Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Lethal Qualities 3/15

***************
Chapter 3: Shame
***************

A weight bore down on Perry's shoulders, a burden of shame and remorse. He had tried--unsuccessfully--to ignore it, to avoid it, and then to face it. Nothing seemed to work, though, not when the most recent picture of his son was either his high school graduation or a mug shot.

*Maybe I'm crazy, but I really do believe the kid started to love me.*

A foolish hope, Perry knew. He had neglected his family in favor of his paper, and what did he have to show for it? A divorce, an empty house, a son who spoke to him only during the holidays, and another son who had turned against Superman--the model of integrity and goodness--for money. And, he added bitterly, his shelves full of awards for the prestigious paper over which he presided.

Perry looked up from studying his aged hands when Jimmy came in yet again, this time armed with a jelly donut as excuse. The kid had been popping up every five minutes, every time with an excuse almost as bad as Clark's, every time with a caring desperation in his eyes when he looked to his Chief.

Perry had sent him home the night before with a few words about his exhaustion and an early morning, but he had been gratified by the young man's concern. This morning, the concern only seemed another slap in the face. Jimmy knew him better than his own son did.

He knew Perry was far more impressed by hard work than expensive gifts.

He knew Perry was far softer than his gruff exterior betrayed.

He knew Perry admired, respected, and liked Superman.

"You know, son, you don't need to keep checkin' up on me," he finally said when Jimmy fussed over the placement of his donut. Unfortunately, he couldn't seem to summon the energy needed to put a snap to his tone, so it emerged sounding tired and drained. In other words, it emerged sounding exactly like he felt.

"I know, Chief," Jimmy said with a smile that looked unnatural on his face, too forced to resemble his usual genuine cheerfulness. "But I bring you a donut every morning."

"Yeah, uh, I guess you do." Perry studied Jimmy closely, warmed again by his obvious affection. If Jimmy hadn't been at his side, Perry didn't know how he would have made it through those terrible moments the day before when he had realized Jerry's briefcase contained red Kryptonite. Not that he would admit that aloud.

"Thank you, Jimmy," he added impulsively. Not what he was thinking, but close enough.

In the middle of setting Perry's refilled coffee mug on the desk, Jimmy froze. Suddenly, all the tension drained from him, and he slumped into the chair across from Perry. "Chief, I..." He swallowed; then, with obvious effort, he met Perry's puzzled gaze. "Chief, I'm the one who looked up AmPro Specialties. I'm the one who told Lois I suspected Jerry. I...I'm sorry. I really wish I had been wrong."

"If that's true..." Perry had to work to find moisture enough to finish. "Your name should have been on the byline."

Jimmy gaped at him. "You think I want credit for investigating your son?"

"All reporters expect credit for investigating." As simple as his own statement made it sound, Perry knew things were more complicated than that. But he couldn't face this, not now. He was still reeling from the betrayal of one son; he didn't want to have to hear about this form of betrayal from a kid that was more like a son to him than the one currently sitting in the Metropolis Prison.

"Don't worry about it," Perry advised Jimmy detachedly. He stood and moved around the desk to place a hand on Jimmy's thin shoulder, more for the simple act of moving than any other reason. "I'm glad you found out, son, and I'm even happier that you told Lois. Mr. Gadget and..." He almost choked on the next name. "...and Jerry had to be stopped. Now, uh..." He turned away, blinking fiercely both to keep back his own tears and to hide the sight of Jimmy's. "Are we running a newspaper or a bed and breakfast? Let's get to work."

"Sure, Chief." Despite his own confused feelings about Jimmy's confession, Perry was heartened to see a bit more life in the kid's step and expression as he headed toward his own desk.

As soon as Jimmy was out of sight, however, the editor slumped into his chair. He wished he could allow the concern of his friends to lift the weight from his shoulders, but shame couldn't be so easily dismissed. It was his son that had neutralized Superman in a way that could have hurt a lot of people besides the hero.

Perry turned his chair away from the newsroom. He wished he could talk to Alice, hug her and feel her sink into his embrace. He had spoken to her briefly, a minute's awkward conversation to let her know Jerry was in prison again. For an instant, hearing her say his name in the way she had long before, he had allowed himself to hope that this tragedy could result in at least one happy ending. But a moment later, she had composed herself and quickly said goodbye.

He missed her. Actually, he'd been missing her from the moment she had left him. Dating other women hadn't helped; it had only made him realize just exactly what he had lost. What he had squandered.

And his past mistakes could have so easily led to the death or disappearance of Superman. Green Kryptonite would have taken the superhero's life; his loss of control resulting in anyone's death would have taken his soul. Perry knew Superman well enough to know that without a doubt.

And how would Perry have lived with himself if it had been *his* son that had caused the downfall of Superman? How was he supposed to go out into the newsroom and pretend he knew what he was talking about when they all knew he had let his son blind him with expensive gifts and lull him with lies of love and forgiveness?

Still, Perry tried to cheer himself, at least the harm was all done. The red Kryptonite was safely locked in S.T.A.R. Labs' vault, as was the green Kryptonite; Mr. Gadget and his corrupt son were in prison; and Superman was back in the skies. In fact, Perry even thought he could hear the superhero's name being mentioned on the news out in the bullpen.

A bullpen he needed to enter with confidence, giving no sign of the shame he felt.

"Chief!"

Irritation brought the snap back to his voice. "Hang it all, Jimmy, didn't I tell you I didn't need you hoverin' over me like a--"

"Chief, it's on the news," Jimmy blurted, his eyes wide and disbelieving. "You've got to see this!"

More out of habit than real interest, Perry followed Jimmy out into the newsroom. At least the interruption had kept everyone from noticing his own slow entrance, he thought distractedly.

The televisions placed in strategic areas to goad his reporters on in their own efforts and ensure they weren't scooped were surrounded by everyone in the newsroom. Strikingly, the viewers were all silent, their opinions and criticisms muted. In the unnatural quiet, the voice of the LNN newscaster sounded clearly.

"It's a ferocious blaze that started about an hour ago, presumably due to a leak of flammable chemicals. Superman arrived to offer his aid, but..." The man frowned behind him at the ash-ridden image of fire engulfing the hospital. "It seems that though the firefighters are eager to accept Superman's help, others aren't so certain they can trust the sick patients still trapped inside the building to Superman after the dangerous incidents that have occurred over the last two days."

Perry's stomach clenched in a tight knot as the camera swiveled to show a mass of firefighters, doctors, and onlookers, all standing between Superman and the hospital.

"It appears the superhero is trying to convince them to let him help," the newscaster reported, his voice shaky as the roar of the flames grew temporarily louder. "News of Orville Dorian's injuries--inflicted the last time Superman tried to help--has spread quickly, causing many people to doubt they can trust Superman to--ah, it looks like he's decided to do what he can no matter what the others say."

Superman shook his head once more at an obviously angry doctor before shooting up into the air and down just as quickly into the blaze that had once been a hospital.

The newscaster kept talking as Superman left and reentered the building a hundred times, the flames less intense and more of the cots and ambulances filled with each one of his trips. Perry, though, had a hard time concentrating on anything other than the look of grim determination on Superman's face.

It was only a matter of time before anyone thought to ask why Superman had waited to talk to the crowd outside before going to save the trapped patients. It would be a very popular question, Perry was sure, used as proof that Superman himself was unsure of his own powers. But in their repeated dissection of the superhero's every move, would they also notice how careful he was when placing the injured on the stretchers? Would they mention the tiny muscle working in his jaw each time he employed flight and superspeed to dash back into the fire? Would they ask about the shadowed pain apparent in Superman's eyes?

"Chief, I need to talk to you."

"Not now." Only belatedly did Perry realize that it was Lois who had entered the newsroom and demanded his attention. He started to turn to her when the camera angle changed drastically, whirling to face the crowd...which had become a mob, forming up in ranks to keep Superman from easily reaching the emergency services with his precious cargo. A roar deafened the microphones as flames exploded from several windows.

"The crowd is determined to keep Superman from possibly endangering everyone's lives," the newscaster hurriedly announced, gesturing at his cameraman to follow him closer to the fray. "It seems there's some concern that it is his fluctuating power causing the sudden flare-ups in several portions of the hospital."

Superman was forced to fly over the crowd to place his coughing bundle on a stretcher. When he tried to fly again, however, the nearest spectators reached out and grabbed hold of his cape.

Superman froze.

Gasps were heard all across the newsroom.

Lois's hand squeezed Perry's arm painfully.

Even the newscaster went momentarily silent.

The chanting of the crowd became audible--shouts that the superhero was unsafe, dangerous, that he had turned against them. Demands that he leave them alone. Yells commanding him to allow the firefighters to do their jobs. Accusations of reckless endangerment or, worse, active enmity.

The haunted cast to Superman's chiseled features would be splashed across every newspaper in the country, Perry was suddenly sure. It was the sort of image you thought of in the dark moments before sleep, the sort of picture that left you feeling shaken and disturbed. It was the sort of picture that sold newspapers, that made history, that shook foundations.

And it went straight to Perry's heart, an indictment of his own son and the way he had raised him.

The harm Jerry had inflicted, Perry suddenly knew, was not yet consigned to the past.

With slow, methodical movements, Superman rose an inch off the ground, another, another, sliding his cape free of the people who held him. It was a slow process since they kept jumping up to grab better holds, but finally, the superhero had risen above the throng. He turned to the hospital and stared at it intently, ignoring the calls and denunciations from below. Perry knew from past experiences that Superman was x-raying the building to make certain he had gotten everyone out. He surveyed the building from end to end, once, twice, and again, as if he did doubt his own abilities. But then, if he were to miss even one person, he would never be trusted again.

Finally, with a tiny nod to the firefighters, Superman rose higher into the air, took a deep breath, and blew out all the flames. The wind swirled up around the crowd, and many shouted angrily, shaking their fists at the caped man hovering above them.

For a long moment, Superman looked down at the people. He seemed to search out individuals, his expression so purposely neutral, his eyes radiating intense pain. And then, when the cries and shouts of the mob grew louder, the superhero's shoulders slumped. He blurred into a flash of primary colors and disappeared. He left behind a quenched fire, a hospital's quota of rescued patients coughing from smoke inhalation, busy firefighters and EMTs, and a terrified, angry mob.

"Perry, I need to talk to you." Lois's voice was cold and implacable.

A shiver ran down Perry's spine even as he turned and led her into his office. He purposely shut the door behind them, almost certain he knew what Lois wanted and just as certain that he would have to refuse her. Judging from the fury snapping like icy flames in her dark eyes, she was in no shape to write this story.

Or was she here to condemn him for his part in Superman's current situation?

"Perry, I want to write--"

"Now, honey, you know I can't let you write this story. You're too close to--"

"--an Op/Ed piece," she finished over him.

Caught mid-sentence, Perry stared at her. "*You*...want to write an editorial instead of the front page news about this fire?"

Her hands clenched into fists, but she made no other move. That in itself frightened Perry; when Lois was happy, or curious, or frustrated, or angry, she put her entire body into it. Her expression would shift and change with the thousand thoughts running like a babbling brook through her mind, her hands would wave wildly to emphasize all her points, and she would pace back and forth. Perry had never seen her so still, never seen her hold herself so tightly reigned in.

"I want space for the evening edition, tomorrow's morning and evening editions, and as many afterward as it takes."

"As what takes?" he asked cautiously. He wanted to put an arm around her or offer her a hug, but he had always been awkward with physical demonstrations of affection--and in her present state, he wasn't too sure she'd welcome the embrace.

"As long as it takes to make Metropolis realize just how stupid they are to reject the man who's saved their lives more than once. The mayor had part of the green Kryptonite from S.T.A.R. Labs formed into a bullet, and then ordered a sniper to shoot Superman while he was saving the Hall of Justice from being destroyed by Mr. Gadget."

Perry nodded. "That's all been said in this morning's article. Why do you need to write an editorial?"

Lois's composure shivered, like a breeze riffling the surface of a seemingly placid lake and hinting at the deep currents hidden within. "They shot him, Perry. And now, they might ask him to leave. Superman's planning on making an apology to Dorian later today, as well as offering to repair all the damage he inadvertently caused--but we both know that won't satisfy those vultures. I want to make sure the people of Metropolis know what they stand to lose if they continue acting like Superman's the enemy."

"Uh-huh." Using the excuse of sitting down as an opportunity to study Lois a bit closer, Perry was alarmed by what he saw. He had thought she was held under tight control; only now did he see the marks of tension at the corners of her mouth and eyes, in the trembling of her hands, by the stiffness of her posture. "And do you plan on putting your name on these articles?"

"Of course!" Finally, Lois began to pace, not much, just a step or two, but it was something. "I've been saved by Superman a dozen times--"

"More like a hundred," Perry murmured to himself.

Lois ignored him. "--and so has Metropolis. I need to remind them of that fact, and my name will make them remember how many times we've both been saved by C--Superman."

His eyebrows rose almost to his hairline, and Perry was suddenly glad that he had shut the door. "Lois, honey, if you put your name on a series of articles defending Superman, you're going to have to be prepared for some fallout."

"*I'm* going to have to be prepared?" She gaped at him. "Perry, they're supposed to be the good guys, but they shot Superman and are now considering demanding that he leave! Shouldn't *they* be the ones worried about fallout?"

"I'm just tryin' to warn you that they'll accuse you of losing your objectivity and--"

"That's why it's an Op/Ed piece." She waved her hand dismissively before meeting Perry's gaze. "I understand that I'll be criticized for this, but I refuse to stand by and allow them to treat Superman like this. What they did was murder, pure and simple. They targeted a man who was obeying the laws and out to help people, and they pulled the trigger even after he did exactly that without harming a single person. That's called assassination, and it's far more illegal than trying to stop a robbery."

The hurt and betrayal on Lois's face perfectly reflected that which had so poignantly been present on Superman's. At the sight of it, Perry couldn't help but look away. By focusing on his own regret, he had been able to briefly forget the others who had been harmed by Jerry's actions. Now, however, looking at this woman he loved like his own daughter, he could no longer pretend that he hadn't had a part in the past few days' travesty. He had allowed himself to be hoodwinked, just as he had once before with Bill Church Jr., and now they were the ones paying the price for it.

"All right then," he agreed softly. "Write the columns, Lois. Take as much room as you need."

Her smile wasn't as blinding as usual, but it nonetheless comforted him. "Thanks, Chief."

"Just don't forget that I need some front page articles, too," he added gruffly. "You and Kent better--"

Whatever he had been going to say--something so automatic he didn't really have to think about it--was lost when he caught sight of Clark stepping off the elevator. Lois seemed to sense her husband's presence, and she turned to watch him walk toward his desk.

Ever since that first day when Clark had come for his interview bearing obscure articles, archaic manners, and a crushing handshake, Perry had been charmed by the lightheartedness that always seemed to surround the younger man. No matter what had happened the day before, Clark always entered the newsroom with a slight bounce to his step, as if at any moment he might float off the ground. His smile was always just below the surface, ready to show itself at the slightest provocation, and no amount of grumpiness or shouting could tame the mischievous glint in Clark's eyes or quiet the mild, teasing remarks that slipped so politely from his lips.

Now, however, there was no hint of a smile, no sign of a teasing remark, no indication that he was lighter than it seemed he should be. Instead, his features were lined and drawn, looking more aged than Perry had ever seen him before, and his steps dragged beneath the weight that bowed his shoulders. He gave no more than a half-hearted wave to those who greeted him, and he fiddled with his glasses four times before he even reached his desk.

"Clark!" Perry pulled open the door to his office and strode to his side. "You look worse than Elvis after his last stint in Vegas! Are you sure you should be here instead of at home? I know you weren't feelin' too hot yesterday."

Clark's eyes flicked to Lois, who made as if to hug him before stopping just short of touching him. He tried to smile at Perry, but the editor wasn't buying it. "I'm fine, Chief."

"Maybe you should go home," Lois interjected, her eyes narrowed as she studied her husband. "You've been through a lot, and you didn't get any sleep last night."

"I was down at the hospital fire." Clark didn't look at Perry, and he shifted uncomfortably. "I can write up the--"

"Uh, I'm sorry, Clark, but I know Eduardo was down there. I'm sure he's called in his story already." Perry reached out a hand to clasp Clark's shoulder and was startled when Clark shied back. He instantly tried to pretend the move had been nothing more than sliding into his seat, but it didn't fool Perry.

"That's all right," Clark assured him after an awkward moment of silence. "I've got some human interest stories I can finally finish up."

"Clark." Lois put her hands on his shoulders as if to prop him up. "Perry said it would be fine if you went home."

"Please." Finally, as if it were his last resort, Clark met Perry's gaze. "I'd really like to be here. At least I'm...useful...here. I can do something. Instead of just...sit at home," he added hastily.

"All right," Perry said with a shake of his head. "If you're sure. I could use another article or two for the weekend edition. Send me what you have when you're ready."

"Thanks, Chief."

Giving the married couple the private moment they obviously wanted, Perry turned and headed back to his office. "Jimmy!" He caught the young man as he was hurrying by. "Get Eduardo and tell him to write up that hospital story."

Making decisions and snapping out orders seemed to jumpstart Perry back into editor-in-chief mode, and he took full advantage of it. He hadn't started out, years ago, purposely trying to dive into his work, but it had become a habit anyway, one that presently made it easier for him to ignore the mess his personal life had become. He was able to miss the fact that three hours rolled by until he reached for the next story to be looked over and found Lois's piece.

"Metropolis stands on the East Coast as a testament of courage, tenacity, determination, and even, if we're honest, stubbornness. No world war, no national crisis, no personal obstacle can faze us. Our civic servants are devoted, our citizens are strong and hardworking, and our outlook is toward the future. Our city is almost as old as our country, and never once have I been ashamed to unequivocally state that I am a Metropolitan.

"Until yesterday.

"It can be argued that the trail of destruction following an appearance by Superman in the last two days is proof that we need protection from a super being so much more powerful than us. It could also be argued that his own admission of a medical problem should send us scrambling to find some form of failsafe in case he becomes unmanageable.

"But if we were to argue those points, if we were to take that stand, we would not be living up to the ideal of Metropolis. Bravery was our byword when Hitler marched across Europe. Tenacity was all that kept us going when the Great Depression gripped our land. Determination was what we held onto during those dark days when Lord Nor and his treasonous men demanded our surrender and ran through our streets. And stubbornness is what has kept us clinging to our greatness no matter how many villains are found lurking in our very streets.

"Yet in one moment, with the command to shoot a man without giving him fair warning or chance for appeal, Metropolis proved itself afraid. Since that moment, it has done nothing to rectify the situation, instead giving into panic and paranoia.

"Our savior many times over, Superman has never given reason to doubt him. He has saved our esteemed city more times than I'd like to count. In fact, with the lowest crime rate in the country, Metropolis is arguably the safest city in the world. Yet now it trembles in terror.

"What happened to Metropolis?

"Where is the city I was once so proud to be a part of?

"I daresay it was trampled in the dust along with the Constitution, the law, and ethics in the same instant a trigger was pulled and in the moment when mob-rule became stronger than common sense and a history of integrity."

More than Perry's hands trembled as he looked away from the remaining words; his entire being shook with the eloquent argument. Much as Lois Lane had insisted she could learn nothing from Clark Kent, Perry knew that she had captured his ability to make the reader feel what the writer felt. This was an article that would be laughed off the front page for its lack of objectivity. But it would be beautiful on the Op/Ed page.

For the first time, Perry began to feel a bit more hopeful.

Slowly, he turned to gaze out over his newsroom--his home. Reporters and researchers walked purposely, orderly in their sometimes-hectic movements. Jimmy was on the move, never still, moving from desk to desk with frequent trips to the darkroom. Lois was sitting at her desk, working either on a slower story or her piece for the morning edition. Judging from the grim expression on her face, it was the second, Perry thought wryly.

From his vantage point, the editor couldn't see Clark's face, but the set of his shoulders was still slumped. With sudden determination, Perry returned to Lois's piece, finished editing it, and then strode out into the bullpen.

"Great work, Lois," he congratulated her. "After you make these corrections, I'll put it front and center. Clark." He turned to see Clark look up from his screen. "Jimmy let slip that it was you who asked him to come talk to me last night."

Clark gave the semblance of a smile. "It was, Chief. I didn't think you'd want to be alone."

"Well, I don't know about that, but it was a nice thought." Perry stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Uh, I was wondering if, uh, you could--"

The strident ring of the phone on Clark's desk interrupted him, and he gestured Clark to answer it. As nervous as he was about this request, any distraction was welcome.

"Must have been a wrong number," Clark said, setting the phone back down. "Now, what was it you wanted, Chief?"

"I, uh...well, I told Jerry I'd visit him tonight. And I was, uh, wonderin' if you'd go with me."

"Me?" Clark shot a panicked look to Lois, but Perry didn't turn to see her response.

"That's one place I don't want to go alone, and Alice won't go with me, of course, and, uh, well...I don't want to ask Jimmy to go. It might be a little awkward if I brought him to visit my son. But you know Jerry--you seemed to get along all right when we were at your house for dinner. Of course, I know that he wasn't really being truthful about himself, but--"

"Chief!" Clark reached out as if to put his hand on Perry's shoulder but dropped it back to his side instead. "I'll go, if you really want me to."

"Careful, Perry," Lois added almost mischievously, determinedly tucking her hand against Clark's elbow, heedless of the strange look he gave her. "You almost sounded like me there for a second."

Despite himself, a smile stole across Perry's face. "Yeah, well, you learned a lot more from me than you know."

For the second time, Perry was interrupted by the ringing of a phone, this time from Lois's desk. Lois excused herself to answer it. "Lois Lane." A second later, she scowled and forcefully hung the phone up. "You know, it'd be nice, if you get a wrong number, to at least *tell* the person that's what happened instead of just hanging up. Don't people realize how rude that is?"

"I'd definitely say it's on the same level as ripping out the pages of a public telephone book," Clark said with the hint of a real smile as he looked at his wife.

"Now, there is nothing wrong with that," she protested through her grin, her dark eyes soft as she gazed back at Clark.

Perry cleared his throat. "Well, why don't we go as soon as we're done for the night, Clark? About seven, maybe?"

"Sure, Chief."

There was a bit more spring to his step as Perry walked away from his two star reporters, a bit more life in his eyes as he looked for Jimmy, a bit more Metropolitan spirit within him as he planned his next move. In order to help Lois, he'd have to write a short editor's note at the bottom of her article, just a little something to help emphasize the point she was trying to make. To help Clark...well, that was what the trip to the prison was for.

"Jimmy!" Perry caught the kid's sleeve as he dashed past him. "What do you say we grab a bite for lunch? Finish up what you're doing, and let's skedaddle."

Almost cheerfully, he began to whistle. After all, he thought, he hadn't gotten to be editor-in-chief because he could yodel.