Clark left Wayne’s in shock, reeling over the implications of what he had told him. Was he an alien? Is that why he had these strange abilities that were completely unexplainable? As he walked back to his parents’ farmhouse, he felt terribly alone. His story seemed wrapped up in a mystery that never became clearer, but only became embroiled in more questions. He suddenly longed for Lois. In her own way, she was as lost as he was and that sort of made a kind of sense when they were together.
He started to try and lift off the ground to get to his parents’ house faster to dispose of the strange rock, when he realized he couldn’t fly. *He couldn’t fly.* He felt a moment of panic, trying to use each of his abilities in turn and each time coming up with nothing.
He was powerless.
Clark looked at the box with the strange rock, more fearful than ever. Had this rock taken away his abilities? Panicked, he started running for the farmhouse, but the leaden box felt heavy under his arms. Heavy?! When was the last time *anything* had felt heavy?!
His panic increased as he realized he had no immediate way of getting back to Metropolis. He had no explanation to give Lois if he was to call her and worse yet, if she were in trouble, he had no way of helping her.
Clark reached the front porch of the farmhouse at last. It was fully dark, and he could only make out the outline of things. He suddenly felt trapped in a nightmare. What if it were permanent? What if the rock had taken away his abilities, making him normal forever? <<Would that be such a bad thing?>> he wondered when he had calmed a bit, turning on the small light in the front room. Hadn’t he wished over and over that he was normal so he could fit in like Lana had wanted, so he could stop hiding and just have a regular life?
He sat down on the small sofa in the living room, setting the fearful box away from him, as he wondered if it was somehow affecting him even now. His headache had mostly gone away, but what about his powers? Would they return?
Suddenly, his pager went off, making him almost jump out of his skin. He pulled it off his belt to see who it was, but he suspected he knew. Yup, it was Lois. <<Great, what do I tell her?>>
He could see no way of getting back to Metropolis before morning. He knew there were no commercial flights after nine and there wouldn’t be any more until tomorrow and besides, he’d have to drive out to the airport, and he didn’t have a car. Clark sighed. He had to call Lois. He knew he’d have to lie. He just hoped she wasn’t paging him because she was in trouble.
“Lois?” he said tentatively when she answered.
“Hey? What’s taking you so long? I thought you said you’d be an hour?”
“Yeah, well, uh, Perry has me on the trail of a story. I got a lead about an hour ago and, uh, I—I’m doing a stakeout. Perry thinks it might be big, so, don’t think I have a choice. It might be an all-nighter,” he said, hating how easy it was to come up with a plausible lie.
“Oh,” she said, sounding disappointed. “Do you want company?” she asked, hesitant.
<<More than anything,>> he thought. “Nah. It’s going to be pretty boring. That Senator case he mentioned in the morning meeting, remember? No big deal... Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, fine. I made up a list of questions to ask Mr. Luthor at the ball tomorrow night,” she said, trying to sound optimistic.
“Good... You get some sleep, okay?”
Silence on the other end.
“Lois? Are you sure everything’s okay?” he asked.
“Yeah... I—I guess so,”
He didn’t believe her. “Lois, if I could, I’d be there with you. I worry about you.”
“I’ll be okay. I’ll double bolt the doors and not let anyone in. You know, the usual paranoid routine, just to be sure,” she said lightly though he could hear fear in her voice.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay? Page me if you need anything,” he said, wondering if there would be anything he could do if she did need him.
“Okay.”
“Good night, Lois.”
A long pause.
“Good night, Clark.”
*~*~*~*
Lois hung up the phone in dismay, wondering about the truthfulness of the stakeout Clark mentioned. He had seemed uncertain on the phone, leaving her with a sinking suspicion he was lying to her, and it cut her deeply. They had made so much progress getting to know each other and building trust in each other. Why would he suddenly back away and lie now?
Miserably she wondered if he had met another woman. Lois hated admitting even to herself that she would be jealous of anyone Clark might want to date, but she knew she didn’t have any real hold on him. They weren’t really married after all; it was just a cover. She had understood that from the beginning. And even though Clark had said he loved her and had been amazingly kind and supportive since they got back to Metropolis, she also knew there was still so much that still needed to be sorted before she could ever believe his declaration to be true. Besides, she was more aware than anyone that saying “I love you” didn’t necessarily mean forever or guarantee any certainty. Her parents were a classic example, and she herself had never had a relationship that didn’t end in a federal disaster. So if he had met someone--- then she might be out of his life--- at least his personal one---as soon as the business with the Boss was all over...
Lois, who could be very methodical, tried to take a step back from her suppositions. After all, she knew the news business---things could change in an instant. Clark *could* be on assignment---but her gut told her otherwise. There had been something in his voice, a hesitancy or even a fear that made no sense--- unless he had been lying.
Lois glanced at the phone. She could be petty and call Perry to find out for certain if Clark had told her the truth... she hated being petty. Up to now, she would say Clark deserved her trust. He had seemed so forthright and honest since the moment she had met him. Yet all the more reason to be suspicious of his phone call, which had sounded so false. The doubt ate at her stomach like an ulcer and simply wouldn’t go away.
With an exasperated sigh, she reached for the phone. It was after nine and Perry was probably gone anyway---but if she waited much longer, he would be gone for certain and she’d never know the answer....
“Perry White,” her editor answered, sounding tired.
“Perry, hi. It’s... Linda.”
“Linda?” he asked, momentarily sounding unsure. “Oh, right, Mrs. *Kent*. How can I help you?” he teased, and she could hear him perk up realizing it was her.
“Um. Fine, I guess. Just wondering. Did Clark come by this evening? He mentioned something about a stakeout and well, do you know if that’s where he is?” she asked, hearing the fish wifey sound in her voice and hating herself for it.
“Lois—I mean, *Linda*. Is everything okay? Are you in any trouble?”
“I’m fine,” she answered, feeling anything but fine. “I—just don’t know where Clark is.”
“Uh, well, I sent him home about three hours ago, I suppose. Try his pager again. Maybe he just didn’t hear it. It’s not like Clark to be unreachable. And... call me if you need me, you hear?”
“Thanks Perry. Good night.”
“Good night. You take care.”
Lois hung up the phone, more depressed than ever. It was true. Clark had lied to her, and was probably out with another woman. He wouldn’t have had reason to lie to her otherwise. Would he?
Lois wandered listlessly around Clark’s apartment—only just above the wallowing stage of self-pity. In one phone call he had proven to her what she knew all along---that no one could be trusted. She contemplated his interesting collections from all over the world and asked herself what she really knew about Clark anyway. There was a niggling suspicion in her mind that she was missing something about him, something that she didn’t understand - something that may have pushed him into the arms of another woman. She realized that although she felt safe with him, he was still a man of mystery. For instance, why didn’t she remember anything about how she got back to Metropolis? How had he gotten her on a plane without waking her –and without a passport!?
And her bullet she had found in his pocket. How had he gotten that? She had thought he had somehow picked it up that night at they left the Congo. But now she wondered---had he found it before, from another incident? Had he been stalking her in the Congo, knowing all along who she was?
She didn’t think Clark ever had any evil intent towards her, but she did believe he posed a lot of mysteries for her to think about. And now, add into the mix her worry that he was seeing someone else...
Lois shivered involuntarily, unnerved by the recent events and worried about her relationship---if one could call it that---with Clark. She had bared her soul to him and despite her bravado to his face, she feared that she had only barely scratched the surface of who he really was.
And that terrified her.
So Lois did the only thing in her power to do. She left. She went to Lucy’s, her old apartment and the only place in the city besides the Planet where she trusted anyone.
*~*~*~*
Clark began wandering aimlessly around the farmhouse, noticing how neglected he had left the place. Dust was everywhere. He felt ashamed and wondered why he insisted on keeping the place when he didn’t take care of it properly.
His eyes settled on a picture of his folks. He picked up the small frame and blew the layer of dust off. They looked so young and so happy. His throat constricted with tears as he remembered joyful times growing up here. Christmases. His birthday. Helping his dad on the farm... all those memories were why he couldn’t sell it. The happiest memories of his life were here. After the accident, everything had become a struggle. A struggle to fit in, a struggle to move on... he had at last felt some belonging at the Daily Planet, but he still felt like he had to hide, could never be himself.
He caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror and wondered if he’d feel like he belonged now that his powers were gone. But he realized suddenly that he didn’t want them to be gone. They were a part of who he was... and in an odd way, Lois seemed to accept that, even though she didn’t know he and the blur were one and the same. But she saw the blur as someone positive, which gave Clark hope that ultimately she could perhaps accept all of him. If... he got his powers back.
Clark continued to wander the farmhouse, opening old closets and rummaging through childhood memories. He found old pictures, some Little League football trophies... happier times. Clark hadn’t really looked through these old memories in years. It had always been too painful. But now, as sort of a captive audience, not being able to fly off at the first sign of painful recollections, he suddenly wanted to see everything. Every photo album, every knick-knack---every reminder of who his parents had been.
He stood at the entrance to his parents’ room. One room he had never dared to go in... but now, fueled by the stirring of curiosity the strange story Wayne had told him, he stepped in, searching for answers. When he realized that was what he really was looking for, he became more methodical, more like a reporter. He needed information, and surely the answers were somewhere in the farmhouse. If only he had his powers, he could scour every item in the house in seconds...
He turned to his parents’ closet, wondering what secrets he was likely to find. He dug through old boxes, old clothes... He remembered seeing his mother in this dress and his father wearing that hat, but he didn’t find anything of any real significance. He sighed, wondering exactly what he hoped to find.
Next to the bed was a small wooden nightstand with a drawer. He went to open it, but it was locked shut, intriguing him. Futilely, he wished for his powers, so he could just pull a little harder to get it open. As it was, he realized he’d have to jimmy the lock. Clark went through the dressers and bureau, looking for something small enough to get it open. At last he found a hairpin. He’d really only seen people in movies open locks with hairpins, but he was willing to give it a shot. Surely it couldn’t be that difficult... Clark fiddled with it a few minutes, shaking the drawer until it eventually sprung free. For a moment, he felt guilty for prying into his parents’ things, but his curiosity got the better of him. If there were answers in this old farmhouse, he needed to find them...
The only thing inside was a solitary, small leather bound diary. His throat tightened with tears as he opened to the first page, seeing his mother’s neat script. The first entry was heartbreaking:
March 28, 1966
Final test results were received today. It’s official---we can’t conceive. I’ve been trying not to cry all day. Jonathan has been so supportive. I think he blames himself, though the doctor says it’s simply too slim a chance with my lazy ovary and Jonathan’s low sperm count. Just unrealistic to hope we can conceive. It breaks my heart. I’ve always wanted a family. The farmhouse is perfect for a small family...we even had had ideas for a baby room, though now we don’t even talk about it. Adoption seems so complicated and we really can’t afford all of the fees and paperwork. Jonathan is such a tower of understanding though, despite all of the difficulty. He says he loves me whether or not we have any children. But I can’t help but catch the glimpse of disappointment in his eyes every now and then...
Clark could almost hear his mother’s voice in her writing and unbidden, felt tears roll down his cheeks. He took off his glasses and set them aside, wiping his eyes, determined to read on.
April 13, 1966
Talked to a lady in town about an adoption agency. But I know it’s just wishful thinking. We simply can’t afford it... but I keep feeling like there is a child out there for me. It sounds crazy and I haven’t told Jonathan. But I feel like somehow... I don’t know. I keep seeing this brown haired boy with soulful eyes... Have I been poring over too many adoption portfolios? All those dear lost children out there... why must they make it so complicated for a loving couple to adopt one?
And then---
May 17, 1966
A miracle! I can’t explain it. But the most extraordinary thing happened to Jonathan and me tonight. We were coming back from town arguing about how we might save up for the adoption fees---Jonathan doesn’t think it’s possible, not with the crops this year. We’ve almost paid off the farm and that seems as far as our finances will stretch us. I said if we just mortgaged the farm again, we’d have enough for most of the processing fees. But he says it’s better to bank on the future with the farm and I argued a child *would* be our future---but it’s all irrelevant now!
We were going by Shuster’s Field when we saw what looked like a meteor. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen! It streaked red and blue across the sky, like a fallen star. I asked Jonathan to stop the car so we could take a look. He thought I was nuts, but followed me anyway---I think my impulsiveness is one of the reasons he married me. Anyway, it’s been balmy for May and the crickets were loud as ever as we crossed the field. The tall grass was scratchy on my ankles. The smell of sulfur was in the air and I felt a hum of excitement in my stomach. I had no idea what we’d find, but I knew it would change our lives forever.
We came to where the meteor had landed. There was a strange---well, spaceship, I guess! Jonathan and I always believed our government dabbled in more covert operations than they let on... and we thought---well, we didn’t think. I simply walked up to it. It was small and it had a stylized ‘S’ on the front of it. I didn’t really believe in little green men, but I was still cautious as to what could be inside. I reached over and barely touched the ‘S’ when the hatch lifted up. To my astonishment and delight, there was a *baby* inside! And not just any baby, but one just like I had dreamed about! With dark hair and soulful eyes. I turned to Jonathan and he saw the joy on my face. I don’t know where he came from, but I don’t care. He’s *mine.* I have a son!
Through tears, Clark skipped ahead a few more entries, absorbing every word he could---
June 3, 1966
Clark is a delight! He’s a wonderful baby! Doesn’t cry too much, no problems with colic or rashes---I adore him!
January 18, 1967
Clark is walking, and every time he does it, it’s a miracle! The most precious boy---how were we ever lucky to find him?
September 25, 1968
Clark hasn’t been sick ever... I wonder if I should worry? I don’t want my child to be sick--- but maybe he’s just special. We still have no idea where he came from exactly... Jonathan thinks the Russians were trying to send children into space. I think---he was a gift. A precious, perfect gift!
Page after page was filled with his mother’s love, chronicling all of his achievements, large and small. Clark let the tears roll down his face, setting the diary down a moment. His parents had *so* loved him. He knew that, yet somehow through all of the foster homes and drama over Lana, he had forgotten his parents’ kind and gentle simplicity. He had been so pained when they died that he had blotted out memories, trying to erase the hurt. He realized what a disservice he had done them. The best thing he could do was remember them, and try to live up to the loving example they had set.
Clark read a few more pages and then skipped ahead to the end of the diary.
February 19, 1975
Clark is a miracle, that is sure. I wonder about where he really came from, though ultimately it doesn’t matter to me. I love him, and I am his mother no matter what. But I know that he’ll have questions someday, and I have no idea how I’ll answer him. Jonathan told me that Clark seems to be getting stronger every day. He caught the tall metal ladder with one hand when it slipped from where Jonathan had propped it up in the barn. It could have crushed Jonathan! Yet somehow, Clark had the strength and the speed to stop it in time... I know my son is special. I had a wild idea that someday he may do even more extraordinary things. But if he did, I know my Clark couldn’t do them as himself. Too much scrutiny would come down on him... He already hides the things that make him different from his friends. He asked Jonathan for glasses although we both know he doesn’t need them. Can his eyes hold some powers he wants to hide? I don’t know... I just keep imagining him, someday, saving the world...
That was the last entry. Under it was a sketch. His mother was somewhat of an amateur artist, but the picture was captivating, inspiring even. It was a figure of a powerful man, his hands on his hips, a cape swirling about behind him, and a large ‘S’ across his chest that looked like the ‘S’ on his baby blanket his parents had found with him. The character in the sketch looked like a comic book figure and Clark almost wanted to laugh, but something stopped him. Could his mother have imagined this as him?
His emotions running high from reading the diary, Clark snapped it shut and almost set it aside. But then he noticed a small card sticking out of the edges. It was a card tucked into a white envelope. On the front was written, “For Clark’s 18th”. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on ends... Why would she write a card for him when he was ten years old at most, and plan to give it to him at eighteen? Was there some other secret that she felt she couldn’t reveal until he was at the age of a man full grown?
With slightly trembling hands, Clark pulled out the birthday card and read:
Dearest Clark,
I don’t want you to have to hide who you are forever. I know you are special and I thank God everyday that we found you... or maybe, you found us. I don’t know if I’ll ever have the courage to give this to you, but it’s yours... for someday. We’ve kept it in your ‘fortress’, hoping to keep it safe until your eighteenth birthday... I know you’ll use it wisely when the time comes.
Love always,
Mom
Clark read the card several times, trying to puzzle out what she could mean. “Fortress?” Did she mean his tree house? Clark and his father had spent one glorious summer when he was eight years old building a tree house in the backyard. He had spent many happy days there. It had comforted him when he had been ostracized at school for being different, and he had eventually named it his “Fortress of Solitude,” which had his parents worried about his loneliness. His father had later added a secret compartment in it. At the time, his father had said that he was putting it in for fun. But Clark wondered now if there hadn’t been another purpose for it.
It was dark outside, and Clark didn’t have his powers, but it wasn’t going to stop him from finding out what his mother had hidden in his tree house. His heart thundering with curiosity and excitement, Clark ran down the stairs to the kitchen to find a flashlight. The one in the pantry needed new batteries, so he had to hunt those down as well... He found some, though they seemed to be old, as the flashlight only gave a weak glow. Still, it would have to do.
Clark grabbed a tool chest, expecting to have to pick another lock and headed out the back porch.
The house illuminated the location of the tree house, but that was all. Clark climbed up, surprised by the odd scrapes he got on his hands and the difficulty of maneuvering up a tree with a toolbox and a flashlight. He turned off the light while he climbed, to save some of the remaining battery.
At last he was inside. He turned the flashlight back on and scanned his childhood hangout. It was mostly empty except for a small table. In the middle of the small room was where he remembered where his father had built in the secret compartment. He felt the boards, looking for the loose one. His hands picked up a few splinters as he smoothed his hands over the old wood, and again he cursed the luck of losing his powers this night. It was most definitely better to feel strong and alien than normal, he decided wryly.
At last he found the loose board. He lifted it out and shone the flashlight down. There was another panel below it, this time with a lock. He sighed... he really hated picking locks, especially when normally they gave him no trouble. Clark crouched down, trying to get comfortable enough to be able to reach the lock that sat about three inches below the rest of the tree house. He couldn’t get a comfortable grip on the lock and the nail he was using to try and wrangle it open. He eventually lied down on his stomach, the faint light of the flashlight shining unhelpfully across where he needed it and not down into where the lock lay. Yeah, he definitely missed the powers now...
Finally, he managed to get it open. The lock sprang free, though the panel was a little weather worn and stuck slightly. He pried it with a screwdriver and shone the flashlight down to see a large white box wrapped in plastic. It looked like an unwrapped Christmas box with the words “For Clark” scrawled across the front of it. Clark felt his heart in his throat again as he reached for it. He pulled it out of its hiding place and held the box for a long moment, contemplating it and wondering why his parents had felt it necessary to hide whatever was inside. The note had said something about it being something he could use... what did that mean? And what had he missed by *not* getting the box till now? What had been significant about giving it to him on his eighteenth birthday?
Clark climbed down the tree house, wanting to open whatever it was in the light of the farmhouse. He thought about how he had hidden for so long from the memories of his parents. He never came to the farmhouse... and as a foster child, he had never even had the opportunity to pore over his parents’ things. Even as a ward of the State, though, the farmhouse had been his. He simply hadn’t been allowed to live in it on his own until he was eighteen. He hadn’t even wanted to. But now, he wondered what he had missed by not coming back here sooner. What treasures lay hidden in this house that he had flown from out of total guilt of not being able to save his parents from that car accident?
Clark took a deep breath, suddenly wishing that Lois were there with him. He thought she would understand the pain of digging up a hurtful past more than anyone. But at the same time, he knew he had to face some of this alone. Someday he might be able to share it with Lois. But this was his own history, his own battle to face. As she had said to him at the Planet earlier that she needed to sort through things on her own, in a sense so did he.
Clark sat at the kitchen table and slowly opened the box, his heart thrumming. Tissue paper covered a garment, as the clothes in the box had evidently been packed with care.
Clark pulled back the tissues, surprised to find a suit, similar to the one sketched in his mother’s journal. The large stylized ‘S’ from his baby blanket was sewn on the front of a large blue spandex suit... He pulled it out of the box and looked at it sceptically.
What had his mother imagined he’d do with it? Become some—mythical superhero? It was laughable, yet-- seemed almost absurdly appropriate as he remembered his thought earlier about possibly acting as the blur in a disguise. --- Maybe the blur *could* become public... He laughed aloud suddenly at the idea, filled with excitement and a growing sense of liberation. This was a bit flashier than he had imagined, but he thought it might have possibilities. He grinned, imagining his mother sewing this suit in the hopes that one day he’d wear it.
Could he really do this?
He held up the suit and walked over to the full-length mirror in the hall closet. It looked almost like superhero p.j.s draped in his hands in front of him—but *on*?
What did he have to lose to try it?
Clark, feeling more like a kid than he had in years, stripped off his clothes and pulled on the suit. It was snug, but it fit, as his mother knew he’d need it as an adult and not as child. It felt—majestic, especially with the cape. He could imagine intimidating the criminals haunting Lois in it. Rescuing her even, if she needed, but out in the open, and not as an elusive figure.
Would she know it was him right away?
Did he want her to know it was him?
Wouldn’t people recognize him?
He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the mirror. His glasses were still off, which he thought worked with his new look. His hair? He ran his fingers through it, slicking it back. He looked again at the mirror and thought he looked quite different with this other persona---could he fool the world?
Did he want to?
He suddenly wished he could tell Lois about this discovery and his wild idea to actually use it. But two things stopped him. First, his powers were gone and though he was hopeful they would return, he had no idea when and if they would.
And second... Lois was still in danger. In order to protect her and have the best advantage of stopping this Boss, he needed to appear as the invulnerable superhero that didn’t have a personal vested interest in her---*as long as his powers came back.*
He sat back down on the bed, slightly deflated from his giddiness a moment before. What if they didn’t come back? He glanced back at the mirror, seeing the potential of what kind of superhero he could be... and he wished for a miracle. For his sake and for the sake of his parents’ memory. They had given him so much goodness in the few short years he had had with him. He owed it to their memory to take his mother’s gift and do the best he could with it.
