"CLARK! Quit hogging the bathroom! Is this some kind of farm boy April Fool's Day joke, because if it is it isn't FUNNY!! Come on…you're taking longer than I usually do, and that's really saying something…"
"Um, just a minute!" he yelped at her, followed by silence.
"Honestly…" she grumbled, leaning her back against the wall opposite the bathroom door. Lois wished she was the one with the x-ray vision, though she had a vague suspicion that she knew what was going on behind that door…
"Morning, Lois," Martha called out as she walked by with a basket of freshly folded towels and bed sheets.
"Morning."
"What's the matter?"
"It's Clark," she said. A look of concern crossed Martha's face. "Oh no, it's nothing like that, he's just…well he's hogging the bathroom!"
The older woman laughed outright at Lois' indignation before continuing on down the hall.
"Hmph!" she snorted, turning back and glaring at the door. "CLARK…!" Lois was about to start in on another tirade when the door swung open.
He stood there, practically filling up the doorway. Her eyes traveled up his blue jeans to his red flannel shirt, and as they meandered on upward she thought to herself, he's going to look like a lumberjack with that big bushy beard of his…
Only there was no beard. It was gone. His hair was trimmed too, and slightly mussed in typical Clark Kent fashion. She openly gawked at him before saying, "It's nice to have you back."
He frowned at her, not sure how to take that. "I've been right here, Lois, I just had a beard is all."
"No, it was more than that." She stopped and re-examined his beard-less image once more, stepping closer and placing a palm on his smooth cheek. "I knew that underneath all that fur you were still there, but it was almost as if it were weighing you down...like it was your own red badge of courage, only it was facial hair."
Clark stood thinking about that a moment before sighing and replying softly, "Yes I suppose you're right."
"Is that why you think you kept it for so long?" she asked curiously.
"Well there was that, and, you know, the wonky heat vision thing…I didn't want to go burning down the bathroom just because I attempted to shave. Replacing it is just not in my budget." He winked at her.
"Wonky? Clark Kent, did you just say wonky?"
"What? I used it correctly, didn't I?" he asked anxiously.
She stifled a giggle. "You did, but that sounds about as strange coming from you as 'swell' does coming from me." She began full out laughing, unable to contain it any longer. He joined her and she leaned in for a hug, her cheek resting against his strong broad chest. Reflexively he wrapped his arms around her, and they stood there content in each other's embrace.
It took only a moment before Clark realized that he was holding onto Lois, and fearing that he would hurt her he immediately pulled away, stepping back into the bathroom.
"What's wrong?" she asked, noting the sudden end of their closeness and the panic written on his face.
"Nothing, I, uh…" he put his hand to his chin, "I missed a spot. Excuse me," and he slammed the door shut on her.
Later on Martha watched as Lois prepared the tools of her trade on the kitchen table, awaiting Clark's arrival for their interview. "So is this how you two always did it?" she ventured to ask.
"I'm sorry?" Lois replied, flipping open a half-filled notepad and absently nibbling on the end of a pen.
"The Superman interviews, is this how you did it in the past?"
She pulled the pen out of her mouth and jotted down another question. "No, not exactly. Very few of our interviews were of the scheduled type…they were usually more…impromptu. Oftentimes he'd find me."
"That's because I knew you'd jump off a building or something to get my attention if I didn't show up," he quipped as he strode into the room.
The two women turned to look at him. He stood taller and walked more confidently than he had in recent days. His hair was slicked back a bit, but without the trademark curl, and his arms were folded across his chest in a classic Superman pose across his red flannel shirt. "Miss Lane," he said mockingly, "Shall we get on with the interview?"
She smiled impishly back at him. "Well, Superman, do you want to start off with the easy questions or the hard questions?"
"There are easy questions?" he asked as he took the seat opposite her.
"Not so much easy as easier than the others…"
"Whatever you think is best, Lois."
"Alright then, we'll just jump on in," she flipped on the recorder, "Superman, our readers want to know, how are you feeling since you were rescued this past February?"
"Well, Miss Lane, my recuperation has been progressing smoothly, and I appreciate everyone's well-wishes and support as I take this time to recover from the ordeal."
She flipped the page to another question, knowing he didn't want to elaborate more on the physical or emotional aspect of his convalescence. "What would you like to say to the people involved in the Metropolis-based Task Force that worked to free you, as well as those around the country and abroad?"
"I can never begin to find words enough to thank all the people it took to locate and rescue me. I am forever grateful for their help and I hope that one day in the near future I will be able to meet with them and thank them properly for all of their efforts. They are true heroes, and I believe that I would not be here today if it weren't for them and the work that they did."
Lois finished writing his response down on her notepad before asking the next question. "Do you have any plans to return to 'active duty' in the near future?" Martha stopped drying the dishes again and she and Lois stared straight at him to see how he would answer.
Clark cleared his throat. "I will be returning to 'active duty', as you've termed it, when I feel that I am best able to serve the people; which, regrettably, I cannot do at this present time. However, I have been keeping an eye and an ear on situations developing both at home and abroad and I am happy to say that the world seems to have taken my…" he coughed, deciding to invoke a euphemism instead of calling his ordeal what it was and thereby drawing more attention to his imprisonment, "…'time away' to heart, as they have stepped up in their own relief efforts, aiding their fellow man during a period of time when I could not. For that I am thankful and I hope that it is a trend that will continue on into the future should I resume my duties."
Lois quickly dropped her pen and stopped the tape. "Should you resume your duties?"
He put a hand on the table as if to steady himself. "Or when. You can change it to when if you want to use that quote in the article."
"But that's not what you meant. I'm not quibbling over semantics here because I'm afraid of my journalistic integrity being called into question, I'm asking because I know you're…well, that you're uncomfortable being Superman right now, but I didn't think you were going to walk away from your alter-ego entirely."
"Well, Lois, let's take a look around and see where flying in blue spandex has gotten me, shall we? I'm sitting in my Mother's kitchen, operating at half-capacity because I'm recovering from prolonged Kryptonite exposure at the hands of my human enemies. And, funnily enough, my biological parents sent me here to protect the very people who seem to hate me so much that they would rather torture and KILL ME instead!!!" He flung his hands up exasperatedly into the air. "I should think that that's not exactly an inducement to go back to 'work'!" The dark cloud started to reappear on his countenance as the confidence and bravado Clark displayed earlier left and he began to slip into a more self-pitying mood.
Lois went from professional to indignant in the blink of an eye. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU! Lex Luthor gets the better of you ONCE and you want to call it quits?! I thought you were made of tougher stuff then that!!!" she huffed. "Clark, did you know that Al's been shot three times in the line of duty?! THREE TIMES!!! And yet he still reports to work everyday, protecting the people of Metropolis, because he says it's what he was 'born to do'...but you! You get into one situation that you couldn't resolve just by flexing your muscles and you…"
"LOIS, THAT'S ENOUGH!" Martha said forcefully, dropping and smashing the plate that she had been in the process of putting away on the counter. The noise startled the two young people at the table. Lois looked at her as if she were about to cry; she was angry at the whole situation, but she was even more upset with herself for rousing the gentle woman's ire and ill-will, and she bolted out of the room and up the stairs to the guest room before they could stop her.
Clark stared wide-eyed at his Mother. "Are you alright, Mom? I'm sorry you had to hear that…"
"No, I'm sorry, Clark," she said quickly, abandoning the broken plate and walking over to the table to sit down next to him. "I shouldn't have lost my temper with her like that…"
He interjected. "It's ok, she'll understand. I'm just glad you're on my side in this decision."
Martha started straight at him. "I was going to say, I shouldn't have lost my temper with her, but she was going about this all wrong. She can't badger you back into being Superman."
Clark thought his jaw would come unhinged and hit the floor. "Wh-what? You mean…you mean you think…?"
"Son, I don't care if you do or don't want to be Superman anymore. Superman is a figure, a symbol for all the good that can be done in this world. If you don't want to don the suit again then that's your choice and I'll freely accept whatever decision you make. But it isn't in your nature to abandon your calling completely…whether you take another name, or cut back on who and when you help out, or how, there's going to come a time when somebody needs you and you'll be there. It's just what you do—even before you got your powers you were doing it, remember? So you can try and run away from it as long as you like but sooner or later you'll go back to helping folks, just like you always have…and whether you want to ignore it or not it IS a part of you…"
He let out a sigh. "Part of me knows you're right, but can you really blame me for being so hesitant? And can you honestly say that you're eager to see me flying around out there again? Can you?"
She gave a shake of her head. "No, I can't, and I'll always worry about you, even when your powers come back in full; it's a Mother's prerogative to worry. Nor would I want to change you, even if I could—this is precisely what your Father and I signed up for that day we found you out in the cornfields." She got up and put a hand against his cheek lovingly, then stooped down to pick up the broken dish pieces. Before she left the room she stopped and turned back to face him.
"Clark? We all have to learn to take the bad with the good. What happened to you was horrible, but don't let it mar all the wonderful things you've done and the lives you've touched with the good that's in you." Her eyes glanced over to the cork board next to the telephone and he followed her gaze to find a few old Daily Planet articles tacked up there.
"Superman Saves Bus Full of Schoolchildren", "Mudslide Threatened Peruvian Village: Superman Stems Tide of Destruction", "Brushfire Engulfing African Plain: Man of Steel Aids Local Firefighting Effort", "Helping the Homeless on Thanksgiving: Superman Serves", the headlines read. He thought back over all the pictures he'd received, the handwritten notes of appreciation, the hearty handshakes from grateful almost-victims. He had had a rather fortunate career as Superman until he'd tangled with Lex Luthor and Nick Finneran, and he knew he shouldn't throw it all away because of the two madmen; but the memories of those 170 days of imprisonment were still in the forefront of his mind, making it difficult to contemplate putting himself in a position where he would be vulnerable to attacks like that in the future.
"I'd better go apologize to Lois," Martha said, depositing the broken dish parts in the trash. But Clark was too far gone in his memories to hear her.
