Chapter 3: Could I Say No?
Someone at Wayne Enterprises must have leaked the list of invitees because on Wednesday morning at The Daily Planet, Lois was joked at and congratulated by her peers. In an attempt to deflect the attention, she reminded everyone that Clark was invited as well.
"Only because of Lois," he said whenever she brought it up.
When the two got back from their lunch break, they had a few minutes to kill before getting back to work. Clark sat at his desk, reading through his story one last time before submitting it to the editing department. Lois stood behind him, leaning against the back of his chair and massaging his shoulders.
"Hey, Smallville."
"Yeah?" he mumbled.
"We should probably go get a proper suit for you. You can't go to a gala in tweed and flannel."
He snorted and looked up at her.
"What?" she said, grinning, "You know I'm right."
He sighed and looked back at the computer.
"Yeah, I know."
"Maybe this weekend, we should start looking. We don't wanna leave it for last minute."
Clark finished reading and emailed the story, then swiveled around to face her. He held onto the hem of her blouse with one hand and stared at her.
"What?" she asked incredulously.
"Nothing."
"I better get back to work," she said, glancing over her shoulder at Perry's office.
"Ok."
He took her hand and kissed it, and she glanced around to see if anyone was watching.
"Lois," he laughed, "We're married."
Smiling, she mouthed, "It's not professional," as she backed away.
He laughed again and shook his head.
'''''''''''''''''''
That Saturday, in the afternoon, they went shopping. Getting formalwear for Clark was impossible because he didn't seem to have an opinion on anything. Whatever she pointed at, he agreed to try on.
"They all look the same," he said, shrugging.
In one small tailor shop, Lois sat outside the dressing room on a little couch while Clark tried on the suits. She looked up as he emerged wearing a black tuxedo with a white shirt and black bow-tie.
"Turn around," she ordered.
He obeyed, and she nodded to herself.
"This one looks good," she said.
He scrutinized his reflection in the mirror.
"I think it has the best fit out of all the ones we've tried," he said.
"You look like James Bond."
"Really?" he said, practically blushing.
"Oh my God, Clark, you are too easily flattered."
He checked himself in the mirror again.
"I mean, it's sleek."
"M-hm. Do you like it?"
He shrugged with one shoulder and said, "Yeah, it's alright. Do you think the pants are a little long?"
"No. I mean, maybe. I guess it's up to personal taste."
"I'd prefer them a little shorter."
"We could get them to hem it."
"No, it's ok."
"Are you sure? If we're going to buy it, it should be perfect."
"Yeah. I can hem it myself."
She gave him a playfully chastising look.
"Clark, we have money."
He looked down and mumbled, "But it's already so expensive, and…"
"Ok, ok, Smallville. You can hem the pants."
"Ma says I'm good at it."
"I'm sure your mother is right."
"So, I guess this is the one, then?"
"Do. You. Like. It?"
He laughed.
"Yes."
He changed back into his clothes, and they went to the counter to pay what Lois had to agree was a painful amount of money for the tuxedo. By the time they exited the shop, evening had fallen.
"Where do you wanna eat, in or out?" she asked.
He thought for a moment.
"Out."
She nodded in agreement, and they proceeded to search for the cheapest restaurant in the bougie district.
'''''''''''''''''
When they got back home, they sat in front of the TV and watched Tiny House Nation, one of Clark's favorite shows. His new pants were laid across his lap as he pinned them to the length he wanted. When he was done, he laid them aside carefully and stood up to take off his jeans. Lois whistled.
"Wow, I didn't know this was going to involve a strip show."
"I'm trying on the pants, Lois," he said in a chiding tone that didn't completely mask his amusement.
He tried them on and took them off a couple times, adjusting the length every time. Finally, he settled on a length and sat down to hem them. He began slowly, intently focused on the needlework. As he got into a rhythm, he started working faster, much faster than Lois had seen anyone sew without the aid of a machine. Occasionally, he glanced up at the TV. When they showed an interesting contraption in the house, he looked at Lois like an excited child. She shook her head as she leaned back and watched him.
"You really are an alien sometimes, Smallville."
"Lois, how can you not think that's amazing?" he asked, gesturing to a foldable mirror/bed/shelf unit attached to a wall.
She shrugged.
"It's just not that surprising anymore. How long have we been watching this show? I've seen everything."
"Hm," he said as he tied off the knot on the second pant leg, "Maybe you've just lost the ability to wonder at life."
"Hey, I wonder at you every day, so –"
He chuckled and cut the thread, then stood up and slipped on the pants.
"Looks good?" he asked.
"Yup. Now I know you're such a good needleworker, I've got a few things in the closet you could take a look at."
"Be happy to."
The episode ended, and Lois grabbed the remote.
"Your show's done. Can I watch the news now?"
He smiled indulgently at her.
"Alright, Lois, we can watch the news."
She turned the channel. As the news began, Clark took off the pants and changed back into his jeans. The first story was an update on the robbery investigation.
"This afternoon, Police Chief Evan Fontaine of the Albany Police Department called a press conference to provide an update on the course of the armed robbery investigation and also to give a warm message to Superman."
Clark's stomach dropped. Even after he came back from the dead and the public started accepting him, he still felt dread every time his name was mentioned. Lois watched him carefully. She was well aware of his lingering anxiety. The station cut to a video of the press conference recorded earlier in the day. Chief Fontaine stood at a podium in front of the Albany Police Department insignia.
"At this time," he said, "we have discovered no evidence that suggests that the five perpetrators had any additional partners. I cannot reveal any more details due to the fact that this is an ongoing investigation, but I encourage anyone who has information pertaining to this case to contact the police. If you know any of the perpetrators or think you saw anything in the days leading up to the crime, we encourage you to give us a call. Every little bit helps."
He paused.
"I would also like to address Superman on behalf of the Albany Police Department and the city of Albany to thank him for his actions on the day of the robbery. Within only a minute of his arrival, he ensured the safety of the nine civilians being held hostage and the perpetrators' unconditional surrender. Kal-El, we thank you for your help, and we are eternally grateful for your service, not just in protecting the world, but our city, as well. Therefore, we wish to dedicate the APD Medal of Service to you, in light of all that you have done for us. A ceremony will be held to bestow this decoration. We know you have much more important matters to attend to, but if you should care to drop by and accept it in person, we would be honoured to have you."
The clip ended, and the news anchor started to comment, but Lois muted the TV and looked at Clark. He was still watching the screen.
"That's nice," she said, "It's been a while since a city gave you an award."
He folded the tuxedo pants and draped them over his arm.
"Yeah. I'm gonna go hang these up."
He went to the bedroom, put the pants back in the garment bag with the jacket, and hung them up. Instead of going back into the living room, however, he lingered by the closet.
Clark wasn't a complete introvert. He liked people, he just didn't like being scrutinized. As Superman, he was a public figure and, therefore, had to put out a certain amount of face. He didn't like public appearances, but he could handle them. He could smile. He could pretend to be more comfortable than he was. Being given a decoration wasn't foreign to him. It had happened many times, in the past. But he hadn't done anything like that since he came back. Governments had made speeches in his honour, they'd put up more statutes and awarded him medals and commendations, but he hadn't attended any of the ceremonies. He was still terrified of them. Of their trust, or potential lack of it.
It had been a year since he and the Justice League saved the world, and he was beginning to think that he should come out of hiding. He was, of course, still saving people and helping where he could; he just avoided any pomp. Many people praised him for being media shy, but he was sure that if he kept this up, they would start to criticize him again. It might be time to finally make a public appearance, he thought.
In theory, he liked being given honours because it meant that people wanted to interact with him. It gave him some semblance of being treated like a normal person; someone just doing his duty for the common good. The opportunity to just be Kal-El instead of Superman, subtle as the difference was, kind of excited him. It was what he wanted: to be considered the same as them, in all the ways that mattered. To not be some unreachable paragon on a pedestal.
Perhaps, he thought, if he went to the ceremony, it would help to humanize his image. Maybe it would help stop people treating him like a god, which had only gotten worse recently. There was a global cult now that worshipped him. Some people thought he was a reincarnation of Jesus Christ. He had met some of them. They loved him, but that wasn't the kind of love he wanted. It scared him. He just wanted to be accepted. Different, but one of them. He could handle an award ceremony. He'd done it before. The world wasn't in crisis at the moment. He could spare an hour for this. It would be fine.
At the same time, though, he was afraid of something terrible happening. Of someone spitting slurs or throwing something or…worse. Thoughts of the Capitol bombing loomed in his mind. Memories of burning bodies and orange flames. The smells. The screaming. It happened because of him, because Lex Luthor was trying to get to him at the expense of every innocent person in that building, including his own assistant. He hadn't forgotten it. Surely, the public hadn't, either.
He was certain that the memories of his past failures left a shadow in their minds just as they did in his. But despite that fact, they seemed to have forgiven him almost completely. Since he came back, he hadn't heard any hate speech. There hadn't been any anti-Superman protests or terror attacks either. But just because there weren't public displays of hatred didn't mean there weren't still those who did so in private.
He heard Lois get up from the couch. He looked up as she entered the room. She wrapped her arms around his waist and propped her chin on his chest.
"Clark, are you in here overanalyzing?"
He sighed and held her closer to him.
"I think I might accept the award in person."
"Hm. It'll be the first time in a while."
"Yeah. That's why I'm thinking of doing it. I don't want to seem too distant. The thing is, I'm of out of practice. And also…after what happened last time, I think it's maybe safer if I don't. What happened that day at the Capitol; it left a scar."
"Scars heal. They trust you now. Clark, you died for them," she paused, "For me. For the world. It took all that to prove to them that you are one of us. You don't have anything left to prove. You never did, but you certainly don't have to now. You've given everything already. And if you're worried about something bad happening, in a year, no one has done anything or made any threats, and Lex Luthor is rotting in jail."
In an instinctive reaction, his hairs raised at Luthor's name being spoken aloud, but he heard what she said and knew she was right. He thought for a few seconds.
"I don't…This is gonna annoy you, but –"
"You won't annoy me."
He smiled, but it was fleeting.
"I don't feel…I imagine myself there, in front of the cameras, and I feel…It's never felt quite right, but it's not just that I'm uncomfortable," he trailed off as he put his thoughts into words, "What if they don't like it? Somebody's always got something to say. And I know I shouldn't worry about things like that, but I can't help it. Things are good right now. I don't want to do anything that could rock the boat. But, at the same time, if I never show myself in public again, they'll hate that too, eventually."
Lois listened carefully, and a grave expression grew on her face.
"Clark, you are as worthy as anyone else. You are as good as anyone else. You're better than a lot of people. In here."
She put her hand over his heart.
"You're not their slave, Clark. You don't have to do what everyone asks or suggestsof you, all the time. You don't have to do what you think they want, all the time. You don't live for other people. You dedicated your life to helping others, but there's a huge difference between that and living to please them. No one's demanding that you go. If you want to go, then go! You have the right to be seen and appreciated just like everyone else."
"But I refused the citizenship, Lois."
She grasped his face in both hands.
"For a good reason! Because you believed it was important for Superman to not have nationalistic loyalties. Besides, that doesn't matter. Clark Kent is a citizen of the United States, isn't he? Look, if someone curses you out for this, screw 'em. After all the bullshit they've thrown and everything you've done, you've sacrificed, they should be grateful you haven't left this planet."
He smiled faintly. She sighed.
"Do you want to go?"
Slowly, he nodded.
"Then do it. And if you change your mind, then don't be afraid to stick to that, ok?"
"Ok."
She stood up on her tip-toes and kissed him. Then, she pulled away, grabbed his hand, and lead him out the room.
"Alright, you sad teddy, let's calm you down with some tiny houses."
''''''''''''''''''''''
On Sunday, Clark walked several blocks away from their apartment to a phone booth. Taking a deep breath and mentally preparing himself, he dialed the number for the APD Headquarters. The line rang a few times before a young man picked up.
"Albany Police Department Headquarters."
"I'd like to speak to Chief Fontaine, please?"
"Who is this?"
He hesitated. He knew he would sound crazy saying who he was over the phone. He didn't expect the man to believe him. He figured trying couldn't hurt, though. After all, they reached out to him first.
He was about to identify himself as Superman, but it always felt a little silly calling himself that.
"This is Kal-El."
The man was silent for a couple seconds before he said cautiously, "Seriously?"
"Yes."
"Can you prove it?"
"No," he admitted, "But you're just going to have to trust that I'm not a prank caller. I wouldn't have much to gain if I was."
"Well…what am I holding right now?"
"I don't know."
He was well-aware he was not making himself look very good.
"Superman's supposed to be able to see everything."
"I'm in a completely different city, on the ground. I can't see over the horizon."
On the other end, he heard a door open in the background and someone walking into the room.
"How's it going, Dave?" the man said.
Clark recognized the voice as Chief Fontaine's.
"Chief Fontaine just entered the room," he said promptly, "He just asked you how it's going."
Dave was clearly impressed, since he immediately said, "Sir, Superman's on the phone."
"Are you serious?" Fontaine asked, "Let me have it."
Clark heard the phone being passed.
"Hello?" Fontaine said.
"Hello, Sir. I know you might not believe that I am who I say I am."
"Well, we'll see. What's in my left breast pocket?"
"I don't know. I'm on the ground, I can't see. I heard when you came into the room, though. Dave can confirm that. And he's tapping his pen on the desk right now."
There was a pause.
"True enough. I guess you are the real deal, then. Either that, or this is a very elaborate prank."
"I assure you, it isn't."
"So, I'm assuming you wanted to talk about the medal?"
Clark enjoyed how casual Fontaine was being with him.
"Yes. I wanted to thank you for your kind words and let you know that I'm honoured you deemed me worthy of the award. I'd be more than happy to attend the ceremony and accept it in person."
"Oh, really? Well, that's great! We're very happy you'd accept our invitation. I didn't think you really would, what with being so busy."
"I have time for this. I was wondering when exactly the ceremony will be held?"
"Oh, of course! We're still planning it, but we were hoping to fit it in around the middle of next month. When we pin down the date, which should be very soon, we'll broadcast it on the news and social media, so you should see it."
"Alright. Thank you, Sir."
"No, thank you. I don't know what we'd do without you."
"Your job's just as important as mine."
Fontaine laughed.
"I wouldn't quite agree with that, but no one accuse you of hubris. I look forward to meeting you."
"Same here. Have a good day, Sir."
"You too."
Clark waited for them to hang up before putting the phone back on the hook and exhaling. It wasn't so bad. It was ok; Everything was ok, he repeated in his head, in addition to Lois's encouraging words from the previous night.
