The soft sound of dripping pipes, the quiet tapping of people at their computers, and the otherwise absolute silence in the room were all completely shattered as someone shouted furiously making him spin suddenly on his heal and stare at the man storming madly through the basement level of the old building.
"Dead!" Swinford hollered at him. "He's dead, you idiot, and it all your fault!" Neil considered an answer but everything that came into his mind was sure to get a less than positive response so he decided to keep his trap shut. Swinford came to stand in front of him, looking for all the world like he desperately wanted to take his employee's head off as his hands balled into fists. "And I suppose you have some kind of excuse for why you completely bungled your only job?!"
There was no getting out of it this time, Neil knew he had to answer so he drew in his breath defiantly and said, in a voice as firm as he could make it, "There were complications, Mr. Swinford. I did my best but the man wasn't totally sane to begin with -"
"Shut up!" Swinford snapped. "You had one job, Bishop, one! And you let him get killed."
"Sir, with all due respect, the failure wasn't for lack of trying -"
He scoffed at that. "You're done trying, Bishop. You want to try something? Well try this: you're fired!" he stomped away.
Neil sighed. He was tired of this job and he had been planning to quit anyway. He just wished Swinford hadn't had the satisfaction of making firing him. He found a box under one of the access ladders and started filling it with the contents of his desk. One by one the paperweights, the folders, the stapler, the pencils, and the plaque reading "Neil Bishop" went into it. When he'd been told he'd been given a job at the Daily Planet, he was through the roof in excitement.
Even when he found out he would be working on the basement level, he didn't mind. It'd been his dream to work here and he was determined to work his way up and out.
But Gerard Swinford was a different case. Neil knew that the work he'd been doing for the man was unethical but after the freak from Belle Reve had been murdered, (either by his own hand or somebody else's, he didn't know) he was sure that it was illegal, whatever Swinford had had in mind and he was glad to be out of it. And then there was the girl…
He tossed the picture frame into the box and winced as the glass broke and small pieces fell down around the other miscellaneous items and came to rest on the bottom of the box.
He took out the broken frame and delivered it to the trash can next to his desk after removing the picture. Three smiling faces looked at him with excitement. There was no reason why Donna and the kids should know what he did. After all, he hadn't really done anything. But all his hopes of becoming a reporter at the Planet were now gone. They would have to know that at least. He sighed, scooped up the last of his things, and lugged the box up the stairs.
"O-oh, Chloe! It's beautiful!"
"You like it?"
"I love it, thank you so much!" Maddie wrapped the thin silver chain around her neck clasped the two ends together on the other side, letting the small pink butterfly lie against her chest.
"Okay, me next," said Lois, picking up a suspicious looking lumpy parcel. "Now, I promise, it's not crayons."
Maddie laughed as she tore back the wrapping. Underneath sat a box of brand new coloring pencils topped with a square shaped blue sharpener. "Oh, wow!" Maddie brushed her hand gently over the pencils, the drawing possibilities already growing in her mind. "Thanks, Lois."
"Oh, yeah well, I figured you might need some new ones soon, no big deal."
"Yeah, sure," Clark grinned. "Okay, this next one is from me and Mom and your Grandma."
Maddie looked around curiously. Seeing no other packages, she turned her gaze questioningly back on Clark. Martha went over and opened the door to the walk-in closet and out ran a small, golden colored puppy, sniffing at the floor as it went. It ran straight up to Maddie and licked the hand holding the pencils. She gasped.
"Is - is he mine?"
"Yup! Picked him out today, your Grandma said she wouldn't mind having a growing guard dog at the house, long as you can train him not to Pompeii the stained glass windows," said Chloe.
"Ohh…." she sighed, stroking its soft baby fur as it sat in front of her knees. She looked up at the five smiling faces that she considered being her family. "Thank you all so much…this is the best birthday I've ever had!"
She jumped up and hugged each conspirator around the waist and talked and laughed with them all so hard, she was completely out of breath by the time Martha called everyone to the dining room.
"I know you're not supposed to have sugar in the morning," her grandmother smiled down at her. "But I think that Grandparents tend to be the most well known for letting you anyway." she winked.
Maddie came and sat at the table as a pink-flowered cake with twelve yellow candles was placed in front of her and as the lights dimmed they all joined in singing, "Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday, dear Maddie, Happy Birthday to you!"
"Make a wish!" Chloe called.
Maddie squeezed her eyes shut. But then she opened them again. She looked around at all of them, Martha, Chloe, Lois, Grandma…and Clark. All that she wanted most was standing in a circle around her. She didn't ever want this moment to end.
She closed her eyes again and thought hard. Then she had it. Keeping the words in her head, she blew hard on the candles and put them all out in one breath.
Everyone cheered as Lois turned the lights back up again and they all sat, except Martha and her Grandma who remained standing to cut the cake.
Unfortunately, somewhere half way through the eating process, the dog on the floor got overly curious and jumped on the table, knocking Lois's plate on the floor and dumping milk all over her lap.
Martha gasped, Chloe, Clark, and Maddie laughed, and Lois sneezed several times into her napkin before mopping it up.
Afterwards, Clark went to go check on Buttercup and Shadow leaving the dishes up to Chloe and Martha, while Maddie rolled all over the floor with her new friend, racking her brain trying to find a name for it.
"Hey, Neil! Where you goin' bro?" Neil turned at the sound of his friend's voice and sighed at the coming explanation he had not wanted to give.
"Ah….home."
Liam strode up, grinning from ear to ear as usual. "What, you get off early or -" he stared at the box in Neil's arms. "Oh man… you get sacked?' the smiled disappeared completely.
"Yeah…but don't sweat it I mean, I don't think I'll miss the basement too much."
"Oh, c'mon, don't talk like that! Look, wa-da-ya say I talk to the old prune? I mean, he can't just -" Liam broke off with the ringing of that fact that Swinford ("the old prune"), could "just do" anything he wanted to, written in disparaging clearness all over his face.
"Hey man, its okay. I'll miss the Planet…but I'll be okay. Don't be mad."
"No way, bro." Liam shook his head firmly. "This isn't the end of it; I'll wipe the basement floor with that geezer's carcass before I let that be it for you."
Neil shook his head, smiling at his friend's determinedness. "It's alright. Don't get into any trouble; you've got a great job here! There's no reason why you shouldn't enjoy it."
He gave him a good-natured whack on the shoulder and a parting nod. Liam watched him walk over to the elevators and press the down button. The doors opened obligingly and Neil stepped in, giving Liam a wave and a half-hearted, half smile before the door slid shut.
"I won't without you here," Liam exhaled in frustration. He marched across the room to a small desk and looked it over, wishing she was here to help him out now. But she wasn't and he'd just have to wait.
He sat down in desk chair, looking absentmindedly around at the Daily Planet reporters, columnists, and coffee bearers before turning his lack of attention to the décor of the desk area. For the most part, it was a mess. He knew she didn't like keeping her desk neat and it rather added to her perky personality.
What little space there was displayed mostly a lot of reports, first, second, third, forth, and fifth drafts of goodness-knew-what, and some miscellaneous picture frames. One of them, he recognized to be the young reporter's father; the other two was of her and two of her friends. One, tall, dark haired, and wearing blue and red, the other (a girl looking to be about twenty or twenty-one) wearing pink and sporting black hair the fell down past her shoulders. They all stood under a sign that said "Smallville High: Go Crows!" in bright red and yellow.
He prepared himself for the wait as a few passerby's looked at him curiously and wondered why in the world a young man they knew to be named Liam Quinn was parked behind a plaque that read clearly: "Chloe Sullivan, Reporter"
He ignored them and listlessly watched the second hand tick sluggishly around the face of the Daily Planet Level No. 3 clock, the lack of ideas for getting his best friend out of this mess mocking him with voices that sounded a lot like the tapping of keyboards for all the people still safely employed like him.
"Thanks for your help, Mom. I think she had a good time."
"Did Rachel take her home then?"
Clark nodded over the wheel, slowing to let another car pass. "Yeah…"
Martha looked over at him expectantly before asking the question she'd been deliberating bringing up for some time now. "Sweetheart, how are you doing?"
Clark glanced at her nervously. "Doing?"
"After…well I know you and Lana…?"
He stared intently at the road, bent on not answering that one. The road down to the Kent Farm came into view and he slowed as the car rumbled over the old dirt road. "I'm okay," he said agitatedly.
"Are you?" the car stopped and he turned the engine off, sitting back in his seat.
"No…not really. But there's nothing I can do about it."
Martha sighed and put a hand on his shoulder, pressing forth all the encouragement she could muster. "I'm sure it'll be okay, Clark."
"Yeah..." he rolled his eyes slightly. "It always is."
He opened the door and came around the other side, opening the other for Martha. She climbed out and they walked up to the door and inside.
That night, it took Clark nearly three hours to fall asleep. He wasn't sure why, either. Frustrated, he assumed it was because of Lana but something else nagged at the back of his mind that he couldn't put his finger on.
Despite his lack of sleep, he was incredibly tired and unable to think straight even though he couldn't fall asleep.
Eventually, sleep came. But the strangest dream's came with it. He dreamt of Maddie riding Buttercup and she saw the shadow of a man on a cliff and then he was walking around the Daily Planet and Shelby was following him and suddenly, Shelby turned into a man Clark didn't recognize and the man laughed at him and told him that he "can't save her, no matter how many powers you have" and then he stood in his barn in front of a huge pile of hay and Maddie was standing in the center of a slough of broken glass and tears ran down her disappointed face. "Why weren't you there, Clark? Why didn't you save me? You promised." and she vanished.
Clark woke up with his eyes wide and the sun pouring in on him with unwanted brightness. When his vision cleared, he didn't remember the dream.
"I thought I could hear the hum of an artist's engine up here," her grandmother smiled as she came up the stairs to Maddie's room. "Enjoying the new pencils?"
She nodded vigorously. "I love them. But I still don't know what to call the puppy." she swept a hand through the piles of paper and showed that upon each one was an excellent drawing of the dog. "I've been drawing him to sort of … see what he looks like in my head, but it's not really helping.
"Well, I'm sure you'll think of something. That's half the fun of it."
Maddie sighed but smiled anyway. She could tell her grandmother was sensing that something troubled her. But Maddie didn't want to say so nor talk about it, so the longer she could convince her grandmother she was fine, the more time she had to convince herself as well.
Chloe walked up to her desk and stopped, looking confused. "Liam? Something wrong?"
He stood up. "Hey, Chloe. I uh…I need your help with something. Neil was fired yesterday; I've been waiting to talk to you."
"Neil… Neil Bishop? On level one?"
"Yeah… Swinford just let him go and I… I need to know why, maybe there's something I can do."
"Yeah, no that's fine. I'm glad you came." she came over and sat down at her desk facing the computer and chewed her lip anxiously feeling Liam's eyes watching her hopefully from behind. She easily hacked into the employee records and typed in "Bishop, Neil" on the browser. "Wouldn't it have been easier to just ask your friend yourself?"
Liam sighed and shook his head. "Neil is always convinced that he can do okay no matter what and doesn't let anyone help him if he can manage it. But the guy's got a wife and two kids to feed. He needs this job and I'm guessing if Swinford fired him, he's gonna do the thing properly and blacklist him, too, and I don't want to let that happen."
"Yeah, I know the feeling," Chloe nodded astutely. Then a file appeared on the search engine results. "Okay, here it is." she double clicked on it and the computer froze for a moment.
Then an error message appeared.
Cannot open file: Bishop, Neil. It is being used by another person or program.
Close any programs that might be using this file and try again.
"Shoot," Chloe sighed. "Well, we can wait a little while and try again. Meantime, tell me what all you know."
Liam shrugged. "Not much of anything, really. I mean, Neil just comes upstairs one day with his office in a box and says he's been bounced and then just leaves. I mean I know it was Swinford and I'm guessing he kicked him out because he did something wrong, but I have no clue what."
Chloe nodded, giving the file another shot. Same message. But something about this sparked the reporter in her and she wanted to get to the bottom of it, even if there wasn't one.
Rrrriiiingg the old phone shrieked raucously from the counter. And then again. Rrrriiiingg more insistently until Rachel came and picked it up. "Hello, Rachel McKnight speaking?"
"Mrs. McKnight this is Dr. Celestin with the Belle Reve Sanitarium?"
Rachel felt her stomach tense. "Yes?"
"I'm very sorry, mam' but I'm afraid your son has died, only two nights ago. We weren't sure how to contact you."
"M- My Tyler?"
"Yes, mam'. I'm truly sorry."
"How…did he die?"
The poor man hesitated at the question, being obviously new at his job and no good at gently relaying tragedy. "Stab wound, mam," he said as fast as he could. "Self inflicted. I'm sure he didn't suffer."
"Alright," Rachel replied steadily. "Thank you for calling."
"Certainly, mam," he said in a relieved voice. "Good day."
"Good day." she slid the phone down and set it slowly on its receiver. She sighed deeply. "Maddie?" she called timidly.
"Yes, Grandma?" came the child's voice.
"Come downstairs, sweetheart, I…I need to talk to you."
More later! Reviews are very welcome!
