Hopeful Idiot

Chapter 04: Many Forms of Meetings

It started at 4:37pm with Mr. White, her boss, yelling at her through the phone. "Kramer! I've got to give a presentation to the Board of Directors tomorrow at 8am and the damned projector in the conference room isn't working. Fix it or it's your job!" Click.

"Yes, sir," Hope sighed into the dial tone. She had a love-hate relationship with Perry White. He was a good boss in that he was fair, all paperwork was submitted correctly and on time, and he stayed out of her way for the most part. However, his manners really needed help. Ironically for the chief editor of a major newspaper, his people skills sucked. Unless he liked you, Hope assumed. After all, he had to have some people skills to stay married for so many years. That, or his wife had the patience of a saint. Or both.

With these thoughts running through her head, Hope headed for the main conference room on the top floor, which had the nicest furniture and fanciest equipment. Since White hadn't specified which conference room, she had to assume. It was a logical assumption, but still an assumption. "You know what they say about assuming…" Hope muttered under her breath.

Most projector problems were relatively easy to solve. Either the operator didn't know what they were doing, or it was a driver issue. After 23 minutes, Hope concluded that it was neither and had begun to curse. Colorfully.

+++HOPEFUL+IDIOT+++

Henry Gates, the night security officer of The Daily Planet for the last decade, currently on front-desk duty, asked politely. "You're here much later than usual, Miss Kramer."

Hope nodded wearily. "Mr. White had a projector problem. Took me ages to find the short in the wire, then figured out it was one of those one-in-a-million times the short traveled from the wire to the equipment. Had to replace both. Then spent almost two hours tracking down the right software. Another hour to get everything uploaded and updated. Then my paranoia reared its head. Mr. White didn't specify which conference room had a projector problem, so I went around and double-checked the others, which took me another hour." Her voice showcased her exhaustion. "Do you know how many conference rooms are in this frickin' building?"

Henry winced in sympathy. "Would you like me to call you a cab? You look dead on your feet."

She shook her head, "No. I only live a few blocks away. And if I take a cab, I'll fall asleep."

"Alright, Miss Kramer, but be careful. It's almost 10pm. Lots of nasty people come out at night."

She snorted, "In this town? Who'd dare with Superman flying around."

"Even Superman has to sleep," Henry said wisely.

"True."

His eyes were full of concern. "You sure I can't call you a cab?"

"Nah, I gotta pick up something for dinner anyway."

"Okay, Miss Kramer," Henry said reluctantly, "but keep your eyes peeled."

Hope nodded. "Thanks, Mr. Gates. Stay safe yourself."

"Will do, Miss Kramer."

She waved her final goodbye and was out the door, finally free. "Need to talk to H.R. about overtime. That was murder." She groaned, stretching her shoulders and back as she walked down the street. Part of her acknowledged that it was well past when most were holed up. Even for as large a city as Metropolis, things were starting to settle down for the night. It wasn't the greatest time to be walking alone. However, Metropolis was also the home city of Superman himself, who did regular patrols and reportedly kept his ear out for any cries for help. She also only lived 5 blocks away from her apartment complex; she regularly walked to and from work. It was cheaper and faster than trying to find parking and fighting traffic.

And Hope had a concealed carry license.

There was a reason her purse was just a bit heavier than one might expect. She had sewn a special pocket into the lining where her small .22 could hide. To be extra safe, she kept the bullets in her jacket pocket.

As her mother had explained when Hope was 13, "It's the same principle as carrying a condom, sweetie. It's better to have one and not need it, than need one and not have it." Her father had taught her physical defense. Her mother had taught her weapons, particularly guns. Both had instilled in her how to stay safe.

Which she was currently partially ignoring by being out after dark but Hope reasoned that even as tired as she was, she kept her eyes open watching the shadows and stayed to the well-lit areas. No need to invite trouble. Not to mention that she was hungry and knew how little was in her cupboards.

So, Hope stepped inside the small 24-hour convenience store/gas-station, just wanting to grab a sandwich. Something small that she could eat the rest of the way home, then happily collapse into bed.

"Open the register!" a deep voice jerked Hope out of her musings between tuna and beef.

Hope froze for a split second before ducking low, closing her eyes as she pictured the layout in her mind, locating both herself and the register. Even as she was imagining the approximate location of the robber (near the register, close to the automatic doors) in relation to herself (to the left, behind three aisles), Hope put her hand into her jacket and pulled out three bullets.

"I said, open the register!" He sounded young, full of bluster.

Hope moved carefully, making as little sound as possible, and used her other hand to grab her small .22 revolver. (It had been a present from her mother. The same gun she had used when she was younger. Small, compact, lightweight.) She winced as the bullets made a soft 'clink' noise as she slipped the bullets into the chamber, then closed it with a 'snick'. Double checking that the safety was off, Hope took a deep centering breath, and slowly arranging herself to peer over the aisle.

"Stop cryin', bitch! Or I'll give you somethin' to cry about. Just give me the money!" He was young. All three of them were. (Did she have enough bullets? Better not miss.) Late teens, early twenties. Young enough to still believe they were immortal and consequences didn't apply to them. All were dressed similarly: dark sweaters with the hood pulled down and some sort of cover across their nose, mouth, and cheekbones, so that identification would be nigh impossible. (Holding gun wrong. Sideways. Likely to miss even at current point-blank range.) Still, Hope categorized each approximate height, race, anything she could notice. (Shoulders weird on the one by the door. Female?)

Hope braced herself as steady as she could, aiming carefully, then loudly cleared her throat, "I'd leave her alone if I were you."

All three jerked their heads in her direction, obviously startled. (Inexperienced. Random selection? Desperate?) "You stay outta dis, bitch!"

(Definitely inexperienced. Yet to notice her gun.) "If you leave now, then you will not be pursued. Otherwise," Hope pulled back the cock, making the stereotypical Hollywood noise, which wasn't necessary to arm it, but she was hoping these three were kids. Young, dumb, and full of hormones; easily scared off, "I WILL return fire."

The spokesman's voice shook slightly in the face of a ready defense. "Dat ting ain't real!"

"I assure you; it is very real." She stared down at the one with the gun. "You haven't done anything yet. You haven't harmed anyone. You can still leave."

"You so stupid, lady! We ain't leavin' wit'out da money!"

Hope stopped trying to negotiate with those words. Instead, she sighted down the barrel. (Both eyes open. Don't blink. Even breaths. Aim for largest target. Squeeze half-pressure. Should b—

Hope gave a startled shout as arms suddenly wrapped around her from behind, one around her chest and upper arms, the other coming around her neck. He—for someone so large could only be a he—didn't bother with words as he jerked his body up then down sharply, crashing her arms down hard on the sharp edge of the aisle shelf she'd been using as a brace. She cried out in pain. He did it again. Again. Again. She couldn't retain her grip and the gun dropped behind food stuffs, out of sight.

Her mind was in turmoil, but she managed to hang on to a single thought: defend. (He's behind me. Grabbing from behind. Instep!) Her foot shot up then straight back, scrapping down her attacker's leg from knee to foot with all her strength. He gave a pained grunt, his arm loosening. (Solar plexus.) Her elbow surged forward, then back straight into his stomach. He let her go. (Nose.) She spun and punched, imaging her fist going through his head. He stumbled backward as blood began to pour down his chin. (Groin!) Her foot came up in a perfect ballerina-esque slant, pointing her toes for maximum surface area to connect with his balls. He finally went down, curling around his midsection.

Hope sidestepped and spun, trying to keep all the robbers in her line of sight. (Where's the gun? Where's the gun? Where's my damned gun?!) Despite her eyes flicking almost desperately around the room, she couldn't see the tell-tale black grip. And the other three (four total - shit!) were already heading straight for her. "You fuckin' bitch!" (can't take four!) Then she yelled at the top of her lungs, "Superman! A little help would be nice!"

"Fuckin' bitch! Don't call that fucker!" The leader aimed his gun at her, his eyes were ice cold. (badly underestimated them - i'm so fucked) "You gonna pay for that." Yes, his gun was aimed sideways at her (he watches too many movies) and over 60% of people missed at point-blank range, worse if they weren't aiming at all. However, she could see from his eyes that he wouldn't stop firing until she was dead. Those eyes wanted her dead and bleeding corpse at his feet. "I'll fuckin' kill ya', bitch. You dead." His finger tightened.

Hope closed her eyes. She didn't want to see those stone-cold eyes as her last image. She brought up the best things she could think of: her mother's hugs, her father's laugh, and Clark Kent's knee-weakening smile. "Idiot…"

The gun went off. Again. Again. A—

The utter lack of the expected fourth bullet made her open her eyes. There, right in front of her eyes, was a very distinctive pure-red cape. Still moving slightly. (Superman…?) Hope blinked, barely registering the thought when the superhero moved super-fast to each of the three still standing, removing their weapons while at the same time tying them up. By the time Hope had the urge to blink again from sheer disbelief, all four were tied together in the middle of the floor. She'd known Superman was fast, but seeing it was another thing entirely.

She blinked several times in rapid succession, but the scene didn't change. Then it did: she was now staring at that distinctive pure-red diamond-outlined 'S' with it's pure-yellow background. Her eyes went up to connect with his bright blue orbs. "You came," she said stupidly.

His mouth quirked minutely, "You called."

Her mouth opened, closed, opened, "Thank you."

His eyebrows furrowed in deep concern. "I was almost too late," he said softly. She followed his gaze to the floor where two extremely flat bullets lay, obviously having encountered the Man of Steel's chest.

Hope swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat.

He'd saved her life.

Literally.

Directly.

Saved her life.

"Thank you," she said again. "Guess you're not such an idiot after all." A split second later, her hand clapped over her mouth as she squeaked. (Oh shit…)

His brows lowered in momentary surprise and/or confusion, before they relaxed. His eyes grew more intense, darkening to sapphire. "Hope…" he murmured for her ears only. Barely a whisper.

She opened her mouth behind her hand, but didn't say anything. She couldn't. She'd been keeping her identity from him for a reason!

He gave a deep throaty chuckle, "Cat got your tongue? Run out of expletives?"

She squeaked.

His smile widened.

"Superman? Sir? I've called the police. They said they'll be here in five minutes." Saved by the clerk.

Hope and Superman both turned to look to the female attendant who up until now had been silent. "Thank you. We'll all need to give statements so that these men can be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law." Hope blinked at the completely different tone and facial expression he presented to the clerk. Determined, commanding, reassuring, powerful, calm.

For a few brief moments, she'd seen someone else. The real Clark Kent? Or was Clark another mask? If so, she'd have to apologize. Having three faces was smart. Though how badly Kent had been hidden was moronic. Maybe she wouldn't have to apologize after all. Unless it was done on purpose? But why…?

It took almost an hour for the police to finish taking her statement because they made her go over it several times. They grilled her about her gun, and the officer got a pinched expression when she pulled out her concealed carry license. Finally let her keep her weapon, since she hadn't actually gotten a chance to fire it, and all registered firearms' ballistics were already on file. When she was eventually let go, after telling her that she might be contacted later for follow-up questions, Hope wearily began to walk.

Halfway down the block, she stopped, "I know you're there."

He floated into view. That grin was back. The smile that threatened to melt her knees. "You are observant. Let me escort you home."

She nodded, knowing that she couldn't stop him, and the cat was already out of the bag. He knew who she was now. Knew where she worked. It wouldn't take much to break into H.R. and get her contact information and address. So instead of arguing, she said, "Thanks again."

His brows knitted together, his eyes darkened and not in a knee-weakening way. "Do you always walk home this late?"

Hope shook her head, "Extenuating circumstances. Extra long day coupled with no din—" she groaned.

"What is it?"

"I didn't get my dinner," she pouted. Her stomach grumbled its own protest right on cue.

Superman's eyes lightened with realization, but the concern didn't disappear. "Why didn't you take a taxi from the office?"

"It's only five blocks and I needed food. My cupboards are bare." She saw his expression and defended, "I haven't gotten the chance to go to the store this week." His eyebrow raised. "Okay, two weeks. But I hate shopping!" His mouth quirked in humor.

They walked companionably in silence for half a block. "Why didn't you email me back?" he asked next.

Hope sighed, knowing that question had been coming. "You told your mother about me." His eyebrow raised again. "Telling your mother about another individual usually has certain connotations. Expectations."

Superman gave a slow nod of understanding, though his eyes were drawn together as if he were in deep contemplation. Slowly he offered, "And if I said my only expectation is to get to know you better?"

She swallowed hard, not knowing what to do or say. So she stayed silent for another half-block. "You know I won't tell anyone."

"I know."

"It's not safe for people to know about me either."

"True."

"I won't be in the limelight that Lois likes so much."

"You won't use me like Lois, either," he replied gently.

She took a deep breath, "This is my building."

He looked up at the apartment complex. "Do you have a balcony?"

"Yes, but I don't keep it unlocked. Let's just take the elevator."

"No. If you don't want others to know that we…interact…then you need to go up by yourself. Call my name when you get settled."

She nodded and turned to do exactly that. Five minutes later, she was locking her front door even as she toed off her shoes and dropped her purse on the side table. A quick glance in her fridge made her grimace. She really needed to go to the store tomorrow. She sighed and went to her balcony sliding door, unlocked it, stuck her head out and called, "Idiot?"

A chuckle made her look up as he descended. "Are you always going to call me that?"

"Maybe." That made him smile and she could see it was a genuine smile. The one that made her knees weak. "I brought you a present."

Hope blinked, then gave a chuckle as he produced a sandwich from under his cape. "Thank you, Moron. That was very thoughtful." She turned and got a knife. Cutting the bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich, she set each half on a plate. She presented a plate to him with her own flourish.

"Oh, no. I got that for you." She narrowed her eyes at him and didn't lower the plate. His mouth twitched, nodded, "Yes, ma'am," as if she had given him an order. Which, in a way, she had.

When they had both finished, she gathered the dishware and set them in the sink.

"Oh, I can get that," he said.

She looked at him with her own raised eyebrow. "It's after midnight. The damned dishes can wait until later."

He grinned, "You're feeling better." At her confused expression, he clarified, "You swore."

She snorted, but acknowledged the truth. "Am… Am I really the only one who's figured it out?"

"Lois knows, and my mother, but that's it."

Hope grimaced. "Careful of Mrs. Lane. I don't trust her not to blackmail you or something if you stop doing what she wants. She's a fabulous reporter and will do anything for her story."

He merely looked at her for a couple long moments, "Thank you."

She blinked, "For what?"

"You look out for me. The emails, the advice. You care what happens to me."

She blinked again, "Well…yeah." It was her turn to feel like an idiot. "Anyone would." The only thing stopping her in the beginning, when Superman first appeared, was that the superhero didn't have an address where she could send things.

His smile became sad alongside admiration, "No, not anyone."

She felt like blushing. Was she blushing? She was blushing. Damnit!

His head jerked toward the left and he stared through her wall. His entire demeanor had changed again. He'd become Superman. He looked back at her, "I have to go."

"I have to sleep," it was all she could think to say.

He nodded and a small bit of that man who had eaten a BLT slid into his eyes as he bent forward. "See you tomorrow, Hope." Then he gave her cheek a chaste kiss and disappeared at super-speed.

It took her several seconds for her brain to register what he'd done. When it did, she growled and ran to the already open balcony door. She yelled out at the top of her lungs, "You're going to pay for that, you idiot!"

Was it her imagination, or did she hear laughter as she closed and locked the sliding door?

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I'm combining Christopher Reeves' Superman movies with the newest DC cinema, so it may be a bit confusing on a timeline. I'm doing my best. No beta, all mistakes are mine.

Please let me know what you think, but be kind. I know it's not perfect.