NOTE: So I still only have internet two days a week, briefly, at school. Hooray : And I'm expending tons of creative energy on film projects, but I'm praying I can keep up with posting once a week. This is actually the last of my "reserve" chapters which means from here on I have to actually write them as I go. I have it all planned it just takes me a while to write sometimes... so I'm going to do my very best to update once a week but if I fail, remember I'm only human and please don't hurt me! Your support is much appreciated.
The visitor's room, the room where his lawyer was to meet him, turned out to be yet another extremely bleak place. Clark had helped put so many people in jail over the years, but he had failed to realize he'd never really seen the inside of one. The metal, the sterility… if he was honest with himself, it was getting to him already.
But he was determined not to let that pull him down. That's exactly what Luthor would want, exactly the reason he'd set Clark up. Well, that twisted old man could imagine Clark suffering to his black heart's content, but he couldn't simply wish misery into being.
So when Clark entered to meet his lawyer, he entered with an even stride and an extended hand. The sleek, dark woman standing across the table from him blinked in confusion. Clark guessed she wasn't used to that. But she reached across the table slowly and shook his hand anyway. "Dana Cunningham," she introduced herself.
"Clark Kent," he replied, forcing a lightness into his voice that he didn't quite feel.
He thought he saw the corner of her lips twitching in the beginning of a wry smile. "I know who you are," she replied, looking him over. She was clearly a bit confused. He couldn't have been what she expected. Clark stared back at her, swallowing in anticipation. Dana's slight smile melted into a thin line. "Ok, first thing," she began, "you're going to have to do me a favor."
"Sure," Clark replied, eager to help however he could. This was his life they were talking about, after all. And the lives of so many others.
Dana stared at him with dark, serious eyes. "Don't ogle every woman who walks in the room. It's not going to be very helpful to your case."
Clark's mouth dropped open. "I wasn't-"
"And don't apologize. It makes it sound like you have something to be guilty about," she replied. Clark closed his mouth, feeling that his attempt at optimism had been resoundingly shot down. He decided to let her take the lead. She scooted her chair out and sat down, waving for him to do the same. Tapping a thin file sitting out on the table, she continued, "I've read up on you and I've looked through your deposition. How do you think I should feel about you based on that?"
Clark shrugged, responding slowly, "I guess… I hope you believe I'm innocent."
"Ah-ah, stop right there," Dana said, holding up a hand. "If you spend all your time trying to convince me that you're innocent, we're never going to get to the important things."
"The important...?" Clark could hardly believe what she had said. How was he supposed to respond to that?
"I don't care if you're innocent. I care what can and can't be proven. That's my job," she stated firmly, laying her hands flat against the metallic surface of the table and leaning in slightly. Clark could easily tell how seriously she took her job. That was encouraging, but the harshness in her tone surprised him.
"Well," he replied quietly, "I didn't kill Richard White. I just thought you should know that."
Dana leaned back. Her eyes narrowed as she took Clark in, examining him as he imagined she would a piece of evidence. After a moment, she nodded. "Good. I almost believed that." Clark let out a small sigh. He thought his lawyer of all people should believe him, but that wasn't how it worked. He guessed it wasn't how it worked, anyway. How was he to know?
"You still don't believe me," he stated plainly.
Dana rubbed her temples slowly and closed her eyes for a moment. It seemed as if she had been through this issue before, because when she opened her eyes, she immediately launched into what sounded like a polished speech. "I'm not your jury, Mr. Kent. Some people do this pro bono job because they can't get a real one. I do it because once in a while someone comes through here who is actually innocent but doesn't have a clue about how to make sure he proves it. Now, I have no way of knowing who has or hasn't committed the crimes he's accused of. All I can do is be the best damn lawyer I can be in the hope that maybe some of the people I help get off the hook didn't deserve to be on it in the first place."
A silence settled over the room as she exhaled and waited for him to take in her words. She meant what she said, that much he could tell. And he had to admire that kind of commitment to justice without the hope of much reward. "I'm sorry," Clark said quietly, pushing up his glasses. "I'm just a little thrown by this whole thing."
With a sigh, Dana's shoulders seemed to loosen, and her demeanour along with it. Her voice grew less tense. "That doesn't surprise me. To be frank, Mr. Kent, you're not my usual clientele." Now she seemed to be more curious than anything, "I wonder… how is it that a Daily Planet reporter can't afford a lawyer? You must make, what, $80,000 a year?"
"Uh," Clark found himself a bit at a loss. It wasn't quite the kind of question one was normally asked, but he supposed it was best to be open with her. Well, as open as was possible in his situation, which wasn't very. In the grand scheme of things, divulging his finances seemed like an incredibly minor difficulty right now. "Seventy-five," he said. "But I've been on a kind of sabbatical for the last five years, so I've used up most of my savings." More correctly, his mother had used much of it up, albeit reluctantly. But he hadn't been about to fly off to Krypton without making sure she'd had enough money to run the farm. "And half my salary is sent to my mother," he added.
Her jaw didn't quite drop, but Clark could tell it took a lot for her to hold it in place, along with her surprise. Instead, she simply eyed him, let out a small laugh and muttered, "Should have known." Then she tapped her fingers on the table. "You know, we might have to put you on the stand if it comes to that. You certainly don't look the picture of a vengeful killer. But hopefully we should be able to keep this case from going to trial in the first place."
That made Clark nervous. Sitting in this jail even overnight was a horrifying thought to him. Just waiting, at Luthor's mercy as he made his next move… it made Clark sick to even think about it. This time was bad enough. Any more time spent locked up was simply unacceptable. He'd find a way to curtail it if absolutely necessary. But he wouldn't take a plea. "I'm not going to negotiate with them," he stated flatly. "That's not an option."
"All right, it's good that I know you feel that way," Dana said. It seemed like she had capitulated a bit too easily on that, like she would save that argument for a later date. Of course, Clark knew he didn't have time for a later date. He had to get out of here as soon as possible, whatever it took.
"Is there any way for you to get me out on bail?" he asked with a guarded amount of hopefulness.
Dana shifted in her seat slightly, then opened the file on the table almost absently. "It's extremely rare for someone charged with first degree murder to be offered bail in Metropolis." She paused, looked at him squarely. "Clark, let's be realistic. The evidence they have, we can fight in court. But it's more than enough for a judge to decide to keep you in jail for the remainder of the investigation and trial process."
A sickening and unfamiliar feeling of falling came over him for a moment. Images of all the horrible things that could happen while he was in there, the things Luthor might do, flashed through his mind like a morbid film montage. "Please," he said quietly, "Please do your best to try anyway."
"Of course," Dana replied. "You shouldn't get your hopes up, but of course I'll try. I do need your cooperation and honesty, though. If I'm going to refute evidence, I have to know what to spend my time on and what not to bother with."
He wanted to tell her that all of it could be refuted, and in a sense that was true. It could be refuted by the truth, but obviously that wasn't an option for Clark. "I'll help with whatever I can," he said, a bit defeated by knowing just how much he would be unable to explain.
"Much of the evidence is circumstantial and a lot of it can't actually be connected to you directly," Dana said. Then her clipped speaking pace slowed for emphasis. "But we really need to work on is the motive angle."
Clark slowly nodded for her to continue, although he had a feeling he would regret the direction the conversation was going. Unfortunately, this kind of freight train was one he could not stop from crashing eventually, no matter how hard he tried.
"Legally, the particulars of the evidence are important. But practically…" Dana flipped through the pages of Clark's file, in a way that was probably more intentional than it seemed. "Juries tend to get enthralled with the big picture being painted. They're wooed by a thrilling story. They don't care if the details aren't so clear up close."
"So how do you change the picture?" Clark asked.
The pages of the file stopped turning as they fell open to one particular page- a copy of the letter they'd found in Clark's apartment. Dana spun it around so that it was facing him. "Explain this to me, Clark. It's your handwriting, we know that. They know that and they can prove it." She put one elbow on the table and leaned her face against her slender hand. "And honest to God, Clark, I can't figure out how it could be interpreted any other way. So I need your help on this one. I need you to be completely honest with me."
The words glared up at him like an indictment. His own words, screaming up at him. What we have is special, he'd written. He'd said I'll always wait for you. But he'd never even planned on sending it. It hadn't taken much reflection for him to figure out that what Lois needed most from him was distance. But it didn't change the fact that he'd meant what he'd written. There was no way around that. "This," he began, then cleared his throat and shook his head. "This isn't what it sounds like. It's just some thoughts, taken out of context. It had nothing to do with Richard."
Dana reached for the paper and looked at it herself as she spoke. "Well, that's our only salvation there so far. There's no indication of intent to kill Richard. In fact, there's no mention of him directly at all." She slid the paper back into the file and gazed at Clark. "Please tell me you never expressed a desire to kill Richard White to anyone."
He looked at her, not in anger or irritation this time, but with sadness. The sadness of realizing how he must look to everyone else right now. "No," he said, too tired to really sound exasperated. "I didn't want to kill him. He was a good man. I respected him."
She steepled her hands against her mouth for a moment, glancing back and forth between Clark and the file. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she considered whether or not to believe him. Naturally, he wanted her to, but it was starting to seem like that might be impossible to accomplish. Clark was fully prepared for yet another reiteration of what her job as his lawyer was. So he was not at all ready for what she actually said.
"Are you in love with her?"
Something very like panic flooded through him. He hadn't been prepared for that question. And he was so emotionally exhausted that his ability to keep his feelings on the subject well-masked were significantly diminished. It was probably only half a second before he became aware of the chagrinned expression on his face and corrected it, but it was enough. Dana was sharp, and the unmistakeable signs of having hit the nail squarely on the head weren't about to be lost on her. "I…" Clark began, but when it came out as a guilty-sounding stammer, he decided to stay quiet. He knew he couldn't lie about it.
Dana sat back in her chair heavily and let out a sigh. It seemed like that was the last thing she needed to find out, and Clark couldn't blame her for being exasperated. He certainly wasn't making this case any easier for her. Seemingly unable to look at him for the moment, Dana stood and paced slowly toward the wall, running a hand down the side of her face. She stopped and stared at the cracked concrete, collecting her thoughts. When she looked back at him, he clenched his jaw, determined not to show any signs of the distress he was feeling.
"You're going to have to do a very good job of not letting the way you feel about her show when we're in that courtroom," she said pointedly.
There was no point in denying her assumption about how he felt at this point. "I can do that," he replied.
She gave him a sidelong glance, "Don't be so sure of yourself. You think the prosecution is just going to skirt around the issue? Hardly. I wasn't able to read your answer just now because I'm a lawyer, I was able to read you because you might as well have shouted it from the rooftops." Clark swallowed and looked down at the smooth metallic surface of the table. "Hey, look at me," Dana said, moving to stand across the table from him. He obliged. "Ok, maybe we won't put you on the stand because they'd ask about it and you're clearly not going to do well with that. Just don't even look at her when you're in that courtroom, especially when she's on the stand."
"On the stand?" he asked, sounding confused, but having a good idea of what she meant anyway. He was just hoping he misunderstood her.
But he hadn't. "She's agreed to testify for the prosecution, Clark," Dana replied quietly.
This time, he made no attempt to mask his feelings. It was hard to mask the sensation of being so devastated you couldn't breathe. Of feeling like, regardless of how many tons he could lift, the world was collapsing on top of him. It was that horrific and unmistakeable feeling that came with losing someone he deeply loved.
"I'm sorry," Dana said softly. Clark couldn't muster a response. "We can talk about this more later. I'm going to work on getting a bail hearing for you soon," she said, packing up her things and heading for the door. She seemed to sense that he wasn't going to be able to say anything more right now. "Get some rest," she said as she exited.