Not a Stupid Man
Perry White was not a stupid man. Nor was he as ignorant of the goings-on of the people around him as people liked to assume. For starters, Perry could tell you which of the five new secretaries were in happy relationships, by more than the obvious signs.
He could also, to a lesser extent, tell you the state of mind that Lois was in by her tell-tale signs, and whether or not Richard was on the receiving end of another famous Lane rampage.
They didn't call her 'Mad-Dog' for nothin'.
But, for the life of him, Perry White had never been able to peg Clark Kent. The quiet Kansan farmboy had, and he means this in the nicest way possible, always been a bone of contention in his perfectly ordered world. As far as Perry was concerned, Clark Kent was one of those mysteries that was just never explained.
Sadly, that all changed last Tuesday. He'd thought it interesting when Clark had made his return public, coming by the office that Friday morning, asking for the return of his job after a five-year absence. After all, the last he'd seen of the six-foot plus farmboy, Clark had turned in his resignation, citing a need to 'find himself' as though the years he'd already spent abroad were for nothing.
Clark, at that time, had explained that he was unused to sitting in one place for more than a couple years time, constantly moving had become a habit for the world-traveled young man.
It hadn't been two days, when Superman's visage was once again seen on television screens world wide. The familiar shield that was seen as a symbol of peace world over, the blue spandex, with underwear on the outside of all things, and long red cape setting a plane in the middle of the World Series.
Fool me once, shame on you.
It wasn't too hard for the hardened reporter, who single-handedly brought down the world-infamous Lionel Luthor, to put the pieces together after that. But, in that case, an exposè had been just what the doctor called for. The Luthor patriarch had been nothing but a tyrant, and a thugh. He'd misused and misappropriated funds on a regular basis, that by the time his corruption was brought to light, the public just shook their heads and said, "It's about time."
Clark was different, he was someone that Perry worked with, bossed around even. The thought was ludicrous, and at the same time, nothing but unadulterated truth.
Clark Kent was Superman.
No, correct that, Clark Kent is Superman. His trip, as far as Perry could figure, was nothing but a ruse so Superman could take his five year trip into the known universe, and return unharmed.
But, even in his perfectly ordered world, Perry knew without a doubt that he hadn't enough evidence at the time. Clark was simply to good at what he did, blending into the background. He always had a, though now Perry realized invalid, reason for disappearing at odd times.
Even Superman had to lie at times, it seemed.
No, if it hadn't been for one fatalistic proof, he'd never had been able to prove all of this. But, it's really simple. Superman was in the hospital for two days. Clark, in all his blundering glory, didn't have a reason for his hiatus.
It was all to eerily simple.
That was why he was in a dilemna. The paper stood as a symbol of truth in journalism, coming straight-forward with the news, no matter who it hurt, or how long the repercussions lasted. As her editor-in-chief Perry had an obligation to report the news as it happened.
He just couldn't bring himself too.
"Kent!" Perry's irritated voice ring throughout the newsroom, intent on getting some answers. Clark's suddenly rigid form tensed even further, as if he were in pain, his hand perched seemingly over where Superman's scar, if the Man of Steel scarred that is, would have been, his hand pushing off of the desk with seemingly slow motions. It had only been two days, after all.
Perry watched as Clark, with slow exasborated movements made his way to his feet, his hand pushing on his side as pain covered his face.
"Yes Chief?" the usually bumbling farmboy asked, as he entered the man's office, his hand resting on the back of a chair as he held himself straight.
"Close the door and sit down, Kent, no need for everyone to overhear.
Now Perry was intrigued, as Clark seemingly tensed for a moment, as if reassuring himself that something was alright, before the door closed with a light thud. Trust the farmboy to take extra care, even in his hurt state.
"Kent, I'll make this plain and simple, I think you're Superman."
Clark's eyes widened, his left hand rising from his lap to cover his mouth, which had fallen open in shock. "W-what makes you say that, Chief?"
The man smiled, glad for a chance to show off his investigative skills, which rumor had it had dulled over the years to a minute amount. "It's simple Kent, you made two mistakes. The first is the timing of your return.
Kent, I'm not a stupid man, and I do know how one plus one always equals two. You returned on a Friday, and came to my office, bags still packed, saying that you'd just returned from your trip and would, 'really like my old job back'."
"And the second chief?" Clark asked, his voice suddenly lower an octave, as his back straightened. Perry was impressed, he knew how to switch between his two sides flawlessly, only someone of great practice could pull off that, even with a five year hiatus between.
"The second, Kent, was your unexplained absence during the New Krypton thing. You were missing for two days, two unexplained days in which Superman was laying in a hospital. You returned the day after Superman released himself."
Clark seemed to melt in upon himself, as the truth stared him in the face. To Perry, it seemed the Kansas farmboy was preparing himself for some major blow. The man smiled, as he knew that Perry was well within his rights to report the news as he saw fit.
"The only thing I want to say is, thank you son."
Clark's searching eyes focused on Perry's penetrating gaze. "I've seen you leave at the oddest times, realized that, only minutes later Superman would appear, and you'd come back, sometimes smelling of fire. You'd always say that you'd received a tip that something had gone down, and come back with a good story at times, and other times you'd pass a word to Gil, or God knows, Lois.
You don't ask for a raise, and you work, as far as I can tell, near twenty-four hours a day. You sacrificed your life to fight Lex Luthor, and lifted an island made of poison to space to save us. You're selfless, as Clark and as Superman."
Clark smiled, "thank you Chief."
"Just tell me something, Kent."
"Yes Chief?" the man asked.
"We've never been scooped because you heard something you shouldn't, right?"
Clark only smiled, his gaze saying it all.
End