If Clark had been paying attention, he'd register his colleagues' curious stares as they rode the crowded elevator up to the newsroom. Some peered over open newspapers, while others stole glances as they sipped coffee out of hot Styrofoam cups. After all, it was a situation that had no precedent. Typically they registered his existence only as the presence of mass occupying a space, unless of course he tripped over his own feet or stuttered his way through an inane apology. But now, that mass had a name, and a story.
As the doors parted Clark darted out as though he were a man late for a meeting on which his future precariously depended. His movements were purposeful and fluid as he walked into the newsroom and sat down at Lois' desk. Stacks of folders in various shades of mud brown and olive green were sprawled out in front of him. And underneath such a file he discovered a brown-speckled banana long forgotten by its owner, a testament to the time passed since Lois had been there.
Using his x-ray vision, he found her case notes for the Knightly murders tucked neatly away in the bottom drawer, already filed away with other solved cases. He pulled out the thick folder and a photograph slipped out, which fluttered briefly in the air before hitting the floor.
It was of her, Jason and Richard, taken not much more than a year ago. Her face bore a wide, mischievous grin, and he duly noted how man and boy mirrored her reaction as though they were her reflection. Why did she keep it? Maybe she filed it away like she did her case notes, a testament to an era now concluded. Or maybe, Clark surmised, it served as a reminder of what she'd given up to be with him. Her one chance at a normal, happy family.
But he wasn't going to think about that right now. He flipped through the papers, his thoughts in battle over restraining his speed to not arouse suspicions and not giving a damn if anyone noticed. That's why when he felt the light pressure of a hand on his shoulder he involuntarily jumped.
"Clark."
Were it not for the inflection in his voice, Clark would not have recognized it was Perry, for his words were spoken with a delicateness of which no one would subscribe to him. "What are you doing here?"
Not looking up, Clark progressed rapidly through the papers, desperate to find some clue that would lead him to Knightly. More importantly, he needed to concentrate on something other than Lois' stationary form if he was going to get through the day.
Perry took his brush-off in classic Perry style; he turned it into an invitation. He wheeled a chair over from an adjacent desk and sat down next to him, and Clark involuntarily tuned into the man's slow, steady heartbeat. He'd noticed it was always so, even when he'd be on one of his famous tirades about a burgeoning story or someone's royal screw-up of one.
A hand slapped hard on top of the paper stack, its brute force startled Clark as though he'd been bludgeoned with a kryptonite club. He looked up winded as Perry spoke. "Let the police handle this. You should be back at the hospital."
"I can't." I can do anything but that.
Unsurprised, Perry twisted around in his chair and continued in a low, soothing voice, one that Clark only noticed him use when talking to Jason. "Besides, you can bet Superman is hot on his trail. And if you can't believe in Superman, who can you believe in?"
Clark gave him a sad, knowing stare. "But Superman has no idea where he is either," he said softly.
The conversation was on a collision course with a brick wall, but just whose head was set to smash into it first was anyone's guess. Perry glanced over at the young boy in his office, his presence obscured by the black leather office chair in which he sat facing the window. "Clark, don't take this the wrong way. But I think it might be a good idea if Jason stays with me for a few days. It's no trouble. Besides, it could give you time…"
"I can't allow that, it's too dangerous."
Something in the way he said it made Perry catch his breath. He couldn't put his finger on what was different about it. "What do you mean?"
"I was just reading through Lois' files. Knightly's M.O., he taunts the families of his victims after he kills them. His last victim had a twelve-year-old daughter that he'd send images to over her cell phone. I can't risk putting Jason into any sort of danger."
"Then I'll ask he be placed under police protection. I'm sure…"
So they can watch him push a door off a police car when he gets scared? "No, he stays with me."
There it was again, and this time Perry had it figured out. When Clark spoke his voice dropped an octave. He sounded… authoritative. Perry wondered if he was seeing the Clark that only Lois saw. "Clark, listen to yourself. You're not Superman. You can't protect him from this madman. He'll be safe with the police. Let them do their jobs."
Clark glared at the older man, biting back words he knew would be careless and dangerous. He focused his thoughts on Lois and his wound up tension began to unfurl.
Perry, for his part, sat silent as he studied his subordinate. This wasn't the man he was used to seeing every day, the one who stammered through every sentence and was the butt of office jokes from people who actually noticed him. It's as though he'd split in two, a meek, mild-mannered man and this entirely new assertive individual. The latter man, Perry quickly concluded, he liked a lot.
A soft, pleading voice from behind them broke the tension. "I wanna stay with Clark," Jason said softly. He looked apprehensively at Clark as he stood next to his uncle cuddling a small, ragged teddy bear that was missing an eye.
The sorrow in the boy's words cut through Clark's defenses. "Come here, Jason," he said quietly. With no hesitation the boy collapsed in his arms and began to wail. Clark held him tightly.
The boy's sobs grew louder, and with each rendition a few more pairs of eyes wandered their way. For once, Clark was grateful when Perry loudly rebuked them, a rare moment when he didn't mind the violent echo through his very sensitive ears.
Their moment of feigned privacy restored, father and son held each other close, until the boy calmed down and pulled slightly away.
Watching the pair, Perry felt jealousy surge through him on behalf of his nephew, and wondered silently if he was going to be shut out of Jason's life as Richard had. When he'd spoken with him the other day, he sensed Richard was starting to back away. Perry had bitterly told him none of it would have happened had he not gone to London. It was like he was asking himself to be replaced. But then he'd said something curiously about having himself been the replacement, and Perry hadn't really thought about what he meant by that until now.
Of course, Perry knew that Richard wasn't Jason's biological father. Too many circumstances didn't add up, most obviously the timing, but to the casual observer it was a fact easily overlooked. It had been a lie of assumption, and stupidly Perry had played along with it. Of course, he had his own idea as to who the father was.
Something inside the veteran reporter told him he needed to leave it alone, that it was one story best left uncovered. Frankly, he didn't want to know, because he was fairly certain he'd run amuck of the oath he swore the day he became a reporter. Instead, his focus shifted between Jason and Clark, both extremely worried. Funny, he'd never noticed the physical resemblance between them before. If he'd just take off those glasses I'd have a better look. But as Perry started to speak Clark barreled to his feet.
Clark's face was pale, his attention deeply focused elsewhere. His thoughts were back in the hospital room where Lois lay silent. Something was very, very wrong.
"I need to take you up on your offer. Don't let Jason out of your sight," Clark called out, and in that instant disappeared down the hallway. For Perry's part, he breathed a sigh of relief. There's hope after all.
Clark flew up the elevator shaft and seconds later was soaring above the city, moving as quickly as he could to the hospital. He burst through Lois' window, simultaneously shattering glass and incinerating rows of bricks lining its frame, some of which rained to the ground below. A man dressed in a white lab coat was several feet away from Lois. He looked like a doctor, but scanning him quickly Clark saw through the fake beard and mustache.
Clark slammed into the imposter with brutal force, knocking the man into an unconscious heap on the floor. Startled by his action, he immediately froze wide-eyed at the body beneath him. Instantly his fingers slid to the man's neck and breathed a sigh of relief at the feel of a pulse.
He didn't deserve it. No matter how many lives Knightly had wrecked, his victims were best served knowing he was rotting away in a maximum-security prison, spending 23 hours a day staring at stark white walls in an 8 x 10 foot cell with nothing but his own twisted thoughts to keep him company. This time, he'd make sure he stayed there.
Clark looked back at Lois, who lay still in the bed. Scanning her he saw she remained unharmed, Knightly had not had the chance to hurt her. He had arrived in time.
Moments later, two guards rushed in with guns drawn. They stared aghast at Superman's towering form, dropping their heads in shame at their own incompetence for allowing the criminal to fool them. Immediately they set about removing the noxious form occupying the floor.
A soft whimper startled Clark, and he turned round and caught sight of the most beautiful brown eyes.
"Superman?"
Her fragile voice melted his smoldering pain. He sped over to her side, wanting to embrace her but conscious more than ever the need to keep a professional distance.
A warm breeze coming through the space once occupied by the window made wisps of hair dance about her forehead. Gazing weakly over to her side she let slip, "Boy, you sure know how to make an entrance."
Clark smiled. That was his Lois all right. "Good evening, Ms. Lane."
The next several minutes were spent in a daze as he assisted the guards pick Knightly off the floor and lower him onto a gurney. As they wheeled him away, a lone figure stood in the doorway.
Dr. Stein's eyes traced the mess on the floor. Broken sheets of white painted drywall lay jumbled with bits of brick across the floor, and the metal beams holding up the wall were badly warped. He closed the door behind him and picked up a stool which had been thrown across the room during the chaos. Brushing drywall dust off the seat he placed it beside the bed.
The doctor sat down and kicked broken shards of brick away with his foot. "How are you feeling?"
Lois glanced nervously over at Clark. "Like hell."
"You had us both worried there for a while," Dr. Stein said as he checked the machines she was hooked up to. "But with lots of rest I think both of you will be just fine."
"What did you do?" Clark asked.
Dr. Stein smiled as he removed a heating blanket and ice pack from the bed. "Something high tech and innovative."
Lois shot up out of bed and a sharp pain seared through her body. "Wait a second. What do you mean both of us?"
Dr. Stein's smile grew broad and he asked Clark, "Did you want to tell her or shall I?"
Before he could respond Lois interjected, "Tell me what?" As soon as the words left her mouth she knew what what was. But her throbbing head made no sense as to why he was talking about it with Superman. She smiled sheepishly at Clark and mouthed as the doctor turned his head, "Surprise!"
TO BE CONTINUED