Part 11 - The Interview
Clark entered the Planet, donut bag in hand.
"CK, did you see what Superman did!?" Jimmy asked him as he came around his desk.
"Uh… yeah, I heard it on the radio."
"Amazing, huh? I wonder what else he can do."
Just then Lois walked up.
"I finished my errands and got your donuts, Lois," he replied, almost wanting to take a step back at seeing Lois' face.
She snatched the bag from him almost before he'd offered it and immediately pulled out one of the pastries, biting into it fiercely.
"Um, I didn't know how many you wanted so I got half a dozen."
"Thanks, Clark," she said, grabbing another one and scarfing it down.
"Are you alright, Lois?" he asked, afraid that she might take it out on him.
"Yes, I'm fine," she stated, a few crumbs on her lips.
"Are you sure?"
She swallowed another bite of the comforting chocolate donut before answering.
"It's nothing really. Perry is just hounding me…us, for an interview."
"Oh."
"Yeah. Do you think he'll let us interview him?" she asked.
"Um, I don't know, I guess we'll just have to ask."
Clark could feel little butterflies in his stomach as he said this, as well as a small smidgen of guilt about having to go about things in this way.
"You think he'd come if I called him?"
Yes he definitely would, Lois, as fast as he could, he'd come, he thought.
"I am certain he would."
"Oh? How are you so sure, Kent?" she asked, actually quite happy that he had said that. It gave her some hope at least.
"Oh…well, you know…we talk, sometimes…"
Stupid Clark! Stupid! he inwardly shouted at himself, wanting to smack himself in the head.
At first she looked surprised, but then she remembered. "Oh, yeah. You did mention that before."
"Well, not a lot, just a 'hi, how are you?' kind of thing."
"Right."
Nice save there, Kent, he sarcastically told himself.
"Well, it has been nearly two months since his first interview. I think it's only fair to the public that they learn a little more about him, especially with everything that has happened since then."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," he managed.
He heard her sigh as she went to her desk to enjoy the rest of her donuts.
Clark sat down, contemplating when he should go to her for that interview.
She looked so depressed.
O o O
Lois arrived home around 5:30, plopping down on the couch soon after closing her door and dead bolting the four locks at the edge of the frame.
She moved to turn on her laptop, glancing longingly at the living room window Superman used when he visited. Not that he did often; he hadn't even used it half a dozen times.
Yet, she hoped. Though she prayed it would never be under the same circumstances as his last visit.
She would never forget the loss that had been clear in his eyes, nor the complete and utter sadness radiating from him, saturating the very air about him.
The very thought of seeing him like that again made her want to just cry.
But if it ever happened again, she would be there for him. No question about it.
Her eyes fell upon the window for a moment longer than she had intended, finding a white object on the glass.
What is that? she asked herself, getting up and going to the window.
Opening it, she found a note taped to the window.
The handwriting was like nothing she had ever seen. It was intricate, as if painstakingly written.
I have a few things to do, but I'll be back.
I think I owe you, and the public, a little interview.
- Now, who else would tape a note outside of your unreachable window?
Lois was ecstatic, and couldn't hold in the squeak that followed.
Superman had left her a note! She suddenly felt like a middle school girl who had just gotten a little note from the most popular guy in school, only this was easily a million times better.
Snap out of it, Lois! She internally slapped herself as her fingertips went over the page, feeling the letters indented in the paper. There was no doubt that this had been handwritten.
Superman is just doing you a favor. Kent probably told him, and so, being the gentleman that Superman is, he decided to help you out.
But come on! This is Superman! her other side argued.
True.
She stopped thinking to herself as she looked around her apartment.
Thankfully she had vacuumed the night before as well as tidied up.
Hmm…I suppose he might want a drink, maybe even a snack, she told herself, going to the kitchen.
She took inventory, taking note of what she had so she could ask him specifically what he would want. Satisfied, she walked back into the living room and was about to go sit on the couch when a nice tap caught her attention.
"Come in, it's open," she said, placing her notepad and pen on the coffee table to go to him.
He gently opened the unlocked window, privately wondering why it even had a lock (there was no way anyone could get to it without being able to fly), and stepped in.
"Good evening, Ms. Lane."
He looked so much better compared to the last time he had been in her apartment. The aura around him was calm and happy.
"I see you got my note," he stated, seeing it on the table.
"Yes, though I'm actually a little surprised that you came to me for this," she admitted, again captivated by his presence, though now in a different way. She was now even more in awe of him. For him to continue doing what he does, even after David. . . .
"Why wouldn't I?" he asked, slightly surprised.
"Well, for starters you haven't seemed particularly thrilled about being interviewed," she answered before she could fully process what she was saying.
"What gave you that idea?"
"You've sort of been avoiding the press, and Clark hasn't really been too keen on the idea either. So I figured that was because he knew how you felt about it."
Clark was now quite touched that she had paid that much attention to him in the office. Actually noticing when he was bothered by something.
"Oh. Well, I suppose that's why you're a great reporter. You notice certain things."
His mind wandered for a moment.
How much longer until she finds out everything? She is a great, if not the best, investigative reporter. She isn't nicknamed Mad-Dog Lane for nothing for heaven's sake!
He quickly refocused.
"You could also have gone to Clark to have him do the interview. I believe he's known you the longest, right?"
Well this certainly is getting into dangerous territory, he thought. How should I answer this?
"I suppose you could say that," he answered.
How much vaguer could you get, Kent? Not much.
"Oh, before I forget, do you want anything? I have Coke, apple juice, chips, chocolate kisses-"
"A Coke would be great, Lois," he replied, interrupting her list of items.
"Alright."
Coming back in she handed him a can and a glass with some ice while carrying a bag of chocolate kisses for herself. She sat down on the couch while he sat in the chair adjacent to the coffee table.
"Well, do you want to start the interview?" she asked.
"That's why I'm here," he answered, smiling at her as she opened the bag of chocolate and ate one.
"You like chocolate a lot don't you?" he asked her, unable to keep the grin off his face.
"Yeah. It's sort of a weakness. If it has chocolate in it, I've gotta try it. But I'm supposed to be asking you questions, not the other way around," she said, putting it aside, but still well within reach.
"Alright, let's start. I'm ready," he said, opening his can of pop.
She paused, watching him pour the fizzling liquid, instantly wondering how often he sat down to enjoy a pop, or if he even ever had the time to. It certainly looked as if he knew how.
"Okay," she said, pen at the ready and mind back on the interview. "Many people of the world are understandably mystified by you, and after seeing the display of your powers today and yesterday, they are now even more so. Because of this, there are many questions that have arisen."
She suddenly stopped, a spike of concern surfacing. What kind of questions was he expecting? How personal could she go? For the first time in her career she didn't want to push her boundaries.
This… man… was more than just a mighty being who swooped in to save the day. He wasn't some untouchable politician or some rich actor. She had seen a side to him no one else had seen, a side she herself had never dreamed of witnessing.
He wasn't invulnerable. She knew this better than anybody. He was someone who could be hurt, who could feel pain, though not physically. She knew he endured more than what should be expected of anyone.
Did she have the right to probe that painful rescue? To ask what the public was begging to know while knowing how that event had affected him? To write and tell the world some of what had truly happened? Of why he had left so quickly, and why the police had been at the hospital?
But then, did that even matter now? It felt as if an eternity had passed, though it had only happened earlier that week. The public was now amazed by his actions during the past two days. Would it matter if she just neglected to include what had occurred before that?
"Ms. Lane? Something wrong?" he asked, wondering why she wasn't saying anything, but just looking at him.
"No, I just-" She paused, not really knowing what to say. "Superman, if you don't want to answer certain questions, I'll understand," she said. "And it's Lois."
"Lois, I interact with a great deal of people everyday, and I impact the world to an amount I had not initially thought I would. The public has a right to have at least some answers."
"Alright.
"It was said that at the bank you were heard speaking Russian?"
"Yes, I speak Russian. One of the robbers had switched over to their native language and the negotiator could no longer understand him, so I spoke to him, getting him to talk to the negotiator in English again."
"I see. Do you speak any other languages? Do you speak them fluently?"
"Yes, I speak other languages, though not all of them fluently."
"How many?"
He stopped to think.
"Oh, around . . . three ten," he answered before taking another sip of his pop.
"You know three hundred and ten languages?!"
"More or less, some better than others," he replied, shrugging his shoulders.
He then smiled to himself, as if recalling a memory.
"What?" she asked, her curiosity now demanding to know the cause of his charming smile. "What are you thinking about?"
"It's really nothing, just a rescue I did several weeks back."
"Oh, please tell!" she said, now fully facing him, pen at the ready.
Story time!
"Alright. Well, I was flying over China and came upon a small village. There had been a really bad wind storm the night before and several of their homes had been damaged, some of them had even fallen in.
"I landed, many of the villagers freezing upon seeing me, wondering who, or rather what, I was.
"They were all around this one fallen home. Several of the villagers were crying, and I instantly knew there were people under there. Sure enough, after x-raying the building, I found three people.
"At first I was afraid I had been too late, but then quickly found they were all alive, though I could tell they were a little worse for wear. The men in the village who were attempting to rescue them were trying to use a lever to lift part of the wall up to brace it, so they could get them out. They were still working, not having seen me, or at least so focused they didn't care.
"I went over, speaking English, and told them to move back. They didn't understand me and looked at each other. So I motioned them to move as I bent down to lift the fallen portion of the house. They didn't move until I started lifting it.
"I got the three people out. An elderly man, a young girl, and a man I presumed was the girl's father. I later learned I was right.
"The village was very thankful, bowing and giving me things, speaking in a language that took me a moment to decipher. After listening to it for a time I learned that it was Pinghua, a language spoken only by two hundred thousand people. Though there is dispute on whether it's a dialect of Cantonese or a completely separate language," he trailed off; Lois mildly surprised at his display of knowledge.
"Anyway, once I knew what it was, I understood them. It's sort of like flipping a switch. When I started speaking their language they were pleasantly shocked. Then they all started talking at once, telling me I had to stay for a feast, so they could properly thank me for saving an elder and part of his family."
"So what did you do?"
"I couldn't really turn down their offer, and part of the reason why I was in the area was to get lunch."
"You eat?" Lois blurted out.
"I don't need to if that's what you're asking, but I like to."
"What's your favorite food? Chinese?"
"I don't think I have a favorite, though I suppose you could say I get hungry for certain types from time to time – even though I technically don't get hunger pains."
"Do you have any foods you don't like?" she asked, now wondering if he went over to Italy for spaghetti…or Switzerland for chocolate…
"I'd have to say certain French cheeses. Not all mind you, but some of them. Nothing against the French, because I love croissants and French Apple Tarts, but I think the smell of some of those cheeses are just too much for me," he admitted, now blushing slightly at that confession.
Lois smiled, actually taking comfort in the fact he could blush. He suddenly seemed more human than ever.
"I guess having super senses aren't all that they're cracked up to be, huh," she stated, suddenly thinking of more to ask.
"What's your favorite power?"
"Flying," he answered instantly.
Wow, he must like it a lot; he didn't even need to think about it, she noted.
"Any reason why?"
"It gives me complete and utter freedom. Until I learned to fly I had never truly felt the way I do when I'm in the air."
"When did you learn to fly?"
Superman never lies… Clark reminded himself.
Yeah, but being vague isn't lying, he answered himself.
"After childhood." The way he said it, Lois knew that that was all she was going to get out of him concerning that question.
Her thoughts suddenly went to picturing a younger version of him, learning to fly, before going onto the next question.
Well, since I asked his favorite, might as well ask the least favorite, she reasoned.
"What's your least favorite?" she asked, but immediately after the words had left her mouth she wished she could take them back.
His eyes went dark, as if trying to hide memories. She was about to apologize, and go onto another question, but before she could, he answered.
"Hearing."
"Oh…?"
"I'm thankful that I have this power, but it is my least favorite. Hearing everything."
"You hear everything?"
"I can, though I choose not to. It's too loud."
"That must be hard."
"Yeah, but if I didn't have this power, I wouldn't be able to do as much as I do."
Lois nodded at that, turning the page of her notepad.
"So how long have you had your powers?" she asked, pausing to gauge his reaction, wondering if he would answer.
"It depends which one you are referring to, I have had some longer than others."
"Oh, so which was the last one you learned you had?"
"It's sort of funny that you should ask that. I discovered one today actually."
"Wow! Really? What was it?"
"Everyone saw me do it…"
"Your ice breath!?"
"I haven't figured out what to call it, but yeah."
"That was the first time you ever did that?"
"With the cold included in it, yes."
"What do you think about it?"
"Large fires shouldn't be a problem now," he replied, giving a smile that had a touch of relief.
"Or birthday candles?" Lois asked. She couldn't help herself.
"Or birthday candles. I don't even think trick candles could stand a chance," he added, causing Lois to giggle.
After writing a quick note, Lois looked at the clock which read 7:10.
Wow, time certainly does fly.
"Well, Superman, unless you have anything to add, I'm sure I have more than enough to write this article."
"Well, Lois, there was one other thing I wanted to talk to you about."
"What is it?"
"This is something not involving the article. I don't want it to become public knowledge," he continued.
"Alright, completely off the record. I understand," she agreed immediately, seeing from the look in his eyes that he was putting his full trust in her.
She was humbled by this, that he would put that much faith in her, whatever this was going to be about.
"What is it?"
"I just wanted to let you know that I've decided to look more into my powers."
"What do you mean?"
She didn't understand. Why didn't he want this to be known?
"I've found a doctor."
"A doctor?! Why? Is there something wrong? Are you getting sick? Are you not feeling well?"
Lois was suddenly concerned, immediately thinking the worst.
"No, nothing like that. I just want to know what I can do, and why I can do these things."
"You mean you don't know?"
"No. And I don't know much about how either. My flying is technically impossible. It goes against everything in physics…"
"Why have you decided this now?"
"These past few days have shown me that I can do things that even I didn't know I could do. For instance, I didn't know I could survive a bomb blast. Lois, I just can't let my ignorance concerning myself get in the way of saving people."
"You mean you don't want to discover later that you could have done something more, something that could have saved someone."
"Yes."
"Who did you choose?"
"Dr. Eric Price."
Her eyes widened.
"Isn't that the doctor…?"
"Yes, he is."
They were quiet for a time.
"How are you?" she asked, not needing to clarify what she was talking about. She could only be referring to one thing.
"Better…"
"Are you really?" Clearly she didn't believe him.
"His funeral is tomorrow. His mom invited me," he whispered after a moment.
"Are you going to go?"
"Yes, but nobody will know. I won't be seen."
"Is that another one of your powers?" she asked, curious.
"No, I just have a talent of blending into the background."
Lois had a hard time picturing that.
The bright red blue and yellow uniform was making it very hard to imagine, but she didn't question him further.
Shaking herself from her thoughts, she knew it was time for them to go their separate ways, herself to her bed to type the story, and him…out the window to wherever it was he went.
"Thank you for coming, Superman."
"You're welcome, Lois," he said, standing up with her.
She walked him to the window, stopping as he turned to her, his hand about to grasp the window's handle.
She was standing just over a foot from him, the heat from him brushing against her.
His eyes were looking into hers, words unable to describe the feelings that were passing between them.
He was about a head taller than her, and she could smell his clean scent.
"I cannot thank you enough. You have given me something I've never really had. You've become someone I can talk to." He barely took a step forward, his back now to the window, his words echoing within her mind, and, the meaning behind them, within her heart.
He then gently planted a kiss on her forehead – he didn't dare place it anywhere else.
She was more precious to him than anyone he had ever known, and he wasn't about to mess it up.
He respected her, adored her, and was grateful for every moment he had with her, in the suit, or behind the glasses.
"I'm always here," she whispered, finding his hand, somehow controlling the jittering teenager within her at having felt his lips on her skin.
"I know," he whispered back.
She gave his hand a squeeze before she released it, allowing him to open the window and go, disappearing into the night.
O o O