Author's Note: This is my first Superman fan fic. Be gentle (please!) :)
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Superman canon characters. Original characters are all mine. Thank you Bryan Singer for honoring Richard Donner's vision. Thank you Brandon Routh for honoring Christopher Reeve's legacy.
Love's DivineBy Librasmile
Chapter 1Scene 1
"I'm always around."
But not today. For the love of God. Not. Today.
"But Superman never lies."
Who told you that lie? Oh. Right. It was me.
Superman hovered in the air between the flags atop the Metro Tower. The unseasonably strong wind whipped the scarlet banners around him, hiding him from the accidental gaze of potential onlookers below. He needed invisibility today. He craved it. If he'd had his way, his body would disappear altogether melt, thaw, resolve itself into a dew…He desperately wanted to disappear. But disappearing is what had caused this…this…this in the first place. He'd run away – flown away for 5 years. And when he'd come back… When he'd come back, life had moved on without him. There was no coming back.
So today he stayed. Invisible. But present.
Swallowing the bile that rose to his throat, he willed himself to peer through the billowy flags, through the building opposite, the walls, the insulation, the concrete, the structural beams. There. He could see them. He could see her. He almost smiled. As with everything else in her life, Lois had chosen simplicity and efficiency, always looking for the fastest way to get things done. He couldn't blame her. Life was short. At least for humans.
He sighed. She was beautiful. She was married. She was beyond his reach.
She stood next to Richard White, her husband now, surrounded by guests and well wishers. With one exception. For once in his life, Clark Kent hadn't been mild-mannered enough to accept the invitation; he'd stayed away, causing a scandalous amount of office comment, but for once he didn't care.
His heart squeezed as his eyes shifted. Jason stood by Lois' parents, his grandfather affectionately ruffling his hair. It had been cut for the occasion and he looked slightly uncomfortable in his new suit. He wouldn't be able to see him tonight. Lois and Richard would be honeymooning away which meant Jason would stay with his grandparents for a while. And there was no way to explain what Superman would be doing at their grandson's window if Lois wasn't also there.
He bowed his head. His own mother had never met Jason.
He'd had enough.
In one fluid movement, he took to the sky.
Scene 2His cape fluttered around him as he descended through the clouds. Like a shadow he alighted on the stony window ledge and melded into the dark. This was one of his favorite buildings. The cathedral sat like an anomaly on the prairie plain, stately and ornate amidst the flatness of the horizon. Built by an eccentric millionaire who'd made a fortune in wheat and wanted to give something back. Unlike the rest of his neighbors he was Catholic and so he'd built a cathedral. It sat just outside of Smallville and the folk in the town and surrounding county had regarded it as kind of benign joke. But he had loved it. It had become one of his favorite perches when he'd first learned to fly.
Learning to fly had been exhilarating – but terrifying too. He realized he could go where his parents couldn't reach. He was up in the wide, open sky alone. He'd originally crash landed into the belfry, ringing the bell both literally and figuratively. He'd had to sit awhile and regain his nerve. It was then that he'd noticed the serene beauty of the place. The soaring arches had made him feel less alone in the sky as if there was still something to hold on to. And he stood there now, on the ledge of the belfry letting the night wash over him and shroud his presence.
I don't know what to say.
Just say you love me.
The memory of those words replayed in Superman's head.
That's what Lois had said the first time he'd walked away from her. But he'd said it first when she'd asked him how he could give up his powers, his identity, for her. I don't know what to say, she'd said, aghast. Just say you love me, he'd said. He'd truly believe it'd be enough. They'd both had. General Zod had shown them otherwise. And Jor-El.
Bless me father for I have sinned.
And kept right on sinning.
In the aftermath of the destruction, he'd taken Lois' memory from her. He'd thought it was an act of kindness. Just as he'd thought leaving her, leaving the planet, allowing her to get on with her life with no interference, even if only professional, from him, was an act of kindness. Even then he'd known he was lying to himself. It was despair, not kindness that had driven him from the planet. Losing Lois had driven the reality of his essential loneliness deep into his core. There was no one he could love, not as himself, as all of his identities, without putting a potential death sentence on their heads. Clark Kent couldn't seem to inspire love in the one woman he truly loved. And Superman couldn't love her without nearly getting her killed. And if the disaster with Zod had shown him anything, it was that he could never permanently separate the two selves. Nor could he ignore the third, his identity as Kal-El, son of Jor-El. He'd felt fractured and broken, with no one with whom he could share his pain and no way to mend.
So the decision to leave had been easy. Not right. Not good. Easy.
As long as he didn't look into Lois' eyes. He'd run from telling her he was going because if he hadn't he'd never have gone. Even now. When there was no hope he could ever be with her again. His will still would have crumbled at the sight of her, at the plea he'd fear he'd see in her eyes. Don't go, he would have read there. And she would have said it. She might even have shouted it or cursed him. And he would have been trapped.
So he ran without looking back.
And now he was paying the price.
Kryptonians didn't believe in sin. They prided themselves on being a supremely rational people. They believed in cause and effect, action and consequence. If Jor-El were alive, he would have chided his son for feeling despair over consequences of actions that he should have foreseen. That knowledge gave him no comfort. It only wrapped his loneliness around him tighter. It wasn't rational that he should still care about the judgment of his dead father but he did. He knew Jor-El would cite this as the inevitable consequence of violating Earth's own laws of time and space all those years ago. It is forbidden to interfere with Earth's destiny Jor-El had intoned. Even now the sound of that injunction echoed in his memory.
And that was why he couldn't interfere now.
He watched.
He'd given Lois back her life in defiance of Jor-El's will and maybe God's. There was no way he could take it from her now. Superman had done it once before. Finally, finally, at least this one time he'd learned from his mistake. Lois would have a husband. Jason would have a father. Even if, once again, it meant that for him, there was nothing left.
Scene 3
"How could she do it?"
"How couldn't she?"
"Shh!"
Melanie looked up from her computer screen and glanced surreptitiously across the aisle. Clark Kent sat hunched in front of his computer screen, motionless. She glanced back at her co-workers. "This isn't the time or place to talk about this."
Carla Gretcher, lifestyle columnist, scoffed. "Oh it's never the right time for you, Sister Christian. Don't get so high and mighty. I know for a fact that you care what happens to Perry White's pet." She leaned in closer. "You can't tell me it hasn't crossed your mind that now that Lane has made her choice she might just decide to pull up stakes all together and get the hell out of blue boy's home base. And if that happens, you can best believe there'll be a free for all over who gets her spot."
Melanie frowned but said nothing.
Carla snickered. She didn't need Melanie to respond. She knew she'd hit her mark. "I don't know about you," she drawled, gathering up her notepad, "but I know I wouldn't mind being put on the Pulitzer Prize winning fast track." She smiled sweetly. "Just saying." She snatched up her latte and flounced back to her desk.
Melanie glared back at her, then rolled her eyes heavenward.
"She's right you know as much as I hate to admit it."
Melanie leveled her irritated gaze on her other co-worker, Sherry Thomson, who laughed.
"And you know she can't live unless she's gossiping about someone. Lois isn't back yet. And you know how it goes: no Lois, no Superman. Perry's going nuts."
"So is he," Melanie said softly, staring over at Clark again, then blinked. She hadn't meant to speak her thoughts aloud.
Sherry settled into a chair next to Mel and handed her a latte. "Yeah," Sherry said. "I can't believe he didn't go to the wedding. He's always been so…" she sputtered, failing to come up with a big enough word to fully sum up the puppy-dog devotion Clark had lavished on Lois. "Just so," she said.
Melanie sipped her drink. "I don't know what he's going to do when they get back."
"Have a meltdown?" Sherry said acerbically.
"I think he's already there," Melanie said glumly. She felt for Clark.
Sherry stared at her. "Don't tell me you're falling for that puppy dog act."
"What? What act? You're nuts!"
"Mmm-hmm."
Melanie sucked her teeth impatiently. "There's nothing there to fall for."
"Exactly!" Sherry said. "What kind of man lets himself get led around by the nose for years but never makes a move? First he's second place to Superman. Now he's third place to Richard. Who puts up with that?"
Unnoticed across the aisle, Clark looked over at them.
Melanie shifted nervously. "That's not what I meant."
"Sure, Mel."
Mel grabbed her wrist. "No listen to me!"
Sherry looked down at Mel's grasp on her wrist then back at Mel. "I'm listening."
Abruptly, Mel snatched her hand away, embarrassed. "I'm sorry." She sighed, shaking her head. "This is ridiculous," she muttered. She took another breath then spoke in her normal voice. "What I meant was…" she trailed off. What had she meant?
"Excuse me." Mel jumped up and sped off toward the ladies' room. She could feel Sherry's gaze burning into her back.
Sherry stared after her friend as she sped by Kent's now vacant desk. "Oh no," she said softly.
Scene 4
"Okay people what have you got for me?"
Perry White rubbed his hands together in anticipation. At least that's what it looked like to the reporters and editors packed into the pitch meeting. In reality it was more like anxiety. The Daily Planet was the last word on all things Superman but the star reporter who constituted the paper's Superman connection was missing in action at least until her honeymoon was over. Blast Lois for taking three weeks off anyway. True, she'd more than earned the time. But the Planet published daily. That meant 18 issues including three Sunday editions without a fresh Lois take on Superman. And nobody covered Superman like Lois. He didn't know how they'd found out (damn that New York Times society column!) but the advertisers had already called about Lois' absence. They weren't too eager to buy ad space without knowing for sure there'd be a Superman article that week. He'd had a hell of a time convincing them not to scale back their orders. They'd stayed on board, but the condition was that he rustle up some fresh Superman coverage and fast. That meant getting another one of his reporters in good with the man in tights.
He glanced over at Clark. As Lois' former partner, Kent was his likeliest prospect. But the man was a shambles. His normally button-downed collars had come undone, his starched shirts rumpled under the still pressed formality of his suits. What little he'd had to say when he was talking to anyone who wasn't Lois had trickled down to nothing. Oh, he did his work, he met his deadlines. But he wasn't there.
Perry rubbed his forehead distractedly. If he couldn't jump start Kent he was looking at the much tougher task of grooming another reporter to get to Superman. Since he'd never had to do anything like that before he didn't know if it would succeed or how long it could take. Lois could be back by then. Ad revenue could also be down by then. And they were facing a tough quarter, the post-Christmas slump. He didn't even want to think about the prospect of a rival paper taking over their niche.
"Come on, come on people! Cough it up! What have you got?"
Silence echoed back at him as he looked around the table.
Sherry stared hard at Mel who shook her head minutely. Sherry glared. What the hell was Mel thinking? This was their opportunity. She nudged her with her elbow.
Tentatively, Mel raised her hand.
Perry's hawk-eye fell on her. "Yeah, Carter, wadda ya got?"
She cleared her throat. "New Krypton."
Perry's expression remained blank. "That's it? We've done New Krypton. More importantly Superman doesn't care about New Krypton—"
"Actually chief," Sherry chimed in, "Superman hasn't commented on New Krypton. There's a difference."
Perry's gaze grew thoughtful. "You think you can get him to comment?"
From the seat beside Sherry Mel glared at her. Her heart was only half in this. They were playing with fire and with Lois married to someone else now who knew how Superman would react? What if he stopped talking exclusively to the Planet all together? Not only would they lose their market niche but, knowing how Perry felt about covering Superman, probably their jobs.
"I think we can reel him in," Sherry said confidently.
From the opposite end of the room Clark stared intensely at the two women. Nobody noticed because everyone else in the room was doing the same thing.
Mel bit her bottom lip and looked down.
"All right, Thomson, what's the bait?" Perry asked coolly.
Almost instantaneously there was collective intake of breath at the loaded question. The whole staff, hell the whole company, knew Lois Lane was on her honeymoon and, short of a crime or disaster, no one had ever come up with anything or anyone else who could reliably bring Superman flying over to their perch.
Imperceptibly a faint flush crept slowly across Clark's face. Beneath the tweed of his jacket his shoulders tensed.
"We're not fully agreed on this," Mel burst out.
Sherry stared at her, surprised and angry.
Mel ignored her. "The bait," Mel said with distaste, "is the question of Kryptonians as gods."
The room froze.
Perry's eyes narrowed. "What?"
Sherry leapt into the breach. "The concept," she began, sparing a betrayed glance at Mel, "is a series tackling the question of who the Kryptonians really were. Think about it, chief. A whole series collating everything we know about Krypton – "
"Which is precious little," Mel pointed out.
"We have enough," Sherry snapped. "Then comparing it to what we know about the technology and religions of ancient civilizations like the Aztecs and the Egyptians and the Celtics and looking for possible connections."
Clark gaped. Again no one noticed.
Perry sat back, frowning. "Hmm, it's intriguing, Thompson. But that sounds like a Sunday supplement. How is this relevant to today?"
"New Krypton," Mel said quietly. "How much is it like what we think the old Krypton would have been? How will it evolve in space today? How will it affect our own planet? Will a new civilization arise there? And whatever happens, whose fault is it?"
Clark closed his eyes. Not again. He forced himself to look back at them.
Perry started nodding. "Whose fault is it?"
"But it's not a fair question chief!" Mel interjected.
"Fair?" Sherry said. She pointed out the conference room window. "Superman put another planet into orbit in our solar system. We don't know what's going to happen. What if it's gravitational pull rips our planet apart? Who the hell told him he could do that? Since when was he appointed god?"
Mel leapt up from her seat. "Superman never claimed to be God! If he hadn't launched that rock into space it would have kept growing and generated a tsunami that would have turned Kansas into ocean front! What was he supposed to do, leave it here? He almost died stopping it! We should be giving him a medal, not trying to string him up by his cape!"
Perry looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Who said anything about stringing him up? These are all valid questions." His expression hardened. "And as a journalist it's your job to ask these questions regardless of whose feelings it hurts. I think the blue boy can take it."
"Can he Mr. White?"
As one the room turned to Clark. "I-I-I mean, I think Miss Carter is right. Superman almost died trying to save the planet. He's only one man."
"A super man, Kent. If he didn't want the responsibility, he shouldn't have used the power."
Clark gaped at him. Perry turned back to Sherry and Mel.
"I like it," he said firmly. "It just needs a little more work. Thompson, Carter you're with me. The rest of you, you've got deadlines, go meet 'em." Sherry and Mel stood glaring at each other as the rest of the staff scattered. Clark paused for a minute before heading for the door.
"Freeze, Kent."
Clark turned back.
"You're here."
Scene 5
Mel plunked her elbows on her desk and wearily rubbed her temples. It was after 8. Perry had kept her, Sherry and Clark in his office for another hour going over strategies for developing the New Krypton series. As the religion writer, Sherry would handle the religious issues. Mel wrote the science column so it was her job to present scientists' latest data on the new planet. Perry wanted both women to write about possible connections between Kryptonian technology and ancient civilizations. He was, in fact, really excited about it. He had been full of ideas and was especially eager to generate a layout using photos of the Egyptian and Mexican pyramids contrasted against charts and diagrams of what scientists thought Kryptonian architecture might have looked like.
That was the one positive outcome of Luthor's vile scheme. His use of the crystals and the rocky deposits that had fallen back to Earth from the island Superman had taken into space had given researchers a spectacular look into Kryptonian crystal technology. Steve Parker, who worked the crime beat, had told her that Luthor was bargaining for less prison time by offering to cough up to the U.S. military everything he'd learned about how the crystals worked. Rocky Toller on the foreign affairs beat said that heated battles had already broken out in the U.N. Security Council as various nations fought over who would have access to that knowledge. The heat was being felt in the White House. So now, instead of sitting in federal super max, Luthor had actually been shipped down to Guantanamo Bay military prison; if any other nation tried to snatch him for their own interests, they'd have to fight through a nuclear-powered American army to get to him. Meanwhile, she'd been getting word from her own contacts in the science community of rumbles of dissatisfaction: Why hadn't Superman just told them about the crystals himself before any of this had happened?
Mel shook her head sadly. No matter what happened, Superman was going to take the blame. It was the fallout from people – and nations – that were still seething over his five-year absence. Lois' interview with him had gone some way toward explaining his actions and defusing the resentment. Superman's actions had done even more. But New Krypton had re-opened old wounds. Even with his near-death, the world, fickle as it was, was starting to clamor for Superman to explain himself again. And she knew in her heart, he wouldn't be able to resist trying. In fact Perry was counting on it. The whole series was designed to force Superman to come to the Planet and talk about New Krypton. It would run for three weeks. There would be an anchor article in the Sunday edition, a full photo layout with a recap news story of the current state of affairs with New Krypton wrapping around a center-page commentary on the Kryptonians – and, by extension, Superman – as gods angle. Clark would write the commentary.
She laughed humorlessly. She and Sherry had managed to put their hostility to one side – for now – as they worked with Perry to develop the series. But Clark had remained monosyllabic. He hated this even more than she did, Mel realized. She hadn't meant for Sherry to pitch the idea, which had originally been Mel's. She'd thought of it one Sunday after church. The pastor had preached about the human compulsion to play God and mankind's inability to control it unless they had surrendered their will to God. Sherry had snorted and said "Which God?" To which Mel had replied "Whichever one you choose."
"Yeah," Sherry had countered, "but can people even tell what God – of whatever faith – is? I mean most people think Superman is a god!"
That had brought Mel up short. "No they don't!" she'd said.
"Yes they do! Who do they call on when they're in trouble? Not Jesus. Not Allah. Not Krishna. Superman."
The conversation had stayed in Mel's head until she'd been forced to write it down at home. And, one thing leading to another, she'd put together a commentary on the subject: "Superman or Savior?" She'd shown Sherry a draft of what she'd done but she hadn't pitched it. It remained on her home computer. And their conversation had continued, exploring how Superman managed to live with people's unhealthy adoration of him and whether this was the inevitable result of his powers or something intrinsic in his Kryptonian psyche.
Mel had thought it would remain an interesting hypothetical conversation piece between the two women. But without warning Sherry had taken the idea to Perry. The journalist in Mel told her that Sherry was right. This was an important series that, if done right, would generate readership, add luster to the Planet's already lofty journalistic reputation and advance their careers to boot.
But she still didn't like it.
Before she'd left for the day, Sherry had stopped by Mel's desk. "With Lois away, this is our best shot to get up the ladder and into Perry's inner circle and you know it, Mel. The door won't be open forever. Take my advice and stop fighting it."
Mel had crossed her arms and glared at her. Sherry had shrugged and swung out the door.
But Sherry was right.
She needed to go home. Sighing, she sat back and began gathering her things. Pulling open a drawer, she pulled out her pocketbook, searching the contents for her keys. Curling her fingers around them, she pulled her bag free – then abruptly slammed the drawer. Crash! The sound echoed through the nearly empty office. Mel grimaced guiltily but not for long. The crash had felt good. She had a sudden urge to smash something else.
Grabbing her laptop case, she swiveled out of her chair – and slammed right into Clark Kent.
"Oomph!"
"Sorry!"
He reached out to upright her just as she started toppling over. Good Lord, he was tall. Standing in her sneakers instead of her pumps, she just about came up to his chin. He grabbed her elbows to steady her. She grabbed his coat.
"Are you okay?"
She looked down at her feet: still on the ground, still upright. She let go of his coat and hiked her laptop case strap back onto her shoulder. She looked around for her coat.
"Ahem."
He held out her coat for her to step into it.
"Oh! Thank you, Clark."
She turned to step into her coat and for a brief second she thought she saw something flare up in his eyes. When she turned back it was gone.
He stared at her for a beat. "Well." A polite smile came and went. "Good night, Mel."
She stared at his retreating back, baffled. It seemed like he had made sure she would run into him – literally – for a reason but apparently now he'd lost the nerve to say what he wanted. She glanced toward the exit sign. She really needed to go home. She called out to him. "Clark!" He stopped and looked back, eyebrows raised in question. "I'm really not good at hailing cabs. Want to share?"
He sat quiet and still, his chin in his hand as his gaze traveled across the room to the starry city landscape view in the window on the other side. She mimicked his silence as she absently toyed with the remains of dinner. His sat untouched in front of him. She hadn't expected to be out this late. It was after 10 and the dinner crowd had long since given way to the dating crowd looking for an intimate spot where couples could get closer. She started to feel uneasy and out of place. She glanced over at Clark who brought his gaze back to her as he seemed to pick up on her mood.
"I guess we should call it a night, huh?" he asked quietly.
She nodded, grateful for his understanding.
They headed out into the night and walked down the sidewalk in silence.
Conversation had not been a big part of the evening. After they had exchanged the mundane details of work, there hadn't been much to say. Surprisingly, they hadn't gone into detail about their new assignment. By unspoken mutual agreement, they'd avoided the topic in the implied understanding that neither of them had recharged their batteries enough to tackle the subject. And yet it hadn't been awkward. That was a new experience. At work, Clark was the definition of awkward. The one undeniable grace the man could claim was his ability to generate enough juicy news stories to feed even Perry White's rapacious appetite (and to even keep Lois looking over her shoulder, truth be known). Otherwise, he was a walking crash cart. Mark Kimmel, the health editor, suspected it was a psychological tic. Clark, he said, probably felt awkward and unsafe around others and the tension manifested itself in physical klutzy-ness.
Melanie wondered about that. On a certain level it made sense. She didn't imagine there were a lot of things for a Kansas farm boy to feel safe about in the cut-throat culture of a big city newsroom. She could relate. She wasn't the most outspoken person in the world, a definite liability in a journalist. She'd learned to overcome it through sheer dogged hard work and creative thinking. What other reporters got through badgering she got through persistence and frighteningly thorough research backed up with a relentlessly polite persistence that wore people down without making them feel bad about it. Still, she'd wanted to hide under her desk more than once in her career and she'd covered auto unions in Detroit. She knew how it felt to be insecure and Clark's eyes certainly didn't radiate security. Since Lois announced her engagement, they'd been desolate. Now in the wake of her wedding, they were roiling and bleak. And hooded she realized belatedly. Whenever she'd strayed outside of the invisible conversational limits he'd answered her easily with almost none of the more typical Clark stammer. Yet his eyes had been distant – no, shielded, as if he was erecting some internal wall to block the full force of his personality.
Suddenly, she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Clark looked at her questioningly. "Mel, are you all right?"
She put her hand to her forehead, shaking her head as if to clear it. She felt lightheaded, as if she'd looked into too many fun-house mirrors. She felt Clark grab her elbow to steady her. "Mel what's wrong?"
You, you're what's wrong, she thought. She stared hard at him. "What did you want to ask me?" she said.
Clark blinked, confused. "What?"
She stared up at him as she tried to pull her arm away. He didn't stop her. But something else did. She frowned and tried again. "We've shared a cab. We've had dinner. You made a point to run into me on your way out of work. Is there something you wanted to ask me?"
Clark met her gaze without speaking. Mel stared right back trying to fathom what was going on behind his internal wall. He was the one to look away first. He shifted his gaze to the street before them. Mel's apartment was only a block away, which was why they'd stopped at this restaurant in the first place. But suddenly it felt a universe away.
"I didn't go to the wedding," he said quietly, so quietly Mel had to strain to hear. Of course she didn't have to ask whose wedding. The whole Daily Planet knew whose wedding he was talking about.
"Did I do the right thing?" His lips pressed thin and his forehead furrowed as he turned anguished eyes back to her. "Did I?"
For a fraction of a second Mel's mouth hung open. Then she closed it. He was looking for answers, not a slack-jawed idiot. She couldn't provide either one. Why he was asking her in the first place, she had no idea. Unless it was just because she was there. For the next three weeks, as they worked on this assignment together she would be there. There would be a legitimate reason to talk to her. And from what she'd seen of Clark's social skills, unless you were Lois Lane, Perry White or Jimmy Olsen, he had a mighty hard time trying to find reason to talk to you. Or maybe…maybe it was the other way around. He couldn't think why anyone would have a reason to talk to him.
They stood face to face on the sidewalk as lovers and neighbors stepped around them, moving on to more satisfying evenings and lives.
Finally Mel said, "I guess the real question is: Was it worth it?"
"Was what worth it?" Clark asked puzzled.
"Any of it," Mel blurted.
Scene 6
They slept together.
It should have been an ordinary night.
It wasn't.
He'd fallen asleep on her couch. He'd never come up with a satisfactory answer to her question and he could see that the pain that must have showed in his eyes as he realized he couldn't find one left her afraid to send him home alone. So she'd invited him to her place for a round of coffee. She'd called him a cab but, as it sometimes happens in the big city, it never came. They'd wound up on the couch.
He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He rarely got fatigued so he'd never needed much sleep anyway. But it felt good to skip a night playing hero. Looking back, he wouldn't have traded this night for anything.
They had started out in separate spaces on the upholstery with the light from the television bridging the gap in between. Out of habit, she'd turned on the 11 o'clock news. The anchor was doing a commentary on Superman. She'd thrown the remote control on the carpet in disgust. "Ugh! I'm sick of hearing about him!"
Clark had sighed and let his head drop to the back of the couch. "So am I," he said after a minute.
She'd stared back at him stricken. "Oh! Oh, I'm sorry Clark. I didn't mean to…" She grimaced and padded in her stocking feet over to the corner where the remote had landed. When she returned to the couch, he'd draped his arms across his eyes, blocking out the world.
"I'm not really in the mood for anymore news," he said.
She chuckled mirthlessly. "Me either." She aimed the remote. The television snapped off with a click. She dropped the device to the coffee table and stared at him thoughtfully. If this were anyone other than Clark Kent, she'd expect to find herself maneuvered out of her clothes and into her bedroom. Or rather she'd expect the attempt. But she'd had too much Sunday school and self-respect to let a man get away with that. Not as long as he remained, old-fashioned notion that it was, a gentleman. And Clark Kent was a gentleman. That's what made this thing with Lois so hard on him. That's what made life for him so hard, she realized. He was playing by a whole other set of rules. Most people were scratching for whatever they could get while making sure to do the bare minimum to stay out jail or hell or both. Meanwhile, Clark was somewhere by a metaphorical campfire singing kumbayah – or whatever the Kansas white boy equivalent of that was.
Mel shivered. She knew from personal experience how that kind of attitude toward the world only set you up for perpetual heartbreak. It's no wonder Lois had run roughshod over him without even thinking. With that kind of Pollyanna heart on his sleeve, it's a wonder he hadn't checked into the loony bin by now. Although, if the last few days were any indication, the clock was ticking and somewhere the orderlies were turning down the sheets.
He felt her eyes on him and dropped his arms from his face to stare questioningly back at her.
"Can I ask you something?" she said.
She could see the slight hardening of his jaw but she didn't feel anger coming from him. Just frustration and fear that she was about to ask him yet another wrenching question he couldn't answer.
"Do you go to church?" she asked.
He blinked. That was the last thing he'd expected. "To church?"
"Mmm-hmm. Where do you go? Where does your mother go?"
He opened his mouth to speak then stopped. Where did his mother go? His mind cast around for the memory of the last conversation they'd had when he'd been home. That was no good. They'd talked about her dating Ben Hubbard. Had she actually been to church lately? Which minister had officiated at his father's funeral? Pastor Greenburg? Greenbelt? Greenway, that was it! "Uh, St. John's Presbyterian," he said. "That's where my father's buried, in the graveyard."
She came back to the couch, scooping up the afghan and wrapping herself in it as she plopped down, Indian-style, on the cushions. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up sad memories." She looked down. "It's just that I go to church. Every Sunday." She looked sheepishly away and back. "Well almost every Sunday," she said. "And it helps, you know? I know that sounds corny," she ducked her head, "but I need it. My family is in Philadelphia. It's not far but it's not here. Perry is obsessed with Superman and if your beat doesn't cross his path you're out in the cold."
"But you're the science writer," Clark said quietly.
She smiled ironically. "But I'm not Lois Lane. If she wants the Superman story she gets it. Even Superman seems to like it that way – which would be fine at another paper that would give adequate column space to other topics but not at the Planet. And how much does Superman let us know about him anyway? Practically everything we know comes from what he told her five years ago. "
She wrapped her blanket tighter.
"Everything at the Planet is Superman: Superman this and Superman that. Sometimes I feel like I work at the church of Superman. I'm surprised nobody's formed a cult by now!"
Clark listened silently, intently. "The Planet," he said hesitantly, "means a lot to Superman, I guess. It was the first time he was ever able to speak to the whole world at one time. Lois gave him that voice."
Mel blinked, considering. "I never thought about it that way before."
Clark nodded. "I guess it just never occurred to him to try other avenues of communication."
"Or other voices." Mel shook her head. "It's not as if other media outlets wouldn't take him up on it. I think they'd all collectively sell their children to scoop one of Lois' exclusives."
Unexpectedly, Clark laughed. It was a warm sound, completely at odds with the sadness in his eyes. "Would they really?"
"Oh I'd put money on it!" Mel retorted playfully. "But gambling's a sin so I won't."
They smiled at each other.
"You know it's curious," Clark said after a while. "You're so religious but you're the science writer. How does that work?"
Her smile widened. "Everybody always thinks faith and science, they never mix; they're like oil and water. But actually the more I learn about the universe the more confirmed I feel in believing that there is a God. The universe is just too big and beautiful and orderly, despite everything, for there to be any other explanation."
She padded off to the kitchen to refill their coffee cups. Clark trailed after her, tucking his hands in his pockets as he leaned against her sink.
"And what have you seen? Of the universe, I mean?"
She pursed her lips, considering. "I've seen attack ships on fire off the belt of Orion."
He quirked an eyebrow. "That's from Blade Runner."
She grinned mischievously. "Oh you've seen it?"
"Who hasn't?" He countered, smugly. "And science fiction doesn't count."
She laughed and darted around him to run back into the living room, sloshing coffee and trailing her afghan behind her. Ew, that caffeine was going to leave a stain on her rug, she thought. But at the moment she didn't care. She plopped onto the sofa. Clark followed her to the living room but stopped short of joining her on the couch. His mood was half and half, half playful, half serious – with something else underneath that made her shiver. "Come on Carter, cough 'em up. I want the science facts," he said. "What have you seen that makes you believe there's a God?"
What have you seen that makes you think there isn't? she wanted to ask. Instead, she said simply, "Superman, I've seen Superman."
His smile froze, then, millimeter by millimeter, disappeared. He looked down at the floor, biting his lip.
He couldn't think of anything to say.
Mel shivered. For whatever reason, she realized, what she said hurt him. Or no, not hurt him, moved him.
Head still low, hands shoved in his pockets, he slowly, hesitantly followed her over to the couch. He looked at her and the searing blue of his eyes made her catch her breath.
"My dad," he said finally, "the day he died, he said, there's always a reason for everything."
"I believe that," she said honestly.
He pressed his lips together, as if just now, years later, being able to see the reality of his father's words.
"I just have to figure out the reason," he said.
Instinctively, Mel touched his arm. "Yeah, but you don't have to do it alone. That's the great part about being human."
He nodded, his eyes widening. "Guess I ought to figure out how to be human, huh? Got any pointers?"
She laughed ruefully and slid her hand up his arm to his back. His shoulder was stiff. Without thinking she started rubbing it. "It takes a lifetime of experience," she said. "The only thing that hasn't failed me is finding somebody bigger than me to take the weight."
He exhaled, relaxing fully this time, letting his head drop to the back of the sofa, his long legs stretching out before him. Without thinking he closed his eyes and removed his glasses as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Do you think God has rest stops?" he asked.
"All the time," she said. Her hand slipped lower, to the center of his back. She looked up at him. He was asleep, his glasses dangling from one slack hand. Carefully, she took them and put them on the coffee table. She stared at him again, considering. Should she wake him up? The poor man had wandered around the office all week looking as if sleep was a long lost friend. She looked at her clock. Midnight it read. Good Lord! Had they been talking that long? She yawned. The late hour was suddenly hitting her.
She took their cups into the kitchen and soaped them up. She'd get to them in the morning. She padded back out to the living room. She really should cover him up. She took off her afghan and spread it over him. He sighed as he felt the fabric settle on his body. She looked at his shoes. Lace-ups of course. By the time she got them off she'd probably wake him up. She left them alone.
"Lois?"
She jumped, startled. He was talking in his sleep. And his voice…She peered again at his face, swiping a hand across her sleepy eyes. Without his glasses, Clark Kent was…something completely different. She backed away from him, her eyes riveted on him, unable to look away and unable to stay and accept what she saw. Then she stopped.
Everything happens for a reason, he'd said. Even if he hadn't believed it when he said it, she did. She stopped, squared her shoulders, and walked back over to him.
Almost nose to nose, she studied his face. The hair was different. And with his eyes closed it was harder to tell. But she couldn't deny his voice. The timbre of it announcing the presence of another being entirely. Put the two together and the effect was disorienting. Gingerly, she sat on the edge of the sofa arm beside him. He was deeply asleep, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his body relaxed. He seemed to be exhausted. She hadn't realized he could be.
His voice. He'd called for Lois. The tone. She wrapped her arms around herself. He'd called for Lois in the tone of a man both sure of being heard and unsure of being accepted. A lover's tone. A despairing lover's tone. Superman and Lois Lane had been lovers.
Was she jealous? The thought came unexpectedly and, ruthlessly, she shoved it to the back of her mind. She had too strong a sense of self-preservation to allow herself to get mixed up in the cosmic conundrum that was Superman. Unlike most of the women at the Planet, or probably even Metropolis, Mel had never been infatuated with Superman. As her father had so often remarked, she had a knack for looking so hard before she leapt that nine times out of ten she never even got off the ledge. A man like Superman was not for her. Unlike Lois, she wasn't the type to believe Superman would always catch her – if ever. Life just didn't work that way. The race went not to the swift but to he who endured. And Superman had run away from Earth for five years.
Suddenly Lois didn't seem quite as thoughtless. What woman could wait for a man for five years? Her face hardened as she looked at him. Lois had married another man after Superman had come back. Why? What did Lois know that the rest of the world didn't?
She gasped and covered her mouth. Jason! Jason was Superman's son. Not only had Superman lost the woman he loved, he was losing his son. And Lois didn't know who Clark really was. How could she? She never looked at him hard enough to notice.
Her stomach turned over. So Clark had spent his life loving Lois as one man, and being ignored by her as another. And because of this he'd never be able to claim his son because Lois didn't know.
"Why didn't you tell her?" she whispered to the sleeping man before her.
Did I do the right thing? he'd asked her earlier that evening. He didn't tell her because he thought he was doing the right thing. Which meant that Jason probably didn't know who his father was either. She sighed. Her eyes stung. She put her face in her hands. Good God, what a mess!
Everything happens for a reason.
She looked up at him again. Her eyes were wet. No wonder he was tired. So was she. She looked toward her bedroom. It seemed too far away. Resolutely refusing to reflect on what she was doing, she lifted the afghan and slid in next to him. In two seconds, she was asleep.