I had the meteor in my pocket and I knew that Clark would never attack an unarmed man who wasn't presenting an immediate threat to him or anyone else, even if he did recover his full memory. I needed to test his memory before I spent any more time on him.
"I remember *flying* here," he said, puzzled. "I'm sure I was flying."
"You did fly past, several times. You...came to talk to me once, but, well, neither of us was in much of a mood for listening. We did manage some yelling." I smiled wryly.
"No, that night."
"Perhaps you flew to Metropolis from your parents' farm?"
He frowned, shaking his head again. I opened my box slightly and then more fully, moving from my casual leaning stance to a wearied one, head bowed. "What's wrong, Lex?" I couldn't read anything in his voice other than normal concern--no hints of returning memory.
"Just tired."
The old expression of concern on his face, he tried to joke. "Most people go to bed when that happens."
I half-smiled quickly. "The people who don't measure their paperwork by the pound."
"Can I do anything?" Clark had definitely freed the inner boy scout.
"You need to get some rest, too."
"Just tried. Couldn't."
I lowered my eyes and looked away. "Then, maybe, if it wouldn't bore you too much-"
"Uh, Lex, I don't really know much business, I should warn you," he interrupted.
"Oh, this is law, much simpler." I didn't even pretend to hide my amusement at his horrified face. "I'm trying to get stiffer OSHA regulations legislated for work with any kind of animal products."
"Why?"
"Why's a ruthless business type doing that?" I let another smile take some of the sting from my having voiced his inner thought. "I already set higher standards for my plants and had exceptionally good results, including some unexpected ones. Fewer sick days as well as fewer accidents. I could say, of course, that I'm doing it for all the workers in the United States, and that's partly it, but I also know that it would put me ahead of compliance, meaning my competitors would have to pour some capital into improvements. Enlightened self-interest." He'd been concentrating and was clearly confused about how to react. "Seriously. Just come into the office, have a dri-, no, perhaps better not, just keep me company for a bit." I lowered my eyes again as though the request had revealed some vulnerability that I partially regretted. It's all so very typical, how acute his perceptions are to emotions but how blind he is to reality of any kind.
He followed me back inside, where I fussed mildly over getting him a glass of milk and settling him with the newspaper. Naturally, he covertly checked the masthead and saw the absence of his name, while I pretended to be tactfully looking elsewhere. Conscientiously, he read through the whole thing, clearly intending to support his colleagues, though technically speaking they weren't any longer. Every now and again, I raised my eyes from my paperwork and met his, sharing a quiet smile. Finally, I yawned hugely and laughed at myself.
"All right, now I will give in. You, too, Clark." He didn't argue, just got up. "Clark, maybe I'm pushing too hard here. You don't have a job right now and probably should take some time off before hunting again, just in case. I'm...rather tired of being, of living all by myself. With all that, why don't you move into the penthouse with me?" I added, hastily, "It's huge, there's plenty of space, we wouldn't be tripping over one another's feet. That way, I wouldn't be worrying about you, wondering if you'd gotten sick again and maybe I'm really pushing it here, put it down to a bad upbringing, but I get the impression you'd be less lonely, too." I looked away quickly, as though not to see rejection in his face. "All right, foolish idea, you've got dozens of people you could crash with if you ran short of rent money. But if you do change your mind-"
I looked at his face, a classic battleground of indecision and a hesitant compassion. "Wait a minute, Lex, I haven't even said no yet," he protested. "But I don't want to impose any more, you've already, I mean, I can see how busy you are-"
I interrupted firmly. "Clark. It's not an imposition. It's a favor. Listen. No need to make up your mind now. Try it for a few days, if you decide that my snoring is unbearable, we'll figure something else out."
Of course, I'd had the penthouse prepared so that if I needed to, I could give him a dose of exposure to the meteors in any room, from any room, but I intended not to do that except in case of an emergency. He'd find it more and more of a refuge. Nobody dying, nobody disappearing, nothing causing him pain. I pointed out where my bedroom was, then offered him a choice of the other bedrooms, suggesting that he might prefer the one with an adjoining office. "Wow, just the office is bigger than my apartment."
"I can send somebody to start moving your things tomorrow."
He blushed. "Maybe I'd better do that, it's kinda messy. I don't think I finished the dishes, too."
"Never mind. They're paid not to care about things like that. You still need to rest and get better." I looked at him for a long moment, until he became slightly uneasy.
"What is it?"
"Just thinking about endings and beginnings. But mostly beginnings."
"I remember *flying* here," he said, puzzled. "I'm sure I was flying."
"You did fly past, several times. You...came to talk to me once, but, well, neither of us was in much of a mood for listening. We did manage some yelling." I smiled wryly.
"No, that night."
"Perhaps you flew to Metropolis from your parents' farm?"
He frowned, shaking his head again. I opened my box slightly and then more fully, moving from my casual leaning stance to a wearied one, head bowed. "What's wrong, Lex?" I couldn't read anything in his voice other than normal concern--no hints of returning memory.
"Just tired."
The old expression of concern on his face, he tried to joke. "Most people go to bed when that happens."
I half-smiled quickly. "The people who don't measure their paperwork by the pound."
"Can I do anything?" Clark had definitely freed the inner boy scout.
"You need to get some rest, too."
"Just tried. Couldn't."
I lowered my eyes and looked away. "Then, maybe, if it wouldn't bore you too much-"
"Uh, Lex, I don't really know much business, I should warn you," he interrupted.
"Oh, this is law, much simpler." I didn't even pretend to hide my amusement at his horrified face. "I'm trying to get stiffer OSHA regulations legislated for work with any kind of animal products."
"Why?"
"Why's a ruthless business type doing that?" I let another smile take some of the sting from my having voiced his inner thought. "I already set higher standards for my plants and had exceptionally good results, including some unexpected ones. Fewer sick days as well as fewer accidents. I could say, of course, that I'm doing it for all the workers in the United States, and that's partly it, but I also know that it would put me ahead of compliance, meaning my competitors would have to pour some capital into improvements. Enlightened self-interest." He'd been concentrating and was clearly confused about how to react. "Seriously. Just come into the office, have a dri-, no, perhaps better not, just keep me company for a bit." I lowered my eyes again as though the request had revealed some vulnerability that I partially regretted. It's all so very typical, how acute his perceptions are to emotions but how blind he is to reality of any kind.
He followed me back inside, where I fussed mildly over getting him a glass of milk and settling him with the newspaper. Naturally, he covertly checked the masthead and saw the absence of his name, while I pretended to be tactfully looking elsewhere. Conscientiously, he read through the whole thing, clearly intending to support his colleagues, though technically speaking they weren't any longer. Every now and again, I raised my eyes from my paperwork and met his, sharing a quiet smile. Finally, I yawned hugely and laughed at myself.
"All right, now I will give in. You, too, Clark." He didn't argue, just got up. "Clark, maybe I'm pushing too hard here. You don't have a job right now and probably should take some time off before hunting again, just in case. I'm...rather tired of being, of living all by myself. With all that, why don't you move into the penthouse with me?" I added, hastily, "It's huge, there's plenty of space, we wouldn't be tripping over one another's feet. That way, I wouldn't be worrying about you, wondering if you'd gotten sick again and maybe I'm really pushing it here, put it down to a bad upbringing, but I get the impression you'd be less lonely, too." I looked away quickly, as though not to see rejection in his face. "All right, foolish idea, you've got dozens of people you could crash with if you ran short of rent money. But if you do change your mind-"
I looked at his face, a classic battleground of indecision and a hesitant compassion. "Wait a minute, Lex, I haven't even said no yet," he protested. "But I don't want to impose any more, you've already, I mean, I can see how busy you are-"
I interrupted firmly. "Clark. It's not an imposition. It's a favor. Listen. No need to make up your mind now. Try it for a few days, if you decide that my snoring is unbearable, we'll figure something else out."
Of course, I'd had the penthouse prepared so that if I needed to, I could give him a dose of exposure to the meteors in any room, from any room, but I intended not to do that except in case of an emergency. He'd find it more and more of a refuge. Nobody dying, nobody disappearing, nothing causing him pain. I pointed out where my bedroom was, then offered him a choice of the other bedrooms, suggesting that he might prefer the one with an adjoining office. "Wow, just the office is bigger than my apartment."
"I can send somebody to start moving your things tomorrow."
He blushed. "Maybe I'd better do that, it's kinda messy. I don't think I finished the dishes, too."
"Never mind. They're paid not to care about things like that. You still need to rest and get better." I looked at him for a long moment, until he became slightly uneasy.
"What is it?"
"Just thinking about endings and beginnings. But mostly beginnings."