Sorry it's taken me so long to get this out there, but it ain't easy dealing with AIDS as well as having to find work and now a new place to live. But, I got this chapter finished. Hopefully in another couple of months I'll have more for you. I'm so greatful to all of you for your nice reviews. Thanks a million!
Pony
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Jimmy Olsen had gotten off of work about two hours ago, and he was only just now making his way back to the building at 344 Clinton Street. His building. Clark's building.
Immediately upon leaving work, Jim had stopped into The Ace O' Clubs, and had begun digging his way into four bottles of beer.
It had been another one of those days at work.
Perry had pulled him into his office and given Jimmy a chewing-out that had scared the daylights out of him, even though if he was truly honest with himself, he deserved it. Lately, over the last several months, his photography had begun a notable downward spiral in terms of creativity, execution, and the technical and journalistic standards expected of a salaried staff member of The Daily Planet.
"It's not just Superman images I need from you!" Perry had bellowed. "You're a photojournalist, and a damn good one, too. I know you can do better than this. You just need to break this funk, or pull your head out of your ass, or do whatever you need to do to get back on your game, Olsen! I'm not gonna keep coddling you. And I'm finished protecting your job! Traum is just chomping at the bit for a chance at your spot, and I'm almost ready to give it to him," The Chief had growled before dismissing Jimmy with an angry wave of his arm. The last sound Jimmy registered as he was closing Perry's door was the slap! of a copy of The Planet on The Chief's desktop as he reached for his ringing phone.
By now, two hours, an empty stomach, and four dark ales later, Jimmy was a bit on the plastered side as he wove his way in the fading dusk toward home. He never saw the mugger with a handgun approach him from his rear quarter until he had already been grabbed and roughly yanked back into the alley. He felt himself being shoved up against a brick wall well-back from the street. "Hey, what the hell…" he started to yell, but before he could protest further, a fist shot out of his peripheral vision and cracked him right in the jaw, hard. He went down in a heap, but the alcohol in his system kept the worst of the pain at bay. Lying on his side, he was able to pull-in a deep lungful of air, and with all his strength he cried out, "SUPERMAN!"
His assailant kicked him in the gut, causing him to cry out in a single, coughing spasm before a second kick landed squarely in his face. He could feel his nose break, and blood began to spurt freely from his nostrils and mouth. Covering his face with his arms, he kept trying to make any kind of noise that might alert a rescuer. He felt hands frisking his body; finding his wallet in his rear pocket, searching his coat's interior for other valuables. He tried swatting away the prying hands, but that simply earned him another punch to the gut, which knocked the wind completely out of him with a loud OOF! Before any further blows could land, however, he was dimly aware of a loud crash, as though a bunch of trash cans had been violently tossed into a heap on the other side of the alley, and then a groan from the same direction. Lowering his arms from his face, he saw a disheveled man laying in a bunch of trash cans where he had just been violently tossed. 'Well, that explains that,' his mind remarked. Then he watched as a familiar figure in primary colors and a red cape strode over to the assailant, took his gun away from him, and bent it into a pretzel. Or as close as a Beretta 9mm can come to pretzelhood. He then grabbed the mugger and strode with him under one arm back to Jim, who watched Superman with a sense of relief and shame
"You stay right here, I'll be back in just a minute," Superman said to his friend, with a stern expression on his face before flying straight up with his unhappy charge and out of sight. Jimmy, for his part, tried to rise to a standing position, determined no matter what Clark had said to continue his trek home. It was only three more blocks, after all.
His body, which had been pummeled far more heavily than he realized, had other ideas, and slid back down to the pavement. Jimmy closed his eyes, willing the alley to stop rotating and spinning, before slowly trying to rise again. This time, however, it was suddenly much easier, and it took his mind a second to process that he was being helped to his feet by Clark, still dressed as Superman.
Still with that same stern expression, too.
"What the hell part of 'Stay right here' don't you understand, Jim?" his friend demanded as he lifted them both off of the ground and above the rooftops. Jimmy, seeing (and feeling) the world dropping away from them in a very vertiginous manner, suddenly clutched at Clark like a startled cat. He held on so hard he trembled. He had never flown drunk before. Sensing Jim's discomfort, Clark pulled him tighter, but at the same he grumbled in the boy's ear, "Jim, I know you've been drinking and your injured, and I'm gonna help you, but Boy, if you puke on me I swear I'll shut off your cable service for a month!"
Jimmy looked at Superman, fuzzily. He was still bleeding from the nose and mouth.
The superhero looked back at Jim.
"I'm your landlord. I can do it, y'know!" Superman added, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
They were flying at about 3,000 feet, heading slowly toward Metropolis General Hospital. After a moment, Jim looked at his best friend with an evil gleam in his eye. "Y'know, Clark, I do still have those photos of you during last New Year's Eve's office party doing your impression of The Chief for the bullpen after Mr. White had gone home!"
Superman looked at his friend closely. Was he kidding back? Or was he serious? Was this just the beer talking, or was Jimmy really thinking of…
As if sensing Superman's thoughts, Jimmy closed the deal: "You looked especially classic with that cigar in your mouth, your tie loosened, and that old issue of The Planet with Superman on the cover and the headline, 'CAPED WONDER STUNS CITY!' I'm still amazed how nobody could tell you were holding up a picture of yourself!"
Superman shook his head in wonder and mock disappointment. "Blackmail is such an… underhanded way to do business, James."
"Apparently not in our building, Clark," Jimmy retorted as they were nearing the hospital's emergency entrance. Seeing the ambulances, Jimmy started to squirm and it seemed to Clark, tried to actually crawl up and out of the superhero's grip. "No, Clark, c'mon, man, I don't wanna go to the hospital," he whined.
Superman stopped, hovering about 200 feet above the entrance, holding Jim tightly so he couldn't escape. It was surprisingly difficult until he remembered that he was still dealing with the effects of the Kryptonite poisoning, and he tended to tire much more easily. "Jim, Jim… Jim! You're gonna get us both hurt if you don't sit still. STOP IT, JIMMY!!" Clark fairly bellowed at his friend. The effect was immediate. Jimmy, having never been yelled-at by Clark before, froze as the superhero's words and tone penetrated his still-drunk mind.
"Jim, I'm not as strong as I'd normally be due to the Kryptonite, and if you don't stop moving, I might accidentally drop you!" Clark said in a firm voice. "Now, I know you don't like the hospital, but have you seen what that guy did to you?"
Jimmy looked at Clark for a moment, then shook his head.
"Well, he broke one of your ribs, broke your nose, loosened two teeth, and you probably have a concussion. You're bleeding all over yourself and me, I might add. And, whether you like it or not, I'm taking you down there. You got it?" Clark looked his friend in the eyes. After a moment, Jimmy nodded, and slowly the two drifted down toward the ambulances parked at the loading area for the emergency room.
Four hours later, a dazed Jimmy Olsen sat in the living room of his apartment at 344 Clinton, in the building Clark owned and Jimmy managed. Clark sat across from his friend, dressed in his civvies now. After Clark had brought Jimmy home, he'd dashed upstairs, told Lois that he wasn't going anywhere but that he needed to talk to James privately and that it could take a while, and had made up a plate of the dinner Lois had prepared, taking it downstairs for his friend, who was just now coming down from the effects of the alcohol and the shock to his system.
They had talked. For over an hour, Jimmy had finally broken-down, and poured his heart out to Clark about how he felt so alone in his feelings about men in general and Bert in particular, how he was terrified he'd never be able to live up to the trust Clark and Lois had placed in him, and how he knew the alcohol abuse was becoming a serious problem in his life.
Clark felt almost as distressed as Jimmy. He had never seen his friend so depressed. Normally, Jimmy was ebullient and buoyant, and rarely allowed life's dark days to get to him. This situation, Clark realized, must have been building-up for a long time, and as the resiliency of youth was replaced with the mantle of adulthood in Jimmy's personality, the sense of responsibility and loneliness had deepened, fueled by a powerful amount of guilt and shame over his homosexuality. He held the young man's hand while Jimmy alternated between talking and crying, and finally after eating the meal Lois had fixed, and crying his heart out to Clark, who simply, quietly offered Jimmy all the acceptance and reassurance he so deeply craved, he put the young man to bed and headed back upstairs to his wife and son in their own unit. Luckily, the evening had been a quiet one, with no rescues needed, which was just as well for Clark. He may have been the Man of Steel, but such emotional turmoil was just as tiring to him as to any other human, maybe even more, as Clark himself had issues when it came to keeping secrets.
Entering the family room, Clark plopped wearily down onto the sofa beside Lois, who was watching the news. Jason had long since been put to bed, and Lois was working her way through a bowl of Tillamook Chocolate Mudslide ice cream, the kind with big chunks of solid fudge in it.
"That looks too good to pass up," he remarked, eyeing her bowl in a predatory manner.
"There's a bowl waiting for you in the freezer," she replied, not taking her eyes off the screen. Clark got up and went to the freezer, sitting back down a moment later with his own bowl.
"Well, how is he?" Lois asked.
Clark sighed, looking almost defeated. "I had no idea that Jimmy was dealing with such pain. He always seemed so cheerful," he said quietly.
"That's no surprise. Some people try to get past their pain by being cheerful and happy as a defense mechanism. I can understand that, especially if he's feeling shame because he's Gay. You'd be surprised how many young people in this country are still ostracized, disowned, and discriminated against just because of how they were born," she offered.
"You don't think it's a choice?" he husband asked.
"Of course not. Did you choose to be heterosexual?" she challenged gently.
"Well, I never really thought about it…" he began.
"Or did you choose to have powers the rest of us don't?" she prodded.
"Well, of course not," he responded.
"But, you know how it feels when certain bigots call you an 'alien,' right?" she continued. "He feels the same sense of pain and, pardon the pun, alienation, that many people in the world are made to feel for being Gay."
After a moment of pensive silence, broken by the droning of the anchorman on the TV, Clark took a bite of his ice cream, and turned to his wife.
"I think I have an idea. We need to give Jimmy some clear purpose, some way of recharging his soul. We need to do it in a way that can utilize his talents, and yet give him a challenge to rise up to. He needs a fresh goal, and I think I have just the goal in mind, and actually it's something that will involve all of us," Clark stated decisively.
"All of us as in who?" Lois asked, arching her eyebrow.
"Well, me, you, Jason, Perry, Jimmy of course, those two folks Jack Medaris and Penny High Eagle, Bruce Wayne, and maybe even Lex Luthor," he offered.
"Oh, this had better be good," his wife retorted skeptically.
"It's gonna be great," Clark replied, eyes shining with energy. "It'll kill a bunch of birds with one stone. You know how I'm gonna need to go out into space in order to retrieve those crystals if I have any hope of finding a cure for this Kryptonite poisoning? Well, we'll not only be able to do that, but we'll also be able to stop on the Moon and harvest a bunch of Helium-3, which will help Medaris get back on track toward creating his cold-fusion reaction systems. We'll give Lex a shot at real redemption in the eyes of the world. And we'll give The Daily Planet the story of the century in a brand new format! And you, me, Perry, and Jimmy will be right in the middle of it."
Lois looked at him for a moment, and then asked, "What story, and what format?"
Clark's smile grew wider as he looked into his wife's eyes.
"Well, as I once said, a lot of people in the world have a lot of questions about me. So, we'll answer those questions with a feature-length documentary film. All about the life of Superman! The host will be Lois Lane. Clark Kent and Perry White will be the film's producers. And James Olsen will be the film's director!"
