Chapter 20

He understood that it was part of his persona. That the charade he had created allowed him to do what he had to do to honor his parents' memory in keeping their dream alive both by day and night. So he needed to at least look like he ran a multi-billion dollar company, while also convincing the populace that he couldn't be connected to his alter-ego. Sometimes that meant doing things he didn't derive pleasure from; he understood this and merely saw it as part of the job. Still if there was one thing he hated about pretending to be a billionaire playboy or even just a CEO, it was going to the parties. No, that wasn't right. There were some he liked. He enjoyed being around the people he loved and respected. To stand shoulder to shoulder with people who fought the good fight like he did, like Oliver Queen, was something he was proud to do. He loved shaking hands with the noble citizens of Gotham and the upright members of the GCPD at so many fundraisers. Those were times when he could almost be his true self: not quite Batman, not quite Bruce Wayne, just Bruce.

So, no it wasn't the parties. Not all of them. He enjoyed the Christmas party, when his employees would bring their kids and he was reminded why he was fighting for this city. Seeing them happy and playing and scandalizing no one with their antics made him feel something in his heart he rarely felt now-a-days: joy. For a moment he would let down his guard and revel in the pure spirit of the gathering.

But he could not stand the galas.

Those were the ones where he had to paint the mask on thick to make the guests believe that he was truly one of them. Surrounded by the ones that he fought relentlessly on the outside of their penthouse apartments, yachts, country clubs, and beach houses, he felt out-of-place. For although he knew several genuinely good rich people who cared deeply for others and saw their wealth as a blessing and not a right, it was an unfortunate side effect of wealth that it attracted unpleasant ones as well. Or perhaps to be insufferable was a possible symptom of old money? Regardless, Fortune 500 companies did not always draw in the most scrupulous of people.

He often had to exchange pleasantries with people who were slime decorated in expensive watches, jewelry, and fur coats being carried by luxurious sports cars; the people who painted the picture of philanthropist when in reality not only did they profit from the regular Gothamites' misfortunes and misery, Bruce knew from their smug perfect smiles that on some level they revelled in it. Bruce despised them, but they loved him.

As the charming, sophisticated man-boy that cared too much about playing with his toys and his parent's money to notice or care about the problems plaguing Gotham, he was amusing and a someone against whom they could self-righteously compare themselves to be better. He caused them no trouble and was good entertainment as he escorted one woman into the party and with a different one, departed. He smiled to himself and thought briefly that if his path had been different he would have made an excellent actor. Of course, there was a continuum of sliminess and Bruce had a high tolerance, but he could only stand the grimiest of the bunch for so long before he feared he would either vomit or punch them all. But his ability to cope stood for long periods of time; hours really. After years of exposure, he had built an immunity. Long enough to smile and shake hands for the duration of the party before he felt like he needed a shower.

There was one person however who was able to really challenge his self-control the instant he was near the man. One person who often tested how well Bruce could hide his other face. One person who was the king of corruption and took being oily as a virtue. And unfortunately, the one person who was the host of tonight's festivities...

"Hello, Bruce."

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear.

"Hmm."

Bruce barely cast him a glance as he knew who it was by his voice. It could be heard often now; on the radio, on television behind a podium, and disturbingly enough, soon his voice would be heard in the halls of Congress.

The intruder chuckled. "That's right. You never were partial to conversations with me. That's fine; I'll talk enough for the both of us."

Bruce kept his gaze forward. His companion seemed unabashed by his less than warm reception. In fact, he was quite at ease. That bothered him greatly.

"In fact it might be easier for you to just listen," he continued. Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce could see the man smiling to himself in a twisted way, like he was setting a delightful trap and only he knew where the trigger was. Of course, he had no idea whom he was talking to. If he had, Bruce may have witnessed a rare instance of respect out of the man. Maybe even fear.

"I was thinking about a business proposal between our two companies. More of a coöperation between them actually. I want to make a new line of tech, but it requires rare materials. I need more and I am having some difficulty procuring it."

"Really? How rare?" he asked dryly.

"'Not of this Earth' rare."

Bruce lifted an eyebrow, understanding instantly and dread swept into him. But with a carefully controlled voice he asked, "What exactly did you have in mind?"

Clark looked around, straightening his tie and telling himself that he was sweating because he was wearing his supersuit under his tux and not because he was nervous. This wasn't Clark's first assignment among high-powered people, but his anxiety stemmed from something more important than using the wrong fork or 'accidentally' spilling some champagne on one of the guests. Bruce Wayne knew who he was and frankly, the man put him on edge.

He felt exposed and vulnerable, not normal sensations for the Man of Steel. The problem wasn't only that he knew (an entire population of a small Midwestern town knew his identity). It was that there was little to go on to determine his true character or his motivations for his actions other than the comments he had made during their fight. He had said that he wanted the truth, but then Melissa-Barbara had mentioned that he was planning something else. Her own dishonesty not withstanding, he didn't have evidence to confirm or deny if Batman had other plans for him.

He knew the stories of the billionaire playboy and philanthropist, along with the escapades of his caped persona, but he wondered about the real Bruce Wayne. Who was he behind both masks? Although he was unnerved by the man, he felt him to be a kindred spirit in a way. They had a great deal in common: both were orphans although from very different classes, both sought to protect, and both of them had more identities to juggle than a normal person should. Their methods were different and Clark would wager that their ideologies were different too. This man was unpredictable. He could only take comfort in the fact that Batman had no idea that Clark knew who he was. That gave him the element of surprise at least.

He tapped his breast pocket to reassure himself the package was secure and continued to search for the elusive man. It shouldn't be too difficult for him, even in this din, right? There were people milling about, some more steadily than others, drinks in hand, talking, laughing, dancing to the rousing jazz number the band was playing. All the men were dressed in black tuxedos and the women wore elegant gowns. He had to blink several times as flashes of light glinted off of their florid decorations. Thanking God for his eidetic memory, he scanned every face in the room trying to match them to the picture in his mind he had memorized off of photo reels from the Daily Planet and other newspapers. He wasn't at the bar, on the dance floor, at any of the tables, nor was he loitering on the wall socializing—where was he?

"Clark."

Clark turned to Lois walking up to him with one flute of champagne. She was glowing in a soft forest green dress with a heart-shaped neckline and transparent green material sparkled over the satin skirt of her dress.

"Liquid courage," she said affectionately.

He chuckled. "Alcohol doesn't affect me." He took it anyway and wondered why she hadn't brought one for herself.

"Oh, that's too bad."

He didn't need the extra courage. His anger and wounded pride served as enough motivation. There was only one problem.

"I haven't found him yet," he said staring around the room.

"Stop looking then."

"What?" he asked confused.

"Clark, you are very tense and obvious. He's not stupid. If he sees you and you look like you're looking for someone, he can very easily surmise who that someone is. So, stop looking." She turned toward the dance floor. "And dance with me."

The music had changed to a love ballad. A young man in a suit and hat caressed the microphone as he sang. Clark smiled warmly as she gently led him to the dance floor.

'Here we are, on Earth together just you and I...'

Inhaling deeply, he luxuriated in the scent of her hair. How long had it been since they had done this? To just be together for a moment. Clark couldn't remember. The past few months had flown and under the stress of everything, they hadn't taken time for them. It came with the territory of his jobs, but before all the troubles and mysteries reared their ugly heads, they had always found a way. When was the last time they had made love? When was the last time he had told Lois that he loved her? Or told her how much he valued her love and support?

"Lois?"

She looked up at him with fondness.

"I know I say this all the time...But part of me still thinks this is a dream."

"I know; this is so ridiculous," she said shaking her head.

"No, not this. This. Us," he said vehemently. When was the last time they had talked about something other than their problems?

She smiled. "It's not a dream though."

"I know. But sometimes it seems too good to be real. Things have been crazy and lately I haven't been...," he paused unsure how to continue, "I just want you to know I love you, Lois."

"I love you too," she said it genuinely, but she also looked concerned. "Clark, what's wrong?"

"I don't want it to end."

"What makes you think this is going to end? The stuff with Batman?"

"I can handle Batman," he said a little darkly, but then a slight apprehension slipped into his eyes. "My weakness though; I just have this feeling that something else is coming."

She took his face her hands and brought him closer until their lips were a breath apart. "Clark, you're stuck with me. The universe could try to tear us apart and it would lose every time," she whispered with a quiet passion.

'I found my strength in you cause in my mind you will stay here always in love...'

"This is greater than anything that can be thrown at us."

"What would I do without you, Lois?"

"Oh, crash and burn," she joked.

Clark smiled brightly and kissed her deeply.

'...in love. You and I, you and I, you and I..."

The song ended and they parted. For a moment he basked in the warm glow of the love they had for each other. Slowly he opened his eyes and sighed contentedly. But when he looked up, he froze.

"Clark, what's wrong?"

"I found him," he said darkly.

Out on the balcony he saw two men standing having what appeared to be a tense conversation. Instantly he recognized the tall, dark-haired man as Bruce Wayne, but the other was more familiar to him.

As the other man wore a completely white satin suit, he stood out starkly against the crowd. Broad shoulders, a few inches shorter than Bruce, he had a strong stature. However his eyes spoke of an extreme and dangerous intelligence that gave anyone staring into them a feeling of immense distrust. And yet his smile was charming. With his trademark bald head, the man was immediately recognizable. He was the host of the gala, the man behind the curtain on the Meta-Human Registration Act, the man who had threatened him.

He was Lex Luthor.

Clark's brow furrowed. What would Bruce Wayne be doing with Lex Luthor?

"What is it?" she asked in obvious concern. The light-hearted moment had dissipated replaced with urgent business.

"Let's keep dancing," he whispered as he moved them closer to the center of the dance floor. With his height he could see them over the heads of the other dancers without seeming too conspicuous.

"He's talking to Luthor," he whispered to her.

"What? What are they saying?" she whispered earnestly.

"Give me a second."

He focused on the two men and let his hearing pick up their conversation. There was a slight buzzing until it cleared and zeroed in on the two men speaking:

"You know of the recent meteor showers?"

It was Luthor.

"Yes. Everyone does; it's been all over the news." That was Wayne. The voice Bruce used was smoother compared to his alter-ego's rumble.

"My scientists believe that these meteorites can be used as a new energy source. We were able to retrieve some samples from the Indian Ocean. However, we need more for extensive testing and it was very difficult and expensive to find the samples that we have from there. Most of the rocks plunged too far below the surface beyond where any vessel could withstand pressure. My efforts to excavate them from areas in the U.S. where they have fallen have been...stymied." He sounded frustrated, but as though he was trying to remain charming.

Wayne hummed."Too bad about the Sahara desert. I heard that it was picked clean before the government got there." Clark saw Wayne turn to Luthor with slightly quirked lips that were barely obscured by him drinking.

"I guess you missed your chance."

"Yes." Clark heard Luthor say stiffly.

"Well, I can see you're in a bit of a quandry there Lex, but why do I feel like you'd just be using my name and my company's reputation to excavate in the Canyonlands?" Wayne asked.

Clark saw Luthor feigned innocence and shook his head. "Two rival companies working together toward a better future. I thought it might be inspiring."

"Probably wouldn't hurt the public opinion of you either, Senator," he spoke the last word with just a hint of bile.

Lex chuckled. "Also, I thought you liked clean, renewable energy."

Wayne stood silently and thoughtful for a moment. "You know," he said slowly, "there are 1.4 billion people who have no access to electricity. Solar can change that. These materials could be dangerous to the public."

"Which is why I'm testing them," Lex replied a little impatiently.

He saw Wayne stare at the other man. "And I would hardly call materials from space renewable, Lex."

"Are you suggesting that I have an ulterior motive?" Luthor almost sounded insulted.

Clark saw Bruce feign an aghast face. "I would never. I am simply trying to warn you against a poor decision. Business-wise, anyway."

"My business is just that. So you don't have to worry."

"Actually if you want my partnership, I do." Bruce gave him a cold smile. Luthor looked uncomfortable and said nothing.

"Come on Lex, you can tell me. What are you going to do with the meteor rocks?"

There was a long silence in which Clark could see each man hold the other's gaze steadily.

"I care a great deal about our security. This endeavor is simply a way to fortify it," Luthor said somberly.

"I also care about our security. But I'm not sure you're the man I want as an ally."

"So you won't join me?" he asked with barely suppressed anger.

"No."

Clark's eyes widened in surprise. The two men were interrupted by a young dark-haired woman in a long red dress who made a bee-line to Lex's side and whispered something in his ear. Turning back to Wayne, he said "That's disappointing. I was hoping—" Clark saw him shake his head and when he lifted it Lex had a cold smile on his face. "Tell you what: I'll let you think about it."

And left with the woman. Clark narrowed his eyes. As he walked by, he carefully avoided eye contact with the man, but he noticed the ugly look on his face.

"Clark?" He looked down at Lois in surprise as he was jolted back to normal hearing range.

"What did they say?"

Clark paused trying to absorb everything he had just heard. "They were talking about the meteors. I think you were right that Luthor excavated in the Sahara."

"What did he want with Wayne?"

"He wanted his help with something to do with the meteors. In the Canyonlands. He said no," he said the last bit a little astonished.

All Lois did was raise an eyebrow. "What about Luthor?"

"Luthor said he was making technology using the meteor rocks to fortify security."

"Do you think he-" she asked a little fearfully.

"I think you were right about everything," he said slowly.

"What are you going to do?"

He looked over to the balcony where Wayne still stood. "What I came here to do," he said with determination.

Slowly, as he walked to the balcony he thanked Perry for assigning him and Lois Luthor as their story and took a deep breath. Wayne's back was to him, but he sensed that the man was poised for action. He wondered if he was expecting Clark there. It was now or never. Clark had to show this Bruce Wayne he wasn't to be tangled with. But first he had to play the part he was given. He cleared his throat. The man turned and he noticed Wayne's eyebrows lift in surprise to see Clark standing there. Quickly, he put on a neutral, but interested face. Clark smiled satisfied, as he put on his mask and said,

"Mr. Wayne? My name is Clark Kent from the Daily Planet. Could I have a word with you?"