Clark walked out the front doors of the Daily Planet. He decided to walk the two miles back to Chloe's apartment rather than take it at full speed. He needed time to think. He had no idea who Matthew Ryder was and he certainly didn't know how this guy knew about him. The truck accident and the explosion afterwards was just a freak accident, hadn't it?
Then there was also the issue of this Ryder guy threatening Chloe. Clark was normally able to keep himself pretty even tempered. He had to because if he ever lost his temper and did something without thinking… Well someone could get seriously hurt. But when Clark thought about someone trying to hurt Chloe, it strained him to keep it in control.
After walking several blocks Clark managed to calm himself down a bit. His anger wouldn't help him find out who Matthew Ryder or what he wanted. First thing he would do when he got back to the apartment is try to find out any information about him. For some reason he doubted he would find anything but he had to start somewhere.
His thoughts drifted to home. He missed his mom and dad terribly. He could only imagine how worried his mom must be. And Chloe, his Chloe. It was weird to miss someone and yet see them everyday. In almost every way the two were a like but there were small differences. Almost six years of friendship for one. There were a lot of memories there that he didn't share with this new Chloe; six years of inside jokes that he occasionally forgot that she wouldn't know. Yet in spite of the differences he trusted her every bit as much as he did his Chloe. And everything that had changed around him it was her that kept him from sinking into depression. She encouraged him when he needed. She filled the space of best friend as if his Chloe had come with him.
Best friend. Recently, only in passing, he had started to find himself looking at her differently than he had before. Looking at her in ways you just don't look at your best friend. He had always thought Chloe was attractive, he just didn't think about it much. Now he was starting to find himself uncomfortably aware of that fact. Why did he find himself secretly checking her out, if only for a split second?
He had to stop it, he had to resist. He wasn't sure how long he would be around. There was also the fact that he had messed things up with Lana so much. He shook his head. He needed to stop that train of thought as well. He had wasted the better part of two years second guessing himself after the first time they broke up. The only difference between then and their second go around was that they had drug it out longer the second time around. Nothing had changed though. He still kept his secrets from her and she still obsessed about them. He wasn't going to spend the next two years constantly wondering if he had been wrong again.
He was passing by a local dance club when he suddenly heard the sound of gun shots coming from several blocks away. The people in line outside the club began murmuring about the sound. Several began reaching for cell phones with the obvious intention of calling the police. With so many people around Clark couldn't take off at full speed so he started running for a nearby alley at a fast walk. Once out of sight of the crowd he was able to increase his pace. Clark felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he knew precious time had been lost.
In an instant he arrived at the location from where he heard the gun shots. It was another alley several streets over. There were two men there, one laying on the ground in a quickly expanding pool of blood and the other stood over him with a pistol pointed at him. Clark ran into the alley just as the gunman pulled the trigger once more. Clark didn't hesitate as he ran forward and caught the bullet and then snatched the gun from the gunman. He crushed it and tossed it in one fluid motion. The with one hand he picked up the gunman and threw him into the nearby wall, knocking him out cold.
Clark turned his attention to wounded man lying on the ground. He was young, probably not much older than Clark. His breathing was erratic and using his super-hearing Clark could tell his pulse was weakening quickly as well. Clark knew he needed to get him to a hospital immediately.
As Clark was bending over to pick the man up he heard a door creak open behind him and a person, a man by the sound of his breathing, stepped into the alley. Without turning, he said to the newcomer, "Call the police. He's been shot." Clark hoped that the person didn't have a cell phone, right now he just wanted the man to go away so he could run the wounded man to the hospital.
"How in the world were you able to do that?" said the person behind him. Clark froze. It had been several years, but he was sure he recognized the voice. Clark turned and looked behind him. At the sight of the man standing at the door that opened into the alley, Clark's heart dropped. He was right.
"Nixon!" snarled Clark. Then he noticed the video camera in the man's hand.
"Do I know you?" Roger Nixon asked as he walked closer. He continued to keep the camera on Clark but would sweep it over to the wounded man every now and then.
Clark shook his head. "We need to get him some help," he said.
Nixon seemed to ignore him. "I've seen a lot of things in my life kid, but that was amazing. You threw him over fifteen feet," said Nixon. He slowly panned the camera over to where the gunman lay. Then he panned over to the gun lying on the ground. "You crushed it! With you bare hands!" he said, incredulously.
"Call 911. Now," said Clark getting angry. "He doesn't have time for this Nixon."
Nixon panned the camera back to Clark. "How strong are you? How'd you come be so strong?" Clark just stared at him unable to believe what was happening. "Come on, kid, give me something…"
Frustrated beyond belief he shot out his hand and tapped Nixon on the head, knocking him out cold. Then Clark's snatched up the falling camera and crushed it before dropping it. He then turned his attention to the wounded man. Clark bent over and picked him and then as carefully as he could he took off towards the hospital.
Metropolis General was a mere twelve blocks away, a short sprint for Clark. He allowed himself several seconds to make the run, not wanting to jolt the man anymore than he had to. He slowed down outside the doors to the emergency room. With his right foot he kicked the panel that activated automatic doors causing them to swing open. Hurriedly, he entered and proclaimed to the woman behind the admitting desk, "He's been shot!"
His statement sent about half dozen people into action. A nurse called for the doctor as she ran over and began checking the man over. Moments later two orderlies arrived with a gurney and Clark gently laid the man down. By that time the doctor had arrived and began checking the man over as the gurney was maneuvered away from Clark and out of sight.
Clark figured that was his cue to leave but as he turned the woman working the admitting desk called out to him. "Sir, you're going to have to stay here until you have a chance to give your statement to the police."
Clark turned and looked at the woman, shaking his head. "I don't know anything. I was just trying to help. I have to go."
"Sir, it's the law. You have to wait for the police to give a statement." Seeing Clark begin to take a step backwards, toward the door, she said, "Sir, don't make me call security."
Clark backed away and walked quickly towards the doors as the woman yelled, "Security." She pointed at Clark frantically for the benefit of the security guard that stood nearby. The security guard charged towards Clark.
Clark moved faster and pushed through the doors to the outside. He swerved to the right and sprinted down the sidewalk at a speed far faster than the security guard would be able to pursue at, but not faster than a typical athlete might be able to run. As he neared the end of the hospital, he ran around the corner, glanced around for anyone watching and then bolted away at super speed.
As Clark ran he looked for a payphone, as he realized that he should make sure the police were called to arrest the gunman. He didn't think he should rely on Nixon to do it. A few blocks away he found one and he picked up the receiver and dialed 911.
His statement to the operator was brief, just the address, the description of the gunman and what he had seen. He told the operator to have the cops hurry because he wasn't sure how long the gunman would be unconscious and then he hung up the phone.
Clark ran back to the hospital and found a place to hide on one of the roof tops nearby. He kept his hearing tuned into the events of the emergency room. His shirt and hands were covered in drying blood but he wanted to make sure the man was ok before he left. He just needed the assurance that he had moved fast enough.
It took several hours but the man was out of surgery. He was in bad shape but his condition was stable when Clark decided it was time for him to head back to Chloe's apartment.
Roger Nixon awoke to the fetid smell of trash as he found himself lying face down in the alley. His head hurt in a bad way and he felt like it would take a half dozen Tylenol to ease the pain. He slowly pushed himself up and moved into a sitting position. He attempt to shake his head to clear the fog, but it didn't help much. With some effort he stood with only a little support from a nearby dumpster. That kid sure packs a punch, he thought to himself.
The gunman was still lying against the nearby wall, still out cold. The camera, Nixon thought to himself. He glanced around and spotted it, or at least the crushed remains of it, not far from the pool of blood where his informant had been shot.
What had supposed to have been a simple meeting with someone willing to speak off the record about corruption within the police department had turned out to be not so simple. Nixon had arrived at the alley first and had hidden in the shadows of the doorway waiting. He had brought his camcorder to get the informant's statement on tape.
He had spotted his informant approaching and was just about to step out of the shadows when someone else had arrived calling the informant by name. Not one to risk himself, Nixon had tried the door and found that it was unlocked. Then, through the grimy window facing the alley he had captured the rest of the events on video. He had gotten everything: the shooting, the almost execution and then the miraculous save from the amazing young man who had appeared out of nowhere.
Now his stomach was in knots has he looked at his ruined camera. He walked over, bent down and picked it up. Careful he examined it, daring to hope. Most of it was indeed crushed, but as he pried the back cover of the camera where the memory card was stored his spirits began to rise. He carefully withdrew the very much intact and undamaged memory card from the camera.
The sound of police cars caught his ears. Knowing that he would very likely have to hand over the video if they found out he had it, Nixon decided that he should leave. He had no problem giving it to the cops eventually but not until he used it for his own purposes.
Tucking the card in his pocket he ran down the alley in the opposite direction of the approaching sirens. As he exited the alley and disappeared into the night he couldn't help thinking that he may have just stumbled upon the biggest story of his career.
Clark Kent was an alien. Clark Kent was an alien. Clark Kent was an alien. No matter how many times the words ran through her head, Chloe wasn't sure how long it would take to get used to it. She felt she had done a pretty good job at acting like she wasn't freaking out when he told her but in fact she did freak out. At the time the only thing she could do was get him to leave so that she could have time to let it sink in. Only you would get threatened by some mystery man and find out the man sleeping on your couch was an alien in the same night, she thought to herself.
In a way she was a little relieved to find the apartment empty when she arrived home. It gave her a chance to unwind and mull over her thoughts. She was going to make every attempt to not to appear nervous around him even though just the thought of him near made her so. For some reason she decided to stay up, to wait for him to return. As nervous as she felt to be in his presence again, it soon began to be replaced by concern. She wasn't sure why she was concerned, if anyone could take care of himself it was Clark. One hour turned to two and still she waited with no Clark.
She wasn't sure when but she must have drifted off to sleep because she was jolted awake at the sound of the door to the apartment opening. She glanced at the clock; it was a little past three in the morning. "Clark," she called out, "where have you been?" Then she saw him, his hand and shirt covered in blood with his eyes filled with sorrow. "Wh.. What happened?" she stammered.
Clark shook his head. "I was heading home and I heard gun shots. I ran to see what was happening and ending up stopping some guy from killing someone. I took the guy that got shot to the hospital and have been waiting around there to make sure he pulled through."
Chloe brought her hand to her mouth. "Is he ok?"
"He's in critical condition but he's stabilized," replied Clark. He glanced down at his hands and shirt. "I probably better get cleaned up."
Clark began walking to the bathroom and removed the blood stained shirt. Chloe took it from him and went to throw it in the trash.
"You know you didn't need to wait up," Clark called out to her from the bathroom as he turned on the water to the sink.
"I know but I wanted too," she said in a normal tone, confident he would hear her well enough no matter how loud she spoke.
A few minutes later the water turned off and Clark disappeared into the spare bedroom and quickly returned wearing a t-shirt and pajama bottoms and carrying the pillow and blanket he used for the couch. Although he continued to sleep on the couch, even though she had a bed in the second bedroom, he had at least conceded to hanging his clothes in the closet of the second bedroom. He resisted any attempts by Chloe to move him off the couch saying that he was only there temporarily and sleeping in the spare bedroom would make him feel like he had moved in permanently.
Seeing the serious look he still carried Chloe asked, "Are you sure you're ok?"
"Yea, I'm fine. I'm just glad that guy didn't die. I'm not sure what I would have done if I wasn't fast enough."
"It wouldn't have been your fault if you hadn't been, you know. You didn't shoot him."
"I know," said Clark. He spread the blanket across the couch before turning back to her. "There's something else. There was this reporter there, at the shooting. Roger Nixon, he works at the Inquisitor. Well, at least I think he does. He did when I knew him."
Chloe's eyes widened. Everyone in the news industry in Metropolis had heard of Roger Nixon. "Roger Nixon is the type of reporter that gives reporters a bad name. He's slime… Wait, he was at the shooting?"
Clark nodded, his face very serious and filled with worry.
"He didn't see…" She didn't finish her sentence because the look on Clark's face told the story.
"He had a video camera… He saw me throw the gunman against the wall and crush the gun in my hands. He probably saw me appear from super speed."
"Tell me you didn't let him keep the camera."
"No, of course not. I knocked him out and crushed it."
Chloe felt a bit of relief, but not much. "He still got a good look at you though?"
Clark nodded. "What do you think we should do?" he said.
"I don't know. We probably need to wait and see if he does anything. He may write a story about it but most of the media doesn't take the Inquisitor too seriously, let alone Roger Nixon. With no proof we should be ok."
Clark looked relieved and let out a sigh. "Yeah and it's not like he knows who I am."
"Exactly," she said with smile to reassure him. She found herself staring into his eyes for a moment. He returned her gaze at first but then looked away. For a moment she thought he was blushing.
"It's late," he said, looking a bit uncomfortable, although Chloe was unsure why.
"Yeah, I should head for bed."
Clark nodded. "Goodnight," he said as he lay down on the couch.
"Goodnight," she replied. She turned off the light for him and walked into her room.
As she lay in bed thinking about Clark it occurred to her that she hadn't felt nervous around him. The way he was so concerned for someone he had never met really touched her. He was so caring that she couldn't help feeling safe around him. One thought was stuck in her head as she drifted off into pleasant dreams. Alien or no, she was falling for him.