help me work through my guilt for over six months. The things I said to you – oh, Clark, I’m so sorry! That must have been brutal for you! You must think I’m totally heartless!”
He licked his lips again. “No, I don’t think you’re heartless. Yes, it was pretty brutal. But I understand what you were trying to tell me, and I understand why you said it.”
“Thank you for not being angry with me for the way I spoke to you. I wouldn’t blame you if you were.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “And I wouldn’t blame you if you picked up a chair and hit me over the head with it. I had no business saying what I said to you. I’m very sorry.”
She returned the gesture. “It’s the same kind of thing I’ve said to my therapist any number of times. I’m not mad at you and I’m glad you’re not mad at me.”
“I’m not angry. I can’t say I enjoyed it much, but I’m not mad.”
“I’m glad of that. But the important question is whether or not you believe it.”
His eyes flickered, then focused on her with an intensity she’d never before experienced. “If I agree with you, doesn’t that make me something of a coward for leaving her after she was hurt?”
She couldn’t let herself be intimidated now. He was close to something important. “That depends. Why did you leave?”
He hesitated, then said, “She told me to. She broke our engagement and told me to go.”
Lois nodded in thought, then put her elbows on the table. “Do you mind telling me what she said to you?”
His eyes slid shut for a long moment and he sighed again. “The first couple of days, we talked wedding plans and our future together and whether or not I’d think she was sexy with surgical scars on her back and leg. Of course I told her they didn’t matter at all, and I meant what I said. Then when – when the doctors told her that her legs would still work but not well enough for her to be a cop, she withdrew from me and eventually told me that she didn’t love me any more.”
“Did you believe her?”
“Not at first, no. but she wouldn’t talk to anyone about us, not me or my mom or her dad or our pastor or the hospital chaplain – nobody could get through to her. She called off the wedding, cancelled all the reservations we’d made, and told Pastor Reynolds that she refused to be a burden to me, that I deserved better than to be shackled to a cripple.”
She patted his hand again. “I’m sorry. That must have been terrible to hear.”
He lifted his glasses and wiped his eyes. “It was.” Clark shifted on his bench and crossed his arms. “You’re lucky. Your husband left you when he died, but he didn’t reject you.”
Lois sighed. “I don’t think she was rejecting you, Clark. I think she was blaming herself and she did what she thought was the noble thing to pull away from you. She thought she was saving you from yourself and what she thought was your misguided willingness to take care of her.”
He frowned at her. “Since when are you a psychologist?”
“I’m not. But I’ve been in some pretty intense therapy sessions, both private and in groups, and I’ve learned how to look inside what people do and say to what they really think.”
And, she thought, saving lives as Superman helps you deal with your perceived failure with Rachel, and that’s why you reacted the way you did in that shootout this morning. She couldn’t say that to him, of course, but she hoped he’d eventually make the connection on his own.
He looked away and sat silent for several minutes. The waiter once again approached cautiously, and this time Lois waved him over. The young man left the check with her without a word and pointed to their beverages. Lois shook her head in the negative, and he nodded and left them alone.
Clark finally stirred. “I think it’s time to get back to the office. Perry will want to know where we’ve been.”
Lois nodded. “He’s good about cutting his reporters some slack as long as they’re producing. But you don’t want to take a three-hour lunch when you still have unfinished work in your inbox.”
He turned to her and smiled weakly. “You ever do that?”
She snorted a laugh. “No way. Especially not since he read Ralph the riot act in the middle of the newsroom last year. He’s not all that productive even now, but at least he comes back from lunch on time.”
He stood and reached for the check, but Lois beat him to it. “I’ve got this one, remember?”
“Right. You like to be on top.” At her raised eyebrows, he added, “Of things, that is.”
She stood and pulled her fingers through her hair. “Nice save, farm boy. I have to make a quick pit stop before I pay the bill. I’ll meet you at the Jeep.”
He nodded as he dropped some cash on the table for the tip. “I’ll be around.”
She stopped suddenly and spun around. “Oh! I just remembered something. Are you free for dinner tomorrow night? Cat and her new boyfriend invited me to go out with them, and I really don’t want to go alone.”
“She’s not using him as a stalking horse to get to me, is she?”
“I’m pretty sure she’s given up on you for the time being. And if not, I’ll keep you safe.”
“Isn’t what’s-his-name – Mitchell – available on short notice?”
She tilted her head and gave him a medium-strength Mad Dog glare. “I’m not asking Mitchell, I’m asking you. What’s your answer?”
His sideways grin lit up the room. “I think I can squeeze it into my schedule. I can’t have my partner feeling like a third wheel on a bicycle.”
Before she could come up with a suitable retort, he turned toward the door. She watched him thank Mama Teglia for the wonderful meal and the waiter for his attention. He smiled at the cashier and opened the door for a couple coming in. He was such a Boy Scout, she thought.
Not, she admonished herself, that it was a bad thing.
As she checked her makeup in the bathroom mirror, she pondered her situation. Everything she’d heard from Clark seemed to verify that he was indeed Superman. If she’d had any serious doubts, they’d been all but erased from existence by their after-lunch conversation. And as she thought about her earlier decision to keep that information private, she realized that she’d have to walk a narrow path between not revealing the secret to the world at large and not letting Clark know that she’d figured it out. And maybe she could drop some obscure hints to Clark to accentuate the differences between himself and his hero persona. She didn’t think anyone else would connect them the way she did, but it wouldn’t hurt him to take some precautions.
She frowned at her reflection. Since when was Lois Lane the self-appointed protector of Superman’s secret identity and psyche? Who’d elected her for this office? She knew she hadn’t campaigned for it. It didn’t look like it would pay very well, either, and there was absolutely no publicity attached to it. Probably no award dinners, either.
Then she smiled as she thought about having Superman next to her on stakeouts and investigations and interviews. He’d come in very handy on so many levels.
And he was very easy on the eyes and ears, too. So the benefit package for this job was going to be pretty good.
She frowned again, this time at her traitorous thoughts. She didn’t want to be unfaithful to Claude’s memory, but she was alive and he – he wasn’t.
The thought pained her but didn’t crush her. Maybe it was time for another session with Dr. Friskin. Maybe she’d made more progress in the last six months than she’d thought.
And maybe Clark had helped, just a teensy little bit.
Enough introspection for one day! Time to get back to work. There were still bad guys who needed to be busted, and Lois Lane was going to be the one to do it. Nobody beat her to a story, not even Superman.
Of course, if he wanted to tag along right behind her, she wouldn’t object.
*****
I sat on my crummy hotel bed for what I hoped would be one of the last times and thought about what Lois and I had discussed at lunch.
I thought about it a lot.
My first concern as we’d headed back to work was that I might have accidentally revealed something about me being Superman. But Lois hadn’t even mentioned him, except when I’d asked her a question about her interview with him. I almost volunteered to contact him for her, but then I realized that there was no reason for me to know him. All I would have done was raise her suspicions about the relationship I had with him.
And now I was officially disturbed, mentally speaking. I was thinking and talking about myself in the third person, all because of a garish costume and the fear of being dissected like a frog.
The other thing that weighed on me was my feelings of guilt for Rachel’s injuries, a guilt which Lois had argued very convincingly wasn’t valid. I wondered how she’d known what to say to me, how she seemed to understand my mind so well so quickly.
It had to be that she’d gone through a lot of the same things with Claude’s death. She’d mentioned something about six months of therapy, and she must have been taking good notes. Everything she’d said made sense to me.
Maybe it was time to let go of that guilt.
And maybe it was time to go see Rachel again. Mom had told me that she’d gotten married to an insurance salesman in Nebraska and was working as a claims investigator for his company. It sounded like she’d adjusted to her circumstances and was building a good life, even using her training and education positively. Maybe I should see for myself, and if Mom was right, maybe we could be friends. Not too close, of course – I didn’t want to give her husband any reason to be jealous. But if I could see that she really was doing well, it might be easier for me to forgive myself for not saving her.
Lois had badgered me about finding a better place to live until I’d agreed, so she and I were going to look for an apartment for me next week. And she’d mentioned something about how Superman’s confidence and stern demeanor worked well both when subduing criminals and when rescuing frightened accident victims. It was kind of an odd comment for her to make, but I realized that if I were open and friendly and smiling as myself and less so as the costumed hero, I could put more distance between myself and my alter ego. It was just one more way I was glad that Lois and I were partners.
The smile grew on my face before I realized it. I was really looking forward to apartment-hunting with Lois. I’d have to make sure I wasn’t too familiar or too friendly with her. I didn’t want some stranger to make an assumption about us which might embarrass her.
I had a great job, I’d made some outstanding friends, and for the first time in my life I could use my abilities openly. Life was looking great.
I loved Smallville and the people there, I certainly loved my parents, but I felt like I was finally coming home. I lay back on the pillow and let myself drift into the arms of Morpheus.
